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nobodycallsmerae · 3 years

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I hate @fireflyxrebel-writes and @lavender-scent for engraving the Raven idea in my head. It's literally stuck in my head and I won't be able to do anything until I let it out now. XD

Also this is a BBRae blog, so yeah, this very short... paragraph-lengh-fic turned out more BBRae-ish than expected ^^'

Disclaimer: I am still a writer-in-making and this isn't exactly angst because my heart is still a baby. Also I'm really cowardly so this is just my idea and is not some inter-galactic war kinda thingy lol ALSO, I LITERALLY WROTE THIS WHILE STUDYING GEOGRAPHY SO SORRY BECAUSE IT SUCKS

“And now, for the final event of the night! The act you’ve all been waiting for! With bated breath, we present to you, the one night special event, a mesmerizing performance, by the one and only.. ‘The Flying Gra-”’

‘Rae...? You there?’

Raven clutched her chest, feeling breathless. Her eyes opened wide; fear, anxiety, guilt and sadness drowning her whole body.

‘..Ra-Raven?’ Beast Boy spared her a concerned glance, before closing the door and entering their room. ‘A-Are you okay?’ He stood beside her with a perturbed frown.

‘Y-yeah… j-just give me.. a minute.’ Raven touched his forearm for support, trying to catch her breath and focus on the man standing in front of her. Even his emotions were anxious and troubled, but they were better than the ones attacking her.

‘What is up with Dick?’ The empath asked once she regained her composure. ‘He seemed fine the whole day, what’s happening to him now?’

Beast Boy’s face softened. ‘Today’s the d-death anniversary of Dick’s parents, remember?’ He reminded her. ‘He’d been busy the whole day.. But I guess it’s hitting him at night when he’s finally getting time to breath..’

‘..Oh,’ Raven sighed, feeling kind of guilty for letting it slip her mind. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Yeah.. Kor’s taking care of him.’ He replied, touching her cheek gently. ‘But the real question is… are you okay? ..You’ve been a bit glum ever since we went to Steel City for Vic’s mom’s death anniversary… Are all the emotions troubling you too much? If there’s something I can-’

‘I’m fine, Gar..’ Raven flashed him a small smile. ‘His emotions just caught me off-guard for a second there.. Otherwise I’m okay.’

‘Great!’ The shape-shifter sighed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She sighed in content, feeling the warmth envelope her.

‘Anyway,’ Gar began. ‘There's actually something I wanted to show you!’

He took out a box from seemingly out of nowhere and showed it to her. It was a small, red-colored velvet box, which fit in his palm. He opened the box, and inside-

Wait.. is he..? I mean, we have been dating for four years now but-

‘These are my parents’ engagement rings.’ The man stated fondly, and Raven internally let out a sigh.

‘Wow, Gar… they’re beautiful!’ Raven exclaimed sincerely. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling kind of disheartened or relieved.

‘They’re the only thing I have as a memento of my parents… Honestly, I’d tried to forget about it at first.. Because they brought back sad memories..’ Beast Boy smiled, examining the pair of rings in his hands, as Raven softly rubbed his arm, hoping to provide him some support. ‘But now,’ He continued. ‘I’m proud of myself that I can look at them and remember all the good stuff… partly thanks to you, Rae, or I wouldn’t have been able to come this far.’ He looked at her gratefully.

Raven blushed as her silent response and he chuckled.

‘Anyway, it’s getting pretty late…’ He softly kept the box on the dressing-table. ‘Guess we should hit the hay? ..I’m also pretty tired honestly.’ He stretched his back and yawned.

‘Remember, we have another one of those no-power training sessions tomorrow.’ Raven reminded him, and laughed as he made a face.

‘Ugh… I’m getting too old for this now..’ He whined as he plopped on the bed.

‘You’re only 26, Gar..’ Raven said with an amused smile.

‘See! Too old! Too old to go around kicking butts.. I just wish we could have a normal, no-crime-fighting life for once.’ The super-hero sighed. ‘And anyway.. We don’t even have many big threats these days..! Why do we have to train so much!?’

‘We need to keep ourselves prepared… just in case.’ Raven replied half-heartedly as she entered the washroom for her nightly routine.

She did all of her bed-time rituals in auto-pilot mode, as she couldn’t stop thinking about what her boyfriend had said a few moments ago…

“I just wish we could have a normal, no-crime-fighting life for once...”

As she got out of the washroom, she saw Beast Boy, shirtless, laying on their bed, looking really sleepy.

‘Tired much?’ Raven asked with a smile as she climbed under the pillow, into his arms.

‘..Yeah.’ Beast Boy yawned, nuzzling into her neck once she settled in and got comfortable.

Dick’s emotions were still getting to her, but they were muted by Gar’s calming aura.

But still, she could vaguely feel the guilt, horror, fright-

‘Did you know I can time travel!!’ Raven suddenly yelled, taking Beast Boy by surprise.

‘Okay well, that’s actually really dope, and I’m going to pummel you with a lot of questions and theories now,’ The shape-shifter said. ‘..but tomorrow morning please..?’

Raven nodded, and the silence settled into a comforting-

‘...Ga- Gar..?’ Raven finally asked after a mental debate. ‘Garfield?’

‘Hmm?’ He sleepily muttered.

‘D-do..’ Raven closed her eyes and took a big breath. ‘Do you ever imagine... how your life would’ve been if.. you hadn’t got your powers or… or your parents hadn’t… went near the waterfalls back then..?’

At her question, Gar slowly opened his eyes.

A long silence followed, and Raven wondered if she'd asked something she shouldn't have.

‘I… I used to, yeah.’ Beast Boy said after a momentarily pause. ‘...But now I don’t.’

‘Why?’ Raven asked before she could run it in her mind. ‘I-I mean… wouldn’t life have been better?’ She supported herself on her arms on the bed.

Gar had an “Are we really doing this? Now?” expression on his face, but he answered nonetheless. ‘Well… life would’ve been.. Way different, for sure. But why are you asking this all of a sudden? ...Is it because I showed you the rings?’

‘..No.. no particular reason, really..’ The empath meekly replied. ‘A thought just came to my mind.. That..’ She stopped, debating whether to say it or not.

‘What if I’d stopped Trigon… before.. he could’ve come to Azarath?’

Beast Boy was starting to get a bit frustrated now; He was tired and he needed some sleep, and he definitely didn't want to talk about something which may include his girlfriend being wiped out of existence.

‘We definitely shouldn’t have watched Avengers: Endgame last weekend.’ Gar muttered into the pillow before facing her. ‘Rae… what are you even talking about?’

