zuko + 7. ( a kiss on the eye lid ) pls? thank you <33
campcampie said: hey! i’d like to request a kinda modern day zuko x reader where they’re going on their first date and they’ve been friends for like ever using prompt 24 from the 50 types of kisses? if you don’t have time that’s completely fine
LAST FIRST DATE // zuko
WC: 2.4k
PROMPT: “a kiss on the eyelid” & “deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer”
WARNINGS: say goodbye to ur teeth
A/N: hi loves! i hope you don’t mind, but i combined these two requests bc i thought they’d just be super cute together :^) i made it extra long since it’s two requests in one. thank you for sending them in!! we love tooth-rotting fluff here
It was the only time you had ever felt like this before a first date. You didn’t look him up to check if he had an arrest record, or turn on location sharing with your friends, or repeat conversation starters like a mantra in your head. You didn’t schedule an “emergency phone call” as a graceful way to bow out. You didn’t do any of these things, because you knew you didn’t need to. Your pulse didn’t race in your neck out of nerves, but excitement.
You tried on all your clothes in every possible combination, all of which he’d seen you in before. You fixed your hair one way, then changed your mind, then put it back again. It all either felt like too little for such a blind leap or too much for such a natural step. How was it possible that everything and yet nothing might change today?
Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. You tried not to focus on how wobbly you felt when you went to answer the knock on your door, but it all melted away at the sight of your best friend standing on your porch with a half-wilted bouquet of your favorite flowers. When he caught sight of you his lips turned up into a sheepish grin, his cheeks already going pink.
“Hi,” you said, much quieter than you’d intended.
“Hey,” he exhaled. “You look... beautiful.”
Now your face was starting to feel hot. “Zuko, you’ve seen me wear this before.”
“So?” He crossed the threshold into your home when you stepped aside to let him in. “You always looking amazing. You could make a burlap sack look designer.”
“Oh, hush.” You accepted the fleeting peck he placed on your lips. It was something you’d done a million times before in greeting or goodbye—yeah, you’d been more than friends without being “more than friends” for some time now—but there was a new electric anticipation to the familiar gesture and it made your heart palpitate. Trying to calm yourself, you fixed your eyes on the flowers he held in an almost white-knuckle grip. “Are those for me?”
He looked down at his hand as if surprised he was carrying a bouquet. “Oh, yeah.” You took it when he thrusted it out at you. “I, uh, saw them at the store and they reminded me of you. They’re your favorite, you know.”
“I know,” you giggled, moving to rustle through your cabinets to find something to put them in. Redness crept up his neck from under the collar of his shirt and he grimaced.
“Right, of course you do.” He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry they’re not as pretty anymore. I... got a little excited when I saw them and bought them on the spot a few days ago. I probably should’ve waited.”
“I think they’re beautiful,” you said, filling a jar with water and setting them in place. “Thank you; you didn’t have to.”
“I know. And I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled. He took your hand when you stood in front of him once again. “I just want to make sure I do this right. You deserve to be... wooed, or whatever.”
“Well, consider me wooed.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m happy no matter what, as long as I’m with you.”
The soft, sweet look he fixed you with made you want to melt into a puddle. God, you were head over heels for this man. It was unbelievable how long it took for you to realize and actually do something about it. Everything felt so obvious now—the years of feelings you’d swallowed back like bitter medicine despite how he’d clearly been doing the exact same thing; the ache of yearning in your chest and the burning jealousy that rose like bile in your throat every time you saw him with someone else.
But none of that mattered anymore, because you were here now, with him, sitting in his passenger seat with the windows down and trying to goad him into singing along to the stereo with you. You held his free hand that wasn’t on the wheel in yours, forcing his arm to dance along with you. He watched your antics out of the corner of his eye with a smitten half-smile. You were satisfied when he tapped his fingers against the wheel along with the rhythm pumping from the speakers and bobbed his head. You swore you could even hear him humming when you leaned in close enough while swaying in your seat.
The date had been your idea, because of course it was—you knew him better than just about anybody else, especially himself and maybe even his Uncle Iroh. Your sharp perceptiveness and ability to read him like a book had unnerved him at first, early in your friendship as awkward, angsty teens. He didn’t like the concept of being known and analyzed; uncomfortable with the idea of existing in other people’s minds in a form beyond his control. That always led to expectations, and expectations led to disappointment.
