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#what was supposed to be a wind down doodle after a stressful day
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PART TWO OF THE ANGST SCENARIOS, LET'S GOOO!!! @itzninacottoncandyuwu
PART ONE
I'm kinda mixing this one and the idea of reader fainting suddenly ayyee
♥️🖤💙 Partner Squad x Overworked!Y/N ♥️🖤💙
💞 As a whole 💞
💞 After you come back home looking more than just worse for wear and you pass out the second you decide to take a quick seat, everyone is immediately concerned for you.
💞 You'd been constantly overworking yourself for days now, refusing to take a proper rest, refusing help from everyone and pushing yourself more and more everyday until it was too much for your body and there you are now. Sprawled on the couch, snoring and with hesvy bags under your eyes. 
💞 When you wake back up again, tucked in bed, you already know you're in for a lecture from them or something.
💞 Yeah, you get Super Lectured. It's not fun.
💞 Simply put, all of them are mortified for you but there's also a constant I Told You So vibe to them once they start to practically force some chill pills down your throat.
♥️ Barb ♥️
♥️ After that little incident, she's always pulling you into whatever leisure activity she's got going on. No, she doesn't care you're not into her sea glass collection, you're going to sit down and relax, dammit.
♥️ He's kinda rough on her approach but that's just because she worries a lot about you and it was your stubbornness that got you all overworked in the first place.
♥️ She'll offer some help here and there to make whatever load you're struggling with easier, but she prefers the angle where she helps you wind down after a hard day's work.
🩵 Branch 🩵
🩵 This man is just as overworked as you are but that doesn't matter right now, Y/N, you literally dropped into that couch like Peter Griffin and passed out.
🩵 He won't even ask you if you want some help after that, nah. He'll force his way into whatever it was that got you this stressed out and tired and help, wherever you want it or not.
🩵 He'll kinda end up overworking himself with helping you not get overworked and then it's your turn to call him out.
🧡 Hickory 🧡
🧡 Out of the whole polycule, he's the best suited to deal with this situation.
🧡 He knows the best way to help you out is not forcing yourself to relax or forcing his help into your business, but rather he'll help you to find the balance yourself.
🧡 He'll do little gestures or leave little post-it notes around to remind you to take a break from time to time and they'll work everytime (specially when he draws little doodles of what's supposed to be himself going “👍”).
🩷 Poppy 🩷
🩷 She becomes a little of a mother hen and she'll be constantly asking you if you're tired or if you need any help. And when I say constantly, I mean constantly. It's kinda a lot, but she'll stop after the first time you tell her to chill.
🩷 She'll feel bad if you're overworking yourself over anything related to her; if you're helping her around Pop Village or anything like that, she'll immediately find someone else to take your place.
🩷 She won't say to your face “hey, maybe you should sit down”, but she'll be making small comments and jokes about that. A lot of them. It's almost kinda passive aggressive??? You know she means well and her heart is in the right place, but you also tell her to chill with that too.
💚 Tresillo 💚
💚 After Hick, Tresillo is the best next candidate to help you figure this stuff out. You're a grown adult and he knows you're capable enough to find a balance between Relaxation Times and Working Times.
💚 He's got a more direct approach and he'll straight up tell you whatever advice he can think of at the first sign of you starting to stress yourself out.
💚 His advice can go from very insightful and philosophical words that turn your way of thinking upside down to literally just “babe, stop and take a good look at those clouds, ain't they pretty?”
💙 Trollex 💙
💙 He doesn't look like it, but this guy over here can sometimes overwork himself right out to the point of having to take entire days to recover. But heavens forbid you even think about doing something like that, heck no.
💙 You've got responsibilities too, but those are never important enough to risk your health to the point that you can't stay awake anymore, that's simply not cool.
💙 He's more focused on keeping an eye on your sleeping schedule and making sure you're actually taking breaks from time to time everyday. Like, he'll be literally watching from around the corner like a cat and stuff.
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raeharmonia · 4 months
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Alone in my living room
Author's note: hello, im back with a quick drabble. Im having a terrible month and what better way to express my emotions than to write an Amaranthe drabble of it MSKKSMS
I was listening to Sleeping at Last's Space for Sleep album while writing this (i love Sleeping at Last one of my comfort artists fr) Also this was intended to be a Lymaranthe hurt/comfort fic but i ditched the idea lol it just doesn't sit right for me. This might be the reason why the first half is a bit weird sorryy qwq
Word count: 698, semi-proofread Tags: angst, very venty, brief Lyney appearance lol, weird attempt of writing an accurate description of making tea (tried my best), mention of a want to disappear, self-deprecation
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The sounds of the bustling city overwhelms Amaranthe's senses, the people's overlapping chatter makes her head feel dizzy. Lately, she felt even more emotionally and physically drained than usual, constant voices of insecurities flooding her mind ever since.
She tried doodling something on her sketchbook in an attempt to comfort her troubled soul but to no avail. Erasing the unfinished lines as soon as it shows signs of failure, leaving Amaranthe to stare at the leftover marks of graphite on her paper with frustration.
Unfortunately, the walk that was supposed to drive those feelings away only drained her even more. The bright rays of the sunlight and the overwhelmingly loud sounds of the streets amplified her stress levels.
Her hand found its way at the nearest streetlight, leaning against the metal pole in an attempt to calm herself down. She needs something that will ground herself back to reality, desperately.
"My lady, are you okay?"
A voice nearby called, it was filled with worry rather than his usual flamboyant tone.
His voice sounds gentle and warm, she thought.
"Oh im alright, Mr. Lyney. Thank you for your concern." Amaranthe managed to force a small smile, its so painful that its chipping away her remaining energy.
But she has no choice, she can't let him know that she's in such a state.
"But your eyes tells me otherwise. The eyes are the window to someone soul is it no—"
"I said im fine! Can you please shut up for once?!"
Lyney's eyes widened at her reaction, shocked to witness Amaranthe's sudden outburst.
Her tone is firm and cold, as cold as a snowstorm. And her sharp gaze lacked it's usual shine, devoid of color and light.
"I- im sorry i didn't mean to... I need to be alone."
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The smell of rainbow roses surrounded the living room as she opened the door of her home. Her stress dwindled as she takes in the comforting atmosphere that her home can only provide.
Amaranthe then boiled some hot water for tea and takes out a box of tea bags out of the kitchen cupboard. Once the water finishes boiling, she poured it into a cup and dunked two tea bags in it.
She grabs a couple of brownies from a paper bag that Charlotte left for her 3 days ago and placed them on a small plate. She brings her teacup and plate towards the living and placed them on the coffee table.
After some time, she brings the teacup near to her lips and blew on the her tea before taking a sip. The sweet and sour flavors of the drink soothes her mind quite a bit. She takes a bite of the brownie, the sweet chocolate flavor made a small smile creep up her lips.
The only things that are accompanying her silence are the soft winds of the outdoors and the soft ticks of her clock.
She looked up at the clock to check the time. Its 2pm. Usually at that time she would be drawing, but the fear of failure hesitated her from picking up her art supplies.
As much as she likes the moments of solitude, she cant help but feel a bit lonely. Without the sounds of companionship filling up the room to distract her, negative thoughts and insecurities began clouding her mind.
Do people really like her? Do they really mean whenever they say that she's amazing and talented? Or are they just pretending and lying to her face? People clearly like someone else who also does the same thing as her better and are only spending time with her out of pity.
She's not amazing. Far from that. She'll always besomeone who is boring and make nothing but horrendous art. Why would anyone like someone like her?
Sometimes, she just wants to disappear altogether.
"Liars." she muttered.
A tear fell down from her eye, landing on her tea which caused it to ripple in the cup.
She places her cup on her table as more tears falls down her face.
She lied down against the soft cushions of her sofa and began crying softly.
This was the 4th time she cried this week.
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ganyuslily · 3 years
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soulmate tropes — genshin headcanons [part 1]
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characters: albedo, childe, dainsleif, kaeya, kazuha
category/extra notes: fluff but also some of them are a little bit angsty ngl [major character death in childes, dains is also a little bit angsty but turns out okay in the end]
a little summary: what soulmate trope would they be?
a/n: so did i ever say im absolutely obsessed with soulmate tropes,, if not i think now its quite obvious uhh also part one bc there were too many characters HELP
part 2
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albedo
— in which you have a mark on your body thats specific for the both of you. he always finds himself tracing the little star on his neck, humming softly. he wonders if yours is also in the same place as his? or is it in another place? is it visible? the only reason he has his out in plain sight is because he hopes for his future soulmate to see it and realize they have the same symbol as he has. throughout the years he grew to put his fingers on the star anytime he would get stressed. it would calm him down, the realization that youre somewhere out there. and when he spots you for the first time, the same orange shape adorning your hand, he cant help but immediatly tell you that he thinks the two of you are soulmates, pointing on his neck. and when your eyes lit up and you ask if you can touch it, he finally feels like hes complete.
childe 
— in which you have a countdown on your wrist that tells you when you will meet your soulmate. as a child, he wouldnt pay a lot of mind to the numbers on his arm, even though everyone around him told him that he had gotten quite lucky — meeting his soulmate in his young adulthood wasnt something that happened to everyone. but when he realizes that this is his soulmate, the one hes supposed to kill just now, he hates the gods, he hates fate, he hates this stupid countdown on his wrist that reached zero just the moment he held the knife to you throat. he hates how you only look at him and murmur i love you, even though he just met you, eve though that he was supposed to kill you. when he slices your throat, a part of him dies. maybe in another life, he says to himself. if he even gets another chance.
dainsleif 
— in which you stop aging at a certain age until you find your soulmate and grow old together. dainsleif had lived for hundreds of years — time not taking its toll on him, his beauty never wavering. he watched people die and birth, he watched civilizations fall apart and rebuild themselves. he lived for so long, searching and looking, but never finding. he thought it was another cruel joke from the world — what if you died before he met you? what if he never got to see you, hear your voice or touch you? so after sometime, he gave up. it was too tiring, he told himself, yet he still hoped to find you one day. and when he stumbles upon you on yet another mission, the world stopping for a moment, he knows. he knows youre the one.
kaeya 
— in which one of your eyes is the color of your soulmates eyes. he didnt believe in them, to be quite honest. he didnt think he was worthy of deserving someone that would love him and be with him to the end. he didnt want to risk it or even get attached, not to say develop feelings. so he started to wear an eyepatch to hide one eye — he didnt know which one was his natural though, so he just had to guess. but no matter how many times he told himself that he doesnt care, he did. he took it off everynight just to look at the color. it was pretty, beautiful even. and even though he swears he doesnt want a soulmate, when he locks eyes with you and he sees your pupils in the same colors as his, he cant help but want to try.
kazuha 
— in which anything you draw on yourself appears on your soulmates body and vice versa. he often awaits the little doodles that end up taking up his whole arms. it makes him smile softly to himself, making beidou tease him about it. he loves everything you draw and he feels bubbling excitement when he sees small flowers and notes appear on his skin. take care of yourself! would be a daily note and he would always write it back. his handwriting was kind of messy and he only hoped that you would understand what he meant. he doesnt really focus on finding you, even though he wishes to already be with you — he trusts the wind to guide him to you. so when he finally finds you, your arms littered with the same drawings he has, he smiles so wildly for the first time in so long and shyly asks if he can hug you. hes home. hes finally home.
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waspenned · 2 years
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atomic • peter parker (18+)
it's not like you actually think peter parker is stupid, you just know he likes it when you call him names • 2k
warnings: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! sexual content, sub!college!pete, that beautiful balance of degradation and praise, a splash of mirror kink, pete recieving oral, gender non-specific reader !!!! light choking
now playing: atomic by sleeper
a/n: this is my first foray into smut to please forgive me for the cringefest ur about to attend anyway sub Peter rights and anyone with any genitalia can read this because I believe in smut 4 all !!!! this is also dedicated to @subspider for the masterpiece, my pillar, my bible, wolf-teeth. title inspired by atomic by blondie but specifically the sleeper version bc its hornier. im still taking requests and now have a taglist to join if you'd like to be told when I upload fic :)
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slow and steady, his hand inches towards you like a spider, trekking the hills and dales of his striped note sheets before resting beside yours; his index finger scratching at your knuckle. there’s a long moment of silence between you as he scratches away, before he eventually evolves to poking.
“hey bestie.” he prods, like you haven’t already made it obvious you’re ignoring him. usually, studying with peter isn’t an entire pain in the ass, but he seems to be hellbent on distracting you today, jostling you with his shoulder and bumping you with his knee. any other time, you would have been happy to play along - it wasn’t like you were above doodling on his paper when he was distracted - but nothing was fun with the threat of midterms hanging over your heads.
outside, the pigeons coo and rustle in the nest near his dorm room window, the general hustle and bustle of campus droning away three stories beneath you. the two of you are poring over study notes at his desk, buried under reams of worksheets and notes and hand-outs, and when you look up at him he’s got that sappy look on his face, like you can take the pain of schoolwork away. if only.
“i’m studying, bestie.”
“i’m bored.”
“good for you.
“my brain hurts.” he’s whinging now, scratching and scratching at you, a feather-light touch, until you drop the biro from your lips and look at him, unimpressed. peter is pouting at you, his bottom lip set into a jut, feigning a tremble. “what?”
“we have midterms, pete.”
“it’ll be fine!”
“yeah, you’ll be fine. we’re not all midtown tech prodigies.” you stick your tongue out at him, and his face crumples for real now, his eyebrows furrowing into an unhappy knot. “what is it?”
“don’t say that. you’re really smart - smarter than me.” it’s a blatant lie - it’s not like you’re an idiot, but only one of you manufactures spider-web technology and takes down supervillains in between classes, and it’s certainly not you. you can see what he’s trying to do from a mile away, his head cocked keen like a flower turned to the sunlight, but you don’t have time for what you know he wants. instead, you roll your eyes at him, but it only seems to goad him on.
“shut up.”
“you are!”
“i’m not doing this right now, pete.” he’s playing dumb as usual, but he can’t stifle the smile that tugs at his mouth, breaking into a sheepish grin. you should have anticipated it really, he always gets like this around exam season; you’re not really sure what it is, but you suppose the expectations get to him. he spends most of his time stressing over his grades, and his aunt, and whether or not manhattan will be intact when he wakes up, that you guess he just enjoys a little simplicity - for someone else to be in charge for once.
it started off as simple sex last year, nothing complicated, just as a stress reliever and a wind-down to a long day of studying. ‘simple sex’ quickly snowballed into something else after you’d accidentally lost your balance while riding him, your hand slipping to his throat to catch yourself. it had wrenched a groan from peter that was so embarrassingly loud, he had to hide in the bathroom for ten minutes, stewing in shame until you coaxed him out again. now, you were at a stage where he enjoyed the embarrassment of it, sought it out. it made sense really; he spent all day having to be so smart and responsible, that all he wanted when he saw you was to switch his brain off and be treated like an idiot. he spends most of the run-up to exams as putty in your hands, and usually, you’re perfectly happy to take the pressure off of him; it’s just that you’ve now got an entire semester’s worth of material to study, and not a lot of time to actually study it.
“doing what?” scratch scratch scratch. you’re quickly fed up with it, your hand snapping and suddenly his wrist is locked into your grasp, pinned against one of his hardback textbooks with a light thud. the room falls into a lull, the november gale dropping to a whisper and stilling the planetrees outside. some wild glint is sparked in his eyes like a flint - you’re both the steel and the tinder, igniting and fuelling it.
“peter.”
“please.” the lilt in his voice seems to seal the deal, every atom in his body thrumming at the cadence of you, ringing like a tuning fork. he’s got that look again, the one he knows melts you, and something gets you by the throat. not peter, no, but perhaps the situation of it all.
ah, fuck it. he needs it. you need it.
in an instant, you're both up on the desk and you’re pushing him across the cool surface, your arm on his chest forcing him down, down, until he’s pressed to his notes on metaphysics. he’s absolutely delighted, a breath tugging itself from his lungs in an ecstatic huff.
“is this it? is this what you’re so desperate for?”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“don’t be so fucking stupid, parker.” he fidgets under your lap, eyes blown wide and dark, hands grasping reflexively at your thighs, using them as leverage to rasp his hips into yours. you rise up on your haunches, denying him the sensation, and he whines, his voice small, a low and gentle murmur.
“say it again. please.”
“don’t beg, it’s pathetic.” his back arches with your tone, his nails skimming your skin. peter is settling into this character far too well, leaning into your touch as you grasp his jaw, mouth lolling open. you adjust your grip, pressing your palm to his cheek and forcing his head to the side, sinking him into his ruffled chemistry notes. his face is turned to face the mirror on the wall parallel, but he’s just looking at you, legs scrambling on the oakwood in search of purchase - his hips canting up, up, up.
“stop moving.” there’s a small whine, the crack of a whip in his throat, and he freezes. your fingers crawl, moving, wrapping, holding a grip around his throat, pinning him in place - peter is thrilled at the sheer force of it, gasping. “look at you. there’s nothing in that pretty little head, is there?”
there's an attempt made to nod his head, but your hold on him tightens at the movement, a breath hanging in the air, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath the heel of your hand. his flesh is warm and pliable beneath you, but the hair he hasn’t had a chance to shave yet scrapes against your palm as he flexes his jaw. the way he’s staring at himself is almost criminal, lips parted as the flush on his face spreads like fire to his neck and ears - burning your fingertips.
“harder.” peter whispers, and you squeeze, his body curling up, straining, strung taut. his hand reaches for you, tracing the pad of a trembling finger over the slope of your cheek, outstretched like michelangelo’s adam. “harder, pleasepleaseplease.”
“jesus christ.” you breathe out, watching a smirk tug at his mouth, head thrown back as he watches you in the mirror. his hair spills into the stacks of your notebooks, splayed out, a chestnut halo. dropping your hips, he jolts like something’s shocked him, grinding up and into you with a groan. he’s hard and hot against your thigh, the weight of him caught between you and the plane of his stomach, your hand sliding up his throat into the dip where his neck meets his jaw, tipping his head back. between gasps and semi-desperate rutting, he still has time for sarcasm.
“my name is peter.”
“shut up.” you want to tighten your grip, to punish him, but he’d probably like that. instead, you indulge him, working the stress and tension out of him like a knot, shifting down his body until the drawstring of his sweatpants is in your sights. they’re shucked down his hips as he lifts them for you, releasing him from the confines of cotton and polyester, swelling against his happy trail. there’s no hand on his neck anymore, but he stays where you put him, willing and obeying with every fibre of his being. as he turns his head, you see an smudged equation printed in blue across his cheek, pressed there by freshly-written ink.
“you wanna ask nicely for me, or did you forget how?” you ask, and he keens at you, shifting under your weight, desperate, until you pin his hips still, thumbs stamping bruises into the peach-soft skin in the dips of his pelvis. you want something akin to devouring him, digging in your teeth, sinking in your nails, tasting him on your tongue like syrup and grenadine. “come on, show me there’s a brain in there, sweetheart.”
“will you go down on me? please. please.”
“good boy.”
his honeyed gaze is fixed on you through the mirror, watching you as you take him into your mouth, and the gasp that hangs in the air seems to be the only sound in the world; pealing like a church bell from saint patrick’s. it sinks quickly through his chest into a moan, sweetness mixed into the timbre of it, like the bursting of pomegranate seeds from hades itself. his chest heaves, rising and falling under his university hoodie, sweat beading at his temples. hair falls over his forehead as he tenses, shoulders curling in on himself, brows furrowing. your tongue slides over him, drinking up what beads at the tip as if it were ambrosia, and the sounds he produces are nothing short of illegal. you feel every vein and ridge of him, the plush slit at the tip, the petal-soft velvet of his skin.
“love you.” peter huffs, head lolling back and exposing his rosied neck, stumbling over his words. his hands flutter over you, moths to the flame, before settling into your hair, pushing it from your face and exposing it to the plane of the mirror. you watch each other in its surface, his eyes starried and captivated by your ministrations, like narcissus in the pond. “so hot."
you leave him with a pop, spit slick, and smile at the acme of him, your lips brushing the taut skin at the underside.
“is that all you can manage?”
“while you’re doing tha- that-” you’re moving again, his speech juddering to a stop, a moan stuttering out of him. he curses once, then again, hands fisting in your hair as you increase in speed, tongue flat against him.