‘I mean.. Think about it?!’ Raven said seriously, and Gar could literally feel some plan being cooked in that big brain of hers. ‘Many people’s lives would’ve been saved and there wouldn’t be any portal and-’

‘RAVEN! I’m going to be really selfish right now but, what about US?’ Gar exclaimed. ‘What about Dick and Kory.. and Vic!? What do you think all of us are going to do without you? What-what about… me?’

‘You guys are gonna be okay without me..’ Raven sighed, unconsciously touching her gem. ‘And you d-’

‘Please don’t say that I deserve better than you,’ Beast Boy pleaded, taking her hands in his. ‘I’m already not sure if I deserve you at all, Rae.’

‘Gar…’ Raven gently touched his cheek.

‘Please.. Let’s just go to sleep, Rae. You’re probably drunk because of lack of sleep or something..’ Gar sighed.

Raven looked like she was about to protest, but smiled instead. ‘I love you, Gar.’ She kissed him.

‘I love you too..’ He smiled, before nodding off to sleep.

The Titans were sitting on the dining table, ready for breakfast when Gar entered the common room.

It was 8 am, and Gar had taken to waking up early after he’d started dating the empath, so the three Titans greeted him cheerfully.

‘Morning guys..’ He said, taking a seat beside Dick on the table. ‘Where’s Raven?’ He asked, taking a look around the room.

‘She went for a jog early in the morning…’ Vic, who was making pancakes replied. ‘She said she needed some fresh air.’

‘Ah.’ Gar hummed a reply and reached out for a glass of water.

‘Was it just me, or was Raven acting a bit weird?’ Dick asked.

‘You’re right man.’ Vic set a plate of pancakes on the table. ‘She seemed pretty peculiar to me.’

‘Oh, that reminds me!’ Kory exclaimed, fishing for something through her pockets. ‘Friend Raven asked me to give this to you Garfield.’ She handed him a small envelope.

‘What’s weird about Raven?’ Gar asked through mouthfuls of pancake, also trying to open the envelope while munching on his breakfast.

‘Well.. she went to each of us saying that she valued us a lot.’ Dick said, suspiciously. ‘Do you think one of her emoticlones escaped from Nevermore?’

‘..Not that I know of.. I don’t think so..’ Gar replied, his eyes still focused on the envelope.

‘Then what could’ve happened to make her say such things?’ Vic mused aloud. ‘I mean.. I know she loves us, but she doesn’t go around sayin’ that stuff.’

‘Maybe friend Garfield knows something?’ Kory suggested. ‘..Gar?’

The three Titans turned to the shape-shifter, who looked pale and had his eyes wide open.

‘Umm.. Gar, are you okay?’ Dick questioned nervously.

No, I’m not. He wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words. And neither is Raven.

Inside the fancy envelope was just a small note, written in her familiar sharp and neat handwriting.

“You DO deserve better than me. The world deserves someone better than me.”

Oh, no.

#bbrae #srsly i have no power left in me to tag #teen titans #my fic

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marmaligne · 3 years

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Hey yo! :D For the requests: how about a vld post-canon fanfic in which the reader helps Lance to move on, while still remembering Allura with respect and fond memories, which ends up in a sweet love confession? :3 If you need more details, please don’t hesitate to ask. Thanks, and have a good day!

[Lance McClain] “Under The Sun��

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“It’s been quite awhile now, I wonder when Lance is coming home?”

You pondered without so much as a doubt that he’d be back eventually, but you were a bit worried about your long-time best friend. It was late into the summer evening now, and the gradient dark blue was only just beginning to peek over the horizon. He was out late far more often now, though you supposed it was because Allura’s death had hit him hard, but you were in disbelief in seeing the usually peppy and flirtatious boy so…. depressed. It was heartbreaking to witness.

Staring out the farmhouse window, you watched the tall grass sway in the fields beyond and the slight breeze ruffle through the distant image of an apple orchard. The sun was nearly set by now, and soon the stars would be clear in the sky—a constant reminder of the paladins journey across the galaxy.

Knowing that there was so much life out there beyond the Earth you knew, you could barely comprehend just how significantly small your life was in comparison. You hadn’t travelled with the paladins or engaged in conversation with Allura beyond briefings during the Galran invasion, but you understood that the universe they witnessed was oh-so-incredibly vast and endless.

And now you felt oh-so-incredibly lonely in it. You weren’t close with many of the other paladins, besides Hunk and Pidge of course. Shiro had his new husband, Coran was too iffy for your tastes, and Keith…. well he was always off and away. With Altea restored to its rightful glory, commerce and politics between itself and Earth were bustling and swell, never better, and many of the paladins, including Lance from time-to-time, were busy making deals and new friends.

And you felt left out and abandoned because of that. It wasn’t fair that you hadn’t been accepted into the space academy, only because there was a limit to the number of accepted students, and it wasn’t fair Lance left without a single word to you, on some grand adventure for years on end without so much as a word, and it wasn’t fair that you were helpless in all things besides cooking or cleaning or feeding the animals out in the barn, or giving Lance a hug when he needed one, or looking after his siblings while his parents were gone or just—being there. It just wasn’t fair that they’d all experienced so much of life, and you hadn’t done anything in the meantime. Your meagre living was nothing in comparison to their heroism and praise. You felt selfish for thinking this way, so you never voiced your concerns to anybody, especially Lance.

“I wonder what he’d think of me, thinking this way,” you looked out unto the glimmer of stars appearing beyond the clouds, “he’d look at me and think ‘Life is never fair, you should deal with it.’ What a joke.”

You suppose you were satisfied for now with just being able to be near Lance, as a friend and support for when he needed you most, even if he didn’t know it.

“Oh Allura,” stepping outside, your eyes had an even clearer view of the skyline, and the sunset appearing within your vision, and you could almost feel the expanse of the universe looking down upon you, Allura among the vast amount of stars blazing within it, “tell me what I should do to help him. Tell me how I should be there for him, in the same way you were and in ways otherwise. How can I make him happy now you’re gone?”

Of course, you would never receive an answer beyond a pregnant silence, and the echo of your own voice over the hills and through the house where the children were asleep. You kept your eyes on the stars, hoping they’d give you some form of sign, an astrological message that could guide you, a vision of some kind, but there was only emptiness, the soft yet visible twinkle of each individual sun, burning lightyears away.

Sigh. You really should’ve expected this you suppose.

“Speaking to the sky, I’m selfish and an idiot!”

You gripped your [H/c] hair and yanked it downwards, chanting ‘idiot’ over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer, hoping it would relieve some of your many frustrations, until you heard a small sound from a hay bale around the side of the house, near an old trough used to store feed.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

Silence was all that answered at first, but then a small series of whimpers came from the area. You grabbed a pitchfork and slowly made your way over to the bale, creeping closer and bringing the pitchfork up to your chest, ready to strike.

“AAAAAAAAAAH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A terrified Lance dunked himself into the trough, getting his backside stuck before tipping it over and having it land on top of him while attempting to crawl away.