Learning how to be okay with his own vulnerability and personhood was one of many things you had helped him with over the years of your relationship. Because of you—for you—he was a better person, a better friend, a better man. It was something he wished he knew how to thank you for. Even if he could find the words (and the nerve), it would never be enough. He had settled long ago on just trying to show you, every day and in every way he could.
As the two of you traipsed across the park grass and you searched for the perfect spot, he couldn’t help but marvel at the fact his hands seemed to be designed to hold yours. The way your fingers fitted perfectly between his, the warmth of every contact point between your palms; it felt as natural as the tides or the winds or anything else that had always been and always would be. He’d experienced the feeling of your hand in his hundreds if not thousands of times before, but it all felt so much more... poignant, somehow, in this time and place.
“You’ve been really quiet,” you observed as you laid out the blanket once you’d deemed the area suitable. He sat on it next to you, dropping down the backpack of snacks he’d been carrying. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
“No, definitely not,” he quickly reassured you, wanting the worried crease between your eyebrows to smooth away. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking.”
You nodded, not pressing him. That was just one more of a million things he adored about you: you never forced him to tell you things he didn’t want to say. This, however, was something he wanted to share with you.
“I’ve been thinking about how important you are to me, and how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how... easy this feels.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Easy?”
“Yeah. In a really, really good way. I feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Even if this doesn’t really work out the way we want it to, you still mean everything to me. I can’t even imagine who or where I would be if I hadn’t met you.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Taking in a deep breath, he continued. “I think about it a lot, actually, but I guess I’m just... thinking about it more, now.”
Your lips curved up into that gentle smile that made his heart skip a few beats and you squeezed his hand. “I know exactly what you mean, Zuko. I feel the same way and I couldn’t’ve said it better myself.” The tips of his ears burned when you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, and you giggled at his sudden shyness. He cleared his throat and looked over at the raised stage a little ways away.
“Um, I think the show is starting.” You followed his gaze up to where stagehands were setting up props for the play. The crowd of people hushed as the lights illuminated the stage and orchestral music flowed from the speakers. His stomach flipped when you shifted closer to him and turned your head so your lips brushed his earlobe.
“I’ve heard this troupe is better than the Ember Island Players, but if they’re not I packed some tomatoes to throw,” you whispered before burying your face in his shoulder to stifle your laugh at his scoff in response.
“If they’re worse than the Ember Island Players then consider this our first and last date. I don’t think any relationship could recover from that,” he mumbled and you rolled your eyes with a grin.
“Harsh, but understandable,” you sighed. You rooted around in the bag and pulled out the bottle of cheap wine you’d slipped in. You passed it to him after taking a swig, a devilish smirk on your face that made goosebumps rise on his skin. He took a sip just as the first actors entered the stage.
They were much better than the Ember Island Players, though that was a pretty low bar to set. As much of a theater snob he could be, he had to admit they did Love Amongst the Dragons justice (and even brought some tears to his eyes that he hastily blinked away in hopes you wouldn’t notice). The sun had set long before you both rose with the rest of the crowd to give the troupe a standing ovation. He could feel his heart swell with adoration as you clapped and whistled enthusiastically, the lights on the crowd making the tear tracks on your face glisten.
“That was amazing!” You turned to him breathlessly, eyes sparkling. The wine you’d shared was making him feel bold (and a little wobbly) and the way you looked at him was making the blood rush in his ears. Without thinking he slid his palms under your jaw and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. After your initial moment of surprise you closed your eyes and twisted your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him against your body as you kissed him back insistently. A jolt shot up your spine when his tongue prodded at your mouth and you parted your lips, humming as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.
“Zuko,” you breathed against his lips, pulling away just far enough to gasp for air.
“(Y/N).” Your name rolled off his tongue like a reverent prayer. His hands slipped down to your waist where he dug his fingertips into your skin, as if afraid you’d dematerialize if he didn’t hold you in place.
“Are we spinning? It feels like we’re spinning.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I think we had too much wine.”
“It’s not the wine.” You opened your eyes to see his were still squeezed shut. He was afraid that he’d open them and wake up and it would all have been a dream.
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“No—“ you cupped his face and tilted it so you could press a kiss to his forehead, and another to each cheek, and then one brushed over the rough skin on his scarred eyelid that made his breathe catch in his throat “—you always make me feel like that.”
He opened his eyes now, cheeks flushed a blazing red. He drank in the sight of your wide eyes and kiss-swollen lips and felt his heart leap into his throat. You felt captivated by his hungry gaze; he was staring at you like a man starved. “Sorry,” he mumbled breathlessly.