“fuck, i- 'm gonna-!” he cuts himself off with a hitch of his breath, hands pulling his practice chemistry exams into tense fistfuls. your response is a low hum, your mouth full - ‘already?’
it’s only when his come pools in the fold of your tongue like oyster pearls, strings of your name falling from his lips like a rosary, that you realise he’s sprawled over all of your test notes, crumpling them. you swallow him down, and he falls back, spent.
“if you’ve ruined any of my notes, parker, i’m blaming you for my grade.”
“you can blame me for anything you want if it means you do that to me.”
“no,” you muse, swiping your thumb at the corner of your mouth, and then his cheek, marring the ink into a blue stripe. his nose is smushed against the wood, eyes closed in bliss as he stretches out like a cat that got the cream. “that’s only for when you’re being annoying.”
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romeulusroy · 2 years
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Imagine spending Valentines Day with Shang in the city: 💕
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Requested: @floup-doodles
"Where to next?"
"Have you been to the museum before?" You and Shang walked hand-in-hand up the winding sidewalks, busy streets adjacent. Neither of you had planned anything for today. Other couples wore itchy clothes to expensive dinners or fumbled their way through romantic movies trying to cop a feel. You were going where it took you. Neither of you were big planners. You enjoyed the freedom of a day unwritten. You guessed Shang had some idea of what you were going to do, at least one aspect of it. He'd been all smiles the night before, refusing to tell you what he was thinking. It was either something wonderful or that would leave one of you in the hospital. Either way, you were ready. Luckily, it was just a trip the park. A beautiful park, grateful for the good weather. You two watched the ducks in the pond and the way they ran after small children, laughing even though you knew you shouldn't have. It was simple and sweet, chill. There were no anxieties or fears, just the two of you enjoying your company.
"Not yet." You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. How long have you lived in San Francisco? You'd barely seen any of the city. With work and life, you were always so busy, so stressed. You and Shang had been taking things pretty slow, it was nice. It was easy. Being with him was easy. You'd never met anyone sweeter than him. He never made fun of you for crying at movies and always made sure, after a long day, that you were taking care of yourself. There was never any pressure to be anyone else but yourself. In all your flaws and imperfections, he accepted you for who you are. And you accepted him. You loved every part of him, even the ones he couldn't love himself. He was all smiled though, leading you down different paths to get there the "fastest". You were sure one of these turns was wrong, but it just meant more time together. Today was how it was always supposed to be, you were sure of it.
"Perfect! And then, lunch."
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Meeting and Dating Benny O’Donnell
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(My gif)(Requested by @famousalmondprofessordeputy and anon)
- You’d been friends with Pink, Cynthia, Tony and Mike ever since freshman year. You’d also had a crush on Benny O’Donnell for just as long but since the two of you weren’t in the same clique you’d never spoken to him before, even if you were both close to Pink.
- Well along came poker night, Pink had football practice after school and you had to make up a test so the both of you decided to drive together once you were finished. The test was easy so you had some time to kill before Pink was ready to go. Since you had nothing better to do, you decided to just chill on the bleachers until practice ended.
- You sat down on the bleachers, mainly doodling in your notebook until you happened to look up and notice a certain red head watching you. You figured you’d just caught his eye being one of the lone figures on the nearly empty bleachers so you paid it no mind, even if it made your heart race a little.
- Once practice ended, Pink jogged over and told you where to meet him before heading into the school to hit the showers. Unbeknownst to you, Benny caught up with him and tried to act nonchalant as he asked questions about you. After some less than subtle conversation, Benny convinced him to bring you to one of their beer busts.
- When he first brought up the idea to you, you thought he was kidding; parties like that just weren’t your thing especially when you barely knew any of the attendees. You only agreed to come after some “begging” on his side even though you felt like you’d regret it the instant you did.
- It wasn’t long before the day of the party arrived and you found yourself leaving the passenger seat of Pinks car to maneuver your way through a sea of drunken bodies and plastic cups.
- Pink made a beeline for the keg and you followed, not too keen on getting separated from the only person there that you actually knew. Once you made it out of the crowd, you realized just who was parked next to the keg and sitting in the bed of their truck.
“Hey, Pink, man, you made it! Oh and who’s this?” The red head asked as your friend tried not to laugh.
- Benny hopped down from his seat as you were introduced, patting you on the back with a greeting before Pink excused himself to go chat with Jodi. Your heart raced as he started a conversation with you; here you were talking with your long time crush and he was actually interested in what you had to say.
- Soon enough the two of you moved your talk over to the front seat of his truck where you could better hear each other. It was there that he decided to shoot his shot and ask you out. The instant the words left his mouth you wondered if you really were dreaming. You’d imagined the moment for so long that it didn’t feel real.
- You snapped out of your daze, realizing that you hadn’t given him an answer. The smile he gave you once you agreed took your breath away. He offered you a ride home and you once again agreed, quickly finding Pink and telling him everything before hopping into Bennys passenger seat.
- You thought you were excited for your date? You should have seen Benny after he dropped you off, the boy was off the walls.
- For your first date he took you to a park and the two of you laid out on the grass together, talking, eating and laughing. You were happy to find that you liked the real Benny just as much as you liked the idea of him.
- Your first kiss happened as you were laying down together, propped up on your elbows, chatting. He was teasing you a little, leaning in closer and closer until he finally connected your lips. It didn’t take very long for the kiss to deepen and you sure as hell weren’t complaining.
- A few more dates and the two of you were officially an item. ...You should really thank Pink one of these days.
- There’s a lot of pda; he’s got no shame when it comes to loving you.
- He makes fun of you for being shorter than him while also thinking about how cute you’d look in his clothes.
- He’s constantly teasing and making flirty comments towards you.
- He likes surprising you with stuff he made in wood shop class.
- Ass smacks and grabbing. The man can’t leave your backside alone.
- You always get shotgun when you’re riding with him.
- Late night drives around town.
- Cutting class with him every once in a while.
- He likes doodling on your stuff. Every now and again you’ll find little four leaf clovers and footballs on your papers.
- The two of you always seem to be laughing with each other although considering he’s quite the smartass it isn’t all that surprising.
- He’ll make some snide joking remark and then do that “love you, love youuuu” thing afterwards so that you, hopefully, don’t get upset with him.
- Exaggerated kisses on your cheek and head.
- He keeps a picture of you in his glove compartment and taped to his gym locker. He likes being able to look at it when he’s nervous or stressed.
- Cheering him on at his games. He likes being able to kiss you on the field after his team wins.
- Walking together with his hand in your back pocket.
- He’s devoted to walking you to class. He literally leaves his own classes early so that he can wait for you outside of yours.
- Sitting in the bed of his truck with him. The two of you probably have a few picnics there or wind up sleeping in it.
- He likes to dip you when he kisses you.
- Sometimes he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, giving your butt a pat as he does so.
- Trying to feign interest when he shows off his paddle to you.
- He’s not great at comforting people but he does try when you need him to... although, he’s more like a coach than a therapist.
- Fast food dates.
- Carnival and arcade dates. He’s won you so many prizes.
- Hugging him whenever you’re standing together, he’ll usually wrap an arm around you in return.
- He loves cuddling and that’s just a fact. He’ll find a way to snuggle you no matter what you’re doing; at least while you’re alone together.
- Sitting on his lap. He likes being able to show off that you’re his.
- When he’s jealous, he tends to make jokes at the expense of whoever is bothering him. He isn’t afraid to be outwardly aggressive either so the instant they get just a little too “friendly” he’s ready to shut them down quick.
- You’re his girl forever and always, he’d never even think about cheating on you but you still probably feel a little insecure when girls are lining up to try and fuck the highschool football team. He thinks it’s kinda cute when you get jealous but after a little teasing he reassures you that he doesn’t want any of them, only you.
- Sharing stories with each other.
- Spending your summers together.
- He goes ballistic on the Fourth of July so expect to spend the day with him having the time of your lives.
- Being a little rough with each other. He jokingly; and softly, puts you in headlocks and tosses you around a little. Believe me, its fun.
- Makeout sessions. You know, some of your best kisses have happened while the both of you were a little tipsy.
- Since him and his friends are always doing dumb shit you’ve most likely tagged along on some their adventures. He always teases that he’ll protect you when you go off to do something dangerous or scary.
- Even though he’s very protective of his beer he’ll always give you one if you want it.
- More often than not, you’ll be left to deal with and comfort your drunken boyfriend after one of his beer busts.
- Wearing his ring.
- Double dates.
- Stealing each other’s food.
- If you have a problem with someone, he’s going to deal with it. You could just make some offhanded comment about how a person was rude or annoying and the next time he sees them he handles it.
- Fights don’t happen very often even though he has a bit of a temper. Whenever you do fight he’ll get upset and argue, maybe slam a door or something, but he never really raises his voice.
- He gets sort of uncomfortable when he has to apologize. He’s not used to making up with people, especially not girls so bear with him when he’s stumbling through his “sorry’s”.
- He’s a mamas boy and you can quote me on that. It’s absolutely adorable even though he gets embarrassed whenever you mention it or happen to catch some particularly sweet moment.
- Your parents are either clueless about his hobbies and love him or know about them all too well and hate him. Although if they’re fine with kids getting plastered then I suppose they’ll like him just fine.
- Supporting his goals and future football career.
- He’s in it for the long run baby, are you?
238 notes · View notes
immortalcoelacanth · 4 years
Text
HLVRAI Oneshot: Chalk
My muse continues to be a stuggle, Snowcon followers I am sorry XD
Word count: 2687
Summary: Kids were easy to be around. Their minds were simple, focused on entertaining themselves and being happy. It was something Benrey could relate to. But sometimes they could be so damn observant… 
“You love dad, don’t you?”
“uhhh, sounds kinda cringe bro.”
The warm, summer winds blew through the surprisingly quiet neighborhood. Faint sounds of children laughing could be heard, most likely in the park not too far away, and the scent of smoke wafted off the barbeque Gordon was currently cooking food on. 
All and all, a pleasantly calm day. It was one that he could enjoy with his son-
“hey, hey, you wanna play some tic tac toe?”
And Benrey. 
The duo were both seated on the pavement not too far away, drawing on the ground with pieces of chalk that were all sorts of colours. Benrey was wearing a rather large hoodie with some game logos and stickers plastered across it, and his security helmet of course. From his position, Gordon could see that Joshua had drawn several stars, a rainbow, and several other miscellaneous drawings. Benrey had, after being scolded several times to not eat the chalk, drawn what appeared to be colourful smears across the ground, mixing and blending them together. 
It sort of reminded Gordon of Benrey’s sweet voice, the blues that were present and the general colour gradient. He was glad to see everything was calm, nothing bad had happened, but still felt the urge to check. 
“You two still holding up good?” 
“Yeah dad!”
“we’re just doodlin’ passports over here, bro. josh dude gave himself a neat stache.” 
“It’s a rainbow mustache that’s extra swirly.” The young boy sagely nodded. “Benrey says it needs glitter though to look super nice.”
“gotta make it sparkly like your personality, little dude.” 
Joshua grinned and started laughing while Gordon could not stop himself from smiling at the rather wholesome sight. While Benrey was his typical somewhat apathetic self, his words were far more cohesive, and he sounded less… flustered when speaking. His words were less frantic, far calmer. 
Like he was truly relaxed. 
“Alright.” Gordon nodded as he turned his attention back to the barbeque, not wanting the veggies to burn while he was not paying attention. “Benrey just… keep not eating the chalk, please.”
He did not notice the wink that the ex-security guard sent Joshua, nor did he witness Benrey pull out half a piece of blue chalk from his pocket and carefully crunch into it. 
Blue tasted the best, it was like gatorade. 
The young boy laughed once more before returning to his doodling. Benrey looked at it for a moment, noticing the blue, orange, and yellow pieces of chalk that were clearly intended for whatever it was he was drawing, but Benrey decided not to question it at the moment. 
Joshua would more than likely ramble about it at some point, the kid was full of all sorts of words and tended to ramble to whoever was nearby. It was pretty amusing to listen to and gave him all sorts of insight on both Gordon and what the pair’s home life had been like before he crashed into it. 
Literally. 
Breaking into someone’s apartment at around three in the morning was not the best of plans, especially since it ended with Gordon bringing a bat down on the top of his helmet. Not that Benrey had been hurt of course. 
Seeing Gordon’s dismay and shock as the bat snapped in half and flew off to the side, shattering one of the windows, was hilarious. 
Had that been Benrey’s fault? 
Maaaaybeeee. 
Either way, months had passed since that point. Months spent working on building up Gordon’s trust in him, learning how to do human things like buy groceries that were not just soda. 
A shame since Benrey loved that gamer fuel. 
Getting to know Joshua had been… nice, too. The young boy never had the same anxieties that his father felt, never worried about whether Benrey would hurt him or not. He had been happy to make a new friend who was willing to listen to him ramble and play games with him. Of course, Gordon had not been happy with the developing friendship between the two, but as the months passed… 
Gordon had gone from constantly hovering over them, to occasionally checking in on them, and then finally to trusting Benrey.
Trusting him to watch over his son and not hurt him.
The first time Benrey had noticed this change and realized what it meant; it had been impossible to stop the bright pink orbs that left his mouth. Fortunately, Gordon had not noticed the sweet voice, but Joshua had. 
Joshua, who had later told him how pretty the “glowing balls” looked and how it resembled a very nice, peachy pink. 
Kids could be so blunt sometimes, but Benrey appreciated it. He appreciated how simple and straightforward their minds could be and while curiosity was a constant factor when dealing with a kid, it was an enjoyable part of talking to them. 
Like making a baking soda volcano on the ceiling of Gordon’s apartment. 
Fun times, especially with the bout of strangely quietly screaming he had gotten in response. 
Benrey didn’t know Gordon’s face could turn that red. 
He let out an amused chuckle and drew some loops on the ground with his mostly eaten piece of chalk. He loved getting Gordon so riled up, hearing the insults that were thrown his way and how the agitated man would run his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. 
Loved watching his face flush with anger, how his eyes shined with rage… 
Unnoticed to Benrey, several pink orbs floated out of his mouth as he sighed wistfully. When he realized what he had done, clamping a hand over his mouth to prevent any more from appearing, he noticed that Joshua was staring at him, grinning. 
Shit, one of the things he was actually scared of. 
“heyyyyy little joshie buddy, what’s with that look? kinda… kinda looks like a schemin’ look.” 
Joshua’s smile grew a bit wider. “Maaaybe.”
“... kid you’re scarin’ me.” 
The only response he got to that was a giggling laugh that was part cackle, which left him feeling no less concerned than he had previously been. Benrey sighed and refocused on his random doodling. Yep, just going to let this topic drop-
“You love dad, don’t you?”
Shit.
Benrey looked up and pretended he could not feel the sweat running down his face. Everything was totally fine, he was cool as a cucumber, kid couldn’t suspect a thing… 
“uhhh, sounds pretty cringe, bro.” He shrugged. “and gay.”
“Dad likes all sorts of people!” Joshua huffed. “He likes gay!”
“... that wasn’t-uh... never mind.” Oh fuck, was he blushing? He hoped not. “still cringe, not a pro gamer move.”
“You blushing when dad says something nice about you isn’t cringe.” Joshua bluntly stated. “It’s cute, and grandpa Coomer says gay stuff is cute! Grandpa Coomer’s super smart so it’s gotta be true!” 
“we-well it’s… uh…” Shit, he had no response to that. 
“Dad makes you happy.” Joshua continued to say, now refocusing on his doodle on the ground and Benrey could now see that it was a family of three people. One blue, one orange, and the smallest one was yellow. “Even if you’re weird sometimes, and pour milk in the cereal box before you eat it-”
“fruit loops get super dusty and i wanted to make soup.” 
“Cereal isn’t soup!”
“it is if you’re brave enough.” The change in topic was helping Benrey relax, tension leaving his shoulders as his absent-minded smile returned to his face. Nothing to stress over, everything was chill and-
“So when are you and dad going to go out on a date?”
Nope no more chill nope nope nope-
A date? Benrey had no clue how dates worked, or how they were supposed to work. Besides, his attempts at “flirting” were rarely successful and only seemed to wind Gordon up and, as much as he enjoyed watching the results, sometimes Gordon’s remarks would… sting. 
They would make him hurt, cause him to cringe and recoil from the conversation. Not that such a thing had happened recently, but Benrey knew how unpredictable Gordon’s mood and temperament could be at times. 
“sounds super cringe.” Was the response Joshua got, combined with a tense shrug. “like-like over nine thousand level cringer-”
“That’s an oooooooold reference.” The young boy said as he stuck his tongue out at Benrey. “And you’re changing topics again!”
Oh god, there were now hearts scribbled around the doodles that were clearly supposed to be him and Gordon. What could he say, what was he supposed to say? That he was terrified of fucking up the “Good Ending” he had finally achieved? That he did not want to risk destroying the relationship he currently had with Gordon?
The months of hard work he had put into fixing the damage that had been done because of that stupid, stupid game-
He felt the chalk in his grip crumble and break apart due to how tightly he was holding it, but the thing that snapped him out of his reverie was the sensation of a smaller hand grabbing onto his. 
Joshua?
Indeed, Joshua had scooted over and reached out to hold onto his hand. He looked up at Benrey with a warm smile on his face. 
A smile he had seen many times from the boy’s father… 
“If it’s hard to say it, why don’t you show you!” He suggested, still smiling that same smile. “Dad’ll understand! He gets my drawings all the time!” 
Benrey felt his lips quirk up into the faintest hint of a grin at the suggestion, the tips of sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. “you sure that’s a pro gamer move?”
“Yup! It’s super pro gamer!” 
“well, guess i’ve got no choice.” Benrey joked while rolling his tense shoulders. “joshie, toss me that orange one.” 
“And blue?”
“you know it.”
As the sun started to descend from its zenith, shadows beginning to stretch across the pavement in front of the apartment building, Gordon finished up his cooking. Everything was stacked on plates and brought over to his, thankfully, ground level room and placed inside. Once that was taken care of, he went about cleaning everything up and putting his barbeque away. 
He was so focused on cleaning everything up that he did not notice the large drawing that was progressively covering the pavement thanks to Benrey. It was only after all signs of his cooking had been neatly cleaned up or put away that he turned his attention to Joshua and his… “roommate”.
If he could call Benrey that.
“Time to head inside!” Gordon called out as he walked towards the duo. His walking slowed down as he noticed that Benrey was crouched in front of a large piece of chalk art. His eyes narrowed in confusion. 
Huh, he had not expected Benrey to be the artistic type, aside from spitting balls into the air. 
Joshua jumped up and rushed to his side, grabbing onto his arm, and tugging him towards Benrey. 
“C’mon dad, look! It’s so cool!”
“Alright, slow down there Joshie.” Gordon chuckled as he allowed his son to pull him towards the art. “It wouldn’t be good if… I… tripped….”
His words slowed and eventually stopped entirely as he finally took in the sight of what Benrey had created and it was…
Beautiful. 
Very abstract in nature, a swirl of colours that seemed to form shapes. Light blues and yellows and greens all circling and intermingling with a core that consisted of a darker, richer blue and orange. 
Swirls and lines that worked together to create faces. His own and Benrey’s. He could also make out what appeared to be Coomer and Bubby in the background, green and light blue seeming to dance together like the pair would, and that warm yellow that encircled them all, Tommy, uniting them. 
What…
As he leaned closer, Gordon noticed smaller details. How Benrey had drawn his hair to be similar to what it truly looked like despite the effort it must have taken. The dark shadows that had been scratched under the ex-guard’s eyes, the white and yellow that mixed together, an attempt to recreate his glowing irises. 
How monstrous he looked overall and yet there was a softness in the lines, and the trail of bubbles that left the drawing’s mouth. 
All a familiar pink. 
Benrey was not as slick as he thought he was, Gordon had noticed the colourful orbs on multiple occasions before he had successfully stopped them. He had never pushed the boundary and asked what they meant since Benrey always seemed so embarrassed, but now…  
“What’s pink translate to?” He asked, crouching down beside Benrey and bumping his shoulder against the other man. 
Benrey was silent, contemplating what to say and how to say it, before he finally mumbled out the answer. “.... s’makes me think.”
“... Pink means you think?”
“yeah,” Benrey shifted and looked up at Gordon, eyes still cast in shadow. “think of you.”