“Dios mío [Y/n], you scared me!” Lance stood up and dusted off his jacket and pants, rubbing at his eyes and making an awful attempt at hiding his face away from your sight.

“Well I’m sorry, oh merciful Lord Lance, but you being secretive and not answering me when I asked has a lot to do with that.”

He looked away from you for a further moment before responding.

“Well, I uh…. just wanted to be alone for a minute y’know? All my siblings and family n’ stuff, kind of makes my back stiff and mind numb from time-to-time.”

You watched solemnly as he tried to laugh it off, sitting back down on the edge of the trough, head leaning in his hands and staring off into the distance, obviously bothered by something. You were curious, but you didn’t have any right to pry if he didn’t want to tell you first. You’d respect his wishes if he really did just want to be alone.

“Well, alright then,” you smiled softly at him, forcing yourself off your knees and turning around to head back inside, “if you want to talk, I’ll be back inside. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

You began to walk away, adamant on getting back upstairs to the comfort of your bed and laying awake all night, when you felt a small weight on the back of your shirt. Lance’s hand had managed to grasp the fabric while you were walking away, and though you turned around to ask him why, he had barely moved from his position on the trough, only gazing at you with unshed tears in his eyes.

“Can you stay for a moment,” he pleaded, “please? It’ll only take a minute [Y/n], I swear.”

‘Allura give me strength’ you thought, letting out an exasperated sigh and seating yourself beside him on the ledge, barely glancing at him again, preferring to turn your sights to the horizon once more. You knew it’d be another nightly session of listening to his fears and sorrows, meanwhile drowning in your own self-doubt and anxieties. This also meant that tomorrow you’d wake up questioning your worth again, comparing yourself to the woman you’d come to respect and admire, and a woman who was now gone off to the afterlife, long before you.

“Tell me what’s up Lance. What’s eating away at you this time tonight, huh? Lemme guess, is it your girlfriend again?”

You watched as Lance fiddled with a piece of straw, rolling it back and forth between his palms, keeping his gaze on the sunset ahead.

“No,” he muttered, “more of an apology really.”

You nearly did a spit take, staring at him like he was a chicken with two heads. You never thought you’d be hearing an apology from the Casanova himself, let alone one aimed at you. Usually he was too cocky to have second thoughts.

“Sheesh Lance, what’s gotten into you? Did your mom finally drill some manners into that peabrain of yours?”

You jokingly put him in a headlock and started ruffling his hair, Lance desperately trying to remove your arm so he could fix his ruined part.

“[Y/n] c’mon! I styled my hair hours ago, I nearly kept it perfect for the whole day!”

He began running his fingers through his hair to put it back in place. Concentrating on perfecting it once more.

“Oh Lance, what kind of farmer like you needs styling gel? It gets greasy in a couple minutes anyways so why even bother.”

“It’s the thought that counts [Y/n]!”

You snorted as he huffed at you, the two of you quipping at each other reminded you of the days before he left off to the academy. Then you remembered,

“Oh right, the apology. Glad to see you learned some common courtesy, but what’s this all about Lance?”

You really needed answers. He suddenly went quiet and seemed to contemplate something for a moment. He worried you, and he knew it too, that you were expecting an explanation for an apology he probably wasn’t ready to give.

“Well you see [Y/n],” he stared directly at you, “I know that I’ve been down recently, and that you’ve always been…. there, I guess, for me when I needed you to be. And I know that I’ve never even thanked you or given you something in return, and that by using you as a way to escape my own problems, I’ve given you some of your own,”

He stopped for a moment to see if you were still paying attention, and seeing you looking at him with encouragement, he continued,

“I’m so sorry, [Y/n]. Really, I am. I was being dumb like always and pouring out my feelings onto someone who had difficulties of their own to deal with, and I never really thought about how I was hurting you…. I’m sorry. When Allura was here, and I was back out in space, battling alien hordes and saving the galaxy…. I felt like everything was right in the world, and that I was living my best life, being beside all the people I cared about, with friends I could trust. I didn’t realize until later that I completely forgot about you in the process, the best friend I left behind, who mattered maybe even more to me than I thought. I never meant to forget you, and I never meant to hurt you.”

He began to get nervous, losing the cocky persona he developed over the years completely, turning downtrodden and forcing out a final “I hope you can forgive me.”

Then he went quiet.

“….I never hated you, y’know,” you began, finally responding, “I never once despised you for leaving without me. I knew you’d come back someday, when I heard a lion took off from the desert that day, I just didn’t know when.”

You kept going, “If anything, I hated myself sometimes, for being selfish and wanting you to come back sooner, or blaming you in my mind for not taking me with you. It always felt unfair to me, that I was stuck here in a constant cycle of boring life, while you were out patrolling the universe, fighting Galra and going on cool missions-”

“-and nearly dying, like, 50 times!” Lance interrupted.

“….and nearly dying 50 times, yes.”

The sun was nearly gone now, disappearing quickly before you, clocking the time you’d been outside conversing in the summer heat—the pale moon climbing the sky behind you.

The stars shone ever-brighter, and the breeze had settled down, the grass at your feet stamped in and no longer swaying, and the crickets in the field were chirping, with the cows grazing in the meadow below, almost ready to head in for the night.

“I’m jealous Lance. And frustrated. But I never spoke a word of anything to you, because I loved you too much to bother you with any more problems than you already had. Nothings your fault, I was only emotional, and I have no disrespect for any of your friends or partners, including Allura. I only wish that you could’ve been happier.”

Ending your rant, you faced Lance again and shrugged, acting nonchalant, like nothing you said mattered at the moment. But he knew that whatever he said next would make a large impact on you.

“You loved me?”

You relaxed a little, “Still do Lance, never stopped even after you left. But, you came back with a space alien girlfriend, I knew I had to let you go.”

Allura was the light of his life, and he was the happiest you’d ever seen him in the weeks before her death. If she hadn’t needed to make a sacrifice, they would’ve probably grown old and had a life together, a family too, and he would have become the Altean King, with you far out of the picture. The little markings on the ridge of his cheekbones still detailed just how loving of a relationship the two were in. Even after her passing, you wouldn’t make a move when Lance only thought of you as a friend.

Both yourself and Lance were gazing at the sky now, completely silent, and yet there was an underlying comfort in the stillness, one which permeated through the air around you and invited a conversation to be had. Lance seemed to wish to speak in order to break it, scratching at the markings whilst trying to find the words to talk to you.

“Oh quiznak, words are too hard!”

