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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Sober (Symnali) - Pazinae

Summary: College girl Symone and her house love throwing parties. Denali loves a fun time, and finds herself there every weekend. Just to get drunk and party of course. No other reason. (AKA pretty lesbians in denial)

AN: a drabble inspired by denali coming over to the house of avalon a while ago, getting v drunk and dancing w symone (the outfit symone wears in the fic is from that day www.instagram.com/p/CODlQtnp-KM/ denali is wearing the pink dress from one of her older posts). also the time they streamed and were just drunkenly complimenting each other is the absolute Cutest and symnali is underrated. i have a lot of ideas for this so if yall are interested ill write a whole thing of what happened that night <3. my first fic and concrit is very much welcome!! song is sober by lorde :>

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//Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight−//

They called themselves House Of Avalon. They had all pitched in to rent a house near campus over the summer, and a place leased for a year consisting of young 20 year olds can only go as well as you can imagine. Yet getting ready for their parties surrounded by constant noise and the dozens of paintings, framed photos, and tchotchkes lining the wall, was a comfortable kind of chaos. As chaotic as they may be, they undeniably threw the best parties. Not to mention their outfits never missed, especially not Symone.

The madness of creative, raging queers all shoehorned together to form the most disorderly harmony was a type of home Symone wanted to bask in forever, and, quite honestly, the driving reason to stay in the boring hell hole that is college. The obligation of finishing this shit for a flimsy paper and bragging rights was a little more grounded when it’s the only reason her friends are currently living with her. One day this will all be done, and they can find a job with their degrees. Finish college like everyone wants her too, make everyone proud that yes, she did it, and together the House Of Avalon can buy a huge house with 5 guest bedrooms so everyone and their mama can visit. Throw the biggest parties, a pool in their backyard with an outdoor kitchen, a huge patio out front by the house gates, and they could even install a stripper pole in the living room. Until then she’ll be up at 7:30am to ride the train for her morning class.

The thought of the a certain dimpled blonde helped make the week bearable because at least on the weekends she can fly to somewhere else. With someone else.

Symone, Gigi and Rosy hung around the sofa together, getting tipsy as they waited for more people to pour in. They chattered mindlessly, the comfort between the three was an indescribable kind, so effortless and familiar. But in between each pause in conversation, when the laughs and talk of annoying professors and ugly hair trends came to a brief end, Symone couldn’t help but scan the room. Peeking out the corner of her eye for a certain pair of hooded eyes hopefully lingering around. A girl with the most distinct, beautifully symmetric face that can charm a room, and a sugary voice so addictive to listen to even without a sweet tooth. She could listen to Denali talk and ramble as much as she wanted about anything in the world, and she’d eagerly nod along. Her hazy tone when she’s slurring and half awake, to the chirps and goofy grins at the height of the night. The adorable glint in her eyes of passion and excitement when she drunkenly goes off about some kpop group Symones never heard of before, but might just happen to start coming across more. Her dancing like a duck that makes Symone squeal, and cheer, and hide her face in her shoulder so no one can see the smile she’s unable to bite back. She dawdles around with her infectious giddiness and smile so comforting it eases the absurdity and rushing high Symone constantly lives with. And it helps that she’s built like some athlete godsend with the prettiest arms and perfect curves and the most stunning thighs and calves and soft warm blonde hair with icy blue tips to frame her angelic face. She’s been drinking and it’s definitely just the alcohol that makes her head waiver and ramble.

Time rushes by wedged between her sisters, and soon Symone holds an empty cup for the second already. The house has certainly been getting fuller and fuller. Glancing around, she finds the only person she could (and frankly would) look at for all of eternity, staring at her. Denali’s hair is scooped into two high ponytails at either side, and her body’s fit into a little off the shoulder pink mini dress that hugged her body all too well. Symone wanted nothing more than to just hold her, dance the night away until the jumble of noises and bodies fade out. Seeing her just standing there, perfect and still, a toothy grin is plastered on Symone’s face without her consent. She barely even knows Denali but her sheer presence brightens the room, sends butterflies to flutter around like she’s having some cheesy school girl crush. She can’t tell you what Denali’s favorite TV show, movie or season is, or how she likes her coffee. But if the world were to close in on them right now, have the walls disintegrate, ceilings crumble and the heaps of flesh around them melt into the floorboards under them- they’d still be yelling out the wrong lyrics while they twirl against the counter tops. Rush outside and run in the pitch black where nothing exists but each other in their hands- and that’s good enough for her.

Denali just likes Symone because she wants to have fun, and Symone’s good at that. It’s okay that she won’t ever like Symone when she’s sober; When she’s quiet, and wrapped in a blanket over her hoodie starring at the ceiling. When she’s fidgeting with her nails and playing with her the tips of her hair instead of talking. When she burns mac and cheese and decides to have a bag of ketchup chips for lunch. Whatever it is they have; it’s still good enough for her.