Gordon’s mind drew a blank at that answer, uncertain of how to respond, but before he could even attempt to get the words out the other man took his chance. 
He leaned towards Gordon and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. 
The gesture did not linger, but as Benrey leaned back Gordon could still feel the warmth of the kiss. He reached up and pressed his fingers against his lips and quietly wondered if he was dreaming. 
Benrey sighed, a stream of pink sweet voice floating into the air and waited for Gordon to speak. It felt like an eternity had passed before the other man finally responded to the gesture, voice cracking. 
“Y-You… really? Me? What? But… but you and I-”
“had problems?” Benrey interrupted, eyes fixating on the ground as he squeezed his hands. “no shit. feetman, if-if you don’t wanna-”
“Who said I didn’t?” At that, he looked up and stared at Gordon in surprise. “I was just surprised since you hadn’t said anything about that.”
“i joked about putting our minecraft beds together, bro.” Benrey bluntly stated, causing Gordon to flail as he struggled to explain himself. 
“WELL YEAH! But… but I thought you were joking and shit-”
“Dollar for the swear jar!” Joshua cheerfully interrupted, making his dad groan.
“Okay, dollar later, but first,” He focused his attention back on Benrey, noticing how the other man’s cheeks had darkened and how he kept fidgeting. “... You sure?”
“wouldn’t have asked if i wasn’t.” Benrey quietly commented, now finally looking back at Gordon. “psh, pretty cringe doubting me-”
But he was cut off when Gordon leaned forward and returned the kiss. Joshua cheered and Benrey, completely caught off guard, fell backwards which caused a chain reaction of Gordon stumbling, fumbling, and nearly landing on top of him. 
Gordon’s hands rested on the pavement beside Benrey’s shoulders as Gordon stared into the other man’s eyes. Both were blushing at this point, and a constant stream of pink sweet voice was leaking into the air. 
“U-Uh-”
“dude, you gonna-”
“Are you guys gonna kiss again?” Joshua’s innocent question snapped the pair out of their stupor and they scrambled to get back up. 
“W-Well, probably-”
“later, joshie bro.” That casual smile was back on Benrey’s face, an attempt at trying to look calm despite how much he was blushing. “we gotta… uh… get the meats’n stuff-”
“Yeah, like Arby’s!” Gordon nervously added. “But first…”
He quickly snapped several photos of the drawing Benrey had done on the pavement, also making sure to get several of Joshua’s in the process. Hey, he wanted to be able to look back on it in the future, plus he was certain some asshole would wash it off the pavement soon enough. 
Besides, there was no way in hell he wanted Benrey’s hard work, one of the few examples of hard work, to go to waste. 
“Okay, now we can get the meats.” 
Joshua cheered and raced over to the apartment while Benrey joined his side, an arm brushing against him. In response, Gordon linked an arm with his and smiled at the other man. 
“wow, that… that’s pretty gay, bro. You gayman now?”
“Totally.” Gordon rolled his eyes as he walked arm and arm back to the apartment with Benrey. 
                                    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I continue to be on my bullshit while my muse demands domestic fluff for these two. I suppose it’s a good thing for my followers who are in this fandom XD
I hope you guys enjoyed reading!
- ImmortalCoelacanth
158 notes · View notes
eirist · 3 years
Text
A Taste of Summer II
SUNKISSED
One-shot #: 5
Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.
Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.
Warning: OOC possible. One shot.
Rating: T  (Teasing… Flirting… lots and lots of teasing and flirting. Plus a hint that they probably will have an unwritten sexy time.)
Note: Last prompt for the ZoNami Week 2020 at zonamievents in Tumblr. Day 5: Tan Lines. And it only took me months to finish this collection. But it’s done so I can now start my Autumn/Fall prompts.
Summary: His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under.
It vaguely registered to him how brilliantly her orange hair shone against the sun.
How it glowed so radiantly…
Vibrantly…
As fiery as her personality.
Any more thoughts running inside his head came to a standstill when her lips slanted against his to deepen their kiss, prompting him to give her more access to his mouth.
She hummed—a rather, satisfied sound—as her fingernails scratched lightly against his scalp.
Her other hand started rubbing the well-defined muscles of his chest; his own was grasping her by the nape, pushing her closer to him while his free arm all but caged her body against his as their kiss turned aggressive.
She shifted on his lap slightly, pressing herself to him as they continued their lip lock.
They were on the top of the island’s lighthouse. Nami had seen it when they docked a few days ago and figured it would be nice to get a view of the whole area from that vantage point. But she only got the time to put her plan to action today—after arm twisting him to accompany her by reminding him of his accumulated debts these past few weeks from all the stress and waiting he subjected her to. 
He wasn't all too happy to acquiesce and she already expected that. So she threw in a promise of an undisturbed nap and some booze from the Sunny's secret stash as well. 
That changed his mind and sealed the deal.
So they headed towards the old white structure after breakfast despite the irritating, non-stop whining of that stupid love cook about how his Nami-swan shouldn't be left alone with him—the idiot moss head. 
Once at the top, Zoro settled down the wide gallery deck as Nami set up her surveying tripod and telescope.
The moment she finished… she made herself at home on his lap. 
What was supposedly a 'thank you' kiss had turned into a full blown make out session. And now they are kissing each other like there's no tomorrow.
This is most likely the result of all the tiptoeing they've been doing around each other these past weeks. Ok, more like the tiptoeing HE had been doing these past weeks… because Nami already knows what she wanted and was just waiting for him to come around.
“Mmmm…” she murmured against his lips, finally managing to pull away after a little while. “At this rate, I’m not gonna finish surveying this island.” Her voice was husky, eyes a bit unfocused as she gazed at him.
“Not my fault,” Zoro drawled, stealing one last kiss on her lips before giving her a rather arrogant smirk. “I’m not the one who got comfortable in my lap.”
“It IS comfortable here,” she agreed cheekily, her hand still rubbing at his pectorals.
"I can see that."
“You complaining?”
The corners of his lips quirked up some more and he shrugged. 
Her laugh was melodious as she untangled herself from him.
He must say... he was rather disappointed. How can he easily miss the way she was wrapped around him when it was just merely seconds ago?
"You should stop distracting me Zoro," she teased as she stood up. 
"Can't help it if you can't stay focused on what you're supposed to be doing."
Nami just chortled at his response. There was that certain twinkle behind her brown eyes as she regarded him... a naughty gleam he had just recently got accustomed to seeing.
She gave him a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin before swiveling around to finally pay attention to her surveying tools.
Zoro leaned back against the metal wall, hands behind his head, ready to pass out anytime as Nami gradually gets into her zone. It’s not like he will be able to disturb her without risking an increase in his currently renewed debt. Plus, she did promise him booze and an undisturbed nap.
And damn he’s going to get 'em both.
He yawned widely as he felt himself relax at the soporific sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below. His grey eye flitted towards Nami to check on her first before he succumbed to sleep.
The swordsman silently observed her… admiring the serene look she had on her face as she scribbled and doodled on that small notebook she had remarkably pulled out somewhere from her tight, pale yellow sundress.
Her orange hair whipped wildly across her face, prompting her to tilt her head towards the wind so they will be blown back and away from her pretty face…
…and sun-kissed shoulders.
“Quit staring at me Zoro,” she suddenly said, looking back at him with a smirk. “You’re making me blush.”
He scoffed.
She snickered at his reaction and went back to charting the island.
He, on the other hand, went back to watching her.
Her brows were furrowed in what could only mean deep concentration. She chewed on her lower lip as she focused on whatever was jotted down her notebook. 
He always marveled at the discipline and effort she puts out for her beloved maps. It was almost the same as what he devotes to his training and swordsmanship.
When she’s like this… Zoro realized that he can stare at her forever.
“You’re still looking, Zoro,” her playful voice broke into his thoughts.
He blinked up at her.
Nami was eyeing him again. Though despite the mischievous grin on her lips, he can see that her cheeks were slightly flushed and he knows that it has nothing to do with the sun.
He inwardly smirked.
“I take it you like what you’re seeing?”
He returned her grin with his signature shark-like one. “And if I do? Are you going to charge me for looking?”
“Yes. That’s 200,000 belis added to your debt.”
“200,000 belis are for groping.” Zoro pointed out, cocking an eyebrow at her.
She looked genuinely surprised that he knows that. 
“How come I owe you 200,000?” He asked, frowning. “Wait, don’t tell me you put a price on earlier?! I didn't grope, you greedy onna!”
“Idiot,” Nami reached down to pinch his cheek. “That doesn’t have a price. The charge is for catching you ogling at me twice!”
“The hell? You sure are evil,” he grumbled, wrapping a hand around her wrist. A wicked smile suddenly appeared on his face and he tugged her down to him.
She easily let him pull her right back into his lap… arms automatically wrapping around his neck.            
“And that’s why you like me,” Nami joshed, beaming at him.
“Who says I do?”
She pouted. “Didn't you kiss me because you like me? Oh you wound me!”
The corner of Zoro’s lips twitched amusedly. “You’re mistaken.”
“Am I really?”
“Really.”
"That wasn’t what you said last night.”
She was right. He did say that when they finally talked about what happened in the orchard after they  sneaked out of the villa for a late night stroll along the beach and almost got caught by Robin and Franky. 
And Brook.
And Usopp.
And Sanji for crying out loud!
Why are their crew mates such night owls?
Luckily they were able to wrap things up about their relationship and managed a kiss or two before nearly encountering their still awake and about friends.
“Hello?” Nami tapped his forehead with her knuckles. “Are you still there Zoro?”
“What?” He must’ve zoned out, thinking about yesterday’s events.
“Getting lost in your own thoughts huh?”
"Shut up."
He playfully sank his teeth on one bare shoulder.
“Hey!!!" 
Zoro grinned roguishly at her and immediately planted a kiss on the spot to appease her. “Can't resist. You're being more cheeky than usual."
Nami scowled at him. "Biting will cost you another hundred thousand belis!”
"Just put it on my tab. You have my permission to cash my bounty once my debt reaches it.”
Her eyes widened. Then she sniggered. “You must like me so much that you’re actually willing to be surrendered to the marines.”
“Yeah.”
She blushed when he easily admitted it but instantly recovered her composure as she tossed her head back and laughed loudly. 
Damn! Who knows Zoro can be endearing sometimes?
Nami kissed his cheek adoringly. “I’ll hold on to that. Nothing can make a woman fall so hard than a man willing to be handed over to the marines.”
“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Zoro added.
“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Nami agreed with a wide smile. “I really like that part a lot.”
“Tch. Of course you do. You're a money fiend after all.”
She laughed again and childishly stuck out her tongue at him. “Priorities Zoro.” 
“Glad to know I’m one of the least.”
“Uh-huh,” she nipped him on the jaw. “Now I'm going to focus on my other priority," she gestured to her equipment. "The earlier I finish, the sooner we can head back. Robin and I planned to sunbathe while we babysit you boys. Pretty sure you all want to run amok and play before we leave this island.”
“Is that why you’re wearing a swimsuit underneath this?” Zoro inquired as his fingers played with the thin strap of her dress.
“That and you know how spontaneous our crew is. First it's a barbecue party then the next thing you know one or three of our idiot hammers’ in the sea, drowning."
“You rarely go after our hammers.”
Nami rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “That’s because we have you and Sanji-kun for that.”
“Hnnn…” he traced the strap on her shoulder before his finger strayed off path, to run along the bikini string that was diagonally traversing her collarbone.
She shivered slightly under his touch. Something inside her immediately sparked.
“I don’t see why you still need to sunbathe,” he was saying as he hooked a finger on her strap, nudging it to the side. “You’ve already had too much sun while we’re staying here.” He touched the tan line she was sporting underneath. “Still not roasted enough?”
Nami looked indignant. “What the hell do you mean by that?!”
He chuckled, dipping his head down and kissing the still pale skin.
And she melted just like that... her annoyance instantaneously dissipating. A familiar heat crept up her entire body and she groaned. “Damn it!”
He was looking smug. Absolutely liking the way he affects her. 
This is better than he expected when he kissed at the orchard.
"Thought we're here to map and nap Nami?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. She was slowly learning that Zoro can be a tease when he wants to.
But she wasn't the kind to just let him one up her. Together or not she wouldn't let him take the upper hand.
She batted her eyelashes at him. 
"Oh," her voice took on a flirtatious tone. "Here I thought you want to see and touch more."
Apparently Zoro was thinking just the same thing. 
“Of course I do,” he played along, whispering in her ear. “How about you lose the dress? Lemme see those tan lines you worked so hard to get?”
It took all her willpower not to let her jaw drop in pure amazement.
Was he really the same person who was hesitant to make the first move? Who managed to turn his back on her while she was top naked in front of him after skinny dipping on the lake?
Who consistently refused to kiss her despite every damn opportunity they have until he cannot stop himself anymore?
She heard the low rumble of his laughter as she just stared blankly at him.
“Is this…” she managed to say after a few seconds of short circuiting. “Your not-so-subtle way of saying you want me naked?”
“I think I’ve waited long enough Nami.” He stated in that deep, lazy yet light-hearted voice that she was secretly fond of.
A delicious shiver of anticipation ran all over her body and made her skin crawl.
“And you actually want me to believe that Roronoa Zoro’s actually interested in things like tan lines and a naked girl?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“You!” She exploded when she saw the corner of his lips twitching. Her moron swordsman was trying not to laugh. “Quit teasing me, you idiot!” She bopped him on the head lightly as he finally laugh out loud.
She glared at him as he continued laughing at her expense.
This is going to be one hell of an interesting relationship.
With a vexed-sounding huff, she scooted away from his lap to stand up, giving his leg a nice, good kick.
Zoro caught her by the ankle. Still grinning up at her, he said, “Just go back to your mapping Nami, I still want my nap.”
“Damn right you still do! By all means kindly please pass out now!”  
“And booze.”
“I will drown you later in favorite sake!”
He threw her a cocky smirk as his thumb rubbed circles on the inside of her ankle. “The sooner you finished the better. We can continue where we left off back at the villa.”
Nami raised an eyebrow at him. “Where we… left off?”
His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under to get tanned.
“You actually thought I was just teasing you?”
39 notes · View notes
rachelbethhines · 4 years
Text
Tangled Salt Marathon - Painter’s Block
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Once again, we have a decent episode that winds up falling apart in context of the wider story arc. 
Summary:  Traumatized after the previous events, Rapunzel is feeling out of sorts, even having trouble painting again, and starts taking a class with a mysterious new art instructor. The other members of the class disappear one by one to a mysterious location by the sea, apparently painting an old, withered tree. The instructor is revealed to actually be an old witch serving Zhan Tiri (the monster who released the blizzard), released after the use of the weather machine and wishing to release her master as well. It’s up to Eugene and Cassandra to rescue Rapunzel. 
Tonal Dissonance Is a Problem
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We start this episode with a recap of Queen for a Day and then we jump straight into yet another festival. 
Ok, ignoring that clearly a lot of time has past and no one hasn’t done anything to help Varian nor even mentions helping him; it’s just aggravating to switch from a serious storyline back to a supposedly low stakes situation without resolving the first arc properly. Yes, levity is needed to break up tension, but not in a way that distracts entirely from the narrative. 
Rapunzel Doesn’t Even Bother To Think About Varian When She’s Having Her PTSD Flashback  
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Its a minor thing, but throughout the episode Rapunzel keeps having dissociative moments as she constantly hears voices in her head as she remembers the storm. Now I actually do appreciate what the writers are trying to do here. As some who also struggles with Complex-PTSD and dissociation, it's nice to see it represented here in some way. However, the fact that they leave out the key part of her trauma, letting down Varian, undermines these moments. Especially when they had no problem using Varian’s voice clip of “You promised!” earlier in the recap. It’s one of those things you may not notice it at first, but once you do it winds up distracting from the scene. 
What an Odd Place to Make This Reference 
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Sugarby is quoting Ursula here, but I honestly don't know why. Ursula’s actual VA, Pat Carroll, does appear in this episode but she plays Old Lady Crowley instead. Sugarby’s VA is Ellen Greene, of Little Shop of Horrors fame. (and Rock-A-Doodle) You’d think a quote from that movie would be more apt. Also Rapunzel was admiring everyone elses work right before this, not talking about tough choices. 
Yet Again Cassandra Gains What She Wants, But the Narrative Refuses To Remember It
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Cassandra’s beef in seasons two and three is apparently no one notices her or gives her credit for what she does, yet in season one she gets tons of recognition. Like here for instance, when her dad gives her a detective assignment on a missing persons case. To her specifically. He doesn’t ask anybody else first and isn’t running low on troops. 
You can’t have one of the main characters achieve their goal on screen several times and then act like they had never achieved it in later seasons. The audience isn’t dumb. We’re going to remember what happened and it’s insulting to the viewers for the narrative to pretend like what we’ve seen just didn’t happen. 
Friedborg is Wasted Here
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I’ve talked about it before, but Friedborg is an unnecessary addition to the cast. However I bring it up again because this episode could have been the perfect set up for making her plot relevant. There’s tons of unintentional moments within the episode that could have easily served as foreshadowing that could have connected her to Zan Tiri, more so than any of the other characters. 
Trauma is an Explanation, Not an Excuse
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This episode presents the idea that Rapunzel is procrastinating helping Varian because she’s reluctant to face her trauma. Which isn’t excusable. It gives reasons for her actions but those reasons are still ultimately selfish. 
Now, had the show owned up to this mistake, I would have no problem with using it as a point of conflict, yet the show constantly excuses Rapunzel’s behavior here. In fact the show excuses the behavior of several characters with the idea that so long that they had a traumatic backstory, they’re justified in their horrible actions. All but Varian, which a big double standard. 
However, and I can’t stress this enough, trauma is never an excuse for harming others. Especially people who've never done you wrong. 
Rapunzel spends several episodes ignoring Varian’s problem, long past the point of acceptability. And if viewed in the intended production order, the amount of episodes doubles. Varian is left alone for months, given the timeline of the show, and yet Rapunzel, the supposed adult in this situation, is never held accountable for neglecting a child.  
Xavier isn’t Tied Into the Plot Properly 
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Xavier just so happens to have a convenient spell book that also just so happens to have all the exposition on the big bad that’s needed. It’s never explained how he got this book, why he has it, nor is it ever used outside of the first season. 
Xavier is plot important as the exposition fairy but the show never explorers him further than that and doesn’t tie him into the narrative properly, even though there’s plenty of reasons to do so. In fact Xavier will become just as useless as Monty by the time season three rolls around, even though he previously had the most connection to the ultimate villain. 
The Disciples Plot Goes Nowhere 
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Ok, first off we get no real explanation as who these guys are, nor why they follow Zan Tiri to begin with. Why do they want Zan Tiri freed? What’s in it for them precisely? 
Second, what meminal backstory we get on these guys, contradicts what we’re told about them here. Xavier calls them evil spirits, but later we find out that they were actual real people who onced lived. You could call them ghosts if you want to, but that begs the original question of why they followed Zhan Tiri in the first place and why they continue to do so even in the afterlife. Simply being ‘evil’ no longer cuts it because real people aren’t just purely ‘evil’. They have goals and motivations. 
Finally, they accomplish nothing. They never wind up freeing their master. That happens through other means. They never connect back to Zhan Tiri’s own goals and motivations. They don’t add backstory to any of the other characters nor expand the mythos of the series. They’re just there to be a baddie of the week, and it’s is such a let down given what other hints we got for them. 
Sugarby Misgenders Her Master
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So it’s clear that the writers did not fully figure out Zhan Tiri’s plot before they started making episodes. Given how animation works and how much pre-production time you’re given before you ever even start animating (which is several years btw), that’s a sign of mismanagement right there. 
Zhan Tiri is revealed to be a girl, but is referred to using male pronouns until that reveal, even by people who very well should know better, like her disciples. 
Also all these tree metaphors and hints come to nothing either, as Zhan Tiri is ultimately both freed and imprisoned without them. So what was the point here? 
Rapunzel Doesn’t Learn Her Lesson
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This episode is suppose to be about Rapunzel learning to accept responsibility and owning up to her decisions even if it's hard. This should, sensibly, end with her taking upon her responsibility for Varian and following up with him. But no, we get a painting party instead. 
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This isn’t Proper Foreshadowing 
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So everyone acts like this painting of Cassandra in front of the moon is foreshadowing for her taking the moonstone, but it’s not. Not good foreshadowing, anyways. 