Lance reaches across the trough to grasp the hand you’re using to stable yourself on the ledge, bringing it up to the space between the two of you and wearing the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

“When I was in third grade, I ran into a small child in the hallway and accidentally spilled their thermos of soup all over the floor. That tiny [H/c] kid became my desk-mate for all of third and fourth grade, and I remember having to give them my baloney sandwich because they wouldn’t stop crying till I did. In fifth grade, that same kid switched our lunchboxes because I had the better pizza pops, and in sixth grade, while taking a math test, they threw up all over the floor and I laughed like crazy; ended up going with them to the office because the teacher ‘didn’t like my attitude’. In seventh grade, I went to their birthday party and popped all the balloons, I stole half the cake and made off with three goodie bags before anyone could catch me. In eighth grade we became friends, and played pranks together on the other students during April fools, tipped an outhouse, and did each others homework because we both sucked at school. When I was in ninth grade, I gave them a Burger King crown and told them they ruled my world…. I know you know who I’m talking about.”

You began laughing the hardest you had in years, looking back on all the memories you and Lance had built up over the years, times when neither of you knew what would happen, and had big dreams and hopes for the future. The future had turned out to be far different from what both of you had expected.

“To be fair Lance, you were the one who threw up during that math test, not me. You cried for your mom all the way through the school and passed out on a couch in the lobby.”

“Shut up [Y/n], I’m attempting to be sentimental!”

When the laughter died down, and the world was quiet again, you gazed down at the entwined hands that rested between you two, and lazily swung them back and forth to see if he’d let go. When he didn’t, you smiled a bit,

“So what, this means your willing to try? To move on from Allura just like that? Forget everything you had with her and stick with me for awhile?”

He smiled brightly at you, as bright as the sun that could barely be seen, the final slivers fading away over the prairie.

“Allura’s not entirely gone,” he taps his markings, “these babies are a constant reminder of that. I’ll never forget the happiness she gave me, but I don’t want to keep dwelling on the fact that she’s gone. You’re here with me, more than anything, and I hope that we could stay this way for as long as we can.”

“I’d like that.”

It’s far too late to keep outside you realize, and the night brings with it a chilling cold that practically freezes your clothes to your skin, and tinges the air with frost. The fall season is coming, and summer is nearly over, and with it comes the colourful leaves, and the frosted grass, and the wilting flowers. You stand up, dragging Lance with you, and dust off the seat of your pants, preparing to head inside to bed.

Now the darkness has settled, the sun is gone. You take your hands and guide Lance around the house to the doorway. The door creaks open and shuts behind the two of you, and as you say your goodnights, you head off to your room. And as the glow of the moon enters through your window, enshrouding the walls in a pale light, you lay there and ponder.

Truly, you hope that you can spend many more days with Lance down in the fields, and with the cows and the tall grass, and out in the apple orchard, where the two of you will lie, down in the top soil, under the sun.

———————————————————————

BONUS:

“[Y/n], know that you’ll always be my Burger Queen.”

“Lance please. Shut the fu*k up.”

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✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

#lance mcclain #voltron #vld #vld lance #vld fandom #vld allura #vld x reader #voltron x reader #lance x allura #lance x reader #reader insert #x reader #writing

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lesdemonium · 4 years

Text

romtober day 19: yelling first kiss

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 1977 Summary: Jaskier gets very jealous when Geralt shows interest in someone else.

read on ao3

Jaskier played on, fingering the strings of his lute like he was born to do. The crowd was eating it up--Jaskier had been impeccable at winning their favor. A well-timed wink, a smirk in the right direction, blowing a kiss or two. They were eating right out of his hand, and nearly everyone was dancing, singing, or at the very least stomping their feet. To his crowd, Jaskier was irresistible.

His witcher, however, was another story entirely.

Geralt was not paying attention. This wasn’t entirely surprising--when Jaskier performed, Geralt really only seemed to have a perfunctory interest in what Jaskier was presenting. Though Jaskier ate up any attention he could get, he couldn’t fault Geralt for this. After all, Geralt was his first critic every time, of every song. By the time Jaskier’s songs made it to the public, Geralt had heard every iteration of the lines possible. Even a robust love would temper and fizzle under circumstances such as these, and Geralt had professed no great love for Jaskier’s “pretty lies,” as he often called them.

However, it was not simply that Geralt was not paying attention that was eating at Jaskier--it was that he was paying attention to someone else . Jaskier prided himself on his ability to read a room while also performing, and he had tracked the changes as they were happening.

There, Geralt’s eye was caught by something-- someone --just to the left of Jaskier. At first, Jaskier had giddily mistaken it for a glance in his direction, only to quickly grow hot with shame as he realized that the look was not meant for him at all. As Jaskier turned about the room, he saw the object of Geralt’s interest, and the young man was just as interested back, if his furtive glances were to be believed. Jaskier thought, with no small amount of hope, that this was where things would end. Geralt didn’t often express interest in men, and he even more rarely did anything about his interest.

This time, however, boldness came down to the newcomer. Jaskier missed the moment he stood up--Jaskier had been far too distracted by flirting with a young woman who, in return, gave him a very generous tip. When Jaskier had his wits about him enough to check, the man was gone entirely, only for Jaskier to find him at Geralt’s table.

The worst part, the part that made Jaskier’s heart sink into his chest, was that Geralt was smirking at the man. How many times had Jaskier gone to Geralt with that very same stance, to get nothing but icy stoicism in return? Now this man walked up with half the swagger Jaskier had, like a dimmer, duller version of the bard himself, and he would have the honor of Geralt’s bed?

Jaskier had a performance to attend to. Adoring fans. Pretty women with prettier smiles, handsome men with eyes that sparkled in his direction. Jaskier would just have to hone this energy, this itching beneath his skin, this hurt in his chest, and aim it toward a more worthy nighttime companion. But every time he tried, he caught a snippet of the conversation Geralt and this stranger had, or his eye landed on the way the man was now touching Geralt’s arm, and Jaskier’s blood coursed through him, icy hot and devastating.

He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, how he could process this better. Should he continue playing, to try to distract himself, or should he end his performance now, leave his audience wanting more, and leave to lick his wounds? The decision was made for him, however, when Geralt and the man left the tavern. There was no continuing after that, after the silent, delicate rush of pain as his heart chipped off just a bit more. Jaskier finished his set, thanked his audience, then retired to their room.

When Geralt found him, Jaskier was nothing more than a lump on the bed, curled up inside himself and pretending to the world he did not exist. Dramatic, certainly. But to fight against one's own heart was futile at best.

Geralt snorted. “Don’t tell me. You drank too much too early, and now you’re already hungover?”

Jaskier didn’t answer. No barb, no sarcastic retort, nothing. He realized, in an absent sort of way, that he probably should have, as that reaction was far more likely to convince Geralt to leave him alone. Still, he said nothing.

“Some lady broke your heart, then?” Geralt teased further. When Jaskier only huffed, Geralt shoved at his shoulder. Jaskier waved him off. “You’re melancholy tonight. Come on. Up.”