You weren’t expecting that. “Sorry? For what?”
“Making you feel... spinny.”
You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss, threading your fingers of one hand through his shaggy black locks while the thumb of your other skimmed across his scar. He raised his own to tangle in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. Your foot caught on the blanket and you stumbled, bringing you both crashing to the ground as your faces smacked together. Surely you two were a sight to see for the people filtering out of the park now that the play was over.
“Fuck,” you groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose where his chin had slammed against it. He grunted and propped himself up so he wasn’t laying on top of you anymore.
“That was definitely the wine,” he said and you nodded in agreement. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You dropped your head back into the grass and scrunched up your face. “Your chin hurt my nose.”
He leaned over you with a grin. “Well, your nose hurt my chin.”
“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t even consider how your bony chin could be injured after smashing into my soft cartilage.” You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how his huff of laughter made your stomach feel fluttery.
“Just try to keep it in mind next time. This time, though—“ he gently kissed between your eyes, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip “—I’ll kiss it better for you.” He reveled in how you visibly flustered, opening your mouth and then closing it again quickly.
“Dork,” you muttered and he laughed again. “The hell do you mean, ‘next time?’”
“Well, y’know, if we keep falling for each other, then—“ You cut him off with an exasperated groan.
“If I didn’t know better I’d think Sokka gave you the idea to purposefully fall, just to drop that stupid line.”
“I mean, he did offer to help since I always seem to trip over my words around you.” You made a disgusted face in response to his cheeky smile and shoved him off you. He rolled onto his back next to you as you sat up.
“I should’ve seen that coming,” you grumbled.
“Yeah,” he sighed, obviously pleased with himself. You looked down at him when he tugged on your sleeve. “Hey, Sokka’s tips didn’t ruin my chance at a second date, right?”
You took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. “As if I’d let Sokka’s stupid ass fuck up the years of pining I’ve put in. You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me, Zuko.”
You could feel his smile against your skin when he brought your knuckles to his lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Gonna add on to this:
From the other side of the bar, I see this crap all the time. Seriously. I work at a high-density bar, and let me tell you, I have anywhere from 10-20 guys every night come up and tell me to, “serve her a stronger drink, I’m trying to get lucky tonight, know what I mean?” usually accompanied with a wink and a gesture at a girl who, in my experience, is going to go from mildly buzzed to definitively hammered if I keep serving her. Now, I like to think I’m a responsible bartender, so I usually tell guys like that to piss off, and, if I can, try to tell the girl’s more sober friends that they need to keep an eye on her.
But everyone- just so you know, most of the time, when someone you don’t know is buying you a drink, they’re NOT doing it out of a sense of cordiality, they’re buying you a drink for the sole purpose of making you let your guard down. So:
Tips for getting drinks-
1. ALWAYS GO TO THE BAR TO GET YOUR OWN DRINK, DO NOT LET STRANGERS CARRY YOUR DRINKS. This is an opportune time for dropping something into your cocktail, and you’re none the wiser.
2.IF YOU ORDER SOMETHING NON-ALCOHOLIC, I promise you, the bartender doesn’t give two shits that you’re not drinking cocktails with your friends, and often, totally understands that you don’t want to let your guard down around strangers. Usually, you can just tell the bartender that you’d like something light, and that’s a big clue to us that you’re uncomfortable with whomever you’re standing next to. Again, we see this all the time.
3. If you’re in a position to where you feel uncomfortable not ordering alcohol:
Here’s a list of light liquors, and mixers that won’t get you drunk, and will still look like an actual cocktail:
X-rated + sprite = easy to drink, sweet, and 12% alcoholic content. Not strong at all, usually runs $6-$8, depending on your state.
Amaretto + sour= sweet, not strong, 26%.
Peach Schnapps+ ginger ale= tastes like mellow butterscotch, 24%.
Melon liquor (Midori, in most bars) + soda water = not overly sweet, 21%
Coffee liquor (Kahlua) +soda = not super sweet, 20%.
When I was a fresh bartender, I had a couple sitting in the corner, already drinking when I started my shift. They seemed like they knew each other really well considering how much they had their hands on one another. But I still came by and asked if they were okay. The man just waved me off while the woman said, “I need some water.”
The man laughed it off and told me, “She doesn’t need any water. She’s fine.”