For starters, it’s not focused upon. Everyone is also painting stuff and crowding out what she’s doing so your eye isn’t lead to her
Nothing anybody else paints is a hint to anything later on, so why should the viewer pick up on this? It’s just a thing anybody could paint. If anything, Freidborg painting the void over there could have been some real foreshadowing cause that’s different and stands out, but it isn’t. 
It’s not on screen long enough to register for the audience. If you’re only going to notice something after the fact then it’s not a meaningful clue. Real foreshadowing has to be detectable and the audience needs to be able to plausibly figure out a twist before it happens or you’ve got a bad twist that’s not integrated into the story.   
There’s no other evidence to backup the twist. All we get is one framing shot of a mirror and that brief talk with Eugene in in the cell in Cassandra vs. Eugene. That’s not enough. And no, Chris claiming her ‘dress is blue’ as a hint is utter bullshit, cause there’s Freidborg right there wearing the exact same dress. 
If MoonCass was always a thing that the writers intended to happen, which we do have evidence for given released production artwork and Chris’s own discussions about the show’s development, then they needed to put more effort into establishing the character and setting up her arc. 
The very fact that viewers can easily pick out supposedly non-existent ‘hints’ with other characters like Freidborg and Varian, but not pick up on the actual twist, means that the writers failed to communicate clearly with their audience. That is on them and not the viewers, no matter what Chris says. 
Conclusion
This episode is frustrating. Much like the pilot, it offers up good ideas but then never properly follows up on them. To make matters worse, it winds up distracting from the plot that viewers actually care about rather than furthering. 
74 notes · View notes
sunlitangles · 4 years
Text
Prose and Cons
I had the pleasure of also writing a fic for the @grishaversebigbang! Please go check out the other wonderful fics written by my fellow Etherealki. 💙
Thank you to my Corporalki @jdobrski and my sensitivity readers @niecity, @nekonamicosplay, and @wybiegowritey
And my talented Materialki (please check their pieces out and show them some love):
@ninaaswaffles x
@artzy-lia-art x
@dingy-doodles​  x
@protec-kuwei-yul-bo x
Summary: When his father kicks him out of America in disgrace, Wylan leaves for London looking for opportunity. He loves telling stories and sharing knowledge, so when the publishing company Crows Publishing accepts his application as a writer, he is overjoyed. There’s only one problem- Wylan can’t physically write. The solution to this stumbles into his life as Jesper Fahey, the anonymous author of popular war-time novels and coworker. They quickly enter a co-writer relationship, but maybe Wylan wants it to be more. The pair starts to get closer, but it isn’t long before Wylan gets caught up in the secret goings of the Crows Publishing company.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316439/chapters/64080943
Keep reading after the cut for chapter one! 
“Mister Van Eck, I simply must inform you that you are not qualified for this job,” said the man. Wylan sighed and glared at the stout man sitting before him. “Mr. Rollins, I really need this job. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I-” Wylan started but was quickly cut off. “Van Eck, I couldn’t give a damn. Now, please see yourself out of my office,” Mr. Rollins said, spit flying out of his mouth. He didn’t give Wylan another look, proceeding to make a ‘shooing’ gesture and turned back to his records. Wylan grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.
Wylan stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his tweed blazer. He grabbed the strap of his leather bag as Mr. Rollins lit a cigar. The beady gaze of the older man followed Wylan out of the office, and as Wylan stepped outside into the cool autumn breeze, the noisy bustle of London streets overwhelmed him. Wylan resisted the urge to plug his ears, which were not accustomed to the din. The countryside was never this loud. He missed the scent of the rolling fields, the clean autumn breezes, and the subtle hints of life on the farms nearby. He sighed disdainfully and stepped into the chaotic streets of London.
The intricately built buildings arched high above Wylan, seemingly watching his every move. What am I supposed to do now? His bag thumped against his side as he strolled the uneven cobblestone, dodging other pedestrians in long coats and large skirts. He was alone in this damn city with no steady source of income. If only my dad could see me now, Wylan thought, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He walked down Fleet Street, a sour expression stuck on his pale face. He strolled past the brightly lit shops of 36th street, the warm smells of the bakery wafting towards him. He stopped in front of the shop, observing the buttery pastries and golden rolls in the shop window. The soft light emanating from the bakery illuminated workers bustling around inside, putting more dough in the oven and piping thick jam on top of fluffy cakes. His mouth watered at the sight of flakey scones and he longed to taste at least one warm confectionery but tore himself away from the shop, turning back to the crowded streets. He certainly didn’t have the money for those types of luxuries yet.
He continued down the street, avoiding the large skirt of a beautiful fair-skinned brunette who strutted as if she owned the town. Her red dress flaunted her generous, soft body. She was fairly plump, and Wylan could tell her corset was laced far larger than customary. He stared as she bounced down the street, entering the bakery with a wide grin on her face. The other patrons stared after her, their expressions a mix of disgust and confusion. Wylan grinned to himself.
Loose pebbles skittered down the path as Wylan continued to make his way down to the run-down hotel that he called home for the time being. He’d managed to make enough money doing odd jobs between university classes to keep himself out of the streets, but if Wylan didn’t find steady work soon, he’d surely be down on his luck. He hurried down the cobblestone streets until he reached the hotel. The front needed a new paint job and windows were in a serious need of cleaning, but the rooms were in good enough condition. He stepped inside the lobby, which was empty save for a Suli family who waited on the moth-eaten couch and a tall, well-dressed man speaking quietly with the concierge. Trudging up the stairs, Wylan searched for his room number, turning right and then forward. He slid his key into the lock, taking off his jacket as he stepped into his hotel room.
He examined his belongings, anxiously making sure nothing was missing. Earlier in the week, he had experienced a run-in with a maid who had taken a liking to rifle through his belongings, looking through his music notebooks and pockets for spare change. He sighed in relief as he realized none of his belongings were swiped. Wylan could hear horses trotting along the street below him, barkers shouting at passerby and the mumble of conversations over watered-down tea and lumpy rice pudding. He still couldn’t believe he was in London. It felt a lot bigger, even though it was barely big enough to fit a fraction of America. He sat down at the tiny desk in the corner of the room, lit by the setting sun. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating his fiery copper-red hair. Setting his head in his hands, he rubbed his temples, willing the stress of the day to disappear.
He had no idea how he was going to sustain himself for much longer. The funds that his dad had sent him off with were running low, and it would only be a few more weeks until he would be kicked to the streets with only the clothes off his back and a university scholarship, forced to feed himself and fend off the rats and pests that lurked in the dark alleys. According to his calculations, he would be able to afford his room for three weeks if he cut back on his food budget and skipped meals. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the creaky wood chair, the moth-eaten upholstered cushion leaving dust on his nice black pants. Brushing himself off, he collected his school work from his leather bag. Thick leather-bound books and spare pieces of paper stared up at mockingly, the neat font gleaming under the setting sun. Rubbing his eyes, Wylan attempted to make out the words written on the crisp pieces of parchment but gave up after a few tedious moments.
Mind still preoccupied, Wylan grabbed his flute. The cool metal was familiar to his smooth hands, the brass instantly calming his nerves. Grabbing a few sets of sheet music that he had already memorized, he brought his flute to his mouth and began to play.
As the stars twinkled in the midnight blue sky outside his window, Wylan fought to ignore the rumble of his stomach. He had played for hours, taking breaks to try to read the work he was assigned but he quickly gave up; the frustration consumed him as simple words mocked him. He craved a flakey pastry from the bakery he’d passed earlier, but the almost non-existent weight of the money in his pocket reminded him that indulging in such luxuries would not suit him well. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, wondering if he could afford to buy potatoes at the grocer. Deciding to go food shopping tomorrow, Wylan got himself ready for bed, humming under his breath as the crows chirped in the distance.
*** The streets of London were never quiet at night, Wylan had soon realized after his first night at the hotel. The drunken steps of men stumbling out of bars and their loud, slurred voices filled the streets night after night near the gambling halls and pubs while the sound of horses trotting through the cobblestone alleys mixed with quiet sighs of private theatricals. Tonight, Wylan caught wind of a few conversations, most of them noisy neighbors complaining about the prices of tea and whatever was in the paper that morning. Curling up on the window sill, he felt the cool London air blow into his room.
“Brekker said he would be here by now,” mumbled a gruff voice. The voice was coming from a stocky man, leaning against a building with a few companions by his side. The man to his right drawled in a kaelish accent, “Damn that kid. I can’t stand him.” “Did you hear what happened to Thomas today?” a blond man asked, rolling his neck. Fiddling with the pistols at his hips, a Zemini man replied, “Did Brekker con him?” The blond man nodded and replied, “Got ‘em good, too. I heard he got all of Thomas’ inheritance. Didn’t even see it coming.” The group of men continued to converse, loudly complaining about “Brekker”.
Wylan tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to watch the early morning carriages drive across the roads. He watched rats scour the streets below, rotten apple cores littering the darkest corners of the alleyway. A young couple took a stroll along the other side of the street, speaking to each other in earnest. Wylan wondered what that was like. To have someone to tell everything to. Try as he might, Wylan’s father never could seem to get Wylan interested in the town girls. He just didn’t fancy any old girl, right? That had to have been the explanation for his blunt taste in women. They were just so peculiar. He often felt as if he never really liked any of them.
“Damn Brekker, can’t seem to keep his nose outta people’s business,” complained the man with the kaelish accent, snapping Wylan out of his daydreaming, “Do you reckon The Dregs will write something about Thomas?” Wylan knew that The Dregs was a popular newspaper in London, published by Crows Publishing. The Zemini man snorted and replied, “It’s a newspaper and publishing company.” “So? They can’t possibly know everything.” “You would be surprised, and I don’t read their shit. You’re the one reading penny bloods from Crows Publishing.”
Wylan knew about the penny bloods that were taking the country up by a storm. His neighbors often gossiped about them with their friends and family, and his classmates read them at school. They formed clubs where they would read them aloud and catch up on the latest episode. Wylan joined a few of those clubs, enjoying the way the writing sounded and taking note of the masterful ways they were written. The most popular penny bloods were written by a man named Kit Young starring a plot of war- novels and by the sounds of it, they were almost the most popular penny bloods in London, second only to a series of detective penny bloods published by the Dime Lions publishing company. Wylan heard that they told tales of crime and detection in America, but he didn’t find the descriptions as intriguing as the bloods written by Kit Young. Wylan participated in one of the clubs for Mr. Young’s stories and he latched on to every one of his words, but he had to stop going to the clubs as he needed to find work more than participate in leisure. He laughed bitterly as he thought about the war bloods and continued to ponder the on-goings of Crows Publishing.
Wylan had dared to hope that he could potentially be hired at the publishing company. He imagined conversing with his coworkers, and hopefully friends, about the latest stories and articles looking to be published. He imagined laughter spilling out of him and his coworkers and them sharing a mutual love for stories, him hopefully writing successful penny bloods that took the country by a storm. He wondered what he would do if he met Kit Young, and how he would praise the man for writing the stories that kept almost all of London intrigued. He let his imagination roam free until the sun rose over the gray city.
***
Though he was drowsy from his lack of sleep, Wylan tried to pay attention to the lesson his English professor was droning on about. He had yet to read the book assigned and he tried to understand what Professor Williams was saying about the metaphors in the book, but the encounter he witnessed from last night had been playing on repeat. The name “Crows Publishing” stuck out to him and kept nagging in the back of his mind. Wylan got chills down his spine each time he thought about how “Brekker” worked the gang and how disturbingly good he was at getting what he wanted. Doodling on the piece of paper in front of him, Wylan continued to ponder the mystery of Crows Publishing. Professor Williams announced that he would be calling on students, effectively breaking Wylan out of his stupor. Wylan silently prayed that he wouldn’t be called on as his professor scanned the room for participants. Though of course, Professor Williams decided it would be the perfect time to call on him.
Locking eyes with Wylan, his professor said, “Mr. Van Eck, what did you think about the relationship between Victor and his monster?” Wylan gulped nervously, the room feeling awfully hot and stuffy. “I found their relationship, uh, quite intriguing.” Professor Williams raised his eyebrow in expectation, “Anything else, Mr. Van Eck?” “Uh, I thought that Victor treated the monster unfairly and that maybe the author was commenting on the times,” Wylan said, balling his hands into fists. He thanked the lord that Mary Shelley’s work was popular enough for him to have known the plot. His breathing began to get shallow, and he focused on simply breathing in and out to avoid getting too worked up.
Professor Williams sighed, nodded, and called on another student. Wylan felt the eyes of his classmates burning holes into the back of his head. Wylan shifted uncomfortably, digging his fingernails into his sweaty palms. He focused intently on the paper in front of him, fighting the blush creeping up his neck and heating his ears. He silently wished for the floor to open up and devour him; anything would be better than sitting here embarrassed.
As the class ended and students were packing up their belongings, Wylan felt a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him from exiting the classroom. “Van Eck. Hold on,” said Professor Williams. A few moments after all the students had sifted through the door, he leaned against his oak desk, crossing his ankles and watching Wylan intently. Wylan gulped and settled his hands on the strap of his leather bag. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” Wylan said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “In fact, yes, Mr. Van Eck. Your performance in my class has been… less than satisfactory. I am quite aware of your, ahem,” Professor Williams cleared his throat, “difficulties with reading and writing, and I would like to help you.” Wylan looked towards the ground, “I’m sorry, Professor.” “I have a tutor willing to help you. I hope you accept this offer, as I truly think it would help you.” Wylan nodded, “I accept. Thanks.” Professor Williams smiled slightly. “Let me know when you’re available and I will let your tutor know. Don’t worry about the finances, I have it handled.” Wylan walked out the classroom, cheeks hot. His professor was paying for his tutoring sessions, and Wylan couldn’t help feeling useless. He wanted to think that the tutor could help him, but he was too overwhelmed by the fact that another human being had to know about his inability to read and write. Wylan silently decided to somehow find a way to pay his professor back; his search for a job becoming his top priority.
***
Professor Williams had found Wylan a tutor, all right. He was a 19-year-old boy with hints of patchy peach fuzz along his upper lip. His blonde hair was gelled back and he wrote a purple bowtie, rather than the standard university’s blue. Wylan sat down at the library table his tutor, Joost, had found. Joost pulled out an intimidating stack of books and Wylan eyed the stack nervously. “I think we should start with the book Professor Williams assigned to us. Do you have a copy?” Joost asked with a pretentious air in his voice. Wylan smiled, narrowing his eyes. He already disliked Joost.
“I do. It’s required, you know,” he said, the fake smile slathered on his face. If his jab affected Joost in any way, he didn’t show it. Joost eyed Wylan up and down, waiting for him to pull out his book. Wylan gritted his teeth and grabbed it out of his bag. Joost smiled and opened his heavily- dog eared copy. “Let’s start with chapter one. Do you know what happens?” Wylan bit his tongue to stop himself from lashing out at the blonde boy. “I don’t remember.” Joost cleared his throat arrogantly. “Then open your book to chapter one.” Wylan groaned internally as he began his slow descent into hell. He tried to read the words printed on the smooth sheets of paper, attempting to keep up with Joost’s monotone droning. After ‘reading’ the first chapter, Joost looked at Wylan expectantly. “Now, can you finally tell me what happens in this chapter?” Joost looked at Wylan intently, and Wylan dropped his head into his hands, pulling on the strands of his hair. This was clearly not going to work.
*** No matter how well-intending Joost was, he was not the tutor for Wylan. Wylan endured two grueling weeks of his pretentious personality and he couldn’t stand how Joost treated him like the scum under his shoe. Wylan sagged in his seat, pretending to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as Professor Williams directed them to a certain part of the book. He glanced at the pages, scanning the words printed on the cream pages. As the rest of the class went on, Wylan avoided eye-contact with Professor Williams and Joost. He couldn’t stand the way Joost kept glancing at him. Wylan silently hoped that the class would be dismissed quickly.
Professor Williams held Wylan back at the end of class, grabbing his shoulder as he tried walking out of the door. “I take that tutoring with Mr. Van Poel didn’t go well,” his professor said after the students cleared out of the room. Wylan internally rolled his eyes, heat crawling up the back of his neck, “Joost was… fine.” Professor Williams pursed his lips. “I’ll find you another tutor, Wylan.” Wylan nodded, embarrassed of his additional request, and quickly thanked him and sprinted out of the room. As he rushed down the hallway, he felt his spirits deflate. Wylan couldn’t believe he’d already needed a new tutor. He already felt bad enough that his professor was paying for it, and now he’d complained about his old one? In times like these, he thought that maybe it was a good thing he could no longer disgrace the family name.
***
The library he’d agreed to meet up at was on campus, and it stretched a sizable distance. It had a big, arching front doorway and, once inside, beautiful oak shelves lining up the tall ceilings all the way to the back. Wylan held down a shaky breath thinking about the words lining those pages, words that he couldn’t read. It was almost suffocating. There were about fifteen people spread around the library’s common area, including a plump, whiskery little man sitting at the front desk. Wylan shuffled his way over. “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for a- um,” he glanced at the slip with the address and his tutor’s name, a name that he already memorized but he looked at the slip nonetheless, “Jesper Fahey?” “Always great to meet a fan,” called a rich, deep voice behind Wylan. He spun on his heel, coming face to face with a tall man with a rich-umber complexion. The confident expression on his handsome face made Wylan’s heartbeat quicken. “Hi, I’m uh- Wylan Eck Van. Uh- sorry, Wylan Van Eck. I’m assuming you’re Jesper Fahey?” Wylan said, stumbling over his words. “That’s my name,” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows in amusement, “And nice to meet you, Wylan.” Wylan reached his hand out for a handshake, but Jesper started down the hallway, looking for a table to sit at. The whiskery man stared at Jesper and went back to reading, smoking his cigarette when Wylan turned back to him. “Uh- wait up!” Wylan called, dashing to catch up with Jesper. Finding an unoccupied desk in the middle of the library, Jesper sat down, pulling out various books from his worn messenger bag. Wylan sat down, mimicking Jesper’s actions. “So…” Wylan started, glancing around the musty library, “What subject should we start with today?” Jesper looked up from his bag, pulling a textbook out. “I was thinking we could do English. Professor Williams told me you were struggling with the reading assignment?” Jesper confirmed, and Wylan glanced down at his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Clearing his throat, Wylan replied, “Yeah. Something like that.” Jesper gave him a wide smile and said, “It’s fine, Mr. Van Eck. So, how far are you into the book?” “I haven’t- um, I haven’t started it,” Wylan clenched his fists tight, “I can’t read… it. I can’t read.” Jesper’s playful smile dropped just enough for Wylan to feel embarrassment flood over him. “Oh,” Jesper simply said, scrunching his eyebrows, “Well, we can either read it together or I could give you a brief summary. Williams said that we should be at chapter four by now so I highly recommend the summary.” Jesper winked. Wylan took a deep breath and felt the tension leave his body. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
26 notes · View notes
acaciabuchanan · 3 years
Text
–– task oo1. upright & reversed
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King of Swords Reversed  –– quiet power, inner truth, misuse of power, manipulation
The box was thrown onto her bed with little thought while Acacia searched room for a pair of scissors slice through the tape. Her dorm apartment address was in the familiar scrawl of her mother’s handwriting and Acacia could not think of what her mom could have sent over despite the younger girl was back in her childhood home a few weeks ago. Acacia pulled out a second box and along with it, a note that seemed to take flight with the wind that it gathered. Amused having to catch a flying note, the young girl scanned the words of her mother’s pristine penmanship before letting out a deep sigh. 
Opening the box to find a beautiful new dress in a light blue, the satin catching all the light was supposed to make Acacia happy. And for the most part she was. It was a considerate gift from her mom to have sent down, her parents knowing of the forthcoming Sadie’s Hawkins dance from the school newsletter, but even if it wasn’t directly said, the message was clear: College is almost done, find yourself a husband, and settle down. 
The worst part of it all was that Acacia really understood where it came from and it felt like what they wanted was the easiest path for her. No matter how smart she was, no matter how well she did in school, her role in life had one true end, no matter what else she had to offer the world. And the scariest part of it all was she was starting to believe it. She didn’t know what was going to happen after her final school year. There were decisions to make that are looming over her head but even then Acacia was starting to doubt her own judgement.