His order was paired with a, quite frankly, rude display of strength by pulling Jaskier up and off the bed. Jaskier stumbled as he was forced to his feet, and fell face-first into his witcher, much to his own personal embarrassment. Jaskier shoved Geralt off with a scowl.

“Leave me alone, you great brute!” Jaskier snapped, his hands landing on his hips. “I don’t appreciate you man-handling me in whatever direction you prefer!”

Geralt’s smile was small, but still managed to be shit-eating all the same. “You were on my side.” He shrugged, then pushed past Jaskier and onto the bed.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Jaskier said, stepping in front of Geralt again. “I am not sharing a bed with you. You are--are sweaty and--and.” He paused, and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Geralt. Geralt hardly looked as if he had just had a romp in the hay, as it were. He looked entirely too put together, his hair barely even mussed. Not even the slightly swollen lips that would evidence a particularly heated makeout session. “Why do you look so…. Sheveled?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself. “Sheveled?” he repeated.

“You--I saw you! I saw you leave with that man. Why do you look so damn put together?” Jaskier’s hands went back to his hips. Geralt was trying to make Jaskier look like a fool, Jaskier knew it. He would not stand for it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Now, though, he grunted, and avoided Jaskier’s gaze. Instead, he turned his back on Jaskier.

“The hell you don’t! Gods, you must think me the stupidest man alive. I pay attention, Geralt. You can’t just act like I have no clue what I’m talking about whenever I hit on a subject you don’t care for.” Jaskier didn’t want to know, not truly. He couldn’t imagine a subject he wanted less details about than whatever Geralt and this man got up to. But now that he had started in on it, he couldn't stop. He was powerless against himself.

“Jaskier, drop it.”

“No, Geralt, I don’t think I will! You’re the one that condescended to talk to me when I so clearly wanted you to leave me alone , I think it’s only fair that you now have to deal with the consequences of that decision! I saw you . I saw that you were interested in him. So why are you here ? Why are you decidedly unfucked ?”

“Why do you care? What do you need to know of what we did or did not get up to?” Geralt crossed his arms and turned to give Jaskier a hard look, but Jaskier could not stop this forward momentum. Apparently, his mood had turned him self-destructive.

“You go in for that now? You’re so rare about showing affection for men, I had convinced myself you weren’t interested at all! So, what was it about him? Was it his look? I suppose he was handsome, in a common sort of way.” That was a lie. Geralt’s taste truly was beyond reproach, but Jaskier had to dig anyway. “No surprise you like them bold. After all, your last fixation was Yennefer. So, tell me, Geralt. What exactly is your type?”

“What are you--” Geralt started, but Jaskier interrupted him. Jaskier could see the confused look on Geralt’s face, he didn’t want Geralt to voice his questions. Jaskier was half afraid he’d answer them in his tirade.

“And then you don’t even fuck him! Even he wasn’t good enough for the great Geralt of Rivia? Is anyone? No, you just need to exert your own might over everyone. Get their hopes up and then leave and go back to your own room as if nothing happened!”

“You’re mad that I didn’t have sex with him?” Geralt sounded amused. Jaskier did not find the humor in this.

“‘I’m the White Wolf, I’m ridiculously handsome with a body sculpted right from the Gods themselves, I like to force bards out of beds when it suits my needs and force them to talk and when I leave with someone I don’t fuck them because all I really want to do is make people fall in love with me and remain cooly detached from everyone because I apparently get off on it .’”

He wasn’t aware of when he started yelling, but he was definitely yelling at Geralt now. And all Geralt did in return was smile at Jaskier. It infuriated him further. Jaskier would have much preferred if Geralt took the bait and yelled back, turned this into a ridiculous fight. Instead, he smiled. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh. And, oh, if that didn’t make Jaskier feel as if he was on fire.

“Jaskier, are you jealous?” Geralt asked, and his smile turned crooked.

“Of course I’m not jealous!” Jaskier retorted. His face felt hot as the embarrassed flush spread over his whole body. “You are a brute! You just--just do whatever you want with no regard for how those around you might feel. It’s-It’s selfish, it is! And I will not put up with it, and-and--” He stopped, abruptly, and suddenly he felt short on air. Jaskier was so worked up, he could hardly focus on anything beyond the way Geralt was stepping closer to him.

“Why do you care what I did or didn’t do with him?” Geralt asked, and his voice was soft. So soft, so gentle, something in Jaskier’s brain broke.

“Because it wasn’t me !” he exploded back, and closed his eyes in his shame. There would be no coming back from this. Not from the yelling, from the odd ranting, nor from the confession. Jaskier wished more than he had ever wished for anything to just be burned on the spot.

Instead, though, he heard Geralt come closer. He felt the warmth of Geralt’s hand just before it delicately cupped Jaskier’s jaw, turning his head just the slightest bit up. Jaskier melted into the kiss, his bones turning loose, liquid, as he stumbled forward into Geralt’s chest again and grabbed at something, anything, to hold onto. Jaskier’s fingers twisted into the soft, worn fabric of Geralt’s shirt, and Geralt caught him with a hand around his waist.

If they had stayed there even a moment longer, Jaskier would have forgotten his own name. He didn’t think he needed it anymore.

“It wasn’t you,” Geralt agreed. They pulled away, only to breathe, which hardly seemed worth it to Jaskier now. Geralt’s words were hot on Jaskier’s lips and it took a moment before Jaskier’s brain caught up.

“Of all the times to kiss me, you choose when I’m hysterical and yelling at you?” Jaskier groused, but his words held no bite. Especially not when paired with the desperate way he was pecking at Geralt’s lips.

“I wasn’t sure. You’ve never been so jealous before.”

“He… reminded me. Of me. But you liked him , I didn’t think you liked me .”

Geralt hummed, and captured Jaskier in another long, thorough kiss. “I do,” Geralt said, after, and Jaskier almost forgot what they were talking about. That was okay, too. Jaskier had done quite enough talking tonight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #the witcher #my writing #romtober

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harper-hook · 3 years

Text

Ashamed | Harry Hook x Sister! Reader

Request: Can I request a imagine where the reader is Harry Hook's twin sister and she is upset because he is always avoiding her and she talks with Uma about this and harry listen and he realize that he hurt her feelings and he try to make things gets better between them and it's fluffy and cute?

Warnings: None unless you count Smee slander

Author’s Note: This was cute but it nearly killed me.

You and Harry had been close your entire life. You were born only minutes apart and were practically attached at the hip. Well, until the stupid boat race when he signed his free time away to Uma as her first mate. You hadn’t seen him in 2 months and hadn’t spoken in longer.

You were nervous. At that realization, rage bubbled up inside of you. What kind of bullshit was it that you were nervous over speaking to your own twin?! You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts.