Damn maybe Symone does think a little too much. She winks at the dumbstruck skater. The night’s just begun, and the only exit signs in the labyrinth in her sinkhole of a mind is alcohol and/or Denali. Symone wants the and version.

//Oh, God, I’m clean out of air in my lungs

It’s all gone, played it so nonchalant//

When Denali came through the door she not-so-subtly headed straight to the living room. She had barely glanced in their direction- but she saw her. She was laughing, in her little squad of pretty girls. The clique of long legged doe-eyed queens stand in the center of the living room in their mini skirts and low waisted pants- lifelike statues seemingly taking up all the air in the crowded room. She can’t help it if she stares a bit! They have cute outfits and Denali just wants some inspiration. Everyone’s gawked at the trio anyways. She looks at Symone, because of the cute fuzzy blue bucket hat adorned on her head. No other reason.

But it’s hard to look away when her face- her makeup is so stunning. With a shimmery pink cut crease, and glossy lips, and dabbles of pink brightening her cheeks. Lashes that make her eyes pop, and the highlight on her glistening skin matched with her flimsy silver spaghetti strap crop top that made her shine even more like a radiant disco ball. The backless top is tied together behind, with a thin string leaving the space between her neck to ass as exposed skin. How could a person be so perfect? And addicting to look at? Unzipped jeans hung at the curve of her hip to show her pink thong, which rose to hug her waist. Pink wedge heels lie under her painted toe nails, and fuck was she a living bratz doll. It wasn’t Denali’s fault that she was objectively so head to toe stunning. It wasn’t her fault that she bit the inside of her lip a litte. It wasn’t her fault that her heart skipped when she was bent over in laughter and cupping her manicured hands over her mouth. It wasn’t her fault that she forgot to look away. It wasn’t her fault that when Symone caught her gaze she stood there frozen (if the options are fight, flight or freeze, which do you think the ice girl is gonna do?). It wasn’t her fault that she forgot how to breathe when the enchantress gave her a wink. She smiles and waves in return. Someone taps Symone’s shoulder for her attention, and she looks busy.

Denali pushes away, swimming through the sea of humans swarming the halls until she can identify the way to the kitchen. She needs a drink. It’s early and she’s far too sober for this.

//It’s time we danced with the truth

Move along with the truth//

There’s no reason why she’d be into Denali. She could literally get anyone she wanted, with her gleaming smile and cute laugh, and the way she can make you smile and feel important and wanted. The way she stops sipping in her red solo cup to look at you, to nod at every word and stare like you’re beautiful and matter. The way it’s impossible for her to not be the prettiest in the room. Denali takes a shot, the burning taste a welcome pain at the back of her tongue.

Five months ago when Denali took a sharp breath outside the main door, she made Rose come with her because, fuck, she wasn’t going to a party by herself. Not back then, at least. When she was a flustered freshman in October who didn’t know how to have a good time. Back when she first met the party throwers, and a certain captivating spirit with braided honey gold hair in a skimpy black dress took shots with her. Complimented her wispy hair dyed blue at the ends. Told her she looked amazing in slurred giggles. Because she was tipsy. The truth is the only time this will mean anything is when the world starts spinning, the room gets hot, and their minds start to blur.

//Ooh (Hey)

We’re sleepin’ through all the days

I’m actin’ like I don’t see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me//

“You good diva?“

"Nnnm, gimme uh ‘nother few minutes" Symone’s head is pounding, and the only thing on her mind is the dazy blanketing warmth of sleep. Her mind is a knotted, jumbled up mess and trying to think about anything other than passing out makes her head throb. Natural light from the outside pours through the windows, and through her squinted eyes, the wooden table across the room is glowing from the suns heat. A vague need to eat, drink water, and vomit creep up on her. She turns to lay on her side, wedges the blanket between her arms, pulls it higher up and tucks her hands under her head.

"You sure?”

“You still have your makeup you want to wash it off?”

“We can take it off”

“Girl its 2pm"

"Let her sleep!"

Half asleep, all the different voices mesh as one blob of noise. Indistinct chatter fades as Symone slowly luls back to sleep. Until-

"Where should I put the polaroids of Symone and Denali making out?” Peaceful slumber is very quickly forgotten when realization is drawn.

“What the fuck happened last night?” Is the only thing Symone can muster out before throwing her head deeper into the pillow, all of a sudden quite awake. Focusing on the vague mist of memories from the night before, she replays it through her head starting from when she went up to Denali, taking shots in the kitchen.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #symone #denali x symone #rare pair #fluff #angst #lesbian au #s13 #college au #submission #fic challenge #song fic #sober #pazinae

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