Eight of Wands Upright –– movement, fast paced change, action, alignment, air travel
It was only the fourth week into the semester but it felt like time was moving too fast. Midterms and term projects were looming around the corner and all Acacia wanted to do was scream at time to stop, just for little. Day to day, she at least knew what she needed to do. Read those chapters, find five more sources for her research paper, get her notes back from Cameron from her Public Admin class––her to-do list was never ending but Acacia managed with the level head. The short-term goal always was good grades, regardless of what was to come next. Grad school, public administration, a law firm? It wasn’t as if it was a gaping black hole at the end of her school career, but none if it felt right and none of it made sense.
Acacia had no time to really worry because at least everything else felt like it was falling into place. It was her final year and she was stressed, but she was flying through. She was like a leaf in the wind, letting the current take her where it needed her to go, harnessing all the energy and joy there was to life. To get to spend time with her friends and learn things, to welcome the cool autumn nights and socialize with her peers between classes with toasty cups of coffee in their hands discussion how the world is changing and how it was theirs to do with as they wish.
Even if she felt like she wasn’t doing enough, Acacia at least knew she was at least doing good.
Knight of Cups Upright –– creativity, romance, charm, imagination, beauty
But even as she sat on her bed looking at the beautiful dress, the satin feeling like water under her finger tips, Acacia felt this weight in her heart warm like its own mini sun. A dance where it was in the girl’s power to ask felt very right and there was only one person that Acacia would want to ask, even if it was against her better judgement. 
Even if she was a little annoyed at the hidden message, it was still a beautiful dress. She pulled it out from the box and let it cascade down like a fabric waterfall before holding it close to her body, pretending like there were arms circling around her from behind with a head coming to rest on top of hers, forming that wonderfully goofy grin she loved so much.
It was a scene in her head that Acacia could only wish she could capture on paper. Her own doodles were taken from real life, scenes that really showed no emotion than through the roughness of her lines. She’s never tried to really capture human likeness, no that was for someone that was truly talented and gifted with a pencil, and had the time to practice and practice. Acacia was good at art, but she was better at studying, even if one was a little more fun,
As she put the dress away in her wardrobe, a decision was made, her heart for once talking a lot louder than her head. She had the dress and it was her last year, even if she felt like it was she has aged out of by now, going to the dance was a better way to spend an evening before her nights were taken by group study sessions and essay writing. And she had a date in mind.
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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years
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why hello again my sweet morgy~!! 💞🌠🍭 what a lovely evening to wind down with some writing and a glass of wine! hopefully you are doing alright!! well, of course school is going to make our days a little worse for now, but fingers crossed that i can offer a little brightness to you 😊💞 the second day of virtual school was extremely boring, i hate having to sit at a computer for hours,, so i ended up daydreaming and playing with fidget toys and eating lollipops hehe (1/8)
"yet again, you prove to be quite the charmer my dear morgane, out here once again with all of your smooth-talking! i swear, you will be the death of me one day, killing me with kindness,, i can only wish to be such a sweet person like you!! until them, i just have to keep pulling my dumb little one liners in hope of possibly flustering you back 😘 (2/8)
and today i made the unfortunate discovery that i have my ex and lots of mean people in my classes,, and so little of my friends! this is gonna be such a hard year i suppose :( sadly all i can do is hope that this year will be better than the last,, after all, as long as i can ignore/avoid them all staring at me and making comments, i'll be okay ❤ (3/8)
i had a hard time focusing in lots of the class video calls due to anxiety, so i doodled some portraits of my teachers!! i needed the practice anyway,, i haven't drawn in a while! i sent them teach the finished sketches and they both gushed with compliments!! it really cheered me up, i'm glad i was able to make people happy with my little doodles! 💖 (4/8)
speaking of drawings, i woke up to more artwork made of me! it's so so flattering, truly!! it shocks me how some of these artists do such amazing drawings for free, they're all so talented!!! ooh, and this reminded me, i should probably tell you all that all of the art, picrews, etc that's made for me and morg is saved in a special little photo album on my phone,, i call it "things people have made for me 💕" (5/8)
i like to go through them on bad days to lift my mood, so when i always say that your efforts mean a lot to me, i'm not lying 💓 but don't fret darling, even though we do deal with a lot of trouble in our daily lives, there'll be a time in the future when we'll get away from our bothersome struggles, no? and i do look forward to that incredibly so,, (6/8)
we have all of these improvised plans building up that i'm sure we can escape from all of the stress for a good while, we just gotta hang on until then!! and i'm always here to offer endless support, love, and wholesome stuff to brighten your day when you need it! one day at a time dear, we'll work our way there 💗💗💗 (7/8̶ 9)
oh, and of course i'll cook pasta for you amore, and fresh pasta at the least!! there's so many things i have to cook for you and others, so prepare for a feast in the future! after all, i only cook for my loved ones~ 🌺 ooh, i must've glazed passed that one ask about iris by the goo goo dolls,, i just wanna throw in that i absolutely love that song and my papa and i sing it all the time!! maybe i'll post a lil singy thing of that song here... 😖 (8/9)
oh dio, it seems the time has flown too fast again,, i wish these moments could last longer!! at least i can come back tomorrow and see you again! so i bid you a goodnight dolcezza, make sure to take care of yourself! as always, i'm thinking of you 💌 - tutto d'amore, waifu xoxo 💋 ps: don't worry amato, everyone is awkward when first learning to dance (even me!), but i'm sure you'll learn fast when i teach you 💘 (9/9)"
Before anything else if yo ex trynna start shit....je suis here👁️ iS thIs gUy bOtHeriN u qUeEn??
But like i felt that on a spiritual level online claases make me absolutely bored and i almost fell asleep so many times in the past also bc my sleep schedule is fucked so unlike the times i'd get up and freshen up a little now it was like me fighting off with my own body 10 min before online class starts asmr dhshdhdhd (i also basically end up playing video games or watching anime when shit really gets boring lmao)
AnYwAYs thats so wholesome?? The fact that ppl keep makin u stuff and u saved it in a folder too🗿 which reminds me...trust me i aint this wholesome or kind really u dont give urself enough credit dear u can b very sly/smooth if u want to so its def not just me here👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️
Now i could only ever dream of having such a positive attitude as urself bc my dumbass gets thru life by ignoring and pushing down everything which is hella unhealthy but do we care n o t a t a l l ksshhx if anything im glad u keep maintaining a positive aura urself and i have to agree we have so many plans its unreal.....it just succs that life b kinda wack🤡🔪
On another note it sounds to me like we'll have to not only dance but also sing together....i have a feeling i said this before but s t i l l👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️👁️
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celtics534 · 5 years
Text
Finesse
@gryffindormischief and I are proud to present a cooperative effort! It all started as a fun conversation and now we have over 5,000 words for y’all! 
Also available on FF.net and AO3
Harry sat by the fire in the common room, trying to talk himself out of it.
It’s a bad idea, his brain kept saying, in a voice that sounded all too much like Hermione. He shouldn’t ask her. It would be difficult to get the words out for starters, but -- Merlin -- he needed to know! He hated being blind. Harry liked going into a situation with as much detail as he could get, without it… well, he wouldn’t let his mind drift back to anything like that now.
He shook his head. He didn’t want to do this, but who else could he ask? Sirius was gone, Remus was busy with the Order, Mr Weasley -- Hell no! No, he could only think of one person who he could handle going to this about.
With his decision made, Harry stood from the sofa, crumpling the paper he had been doodling on and threw it into the fire. It was only an hour before curfew, so most people had settled into the Common Room for the night, minus patrolling prefects and stressed fifth and seventh years who haunted the library.
No one paid him any mind as he exited the portrait hole. Ever since he and Ginny had gotten together people watched him like a show animal, more than usual. Though honestly, he didn’t really care (for once), because he was blissfully distracted by Ginny.
Ginny… The reason he was having to do this… The cause of all this…
Harry’s feet led him to the office without any guidance from his mind. Then his fist rattled the door without any forethought.
Professor McGonagall opened at the third knock, her teaching robes still on, even though the lateness of the hour would have presented her with more than enough chance to relax.
“Potter.” Her tone was as sharp as ever, but her eyes shone with curiosity. “What’s happened?”
“Noth -” Harry’s voice betrayed him as it cracked. He cleared his throat, trying to prevent his face from flushing. “Nothing, professor.”
“Students don’t come to my office for nothing.” She moved out of the door frame. “Come in a take a seat.”
Harry did as he was told, perching on one of the empty stiff back chairs across from McGonagall’s seat. McGonagall took her position, pulling open the tin of biscuits on her desk. Harry politely refused with a shake of the head.
“Alright then, Potter.” McGonagall watched him. Her gaze always seemed to draw words from his mouth. “Care to explain why you’re here?”
“I don’t know anything about sex.” Harry’s could feel his eyes become the size of saucers. He hadn’t meant to blurt it like that! Damn that McGonagall stare!
In her defense, McGonagall didn’t look away or even look surprised. She simply kept her attention on him. “And?”
Harry wanted his chair to become sentient and man-eating and swallow him whole. It was a better way to die than by the complete and utter embarrassment slowly destroying him. He couldn’t look at her, his eyes focused on the corner of the desk where an ink stain seemed permanent.  
“Harry.”  That made him look up. It wasn’t often she called him by his first name. Her face was kind as she held out the biscuit tin again. “Take one.”
He followed her order this time, taking the shortbread with no intention of placing it in his twisted stomach.
“I’m guessing Sirius never got to have this… talk with you, huh?” Her tone was soothing, and honestly, that freaked him out almost as much as the topic… almost.
He shook his head once.
“Alright then.” She seemed to square her shoulders. “Once we finish this discussion we never speak of it again. Got it?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Harry moved his lips across Ginny’s jaw down to her throat. He loved the way her body seemed to hum as his attention moved south. This was their hidden part of the Burrow, their hideaway in the months since everything had ended. A place where no war had ever touched. Sadness didn’t thicken the air.  And best of all, no brothers around to glare daggers at Harry for touching their sister.
No; here he was free to kiss Ginny whenever he wanted and he wanted to now. His mouth glided across her semi-exposed collarbone and over to her shoulder. His hands, which had a mind of their own, had already reached up under her shirt and were steadily moving north.  Apparently, being this close to Ginny brought out the cartographer in Harry.
Just as his hands were about to touch the underside of the cotton that covered her breasts, an unwelcome voice popped into his head.
When a woman is aroused -
Harry tore his lips away from Ginny’s skin.
“Harry?” Her voice was confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit!” Harry murmured as he backed his body away from hers as if she were hot flame, “Shit! Damn it!
“Harry?” Ginny sat up from her indented section of grass. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“She’s in my head!”
“Okay…” Ginny tilted her head. “What ‘she’ are you talking about?  Because I should be the only she in your head when we’re snogging.”
Harry groaned, falling backward onto the ground. “Bloody McGonagall!”
There was silence. Harry covered his face with his hands. Then Ginny spoke in a tone full of suppressed mirth. “Well, I guess she’s hot in a stately way.”
That made Harry tear his hands from his face to look at her. The glee in her expression matched her earlier tone. “Ew, Gin! That’s not -” Ginny let out a snort. “Shut it. That’s not what I meant. She gave me the…”
“She gave you the?” Ginny’s brow quirked.
Maybe it would be easier to claim he had a thing for McGonagall’s glasses.
“The talk.”
“The talk? Like the talk?”
Harry wished he had the power to make a sinkhole appear, or maybe that the chair in McGonagall’s office had gotten a taste for humans. “Yeah. That talk.”
The silence returned. Harry didn't know how long they remained quiet. Finally, Ginny let out a giggle, then a another, and another, until she was full out laughing.
“Stop!” Harry groaned. “It was the worst moment of my life!”
“You've died twice.” Ginny reminded him.
He sat up. He looked her dead in the eye before saying, “Worst. Moment.”
Ginny let out a final cackle. She moved her body close to his, letting their breaths mix. “Maybe I can make it better.”
Summer is strange, perhaps it’s conditioning from school days, or maybe just the laziness that seems to settle over everyone when heat waves wriggle on the asphalt, but everything feels relaxed and comfortable. Well, except wearing anything denim and sitting on vinyl seats.  
Harry’d fully bought in to the whole atmosphere, taking a week off work to stay at home with his wild little family in their cozy country home.
Albus and Lily were spending the day at the seaside with Bill and Fleur’s brood, and Harry had become one with the hammock in the yard.
All in all, Harry was the most relaxed he’s been in a while. Especially after the way Ginny wished him a restful sleep the night before, and then the way he woke her up that morning. God being married was even better than he could’ve imagined.
Not that it’s all shits and giggles. Something he was reminded of when James wandered into the yard with a dramatic sigh, the one that always preceded a headache of a conversation and often a subsequent firecall with McGonagall.
“Dare I ask, James?”
The eldest Potter son flopped down in the soft grass next to Harry’s lounging spot with another sigh. “When did you get the - the talk?”
Tension wriggled up and down Harry’s spine, but he forced his voice to remain calm. “We - do you have more questions?  It’s not just the one talk and then we’re done. You can come to me whenever you have questions or ideas or - ”
Face scrunched, James flinched backward like he’d been slapped.  “Yeah but, Dad, it’s so... Who gave you the talk?”
Ah, even my least emotionally aware child doesn’t want to blurt out that my parents are dead.
“You mean since my mum and dad were gone?”
James grunted. “I was trying to be less-- abrupt. Mum said, well she said if I wasn’t careful I was going to say the wrong shite to the wrong person and get punched.”
“And?”
“And that it’s good to be nice,” James parrots.
“Right,” Harry agreed, letting his leg dangle over the edge of the hammock to set it swinging, “So, anyway. Back to your original question... not that I can really answer it.”
James pushed up on his palms and blinked at Harry, biting at his lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not allowed to say who gave me the talk.” Or more accurately, I swore to myself I wouldn’t.  For my own sanity.
"Was it Sirius?"
Harry snorted, I wish. "Sure, we'll go with that. Not that anyone would believe the truth."
Wind rustled the trees, carrying the scent of mint from the flourishing bushes tucked on either side of the back door, and Harry took a deep breath as James grumbled, “Dad. Why do you have to make this so awkward?”
“Your life could be so much more awkward,” Harry grunted, “Count your blessings cupcake.”
And despite a somewhat rocky start, Harry did manage to dig James’ current romantic troubles out of him and provide some measure of clarity on the subject.  Being a teenager is a minefield even without homicidal fascist maniacs trying to kill you. Harry, at least, comforted himself that his kids had it better, safety wise and in terms of trustworthy adults on hand.
But there comes a point where even the most loving parent has to let their little chicks spread their wings and fly, even if it’s just to Hogwarts. And that little flight means Harry can shield them from things only so long.
Which meant when James returned to Scotland in the fall, he was a year older, twice as sarcastic, and trying on adult humor for size. They’d been studying long term effects of transfiguration on the human body and he’d just delivered a highly witty (or immature, depending on whom you ask) one liner when a throat cleared behind him.
Since when do professors linger near the student’s tables during dinner? Dad would say it’s the height of stupidity to rely on assumptions based solely on usual activity. He also probably would have laughed because the joke was funny. Mum would probably say doing anything under McGonagall’s watchful eye was a gamble and the joke wasn’t quite enough to risk it.
But, spilled milk, glare ice, and such.  He was now facing down not just a Professor, but Headmistress McGonagall and all that office entails, while she eyed him with an inscrutable expression.
Grinning nervously, James maintained eye contact - a tip from Uncle George - while his supposed mates inched toward the opposite end of the table. The loser speaks first - that’s from Uncle Percy - so James holds his tongue.  
McGonagall quirked her brow as her lips tightened almost imperceptibly before she murmured, “I see your father has passed on my lesson.”
“I - what?”
The hours pass in a haze and around ten, James penned a vague letter and sent it off with his owl, Matilda, with explicit instructions to deliver it to his dad immediately. The common room had long since cleared, save a few seventh years waist deep in NEWTs prep, and James laid across the plush rug in front of the fireplace in a sort of malaise.  
Until the flames flared green and his dad’s face looked up at him worriedly. “James? Are you alright?”
James rolled onto his side. “You didn’t go through McGonagall?”
“You said not to. I had to use the fireplace in my office at the Ministry to get in.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
Harry smiled. “S’alright. So long as you’re alright. Hopefully there weren’t any members of the press lingering around to get a shot of Harry Potter in his pants.”
“You didn’t put on trousers?  It’s not that important,” James nearly shrieked, lowering his voice when he gets a few death glares from sleep deprived students.
That earned him a loud bark of a laugh from his dad and a rueful shake of the head. “James, your letter was almost unreadable and said, and I quote, ‘It is a matter of the utmost importance, please contact me by floo at your earliest convenience.’”
Shrugging, James ran a shaky hand through his hair. “What? Gran says young gentlemen should use good grammar and letter etiquette.”
“Yes, but your dad is an auror and knows his kids,” Harry put in, “And you never use complete sentences unless you’re terrified. And then the whole ‘avoid McGonagall thing’ - you know where my mind jumped.”
“Such a drama queen, Dad,” James teased, feeling the tension begin to leave his body at the familiar banter.
“Hm. It’s hereditary.  Do with that what you will. And now, let’s get to the guts spilling part.”
“Well, at dinner tonight I was with my friends and McGonagall - ”
“How much trouble are we talking?”
James raised his hands defensively. “No trouble! Just. How did we get here?”
Harry frowned. “We? You mean - did you not get the talk we had?”
“I mean how in the world did you,” James winced and sent a glance over his shoulder before continuing in a whisper, “shag when McGonagall is the one who told you about it?”
Harry’s a really sympathetic parent, almost too much according to Ginny. When James flooded the dungeons with his latest ‘experiment’, Harry argued detention for being caught out after hours was enough.  When Lily Luna’s accidental magic ended with a couple of nasty kids at her birthday party getting a free hair dye, Harry’d said her love for Teddy was admirable and it was good that she protected people she cared about, that she stuck up for bullies.  
Ginny was mildly persuaded on the first, particularly since it seemed James’ foray into potioneering was for academic purposes.  Lily’s was a harder sell, particularly when the Muggle Protection Squad had to show up and subtly alter remembrances of the afternoon.
Comparatively, Albus has been a pretty calm child, except for his tendency to want to touch and poke everything. Wet paint? Check. Neville’s semi-poisonous and highly experimental saber-toothed Snargaluff? In a second. But generally speaking, he’s less dramatic than the other two.  
Which is why when Albus came home during Winter hols in sixth year and threw himself across the lounge seat in Harry’s home office, it was a bit of a red flag. “Dad. Sixth year is horrible.”
Harry glanced up from the folders, papers, and other garbage that littered his desk and laughed. “It’s not all that bad.”
“You don’t understand - ”
“That won’t work until seventh year,” Harry snickered, “And I’ll gladly pass all your final year struggles to Mum.”
“I mean, your seventh year was kinda shitty.”
“Sixth year was worse.”
Albus slumped lower on the couch and twisted his face toward Harry. “Isn’t that when you and Mum?”
“She was a bright spot in an otherwise awful three-hundred-and-sixty-five days,” Harry began gathering up a few of his pens, highlighters, and whatever other tools he’d managed to pile all over his desk in the last day and a half, “I appreciate your lack of mock hurling when I say shite like that.”
“I’m mature. Back to the main issue though, not all of us can have a world saving prophecies hanging over our heads at sixteen. S’not really fair to hold my teen angst to that standard.”
Harry fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, “Al - that was far from the worst part of my sixth.”
“I feel like that’s a lie, but I’ll bite,” Albus said, “At least I’ll forget about my own mess of a life.”
A shout sounded from upstairs, followed by a thud and more shouting. Harry wondered if he’d need to pause this heart to heart when Ginny’s own voice joined the fray.  God she’s amazing.  They could really use a night off...or maybe a weekend.  A long one.  And he could visit that little shop in London with the lacy bits she likes…
Harry cleared his throat and refocused. “Mess? Are you seeing anyone? Is that what you’re having trouble with? I can - ”
Albus threw a cushion over his face and groaned. “Oh God, Dad! Can we not have the talk? We did whatever that was before my second year and I’ve picked up a few things since then so.
“Let’s hope you didn’t pick up anything - we really should have another discussion, there’s more to talk about.”