She was not fine. Clearly. I decided I was going to cut the two off anyway and bring them some water. As I was filling up the glasses, I heard the woman say, “Stop. I said no. I don’t feel good.”
Her tone and attitude changed instantly. She kept pushing his hand away when he reached for her face, turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. Loudly told him, “Stop. I’m done for tonight.”
So I made sure to refill her water the moment she finished it, and I stayed within earshot of them the whole night. And every time I did, the man got mad at me, told me to leave them alone. Their friends were there, surrounding them and told me that those two always fought when they were drunk and apologized, so I relaxed a little. But the last time I refilled her drink, I heard a loud crash.
She fell out of her stool and hit her head on the floor. And he calmly drank his drink. Their friends didn’t even blink. I jumped over the bar to tend to her and he just said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take her home. She always ends up like this. She drinks too much.”
But it didn’t sound right.
Then the woman began convulsing.
I yelled for the other bartender to call 911 and when I did, the guy suddenly disappeared. I tried asking thr friends questions about him and they just blew it off as the woman being a black our drunk. And one of them said, “We’ll get her home. Don’t worry.”
But when thr EMTs showed up with the police, they all disappeared too.
A few days later the woman came with an attorney. She asked me and the other bartender who worked before me some questions. Turns out, she didn’t know any of those people. They weren’t her friends or her boyfriend. They had met that night, when the guy asked her if he could buy her a drink. At the hospital, they found traces of Rohypnol in her system.
The guy had Roofied her. And his friends were in on it.
The security camera footage showed he had put something in her drink when she left for the bathroom before my shift.
So seriously, it happens. You have to be careful with your drinks! Always watch it, don’t let anyone handle it, and take it with you wherever you go–even the bathroom. Or if you’re a regular at that bar, ask the bartender to put it behind the bar. We’ll do it.
Hey guys, I will be accepting requests from anyone who donates to a BLM related cause and sends me proof of doing so.
I will write for any MCU character. However, no taboo topics (non-con, incest, underage etc.) or sensitive subjects (suicide, mental illness etc.) please.
You can learn more from this post and also see the other writers participating!
What just happened on CNN? Im at work and so wasn’t somewhere I could watch
Sure I’ll sum up.
So there was a very good peaceful protest by.... Lafayette Park? Right outside the White House. They were chanting, they had multiple reporters in the crowd, it was fucking CHILL, people were waiting for Trump to do a speech in the Rose Garden.
Then, out of nowhere, truly NOWHERE, the cops closed in from three directions and threw gas into the crowd. They used rubber bullets on the crowd IMMEDIATELY. One dude told the reporter “They don’t care about news, move.” They drove out the totally fucking peaceful, pre-curfew protestors.
They moved them all out, and Trump started speaking, and you could hear the fucking gas going off over his speech. CNN fucking did a splitscreen to show the peopple being shoved back as the motherfucker stood up there and said he would protect our rights and would mobilize the military against people.
Then back to the reporters, and everyone was forced further and further away. One woman on a bike told the reporter “They are getting the water cannons ready, you wanna move.”
TURNS OUT.
ALL OF THIS.
WAS BECAUSE TRUMP WANTED A PHOTO OP AT THE CHURCH ACROSS THE STREET. HE WANTED THEM OUT OF THE WAY SO HE COULD STAND WITH A BIBLE IN FRONT OF A CHURCH.
Even CNN is calling him a dictator, at 7PM.
Then the Illinois governor came out and called him a racist, xenophobic, misogynistic failure.
ETA: OH AND AFTER THE FACT one of the CNN ppl said that the cops claimed they gave three warnings to the crowd to disperse. There were reporters literally in the crowd, and didn’t mention hearing anything along those lines and where as shocked as anyone when the crowd was forced to move. So they’re fucking lying.
thinkin about how i grew up with steven universe and lived through him and went through similar traumas as him (in a human way obviously) and now we are both 17 and now i gotta do the rest on my own..... tf we gon do now
listen listen LISTEN. THAT was a lot to take in and honestly i don’t remember most of it right now BUT. when connie and steven kissed.... IT HIT SO DIFFERENT
I reblogged him the day i started treatment and 1. GOT TO MY APPOINTMENT ON TIME 2. FOUND A FREE PARKING TICKET SOMEONE LEFT IN THE METER FOR ME AND 3. GOT FREE STARBUCKS AFTER MY APPOINTMENT!!!!!
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