You bounced on your heels anxiously, occasionally jumping higher to see over the crowd of rowdy pirates. The whooping and hollering increased as a group of teens bowling into the dock’s inhabitants, causing chaos. You spotted a familiar red jacket in the crowd.

You shoved past a woman trying to pick up her spilt goods and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Harry. Harry!” You snapped as he tried to jerk away, not realizing you were the one who grabbed him. He finally turned to face you. His mouth dropped and he looked down at the pier with interest.

“Why are you avoiding me?! What did I do?” You questioned, eyes starting to burn. You blinked rapidly. “Answer me!” You shoved his shoulder to get his attention. Harry sighed, like this whole conversation was just an inconvenience. You gritted your teeth, angry again. “Look, we’ll talk when I come back to the ship. ‘Kay?” He ran off, rejoining his group like nothing happened before you could answer.

You stood there, dumbfounded. Your chest felt tight and constricted. You replayed the conversation in your head. Back to the ship? You laughed bitterly. Harry hadn’t been back to the Jolly Roger in weeks and showed no signs of returning.

You took a deep breath and held your head up high. You ignored the angry tears starting to stream down your face and spun on your heel. You stomped down the stairs towards the Jolly Roger, completely unaware of the blue haired girl that witnessed the entire conversation between you and your brother.

You stormed up the gangplank and pushed past Smee and his son’s training practice. All were wise enough not to say anything. You headed towards the door to below deck, pausing at the training dummy closest to the door. It just reminded you off all the sparring sessions between you and Harry.

With an enraged cry, you whipped your sword out and swung, decapitating the dummy. You didn’t stop, continuing to stab the dummy until hay and cotton spilt all over the deck. Blood rushed in your ears and you could vaguely make out your Dad screaming at you.

You lowered your head and rolled your eyes, pulling your sword free and headed downstairs. You passed your other sister’s rooms and went into your room, practically flinging yourself inside. You debated slamming the door but decided against it, not wanting to anger your father anymore.

You tossed your sword and hat to the side and flopped on your bed, screaming into a pillow. Your voice ran ragged and you became hoarse quickly. You have no idea how long you laid there, body shaking occasionally as you stared off into space.

A loud, sudden thud nearly sent you flying out of the bed. Well, not nearly. You fumbled out of bed, crawling backwards into the corner furthest from the offending sound. Your heart pounded as you felt around for your sword, pulling it to you and holding it out from you in an defensive manner.

You watched as more and more thuds made the room rattle. A hand suddenly hit the window. You let out a small shriek as your window was shoved open violently, a body following the hand inside.

“Ah, shite!” The figure grunted as they finally fumbled their way in. You recognized the voice. “Harry?!” You questioned, anger flooding you. “Hey...” He greeted awkwardly. You got to your feet and slung your sword in the opposite corner.

“You fucker!” You stomped over to him and swung. He stepped back and caught your fist. “You motherfucker! Let go of me!” You shoved him backwards, smirking as he stumbled again and caught himself on his bedside table. “(Y/N), let me talk!” He ordered.

“No! Why should I? I outta stomp you like the worm you are!” You screamed, fists clenched. You moved to swing at him again. “Let me explain!” Harry yelled at you, shoving you away. You were breathing heavily and lightheaded from screaming.

Part of you was afraid to be hurt again but the other part was curious. You waved your hand, signalling him to continue. Harry took a deep breath and looked down. “Dad’s ashamed.” He started.

You blinked, more curious and confused than before. Harry laughed bitterly. “His only son, his pride and joy.” He mocked in a faux strong accent. “Doesn’t even have his own ship, doesn’t have his own crew and isn’t a Captain. But to make this even worse, he’s the first mate on someone else’s crew. Someone else’s Smee.”

You never heard Harry sound so harsh on himself. You knew he was just repeating Dad’s words. The thought of Harry having to break the news to Dad on his own made you sick to your stomach. “But,” You looked up at him again. “So are you.”

Your mouth fell open as Harry sounded like he was getting choked up, breathing heavily and fists clenched tight by his sides. “What are you-” “You’re ashamed, aren’t you? That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” He admitted angrily, finally looking you in the face.

“Ashamed of a brother that can’t win for himself. Who can’t lead his own crew and has to take orders. Someone else’s Smee.” He listed off, sounding less angry and more defeated. “So say it. Rip the bandage off. I already know.” He held his arms out.

You felt your heart break a little bit as you walked over to him. Harry flinched a bit as you pulled him into a tight hug, eventually hugging you back. You felt Harry let out a few tears on your back, choosing to ignore it for now.

You let Harry pull away first and you stood there, smiling sadly at him. “Harry, I love you but you’re an idiot if you think I truly care what the old man thinks about any of us. You’re my brother first and a first mate second.” Harry smiled at your words.

“I just want my best friend back.” You told him sincerely. He pulled you into another hug. “I’m sorry.” You heard him mumble into the top of your head. You pulled away and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“Alright, enough mushy gushy shite for tonight. Let’s go get some grub.” Harry bumped his shoulder with yours. “Only if you’ll distract the waitress while I steal some cash.” You grinned, bumping his shoulder.

#disney descendants #descendants #descendants harry #harry hook #harry hook imagine

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pnkbloom · 4 years

Text

Compelled

A/N: After two days of nonstop writing and proof reading, I present you with part two! And all I can say is…read. That’s it. Oh and thanks for the support & kind words! It really means a lot to me! ☺️ 💕 Now, that’s it.

Warnings: This has smut in it so...yeah that’s the warning. Oh and language (but what story of mine doesn’t have some language? Lol)

Word Count: 4K Tag list: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @chokemebigdaddy @hay-leeeah @glassartpeasants @drowningsoulslight

Here’s the link to part 1!

Getting into an argument with someone that you cared about could always lead up to a lot of things, especially if said argument left both of you feeling differently about each other.

From the onslaught of profanities, hurtful names, and physical assault on your end, nothing could’ve prepared either one of you for the verbal slander that Shigaraki decided to throw your way.

‘Selfish asshole, but you’re the whore of a one night stand.’

If you weren’t seeing red before, you were 1,000% sure that in that very moment, you had been pushed off the deep end. It was as if your mind had shifted from hurt to wanting to actually kill him…and it honestly almost happened had it not been for you catching yourself from using your quirk.

You wanted to inflict serious pain onto him. Make him physically feel what his words felt towards you while showing no mercy.

However, with some streak of luck or by the grace of a higher power, you managed to have just about enough willpower buried deep inside of you to simply walk away from the situation.

He had stooped to low blows and that was something that you just couldn’t tolerate due to your reactions circulating around more violent matters.

Not to mention that even though he was a bitter and salty man in the end, you couldn’t fully (hence the boldness) bring yourself to harm him.