Punching the pillow over his face, Albus murmured, “I think I might actually die from embarrassment.”
“Trust me, this is a better option than...you know what, I’ll give you a way out.”
Albus sat up and let the cushion fall to the carpet, his hair a ruffled mess around his flushed face. Poor kid. Harry can only imagine what he looked like twenty or so years ago…
“You can hear it from me, or learn how I did.”
They had a staring contest of sorts, Albus considering his father and his options, probably also regretting the chain of events that set him up for the current state of affairs. But life happens and so, inevitably, do hormones. “I want more details before I decide.”
Harry smirked and rounded his desk, settling in the armchair across from Albus.  “Well you know Remus was hardly around and Sirius had…”
James groaned as he crossed out another word in his pitiful excuse for a potions essay. Assigning them three feet on Veritaserum during the winter holidays was just cruel.  Why should he be forced to think about saliva from a chimaera while his brother and sister were free to do whatever?
Crumpling his third attempt, James threw his head back so it thudded against the kitchen wall. He closed his eyes. He only had to complete this one assignment, then he would be free for the rest of the holidays. Next time, he wouldn’t complain about his homework in the car ride home. If his parents hadn’t known about the damn paper…
“You know chimaera’s have the head of a goat not a sheep, right?” James opened his eyes to look at his twelve year-old brother, Albus, reading his most recent attempt.
“Have you ever seen one up close?” James asked sardonically.
Albus shrugged one shoulder. “No, and clearly neither have you.”
James was ready to kick something. First off, he’d been working his arse off for over two hours on this assignment, and now Albus decided to come into his work zone and be a sarcastic little shit. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Yes, he was ready kick something and was definitely leaning toward it being Albus’ arse.
Before he could tell his brother as much, Lily rushed into the kitchen eyes wide with panic. “James!”
She barreled into him. Being ten, she was no light feather. James let out a small grunt. “What, Lily?”
“I think Mummy is hurt.”
That was enough for both brothers to spring into action. “What do you mean?” Albus asked as they heading in the direction Lily came from.
“I think I heard her scream!” Lily moved as quickly as her little legs would carry her. “She’s in her room.”
That made James’ pace stutter. He came to a stop on the first step to the upper floor. “Uh, Lily, do you know if Dad was with her?”
And now Albus paused. He gave his brother a wary look. “Oh… I hope not.”
Lily, however, didn’t know what her brothers silently agreed upon. “Yeah. I saw Daddy close the door earlier when I was reading the book about Hungarian Horntails Uncle Charlie gave me.”
“Ew!” Albus shuddered. James closed his eyes hoping the images of his parents doing -- that -- wouldn’t possess his brain.
But of course, it was at that moment he heard what could only be described as a happy moan come from the direction of his parents’ room.
“Oh! Do you think Mummy and Daddy are okay?” Lily asked, her fear almost palpable.
“If I had to place a bet,” James scrunched up his nose and grumbled to himself, “I’d place a thousand galleons on them being more than okay.”
Albus’ expression had taken on a look of pure, unadulterated horror. “We need to leave!”
“Do you think Uncle George would mind wiping my memory?”
“I know that’s how we got here, but…” Albus’ voice hung off as he visually had to shake off his demons.
“And I thought it was the stork,” James claimed sarcastically.
“Uncle Ron mentioned something about a pumpkin patch when I asked him,” Lily supplied helpfully, comforted by her brother’s lighthearted if odd banter.
“Yes, that works, Lily.”
“Gin.”
James flinched at the tone of his father’s voice. Nope! This wasn’t happening! “Come on!” He grabbed his siblings by their arms and led them to the fireplace. “We’re going to grandmum’s!”  
Harry rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath. “So did I fulfill your orders?”
Ginny let out a low laugh. “Every box was checked, and then some.”
“Good, I would have hated to - “ Harry paused as heard the sound of the floo firing up. “Who’s here?”
Ginny already had one leg in her jeans. “With our luck it will be Ron. His timing is still the worst.”
Once she threw a shirt over her head, Ginny headed down to the sitting room to greet their visitor. Harry followed his wife’s lead, but no one was there.
“What the…?” Harry looked to the sofa which had a de-crumpled piece of parchment resting on cushion. He picked it up and choked on his own salva. “Gin!”
She came back from the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“No one is here, but… uh…”
“But what, Harry?”
He couldn’t speak any more. He handed her the note. It only took her a few seconds to understand the message, then she started laughing.
Only one word was scrolled in their eldest son’s messy handwriting in big, bold letters. Silencio!
“I think the kids may have heard us, dear,” Ginny said through her laughter, “That’s what we get for trusting our kids to keep themselves busy for a quarter of an hour.”
“Where do you think they went?” Harry asked, “And it was at least three quarters of an hour, Gin.”
“Most likely Mum’s, they know they can get biscuits there.” Ginny set down the note and moved her finger to trace his jaw. “Care to join me back in our room?”
“How does James know that spell? It’s a sixth year lesson.”
Ginny changed tactics. She pressed her lips to his chin then to his lips. “We can talk about what our son is doing in his free time later.”  
Harry lifted up his piece of toast absentmindedly, his attention on the Daily Prophet in front of him. Another quiet morning. Ever since Lily had left for Hogwarts, the Potter household was more often than not relatively calm. Sure, he and Ginny could throw some raging parties (typically consisting of only them, a bottle of cheap wine, and minimal clothing), but kids seemed to keep a house constantly alive.
“Anything interesting?” Ginny asked, taking a sip from her coffee mug.
“Not really.” Harry snorted at the front cover, as he folded the pages back to a convenient size. “Just Chip having another affair again.”
“Chip Greene? The one who -”
“Who would always flirt and try to get you to go home with him after you played against each other? Yeah.” Harry’s annoyance with the old Cannons player was still higher than a kite. “That Chip.”
“I don’t know why he ever thought I would want to become another notch on his bedpost.” Ginny mused as she cleaned up her breakfast plates. “I doubt he had any clue what he was doing.”
Harry grimaced. Now his mind fell back onto his talks with James and Albus. Merlin, those had been horrible… horrible… It was at that moment Harry’s mind started to connect dots. Ginny had forced Harry to have-- that-- talk with James just after he turned twelve. Same with Albus. Lily had just started her second year at Hogwarts. Her twelfth birthday had been right at the end of her first year… Twelfth birthday…
“Gin?” Harry tried to complete his breathing exercises. Percy’s wife had recommended them after a traumatic case. He needed to stop his mind from jumping off the plank into the shark-infested waters.
“Hmm?”
“Did you and Lily ever have the - ” Harry had to swallow the lump expanding in his throat. “The talk.” He lowered his tone at his final words.
Ginny snorted. “You mean the sex talk?”
Ugh! There were two words he didn’t want to be combined. His daughter and sex. He could only nod.
Damn, he wished he didn’t find that smirk on Ginny’s face so endearing.
“Not yet,” Ginny’s tone matched her amused expression. “I figured we could wait a little longer with Lily. I thought the best moment would be when she got her first period.”
And another word Harry had no desire to hear in relation to his daughter. He let out a breath. At least Lily wouldn’t be dealing with boys yet. It was then that a vivid and dreadful imagine appeared in his head.
His second year… Seamus chatting with Parvati Patil in hopes of getting her to kiss him… he had been twelve… just like Lily and her classmates.
“Ginny, we gotta floo up to Hogwarts.”
Ginny paused her motion of putting the now clean mug into the cupboard, and turned to face him “And why is that?”  
“We need - I need -” Harry wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he needed to keep the entire male species away from his daughter without making Ginny roll her eyes. Instead of coming up with a calm, rational explanation he blurted, “I know how they think!”
“How ‘who’ thinks?” Ginny’s was using the tone she used with an upset child.
“Boys,” He spit the word out like venom. “Them and their wandering eyes… I’ll die a third time before any of them looks at my baby like that.”
Ginny’s body started to shake. Harry’s mind, at first, thought she was agreeing with him, that her fear of the heinous boys in Lily’s class made her shiver. This, however, was not the case. Harry’s beautiful, logical wife was shaking with suppressed laughter.
“This is why,” Ginny choked down a giggle, “George calls you a drama queen.”
Harry huffed out a breath. “I never considered that an accurate title.” His fingers started to tap against the table. “We need to get up there and stop any fraternizing.” A cruel thought popped into his head. “If McGonagall talked to them -”
Ginny couldn’t stop her laughter now. “Merlin, Harry! They’re twelve. The worst they’re gonna do is hold hands and maybe kiss once or twice.”
“That’s once or twice too much!”
“You know what, though?” Ginny looked thoughtful. “McGonagall did a good job teaching you. Maybe she should start a sex ed class.”
Harry’s ranting mind came to a sudden halt. “Aw, Ginny. Don’t say things like that!” Chills ran up his spine.
“Like what?” Ginny smirked at him as she took the empty chair beside him. “That McGonagall taught you well? It’s true.” Her expression could only be described as evil. “I guess I should be thanking her for my seventeenth birthday present, huh?”
With a thud, Harry’s forehead collided with the table. He turned his neck so he could make eye contact with his wife. “Ginny! You can’t talk to McGonagall about your seventeenth!”
Ginny clearly wasn’t listening to Harry’s order. “Do you ever wonder how she became so educated in the subject?”
“Ginny.” Harry could hear how whiny his own voice had become, but at that moment he didn’t care. “I’ve become a relatively well-adjusted person all things considered, so I need you to stop trying to hurt me.”
Again, his wife didn’t seem to care about his pleas. “You know what? I bet she was a real hit with the blokes. With that stern attitude and tight bun… then the moment they entered the bedroom and she became a freak in the sheets -”
Harry groaned as he sat up. “Merlin, is this my own version of Hell?”  
Ginny leaned over and flicked his nose. “Don’t be such a baby!”
“Wipe my memory, Gin!”
“Seriously?”
“Never mind.” Harry reached across the table to a blank piece of parchment. “I’m Head Auror. I can order a memory removal.”
Ginny snatched the parchment away from him before he could grab a quill. “Harry, you’re almost forty-years-old. You can’t believe McGonagall is still a virgin.”
Harry took his now vacant hands and covered his ears. “Can’t hear you, Gin!”
“So you are a baby.” Ginny shook her head. Then, her eyes sparkled with a look Harry knew all too well. It was the warning sign to some serious cheek. “You know, I wonder if she has any new tips for us.”
“Stop right there!”
Ginny plucked the forgotten quill from Harry’s side and started to write. She read her words loudly, over-pronouncing as she wrote, “Dear Headmistress McGonagall.”
“Ginny I will divorce you,” Harry claimed weakly.
Ginny snorted. “Sure you will, babe.” But she put the quill down and turned back towards him. Her eyes blazed all to attractively. “You won’t be able to resist me after my tutoring sessions with McGonagall. I bet she’s even updated her curriculum, you should ask if her class had a lifelong guarantee.”
“Hey!” Harry protested. “I think I’m rather competent. I certainly didn't hear you complaining last night!”
Ginny gave him a coquettish grin. “Come on, you can’t tell me your not even slightly enticed by,” she confiscated his glasses off his nose, placing them on her own so the lenses made her bright, brown eyes wider than ever, “Professor Weasley.”
“First off, it’s Potter. And second, no.”
Ginny stood from her chair and took up residence in his lap, his hands automatically held her steady by the waist. She moved her mouth up his jaw and to his ear. Harry sucked in a breath as her teeth grazed his earlobe. “While you do exceed expectations, Mr Potter, I think you could benefit from some,” one of her hands threaded into his hair, “One on one lessons.”
Harry couldn’t prevent a moan from escaping his lips as Ginny ran her tongue back down his jawline. “Why - Why are you doing this?”
Ginny leaned back, so Harry could take in her full glory. “You know the glasses are hot.” Her gaze could have melted his insides to mush and her glasses-- his glasses-- Wait a moment.
“When did you transfigure my glasses to look like McGonagall’s?”
“Ah, I knew you’d remember these old things.”
“Ginny!” Harry moaned again, in a different manner this time.
Ginny placed her hand on his cheek, her lips twisted in a small smile. “It’s alright, Harry. I know she was your first love.”
“Please…”
“I mean,” Ginny shrugged, “Who didn’t have a naughty dream about her at least once or twice.”
“Why…”
“Harry, it’s really okay.” She patted his cheek. “I mean, I understand completely. If you could have only seen my dreams of Flitwick,” she made an exaggerated fanning motion her hands, “Hot damn!”
“Ginny, I -” It was then his brain started to comprehend what she had just said. “Wait. What? Flitwick? What the fuck?”
“That was the idea.”
“This is - Flitwick?”
“Don’t get me started on Sprout.”
“Ginny!”
“Merlin, when you got Sinistra out in the moonlight.” Ginny deliberately licked her lips. “Damn.”
“Just -” Harry’s mind had left, unable to keep up with Ginny’s words. “Just - not Snape, right? Please.”
Ginny shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. “Oh no! That snooty upturned nose was such a turn-off, and don’t get me started on his apparent aversion to personal hygiene.” She then smiled dreamily. “But Slughorn. Now there was a potions professor.”
“Well, now you’re just being mean.”
“There was no silly wand waving in that dungeon…” She gave him an appeased look. “They knew what they were doing. Do you think McGonagall taught them too?”
Harry let his forehead fall on her shoulder. “Do you want to never have sex again?”
Ginny let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, if you can’t give me what I need,” she sighed again, “I’ll have to go to the source. Do you think Minerva's free tonight?”
And that was Harry’s limit. “You know what.” He lifted his head, placed his arms underneath Ginny’s legs and lifted her into his arms and then up over his shoulder. “There will be no more of this cheek. We’re not leaving the bedroom until you can’t remember who McGonagall even is.”
Ginny laughed as Harry carried her up the stairs. “Oh big claims there, Potter. I look forward to your practical exam.”
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mysteli · 5 years
Text
Rant and Rave (Alana X MC)
A/N: Heya! So here is my first ever fic for Alana and Kari. I wasn’t sure about it when it wrote it because I thought the idea was a little weird but I think it turned out to okay. Was gonna be NSFW but then I decided to focus on emotions and first feeling and tensions. Hope it’s good but I’ll definitely have a better one out eventually.
Warning: T (slight innuendo and swearing - also include some sensitive topics)
PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake @regrettingnathan @dobie2112 @princesstopgun @mechaspirit @skyila @mind-reader1  @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @sakaily @justboredtrash @regina-and-happiness @flyawayblue56 @annekebbphotography @endlessly-searching-for-you @reginasayeed @christopher-powell @zigortega4life @eileendannie @diamondoasis @speedyoperarascalparty @liam-rhys @emomoustache @alekai-sayeed @akrenich @vickypoo91 @lostlightningbug
This fic: @kamilahsayood @endlesstaylormckenzie@nitta-jaeguet @hayden-park  @kamilahtrash @boneandfur @h-doodles @llancellott
Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.
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Kari can feel the stress rising from her abdomen to her heart and she can’t help but paint a million pictures of a tortured Damien in her mind, imagining how pained and alone he must feel right now, isolated in an iron cell and constantly provoked by the manipulative games that Eros create for him. All his worries dragged through him as he hopes and prays that all of us are okay and preparing to rescue him.
What Kari can’t understand is why it’s taking so long. They should have found him by now. Maybe he’s starting to lose hope that they’ll ever get to him and that’s the last thing that Kari wants. It’s the last thing any of them want, well maybe besides Alana.
Alana showed up out of the blue and things seemed to be going nowhere until she decided to help. Lately, they’ve been getting closer, finally catching at least one lead that may lure them closer to Damien. There are simpler ways but no way in hell is Kari accepting Cecile’s deal. She vowed to save Damien and she won’t quit until he’s back by her side. 
Right now, Kari can’t take it. While the night roars on, she slipped out of the hotel room where they’re staying in Tokyo and ventured to the nearest bar, which has become her only escape lately. She almost can hear Damien’s stern voice scolding her in her own head every time she sips from a shot. He’d be telling her to stop drowning in a drink and start composing herself. Hell... he’d tell to just forget about him the right way and she hates that he’d say that.
Shot after shot. Drink after drink. Bottle after bottle. But she still isn’t drunk. There’s an endless amount of stress writhing within Kari and not even a million drinks could make that melt away. Only finding Damien. That’s the only thing that would help. 
Kari can feel her mind spinning with questions, wonders and regrets, as she contemplates everything she should have said to Damien. To everyone in her life really. The things she doesn’t have the guts to say. Even Alana. Kari can’t even bring herself to say a simple ‘thank you’ to Alana and she can’t even explain why.
Sitting propped on a stool by the bar, Kari can feel shivers running down her spine over and over again, as a clear image of Alana Kusuma enters her mind. Why is it so clear? It should be blurry like everyone else in her life. No. Alana is clear, easy to see but so hard to figure out. 
She’s different to anyone else that Kari has ever met and certainly one of the craziest. So crazy but in the damn best way. Probably the sexiest woman to ever grace this earth as well. Everything about her. The way she struts, saunters and storms. The way she speaks in that low, teasing tone. The way her ombré hair dances in the wind as she wanders away. The way her hazel eyes sparkle with an intensity only ever suited for her. Kari can’t describe the woman enough because there are too many words to use.
Such a badass. That’s what Alana is. A straight up badass.
Hold up. Why is Kari even thinking about this? This is Alana we’re talking about. Damien’s ex-partner, in both ways. A woman way out of Kari’s league. Of course, Alana would never go for someone like Kari. She’s mellow, vanilla, not ready to deal with someone on such a level as Alana Kusuma. Who could? Exactly. No one. She’s fucking perfect. 
Kari quickly shoves all those thoughts to the back of her mind and takes a long sip of the vodka in her hand, before slamming it back on the surface of the bar. She’s had enough of all this conspiracy. She just wants her friends back and then she wants it to be over. She never thought she’d say this but... she wants to be normal again. 
“Well, well, well. Thought I’d find you here.” A voice suddenly calls out to Kari and she can feel herself shaking at the lustful impact that circles the tone of that certain voice, immediately giving the identity of the owner away. 
Kari barely tilts her head and that’s enough to catch sight of a mischievous glint that naturally brightens Alana Kusuma’s eyes. It’s a look impossible to mistake and it’s what makes her so damn addictive. 
Rolling her eyes, Kari swerves around on her stool, tensing up at Alana’s irresistible exterior. Her ombré hair appears even brighter within the light that looms from the ceiling. Her hazel eyes narrow with curiosity and she scanning Kari in an eager manor, darting back and forth occasionally. She’s dressed in a red halter top and a pair of tight, black skinny jeans that cling to her skin and highlight her every curve. Kari licks her lips, trying to make it come across as a constant habit instead of a sign of hunger.
Alana forms an intrigued smirk, folding her arms rather casually. “What happened to your voice? Is it all the alcohol?” She suggests, gesturing towards all the empty shots scattered on the surface of the bar around Kari, who has now snapped out of her trance.
For a moment, she’s dazed and is unsure what to say. “I’m not trying to get drunk. I’m... stress-drinking.” Kari pulls out her worst excuse and Alana just rolls her eyes in response, sauntering over to Kari as her hips sway with the music that plays in the background, becoming a distant memory by the time Alana reaches Kari.
A sudden look of concern crosses Alana’s face, replacing all the mischief and confidence that smirk of hers brought to the atmosphere before. Now her expression is full of worry... genuine concern. Alana almost instinctively places her hand on Kari’s shaking shoulder, stroking ever so slightly on the soft skin as goosebumps gradually rise in reaction.
“We all miss Damien, Kari.” Alana points out, as Kari closes her eyes and releases a heavy sigh, immediately feeling ashamed and ridiculous.
“...I know. I just had to get outta there.” Kari admits, taking another deep sip out of the bottle she clutches firmly in her hand.
Alana scoffs that her insinuation. “What? Why? We’re actually getting somewhere. Isn’t that what you wanted? Thought you were the one who had all the hope and determination needed to find Damien.” Alana states as bluntly as possible, even though she tries so hard to be reassuring. Turns out, she isn’t really good at it. 
Kari drops her flask and hides her face in her hands, completely avoiding eye contact with Alana, knowing a mockery might be made of her. “Yeah... right. That’s what I’m supposed to be. That’s what I told myself I would be. But what have I done since Damien left? Just passed around some shitty reassurance.” Kari snaps, clearly at herself but Alana is still unexpectedly impacted by a slight ounce of hurt.
Alana arches her eyebrows, moving her hand further up Kari’s arm, causing her to flinch and tilt her head in a frustrated manor. “What the hell are you saying any of that for? You’ve done more for Damien than anyone else in this damn super squad of yours. And you sure as hell have done more for everyone else. The reason anyone is even trying to save Damien... is because of you.” Alana assures, quickly positioning herself on the bar stool beside Kari and rubbing her shoulder, a lot closer than she’d usually choose to be but today is different than any usual day. 
Kari can’t help but form a weak smile, no matter how strong her frustration is. She raises an eyebrow at Alana, who has an unnaturally genuine look on her face - one no one has ever seen before. Maybe not even Damien. It’s strange to think about how close Kari and Alana could become and perhaps they’re already halfway there. Kari has never felt more drawn to someone like the way she does with Alana. It’s crazy to think such a mad idea would ever become a reality but here they are and now Kari may never wanna let go.
“Are you serious? I don’t know why the hell Damien let go of you. You’re not as awful as he described you.” Kari jokes, trying to lighten the mood and break the icy silence, which is successful since she earns a light laugh from Alana, which doesn’t come out as a devious chuckle like usual. 
“Because he’s an idiot.” Alana returns, flipping her hair behind her and smirking mischievously and Kari can feel a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “But that idiot needs saving and don’t worry... we’re gonna get him out of whatever hellhole Eros is keeping him in.” 
Kari’s smile widens and she finally feels a form of hope. “Really?” 
Alana grins back, her fingers crawling over Kari’s shoulder and her nails graze the pale skin of Kari’s neck, causing shivers to shoot like missiles up and down her spine, awakening feelings in her that she’d felt before - especially around Alana of all people. 
“Really.” 
Alana leans in closer, her hand drifting to run through Kari’s silver hair, tangling her fingers between the strands. Kari parts her lips slightly and snakes her hand over Alana’s arm that rests on the surface of the bar. Nothing has ever felt this anticipated before, at least for Kari. There’s never been so much energy or tension dragged into one specific moment. Who knew the world would waste so much on people like them? Those who have been to hell and back. Those who have fought and never stopped fighting because of what they believe in. Saving those who sacrifice. 
Well, Kari might as well enjoy the simple, almost normal moment the world has gifted to her. Something far from normal however. Alana Kusuma. A chance to fulfill what seemed like an impossible fantasy and Kari doesn’t plan to take for granted. Alana leans in further until her breath is heavily hovering over Kari’s plump lips. It almost feels like she’s going in for a kiss until...
“Woah...” A fascinated voice echoes in the distance but still loud enough to break the moment and force Alana and Kari apart. The moment of reassurance has faded away, ruined by such an insistent tone. 
The designation of the voice seems to exist behind Kari and she swerves around on her stool, still slightly dazed from the impact of the tension she’d just experienced as she retrieves her flask from the edge of the bar - taking a long swig as an attempt to calm herself down and this seems like the best solution to soothe her and help her compose herself. All her mixed emotions are out of control right now and she can’t sustain a steady conscience. 
Alana just raises an eyebrow mockingly at the owner of the voice who interrupted, a complete stranger as drunk as the days go on. Slightly older, middle-aged as a best guess. Tall, around six-foot. Intimidating... maybe but that ridiculous smile only makes him come across as creepy and condescending. Lord knows they’re in for a right nightmare. 
He seems so fascinated by Kari, scanning her exterior a little too intriguingly. Alana acts on instinct and scowls, barely able to stay put in her seat instead of completely murdering the drunk maniac ogling Kari like she’s an object for him to purchase. Alana isn’t jealous, just sees it as disgusting behaviour. 
Kari eyes the man strangely, starting to feel slightly uneasy and she knows it isn’t just the alcohol but the intimidation bouncing off the man, who’s presence seems to have caused nausea to rise within both Kari and Alana. 
“Can I help you?” Kari asks, only then does she realise how close the man had gotten. Hearing that request, he squats down so he’s on level with Kari, who remains seated in her stool and that’s when she wants nothing more than to escape this dreaded situation. Alana just watches with narrowed eyes, complete caution lurking within the hazel shade.
The man’s devious smile widens and he’s holding a half-full beer in his hand, while the other eagerly crosses the bar. “Damn... aren’t you a treat?” He inappropriately points out, no wariness in his to whatsoever, symbolising that he has absolutely no regrets for saying that out loud.
Kari is immediately taken aback, as she sucks in a sharp breath. “What...” 
“I’m just sayin’ you’re easy on the eyes. A fuckable girl if I’ve ever seen one.” The man adds, winking at Kari and that only means he’s asking for a slap in his face and that’s when his intentions become undeniably clear.
Kari narrows her eyes suspiciously, as she attempts to sustain a calm manor. “Sorry. Not interested in becoming your play mate.” She clarifies, her scowl deepening and close to becoming a glare. Kari truly can’t believe she’s going through this right now but she chooses to see this situation as a dumbass drunk guy unaware of what he’s actually doing. 
“Oh come on, babe... I can guarantee a good night.” The man brings out the empty promise and an uncomfortable eyebrow raise which almost causes Kari to vomit within her mouth.
“Nope... I’m gay, anyway.” Kari denies it again, sipping out of the bottle in her hand and barely holding back the need to spit it in his face but she resists, expecting him to accept his failure and disappear now.
The man just laughs, so many uneven cracks in his voice. So many bad signs. “That ain’t a problem. Bring your friend too... and I’ll watch.” 
Now that comment was too damn far.
Kari cringes uncontrollably, nausea reaching her throat and threatening to escape from her mouth. Shes pretty sure half of it is the alcohol. “God no. Get outta here you creep! You’re drunk and disgusting and you better fucking leave now before I punch you off the face of this earth!” Kari snaps, an intense anger lingering in her eyes. Her feisty comments didn’t come off like threats to the man. No... but they’re played off as a turn on.
“Damn, that was hot. Maybe we don’t have to wait to get to my place...” The man trails off when his hungry gaze lands on Alana, who is death glaring him like she’s going to kill him, burning a hole in his skull. “...trust me, both of you are gonna get something great tonight.”
The man lets out a pleasured whistle and marches over to Alana, smirking at her teasingly. “And you might just get the better treatment, hun.”
With that, Alana has heard enough. Acting on pure instinct, her temper breaks and she yanks the man by his ear and twists it relentlessly in her grasp, causing him to gasp out in pain. Alana snarls with zero regret, eyeing the creep with complete disrespect - nothing but endless threats looming over her mind as her deadly glare burns bullet holes through the stranger.
“You ain’t gonna find the one night stand you want here, asshole.” Alana whispers so intensely that it actually frightens the man, causing him to stagger back as he attempts to escape her firm grip but she reacts by slapping him straight in the face, regaining his attention. “Drinks ain’t gonna give you the fuel you need to flirt and you sure as hell have no right to harass someone I care about.” She adds, a threatening tension building and she finishes off her statement by punching him square in the face once more.
Alana just admires her handy work, smirking deviously at what she’d done and she has the right to be proud. This guy is a complete jerk. Unable to resist, she punches him in the face a few more times, resulting with a black eye and a bruise on his left cheek. One more punch and his lip is left bleeding. With that, Alana’s smile widens and shoves the man away, dropping his ear and waving at him as he staggered back, trembling.
“You’re one scary bitch,” is all he manages to say before stumbling out of the bar and causing the entire audience in the bar to erupt into applause but it doesn’t mean anything to Alana. She just rolls her eyes and escapes the bar, grabbing Kari by the wrist, despite her being shaken and stunned, and leading the silver-haired girl out the bar. 
At first, Kari is confused as they wander out, wondering why Alana even did that. In some way, it’s understandable. That man was an asshole, a tool, who had no right to harass women the way he did just now. Who would believe that in this day and age someone was still capable of acting like that? It’s disgusting and Alana couldn’t just stand around and watch someone she cares about a little too much go through that. A sickening sight, it truly was and Alana is proud that she stepped in. One of her best performances, really. 
This has been one hell of a night and Alana doesn’t plan for it to stop there. Kari wants an escape from thinking about all the chaos with finding Damien and Alana will sure as hell find a way to distract Kari. It’s now or never and who knows if Kari even feels the same way? But with her current state of mind, her choices may be limited. 
With that, Alana acts on instinct once again and leads Kari into a nearby alleyway that exits further down the street where the bar is built. At first, Kari is confused, wondering why they would ever venture into an empty, deserted alleyway at this time of night when there’s nobody around and they’ve been through a pretty tough situation tonight. Something nobody should ever have to go through but they did. 
Kari struggles to get used to their new surroundings, curiously raising her eyebrows at Alana, who is just standing there with her hazel eyes admiring Kari’s stunning exterior, sighing at each perfectly placed curve. It all belongs to her. Why is Alana even feeling this way now? She shouldn’t be but she is. Is she drunk? Hell no. Is she stupid? Probably. But she can’t help it and she’s never shied away from anything in her goddamn life and she ain’t about to start now.
“I’m sorry about what that guy did to you.” Alana apologises almost as if it was her fault, which it most definitely wasn’t.
Kari’s eyebrows collide with concern and she avoids eye contact with Alana, sighing hesitantly. “I don’t wanna talk about that. He was a jerk and his intentions were awful. That’s the bottom line.” She clarifies, folding her arms as if to stop herself from shivering in the crispy cold that lurks within the alleyway.
Silence. It erupts ever so suddenly, infecting the thoughts of Alana and Kari and leading them in for deep contemplation. It doesn’t last long however, as Alana has already decided what she wants to do. What she needs to do.
Alana cautiously steps closer to Kari, the corner of her mouth curving up a little. Kari furrows her brows in a questioning manor, clearly bewildered.
“Alana, why are you looking at me like—“
Before Kari can even dare to get her words out, Alana rushes towards her and cups her cheek, dragging their lips together and immediately melting into an easily flowing rhythm of glorious kisses that fulfil any fantasy Alana had experienced when picturing what this moment would look like. It’s exactly like she imagined and maybe even better. 
Everything is so fucking perfect.
The taste of Kari’s plump lips. Sweet and sour but in the best way possible, with a lingering scent of raw alcohol from all the stress-relieving. The feeling of Kari’s body, as Alana’s hands snake around her waste and roam further to explore her petite figure. Everything is exactly the right place and nothing feels wrong. It’s all so right and Alana doesn’t know why she’s waited this long to act out on this impulse. What the hell was holding her back? 
Kari remains startled at first before soon enough melting into the kiss and matching Alana’s level of urgency and passion. She’s never experienced such insistence like this before. Something so forceful and without choice. She cups Alana’s cheek and tilts her head, causing her lips to part slightly and allowing Kari to slip her tongue into Alana’s mouth, allowing her own to do the same. This adds more fuel to the fire burning inside of both of them. Their hearts electrify with an intensity never before felt by such warriors.
This moment is like a survival instinct. It needs to be done even if someone is afraid.
Alana throws even more caution to the wind and slams Kari back against the crumbling, brick wall, causing her to moan slightly at the impact and she begins running her hands through the tousled strands of Alana’s ombré hair. The tension only intensifies. The heat only rises. The want continues to build until it can’t be ignored.
Kari pulls away for a mere second to catch her breath and in that moment, she can’t help but let out a light laugh, causing Alana to wake up from the moment herself and raise her eyebrows at Kari questioningly.
“Why the hell are you laughing?” Alana asks in a quiet tone, keeping their faces close.
Kari continues to giggle ever so quietly, in complete disbelief. “I don’t know... did that really just happen? Did I just kiss Alana Kusuma?” She questions, almost to herself and her laughter increases slightly.
Alana just smirks at the reaction, taking this as an opportunity to break Kari’s laughter and silence her with another lingering kiss, built with just as much fire and passion as before but it’s slightly softer. More tender, if you will. More meaningful, carrying a little more emotion instead of instinct.
“You better believe it, baby.” Alana whispers in a sexy, irresistible tone. “And trust me... you are gonna get distracted tonight.  
95 notes · View notes
forthemultiverse · 6 years
Text
Peace - Damian Wayne x Reader
The first time Damian Wayne kissed you, it hadn’t meant to start anything. 
“Why is everyone acting crazy?” Damian asked you. He hadn’t been at the party over the weekend, much to your disappointment, and he had no idea why people were whispering and acting crazy. 
“Jenna kissed both Mick and Spencer, who also kissed Bridget, who pushed him off her declaring that she wanted to kiss Sara, who kissed Mick to piss off Jenna for kissing Spencer.” you rambled the events you’d watched unfold. 
“And that’s a big deal because?”
“Sara liked Spencer and Jenna knew, and Jenna liked Mick, which Sara knew. And they’re not angry at Bridget because one, she came out so isn’t the competition, two, she only kissed Spencer at all because of Spin the Bottle.”
“Spin the bottle?”
“Kissing game, everyone sits in a circle, you spin a bottle, and whoever it lands on, you have to kiss.”
“So who did you kiss?”
“No one!” you rolled your eyes, “I didn’t play.”
“Why not?”
“No reason,“ you shrugged, knowing he could tell you were hiding something, "None of your business.” There were quite a few reasons you hadn’t decided to join in on the game.
“Why not?”
“You’ll laugh at me if I tell you the reason.”
“I won’t laugh at you.”
“Fine.” you thought through which reasons you could get away with saying. The biggest reason was that he wasn’t there, and Damian was the only boy you wanted to kiss at the moment. You weren’t going to tell him that though. He was a Wayne. He’d never mentioned any girls to you, so you were pretty sure he didn’t like anyone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a hoard of girls swarming him at every gala or some secret girlfriend out of school. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, and if it’s going to be my first kiss, I want it to be with someone I like.”
“So a boyfriend?”
“Not necessarily, I mean, you can regret the boys you date, just someone I trust, and that I like.”
“Why would I laugh at you?”
“Because you’re Damian Wayne and you’ve probably kissed a bunch of girls,”
“Why would you think that?”
“The flirt persona you put on for the press?”
“I guess…” he paused, “But like you said, that’s a persona, I’ve never kissed anyone either…so I wouldn’t laugh at you. I hadn’t even thought about it until now.”
“Seriously?” You weren’t sure why you were surprised, you were his first real friend at school, and his friend group had morphed from yours. If his out of school friends, Rachel and Jon and the other guys he’d shown you pictures of, never talked about this teenager stuff with him - Damian probably hadn’t ever thought about kissing before.
“I don’t think I’d want it to be decided by a bottle either.” He agreed.
“Well everyone loves the drama Spin the Bottle’s created and wants to play it all the time now, all the chats want to do it this lunch.” You showed Damian your phone and two different chats trying to organise a game. Everyone was desperate to kiss someone and seem cool and mature. You weren’t even sure who had added you to the chats. Damian was popular because he was hot, and you were popular by association. Before being his friend, you got invited to all the parties, but you weren’t considered one of the cool kids, just someone who could roll with them if you had too. 
“Well, we like each other.”
“What?” you asked, not sure what he was trying to say.
“If everyone’s trying to kiss each other and you said you wanted to kiss someone you like, we like each other.” You felt your face heat up as he spoke, he was facing forward and not looking at you. “I mean that we’re friends and all so we could kiss and get it over with?”
“Not the best phrasing.” you laughed, the day Damian became straightforward and said what he meant would be a day the world ended. Over the years you’d hopefully learn to understand what he meant when he spoke harshly. “But I guess it would work.”
You were freaking out a bit inside, not sure if this was how you wanted your first kiss with Damian to go. You also thought about whether it was wrong to use him like this, he just wanted to get his kiss out of the way while you wanted to kiss him. Was it fair to let him kiss you while you were crushing on him so much? Your thoughts stopped dead as he stopped walking, grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him.
“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?” his voice was soft and low, so close to you that you could hear the melody of his voice perfectly. You didn’t say anything, you just nodded, lost in his eyes.
His lips were soft, the kiss light. You’d stopped breathing for a second, feeling something move in your mind as he kissed you. The world had stopped with you. Silence as nothing mattered, except you two. The silence was shattered as you both breathed out in the same second. The sound of the world kicked in. The wind was blowing; people were walking around and chatting, doors opening, chairs moving. Your phone was receiving a text.
Even with the rest of the world back, your mind was at peace; you’d never felt so at ease.
You vaguely registered Damian whispering a hello as you started to blink.
“Anyway, we should probably get going.” Damian was acting like the pair of you hadn’t just kissed, and you thought maybe he hadn’t felt the spark.
“Yeah, what’s our next class?” You had been walking around the side of the school and break was nearly over, he was right, you did have somewhere to be.
The second time Damian Wayne kissed you, it made your brain freeze and your heart stop. You assumed that the pause was the reason he avoided you for a week after.
You’d broken your wrist, and you weren’t coping with it very well. Not only were exams coming up, but you had signed up to dance for the school fundraiser. You were desperately trying to teach the dance to someone else now you couldn’t perform it, freaking out for how little time you had before exams, and trying to balance finally getting a job on top of all that. 
After you’d missed the second class in one day, Damian had come to find you. It wasn’t like you to ditch lessons (well more than one every few weeks). He hadn’t expected to see you behind the school, pretty much about to break down, surrounded by homework and school work alike. 
“Damian?” you started shaking slightly and tried to hide your face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Why not? I’m your friend; I just want to make sure you’re okay…” 
To Damian, you hadn’t been a friend for a long time now. He’d realised he felt strongly for you awhile ago, and finally kissing you had just confirmed what he feared. He had felt a spark and finally understood why Tim and Stephanie always seemed so smiley together, or why his Dad needed Selina in his life. His mind was always working, but with you, it paused. It paused, and he could have peace, even if it were just for a few minutes. 
“I can’t do this. I can’t keep up in class, I can’t work, and I need too now since my dad lost his job and we’re short on money, I can’t teach someone a dance meant for me if I can’t show them what they’re supposed to do and they can’t choreograph it themselves since they don’t know how to choreograph…”
“Shhh…” he grabbed your good arm and pulled you to your feet, “Just relax.”
“I can’t relax! Everything’s crazy, and I can’t focus! And -”
“It’s really okay; you don’t need to be so stressed, I can help you.”
“I’m a failure; I can’t do anything anymore -”
“You are anything but a failure,” he laughed, “You keep me positive, you’re strong enough to even try and manage all of this, you put up with me, and I know that must be tough. You couldn’t be more amazing, and everything will be alright,” he was walking around you and guiding your hand up and down till you turned with him.
“I don’t put up with you.” you smiled down, and he came closer to you, placing your hand on his neck and his on your waist, leaning down slowly. You weren’t sure what was happening, but you weren’t going to stop it.
“Can I kiss you again?” you moved your face up slightly to nod, letting his lips touch yours. 
The stress melted away; you forgot everything that you knew was going to go wrong over the next few weeks. With Damian kissing you, you could believe all the lies, that everything would sort itself out. Everything stopped for you, even when he pulled away, you were at bliss for a moment. 
“You ready to go to class?” He didn’t retake your hand, just waited for you to nod and pack up your things. 
The Third time Damian kissed you, he wasn’t Damian Wayne. He was Robin. And the moment of peace the kiss had caused you made you realised the two were one in the same. By this time you knew Damian’s love like the back of your hand.
It was the small things he did for you after the second kiss that gave him away. Always buying you coffee on his way to school so you didn’t have to, having collected your lunch before you got to the cafeteria, saving your seat whenever you were late to class, walking you to each of your classes even when his were on the opposite side of the school. The way he drew you in his books without noticing he’d been doodling till you asked him to show you. You had noticed though. You’d noticed and didn’t understand why he didn’t just tell you he liked you. The sparks that went through your body whenever his hand touched your arm, the way he smiled at you - a smile no one else got to see. 
Genuine, bright, happy. 
You loved almost everything about him, and you didn’t doubt he probably felt the same way back. No one could fake the way he was with you, and no one acted like him unless they were in love. You weren’t even sure why you didn’t confront him anymore. You just respected that he was waiting for something. Damian usually had some kind of plan no matter the situation. 
The first scream could be heard from all over the school. The gunshot followed. Everyone, including you, started calling the police even though you didn’t know exactly what had happened. You’d all seen enough news reports about school shootings not to wait until the gun was in your classroom to phone. It was daytime, so the chance of the Dark Knight showing up quickly was low, and you kind of wanted to phone Damian. He had art while you were in music. You couldn’t call him, what if he was in the classroom with the gun and his phone going off got him shot. 