As much as you tried to deny it, you knew that deep down, you still loved this asshole. Even with the growing resentment brewing in your very being.

Though you’ve verbally expressed it with every chance you had, you could never bring yourself to actually hate the man that you sickeningly loved.

Yet you weren’t going to sit around and tolerate his blatantly disrespect towards you. No, absolutely not.

Which is exactly why you’ve just decided to forget that night and continue on with your life without acknowledging him. Ha. That sounds crazy though right? Trying not to acknowledge your boss? The very man who allowed you to join his organization.

Yeah, It was a shot in the dark, but it never stopped you from going fully through with it.

For example, spare time after missions or in general instantly became alone time in the comfort of your room. You never passed up any opportunity to hang out with the other members, which you honestly had to thank yourself for.

Like how could you pass up a day of pampering with toga, lunch dates with twice, and a night of laughter and occasional venting sessions with dabi?

Soon enough, you quickly found yourself becoming happier than you’ve ever been, all while forgetting any and everything about Shigaraki. However, this didn’t go unnoticed by him as he was always around whenever you’d just up and leave with anyone.

He’ll never openly admit it, but always being the one to witness you enjoying the company of anyone else besides him annoyed him greatly.

He didn’t want it to, but he just couldn’t help it! You were the one who had to go and get hit by that stupid quirk which is exactly what led up to this whole ‘ignoring each other’ thing in the first place!

Who even told you to be attracted to him anyways?!

He could’ve gone the rest of his life without you in it, or allowing you to compel him to look at or touch you. But of course, his stupid hormones just had to kick in and leave him out to dry in the end.

‘That was the job of feelings after all right? When majority of them are stronger than most, they always end up fucking you over eventually.’

Hell, It wasn’t even as if you were one of the greatest things that he’d ever laid his eyes on anyway. There wasn’t anything special about you to begin with!

So what if you had undeniably soft lips, or looked at him with adorning yet pleading eyes…or how you succumbed to his every touch, or even how you took him so well even though you were practically speechless to the point where you had to dig your nails into him due to his size-

“Fuck”

Palming the fully erect tent inside of his pants just wasn’t cutting it.

He had been sitting here for the past few hours with the cursed image of you dressed down before leaving out with Toga and Twice constantly playing on loop in his mind.

He tried with all of his might to not give you a single glance, but that damn two piece set which hugged your figure so perfectly made it impossible to not get a glimpse of you. Just where the hell were you going?

Not on a date, he knew that much. You were with two other people so a date would be stupid and pointless. Well then, where else would you be going?

‘Why should I even be carrying in the first place,’

Snapping out his thoughts, he could hear the sound of footsteps starting to make their way down the hallway. He quickly stood up from his chair and opened his bedroom door to poke his head out.

Instantly upon scanning the hall, he realized that there were only two people walking in the directions of their rooms. Why the hell were they walking so hard? Most importantly, where the hell were you?

“Speaking of the creepy, crusty bastard himself! Hey, how long have you been-“

“Where’s (Y/n).”

Confusion rose onto the blonde’s face as the masked figure slung his arm around her shoulder with non stop laughter. Annoyance quickly began to spread across his face as he took a deep breath to calm his composure before snapping.

Noticing this, the two members resorted to slight giggling as Toga squeezed her face as she spoke to her boss.

“Oh, (Y/n)? She’s not here! Funny story actually-“

“(Y/n) went off with some random guy after we all decided to leave the function!”

-break-

The air around him became dense as he stared at the two giggling figures in front of him. His legs took the form of jelly as his heart dropped down into his stomach and through the floor.

You…had…what?

Did his ears deceive him? Did he hear that correctly? No…he couldn’t have. You? Went off with some random guy?

That sentence alone left a bitter thought in his mind along with a disgusting taste rotting at his tongue.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh or blush so much around a guy before! She seemed to be really crushing on him!”

“Wasn’t it adorable?! Maybe she’ll get more than acquainted with him tonight, huh?”

Giggling filled the air and in that very moment, he couldn’t help but subconsciously press all five fingers against the nearest wall causing both figures in front of him to abruptly stop their giggling.

“The wall!”

The cries of Twice’s plea fell upon deaf ears as shigaraki began to claw at his neck until hues of deep scarlet began to slide down his skin. Eyes widening at this, Toga ushered the man next to her in the direction of their rooms without uttering another word.

You had left with a complete stranger who just so happens to make you laugh and blush like a teenager? Toga hopes that you two would become more acquainted throughout the night? And they both found it to be adorable?!

Oh you were definitely in for some shit tonight. Just wait.

-Two hours later-

“What do you mean you’re kicking me out of the league?!”

Not even sparing you a glance, shigaraki crossed his arms as he leaned against a nearby wall while devoiding any sort of attention towards you.

“Exactly what I said. I don’t need a stupid girl with a desire to have a petty high school crush ruining my plans and achievements.”

High school crush?! Stupid girl?! What the fuck was his problem?! Ever since you came back into the hideout after departing with that guy from the function, you walked straight into a death glare being sent towards you with the last person you’d ever want to look at.

Not only was he sending daggers into you, but now all of a sudden he comes to you with some bullshit like this? You’re getting kicked out of the league all of a sudden because he’s being a jealous asshole?

This was one of the exact reasons why you resent him with everything inside of you! Not only has he blatantly disrespected you and verbally assaulted you on multiple occasions, but now you were getting kicked out over something as stupid as this?

That’s it. That’s the icing on the cake for you!

“Fine. If getting kicked out of this organization means that I’ll never have to look at or be around someone as disrespectful and cruel as you then so be it! I’d give my very life to gain the opportunity to never meet you!”

His stare turned more cold as he gave you a look of pure anger and resentment. Though it amazed him that you never backed down from going word for word with him, it suddenly began to get under his skin with how reluctant yet bold you were being.

He hated to love that spark inside of you that refused for him to completely dominate or shut you down with a single threat. It’s one of the reasons why he regrets falling for you…but no, you seriously needed to shut up right now.

Your voice held so much annoyance, built up frustration, anger, and pure hatred inside of it and he just wanted you to shut up! His already broken heart couldn’t take anymore altercations with you.

Unclenching your fist, you bit your inner cheek while reaching down to grab your small bag that you had dropped from the floor.

“I hate you.”

That’s it. His resolve snapped like a thread hanging on by its last strand.

Before you could even stand up after saying those three words clearly, you felt as your bottom hit the ground along with your back touching the wall behind you.

Glaring up at him, you felt as he firmly squeezed your cheeks until your mouth reluctantly opened to his satisfaction.

“That mouth of yours needs to be put to better use rather than spewing such awful, dirty words.”