You waited and waited. After the initial calls had gone out, the police had told you all to stop phoning, and everyone was silent. Waiting for the second shot, or an all-clear to show that everything was okay and the threat was gone. You knew Gotham wasn’t the safest town, but you thought you’d be safe at school. It was when the door opened, and two men marched in, their guns raised, you were hit with the reality of the situation. 
“Where’s Damian Wayne?” they demanded, searching the faces for him. 
That calmed you a little bit, they hadn’t shot him already, but they were looking for him. They were probably angry and Wayne Enterprises or something, god knows what for since Wayne Enterprises was a good company, but now they were going to shoot Damian to get to Bruce, or to get revenge on Bruce for sponsoring Batman. It was sick and twisted, and you felt yourself stand up. You weren’t going to let them find him, but you weren’t going to allow them to shoot anyone else in the room trying to look for him.
“He’s ditching this period, he’s not here,” you spoke clearly, tensing every muscle in your body to stop yourself shaking. 
“And how do we know you’re telling the truth?”
“I can take you to where he is…he ditches lessons he doesn’t like to go sketch.” 
One of the men grabbed your shoulder and placed the gun on your neck, holding you tight and expecting you lead the way still. As you walked them through the corridors, you felt yourself start to cry. You didn’t make a sound; you just let the tears drip slowly down your face as you tried to ignore the gun. Some people were screaming for you; the teachers had locked their classroom doors. You didn’t make any eye contact because you’d know you’d break down if you did. You had to get them out of the building, even if they’d shoot you once they realised you’d lied. They were probably going to kill you after they’d shot Damian anyway. 
You were nearly at the school door when a side window smashed open. Robin was swinging in furiously, moving quickly to knock the guns to the floor and take you to safety. You didn’t even see Batman with him, but you could hear an angry voice coming from somewhere on the Robin costume. 
When he dropped you on the roof, you finally broke. The feeling of the gun still there, no matter how many times you rubbed your neck to try and make it go away. Your breathing stopped, and you decided to grab at anything that would prevent you from falling to the floor. Your vision started to go white, slowly closing in but opening out again each time you’d nearly collapse. Your were gripping Robin as you slowly sank to your knees, finally letting go as you could touch the floor and lean back slightly. You’d never had a panic attack, or whatever this was, before, and you weren’t sure what to do.
That was when Robin kissed you. Everything went black; your breathing stopped altogether. But you didn’t pass out, you weren’t shaking; you were at peace. Even with a mask on, you knew this was Damian. The softness of his lips, the way he moved to place his arms on your back, the way everything in your head stopped. You were no longer panicking, you were safe and relaxed. Only Damian could make you feel this way. Butterflies were moving around your body, all the pain stopping, forgetting everything except each other.
“Damian.” You whispered. He was relieved you figured it out. Otherwise, it was just Robin kissing some girl to stop a panic attack. He had needed that kiss as much as you had. He’d seen you about to be shot, he’d seen you about to be hurt, and everything in his head went wild. He couldn’t think, he was moving without planning, he needed the peace that you gave him.  “Go, you need to save everyone else.” You’d woken up now, and remembered why Robin had taken you to a rooftop. 
“Batman’s there now…”
“Bruce is Batman?” You didn’t know what else to say, kissing him was hardly the most important thing to happen that day. 
You had hoped that if he ever kissed you for the fourth time, it would be the start of a relationship. You’d been wrong. Instead, you were both hiding in one of the roof caverns of the Batcave. He hadn’t explained to his dad that someone knew his identity, and he wanted to avoid having that discussion. That didn’t stop you from wanting some kind of explanation on the whole Robin situation. 
He’d decided the best way to explain it all would be to give you a tour of the Batcave. That way he could show and tell, and he’d always been a more visual person  - he’d think of all the years he’d awkwardly trip over what was socially acceptable to say now he had to interact with the public like Bruce. How Dick told him he had to make friends when Bruce finally sent him to an actual school, but how he didn’t want to change who he was (Damian hadn’t realised what was so wrong about the way he was before). He’d grown up, he’d realised connections were important after his sharp exterior had almost ruined an essential deal for Bruce. Damian just wanted to make everyone proud. He had to wear the Wayne mask. How many times had he accidentally insulted someone because he didn’t want them to view his emotions as weakness. You’d kicked him in the shin during your first interaction because he’s called you average and overly emotional, just because you’d been talking about how much you loved your friends. You’d reminded him that at least you had friends and then just straight up ignored his existence for six months after. He’d try to make a comment, and you didn’t even look at him. It was like he didn’t exist.
That had hurt him in his core. He needed to be seen, that’s why he worked so hard and acted so over the top. He was Robin, he had to be seen as the one real Robin. He was Damian Wayne, the blood son. He just wanted to be in the picture, and you’d somehow managed to wound him worse than any insult ever could. You’d made him invisible. Then one day you just sat down with him at lunch and started talking like nothing was wrong. He’d tried asking you about it at the time, but you’d ignored the question and continued talking. 
“Why did you start talking to me again?” he whispered, looking away from Bruce and Dick talking at the computer. He wanted to rip out his heart for how fast it was beating, mainly because you were close enough to feel it. You just had that effect on him, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted the itchy hands and spinning head to stop, but you’d cast a spell on him that only one thing seemed to break. 
“I’ve still never told you?” you smiled, gripping tightly on to him in the small space. You didn’t know just how secure the ceiling cavern was. 
“I stopped asking.”
“I felt bad. I lock people out of my life if they do something which makes me angry ‘cos I like to try and be positive, but I never really gave you a chance to be positive. I then saw you sitting all alone and sketching, and I wanted to know what you were drawing. My friend said you were suddenly better with people, so I thought I give you a second shot. Everyone deserves to sit with someone at lunch, and you were always sitting on your own.”
“You felt sorry for me then, my friend out of sympathy?”
“At first, yeah, but then you were nice, so I started to like you. Plus, you drew really nice pictures of me, helped me with my work, and were really cute. Don’t go thinking I’m only here out of sympathy, I really like you, Damian, and I know you now think I don’t, which is why I never told you.” 
You didn’t like being this high up, but you trusted Damian, you were a little be in love with him after all. You also knew he’d be in trouble if you screamed so when he untangled his arms you made a soft squeak sound, he wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe. 
He wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe. 
He wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe.
You took a deep breath that was cut short as he moved his hands, cupping your face gently. 
“Can I kiss you?”
“You always ask…” you leant forward as he moved to kiss you again. This time was longer than all the other ones but just as gentle, like he was waiting for you to push him away or tell him to stop.
“Damian!” Bruce yelled up, wearing the cowl, “I know you’re up there and whoever you’re hiding in the cave, you know I have camera’s in here!”
“Someone’s in trouble!” Dick teased, snapping you both out of your bubble of peace. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered you both to the floor so he could explain what happened before Bruce got too angry. Of course, he left out a few details, changing how you figured out he was Robin. Once again, neither of you got to talk about the kiss after it happened, and both of you were moving on like it didn’t. 
The fifth time, you kissed him. And, you weren’t going to let him ignore it anymore. You didn’t want to ignore it anymore.
You watched as the news tried to explain what was going on. Half of Gotham had been on lockdown in the morning, and now all the fighting was in one building. Everyone was still advised to stay inside, but there was no way in hell you were going to sit there and wait for an all clear. You needed to know what was happening. All you could think about was Damian getting hurt and lying on the floor bleeding out. Your parents weren’t going to let you leave, and you tried just to stay inside, but when the building was on fire, you stopped. Your breathing was hard and panicked as you climbed out of your window and started trying to get to the centre of Gotham.
You had put on one of his jackets, and oversized jumper that’s hood could cover your face slightly. You wanted a change from the usual pattern you and Damian had fallen into, you wished for a change. No more moments of him kissing you then never mentioning it again and expecting you to act as he did. Up till then, you had worked just like he did. It was just as much your fault as his, but the idea of him dying in some stupid fight when you couldn’t even explain to your parents why you were worried about Robin, was cruel. You needed to kiss him, you needed to be with him, you needed to have a solid answer to the relationship before it was too late. Maybe it was selfish, but in the end, it would help both of you out. You couldn’t deal with him just kissing you randomly, stopping your world, but not explaining why he didn’t do it all the time. When you kissed everything made sense, it felt right and perfect. Peace beyond any regular teen crush. If he died, you’d never feel that way again. If he died, he’d never know you wanted to be with him. He’d die thinking you were just too polite to push him away. 
He had decided that you didn’t like him the way he loved you. His reasoning for never following up on kissing you was fear of rejection. He didn’t want to let himself be hurt like that, and he didn’t want to lie to you either. Until you knew about Robin, he would never do anything more than kiss you. He’d only meant to kiss you once anyway. All the other times he just felt guilty about it. He hadn’t been able to control himself. He’d always asked you, except for when you were in panic attack mode, but just because you hadn’t pushed him away didn’t mean you wanted him to kiss you again. That was all he could think about as he tried to rescue everyone from the final building the criminal gang had decided to raid. He could only think of you, and it was causing him to mess up. His aim was off, his punches were either too strong or too weak, and Batman could tell. When Robin was off his game, that distracted Batman, and then Batman was off his game, and everything took so much longer than it should. 
It was a surprise that they almost captured every gang member in the building without getting hurt, but that didn’t mean his costume was in one piece. You could see the blood everywhere, bruises starting to form very slowly. The police were taking criminals away, but he couldn’t even be proud of himself. He couldn’t think about how such a city-wide attack could just happen. He thought about everything at once, words tumbling into one another and thoughts mashing together until they were useless mush. He couldn’t focus, everything was a hurricane in his head and the only thing he was sure of, was that he wanted to make sure you were okay. But if he left, Bruce would want an explanation, and he couldn’t just go over in his Robin costume without some camera operator following him and taking a picture. Plus your parents were probably with you.
“You idiot, thank god you’re okay.” He heard your voice behind him, you had ducked under the police tape and were wrapping your arms around him
“You’re going to get blood on you.”
“Your jumper.” People were beginning to see someone hugging Robin. He turned to look at you while moving your face away from the news teams. This was not the day for you to become number one on every Gotham’s Hitlist. He was happy to see you safe, and his arms were tingling. You’d come to find him. You’d come under police tape to see him and make sure he was okay., possibly risking your life. “Are you okay?” you whispered into his ear.
“I need peace.” He didn’t know how else to phrase it. He was bad with words and didn’t want to outright say he wanted to kiss you, that just seemed blunt and repetitive now. Peace was an accurate description though. You cleared his head and brought him closure. You made the pain end. “Please.”
“You don’t need to beg,” you laughed, kissing him, perfectly understanding what he meant. This kiss was long and passionate and had a huge audience considering all the press and police surrounding the building. Both of your minds were focused though, you didn’t give a second thought to anybody but each other. Since the first kiss, you had peace now, and peace then, as long as you were both together. 
1K notes · View notes
seyaryminamoto · 6 years
Note
what sokkla fics do you recommend?
AHAHAHAHA OMG this is going to be long again… but yes, I had said I’d do this, so let’s go!
Under the cut, that is. This is WAY too long.
First off, multichapter stories!
The Princess Guard by prinsesseazula
Zuko asks Sokka to help protect Azula from an onslaught of threats that are jeopardizing her safety. Slowly but surely developing the romance of our two dorks. Rated T.
Bonfire Heart by Madame Atomic Bomb
A dangerous group, called the Smoke Demons, plot to kill Zuko. Mai infiltrates the group to protect him, and enlists Sokka and Azula as well so they can prevent the attempts on Zuko’s life. Rated M.
She’s Something by haley97
An alphabet challenge that explores Sokka and Azula’s budding relationship following the prompt word for each chapter. Rated T.
p a i n t by lotusunset
Sokka is a widow, traveling across the world to overcome the loss of his wife and child. He stumbles across Azula in an Earth Kingdom village, where she’s been working as a painter, and he tries to unravel how she came to this place. Rated T.
Of Farms, Fairs and Fame by BellatrixLestrangey
A modern AU where Azula and Sokka live near each other in the USA countryside and have been friends for a long time. Azula is an aspiring musician while Sokka works at his family farm. Rated T.
Opposite Elements by LordStone
Set in a world where the Hundred Year War didn’t happen, Sokka travels to the Fire Nation to live as a guest of the Fire Nation Royals. He clashes with Azula at first, but soon enough they learn to see each other with different eyes. Rated T.
Proving You Wrong by PurplePlatypusBear21
Sokka travels to the North Pole and is surprised to bump into Azula here. He tries to decipher the mystery of why she’s here, and finds himself wanting to help her in any way he can. Rated T.
Reclaimed by Sokkaweekly
Azula escapes from the asylum and Zuko asks Sokka to help him find her and bring her home. Sokka does as he’s told, not knowing that his story with Azula is only just beginning. Rated M. 
Prisoner’s Dilemma by PurplePlatypusBear21
Sokka finds Azula freezing in a cooler during the escape from the Boiling Rock, and he’s overwhelmed by his sudden desire to help and protect the Fire Nation Princess. Rated T.
Blue Eyes, Blue Fire by PurplePlatypusBear21
A collection of short stories for Sokkla Saturdays. Rated T.
Saturnalia by clarielparke
Another collection of short stories for Sokkla Saturdays. Rated M.
The Black Cage by Fanwright
In a setting where slavery exists and Ozai’s ambitions got the better of him, his family is confined to a life in the Black Cage, where they’re occasionally entertained by a Water Tribe slave. Rated T.
Lightning and Boomerang - The Bounty Hunters by Chaosconetic
Not comic-compliant. After Ursa’s search ends, Sokka and Azula decide to try their luck as bounty hunters in the Earth Kingdom. Rated T. 
Collected by Sokkaweekly
Shapeshifter AU. Sokka seeks to kill a dragon who’s tormenting his village. He doesn’t expect the dragon to have the human form of a young girl with gold eyes and raven hair. Rated T.
Airship Down and the Mountains of Madness by Keith B. Real
Sokka attempts to attack the Fire Nation airship fleet when they’re near the South Pole, but everything escalates out of his control. What began as a reckless mission turn into an ordeal of survival when he has to work with a wounded Azula to save themselves from the horrors buried deep under the Mountains of Madness. Rated T.
Love of Madness by Keith B. Real
Three years have passed since the horror in the South scarred both Sokka and Azula. The return of the monsters of the depths brings them together again as they try to put a stop to their conquest for once and for all. Rated T.
Sokka, Agent of OWL by storywriter1id
Sokka is tasked with retrieving Azula by the Order of the White Lotus, and he must find her in the Earth Kingdom and bring her home. Her life will depend on the success of Sokka’s quest. Rated T.
Majesty by Anariel Tindomerel
AU where Sozin’s Comet arrives many years later: Sokka infiltrates Azula’s troops in the Earth Kingdom, hoping to serve as a spy for the White Lotus. But once he’s in Azula’s radar, she starts to unravel just why this soldier seems so familiar… Rated M. Warning: it’s in Spanish.
Imprisoned by conspiracy victim
Azula captures Sokka while trying to ensnare the Avatar. But the more time she spends with him, the harder it is to resist the temptation they pose for each other. Rated M.
A Week of Steam by Nara Shikaku
Collection of Sokkla stories, a few of them of the smutty kind. Rated M.
Puzzling Pieces by Vayleen
Collection of 100 Sokkla drabbles, a few of them connected with each other, about Sokka and Azula and the development of their story. Rated T.
Gaining One’s Freedom by LadyFireNation
Non comics-compliant. Azula is released from the asylum seven years after the end of ATLA, and Zuko sends her on a quest to find their mother with Sokka’s assistance. Rated M.
Solace by bevesy
After falling out of her father’s good graces, Azula is sent away to the South Pole as punishment, on the pretense of an arranged marriage. But as time goes by and she adjusts to life with her husband, Sokka, winds of change start to blow in the Fire Nation. Rated M.
It Was All Ty Lee’s Fault by Fokusas
A crack fic if there ever was one for this ship, Azula and Sokka have an intimate encounter by accident that results in their marriage in the middle of a war-torn Fire Nation. Rated M. 
The Night Before the Wedding by Lord-Captain000
Azula is being forced to marry someone she doesn’t love, while engaged in an affair with Sokka. Rated M. 
Now… Oneshots!
Kiss Me Like This by Princess Tyler Briefs
Azula’s birthday party features an entrancing guest who sweeps her off her feet as they dance together. Rated K.
Noble Daughter by LoveBackwards
A fluff piece on the aftermath of the birth of Azula and Sokka’s daughter. Rated K+.
Mother Knows Best by RedBayly
Azula meets Sokka after their affair culminates in a child neither one was prepared for. Rated T.
Flying Dragon, Crouching Tiger by Fanwright
In the Second World War, Sokka’s plane falls during a military operation, and he’s found by three dangerous Chinese military officials. Rated M.
Scribble Hearts by Fanwright
The morning after their wedding, Azula gets her hands on Sokka’s sketchbook and tries to unravel the meaning behind his doodles. Rated T.
Renewed by Sokkaweekly
Azula ponders her circumstances after the war, now that Sokka is often looking after her. Rated T.
Wholehearted by Sokkaweekly
A modern AU take on the Avatarverse where Sokka tries to surprise Azula who only seems to have her mind set on one thing. Rated K.
Genesis by Sokkaweekly
Azula is surprised when a simple sickness turns out to be the signs of pregnancy, and she must inform Sokka about it. Rated T.
Corrupted by Sokkawekly
The Day of Black Sun takes an unexpected twist when a secret alliance changes the fate of the world forever. Rated M.
Defending by Sokkaweekly
Sokka and Azula work together with Aang and Katara to protect a Fire Nation village from rogues. Rated M.
Pampered by Sokkaweekly
Azula’s handmaiden takes a day off, and it’s up to Sokka to provide his services for Azula in the best way he knows how. Rated T.
Singing Metal by BellatrixLestrangey
Azula is worried about the dangers of blades in a house with a newborn baby and tries to approach Sokka on the subject. Rated T.
The Right Decision by BellatrixLestrangey
Azula doesn’t know how to turn her one-night-stand with Sokka into a regular occurrence. Rated T.
Eternal by icewhisker21
Sokka brings a gift for Azula on their anniversary, hoping the hidden meaning of the present will convey the depth of his love for her. Rated T.
Fire and Ice by icewhisker21
A sparring session between Sokka and Azula takes an unexpected turn for the better after the Princess gets tired of losing against him. Rated M.
Shadow by clarielparke
Sokka finds Azula in a village, in the middle of a dark night. But the truth behind his intentions might push her away from him for good. Rated M.
Swordplay by Fanwright
While sparring in the Agni Kai Arena, Sokka and Azula find themselves succumbing to a hunger they cannot quench through anything but each other’s bodies. Rated M. 
Teaching You The Ropes by clarielparke
Sokka is sent by Zuko to capture Azula, who has been working as a bounty hunter. But the assignment brings complications when the Princess proves to be craftier than Sokka anticipated. Rated M.
Tales of the Stranded by icedcoffeepanda
The adventures or misadventures of Sokka and Azula while under the influence of cactus juice. Rated K+.
Stressed Out by Gd2go2
Long days of work at the United Forces offices have been very stressful for Sokka. Fortunately Azula knows just now to help him. Rated M.
Trick or treat by prinsesseazula
Modern AU. Sokka’s Halloween party is a complicated event for Azula, as she’s not sure she’s welcome amongst his friends just yet. Rated K+.
To Sleep With Fire by BellatrixLestrangey
Sokka fights with Azula over the covers in the bed. Rated K
The View From Atop Your Shoulders by BellatrixLestrangey
Modern AU. Sokka allows Azula to sit on his shoulders during a rock concert. Rated K
In Perfect Silence by BellatrixLestrangey
Sokka and Azula sneak away during a festival to find a place where they can be alone. Rated K+
Ya’ know, I’m actually missing out on a huge bunch. I know I am. And that actually makes me kind of happy because it really shows we’ve got a ton more content than we did five years ago. Damn, I’m glad.
But alas, I’ve already spent like 3 hours of my life making this list? Or has it been longer? I was supposed to answer other asks too xD so I assume you have plenty to go on with the list as it is! Do enjoy, anon!
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