It felt as if his fingers were digging into the delicate flesh upon your face as the sound of his zipper being undone caught your attention. You knew where this was leading to, but you didn’t bother to make any attempt of pulling away as his fully erect member sprung out of his pants and lightly graced your face.

A smug look now began to replace his previously angered one as he squeezed a bit harder before swiping his leaking tip across your puckered plump lips like some sort of applicator.

The taste of his pre cum began to deep down your lips and into your mouth as he pulled your head slightly down before sliding his entire length into your mouth.

Eyes widening, you placed your hands onto his thighs to prepare yourself for him, but failed as you felt his length push past your uvula and into your throat. A hum of surprise vibrated against him which caused a groan to escape his lips while placing one hand against the wall and the other onto the back of your neck.

“What‘s that? Miss sass, doesn’t have anything else to say because she’s too busy choking on my dick?”

He began to push in and out of your throat a few times until the sight of drool leaking from your mouth caused him to pull completely out of you with a lip smacking pop on your end.

Though you were coughing and trying to catch your breath, you didn’t even motion to wipe the string of saliva that connected your lips to his member away from your mouth.

This only made him eagerly slide right back into you without any indication of a warning or heads up as he felt you instantly wrap your lips around him.

Damn, you were so perfect…

Grunting, he looked down to see you making eye contact with him as he motioned for your neck to move at a pace to accompany his moving hips.

For you to say that you hated him, you surely were sucking him off as if you’ve always loved him. Your hands swiftly moved from his thighs to the side of his hips as an indication of encouragement for him to keep going.

You were enjoying this just as much as he was and that very fact made him want to face fuck you even harder until he came.

“Fuck, I seriously hate you. I hate you so much that even looking at you just pisses me off. Why do you have to make my life so much harder? Huh? Do you enjoy seeing me struggling to cope with my feelings?

Not to mention that you go out with some fucking random ass stranger who could’ve done anything to you. He could’ve touched you for all I know!”

Speeding up his pace, you lustfully moaned as he once again found himself down your throat until he deemed it unnecessary. He had no intention of letting up on his rant let alone his assault on your throat as he felt his release beginning to build up.

The sound of your gurgling along with his heavy breathing filled the room as his grip around your neck tightened slightly. You knew that he was coming towards his end as you removed one hand to reach into his boxers and massage his tightening balls.

Taking in a sharp intake of air, his grip shifted from your neck to your shoulder as his release squirted down your throat and into your mouth.

Slightly out of breath himself, he opened his mouth to speak but stopped as he felt you push him off of you as you felt yourself beginning to choke from the massive load of fluid rushing down your throat.

“What the hell!”

You didn’t expect him to literally cum down your throat to the point of choking you!

Not even getting the chance to fully gather yourself, you felt as a pair of arms scooped you up from the floor and moved quickly into a different room.

Your back was now laying against a bed as you looked up to see shigaraki hovering over you with an unreadable expression on his face. Wanting to look away, you flicked your eyes towards the other direction until you felt your legs slowly being pried open.

‘I think the hell not!’

“No, no, no, no! You don’t get to hurt my feelings then think that I’ll let you have your way with me because of what just happened! You don't deserve that satisfaction and I’m sure as hell not going to give it to you!”

Closing your legs, you sat upright as you tried to get off the bed but stopped as you felt shigaraki grab the thin material of your shirt. Did he seriously just dust your shirt?! What part of no, doesn’t he understand?

Raising your fist to punch him, you froze as you suddenly felt him graze a tenderly familiar bruised spot on your neck before kissing it.

“I don’t deserve you in general.”

A shiver ran down your body from the sudden soft contact. You don’t know why, but that statement threw you off guard as you covered your neck while giving him a baffling look.

It’s true that he didn’t deserve you, but why did that sudden realization make you feel a bit…off?

Seeing as he continued to examine your body, you felt as he gripped your hips before pulling you closer towards his towering form.

“But I can’t resist my urges of wanting and needing you.”

Needing? In an attempt to register what he meant by that, you failed to realize him dusting your skirt before sliding deep inside of you with a needy movement. A breathy gasp escaped your lips as your back arched with your arms instinctively wrapping around his back.

Your nails lightly graced the previous marks from your last assault on his skin as he lifted your leg over his shoulder while beginning to pace himself.

Eyes rolling, you bit your lip as your hips rocked to the same motion of as his. Being in complete and utter bliss was an understatement for how you were feeling in this moment.

“Tomura…”

He loved hearing you say his name. Hell, he lives for it. To see you wither beneath his touch, moan just for him, and repeat his name like a mantra had a serious effect on him and he knew it.

“Say my name again pretty girl.”

His strokes instantly turned slow and deep as you moaned each time he hit that special spot before hitting your cervix all together.

“Fuck Tomura, oh my god!”

Arching your back up from the bed, you moved your hands from his back to his neck as you felt your build up beginning to coil at the core of your stomach.

Shigaraki felt as your walls began to undoubtedly squeeze around him as his grunts turned more gruff. With one hand steadying himself on the bed and the other having a firm grip on the curve of your back, he suddenly placed a deep kiss onto your lips which sent you into a completely mind blowing haze as you held on for dear life.

“I fucking love you. You hear me? All of this, all of you, I want it to be mine. I hate making you cry, I hate seeing you mad at me, I hate that I’m not good enough for you!-“

Grabbing the side of his ass, you gave it a firm squeeze as you looked at him with half lidded eyes.

“Cum inside of me baby. Fill me up with your love, please…I want to feel it.”

Without a second thought, Shigaraki bit down onto your shoulder while pulling you even closer before spilling all of his seed inside of you. His hips began to move at a stuttering motion as he felt your legs and walls squeeze around him.

A high pitched whine left your lips as the feeling of your release along with his teeth sinking into your skin sent you into complete euphoria.

Damn, have you ever had a body wracking orgasm like that before?

As your heavy breathing filled the room, you felt as he released his death grip onto you as he pulled out of you completely. Looking down, he could see as the remainder of his seed began to leak out of you and onto the floor.

Shit, you could possibly get pregnant. What the hell was he thinking? Mindlessly cumming into you like that-

“Relax. I won’t get pregnant. Birth control implant. Highly effective.”

Sighing in relief, his sense of worry instantly disappears as he laid next to you on the bed. Was it weird that despite what you two had just done, you found it hard to look directly at him?

But why? What was it that made his presence engulf you into a pit of discomfort? Was it the sudden advances? You being fully aware of everything that was happening? Or perhaps his words?

Your face began to heat up as you were suddenly reminded of the words that the both of you had said during your intimacy. How could you almost forget what you said?!

‘Did he even meant what he said? Or was it all in the moment to send him over the edge?’

“I know that you still hate me, but could you at least stay here for the night? I know I don’t deserve your company, but…”

His sentence trailed off as he hesitantly pulled you into his arms while scooting towards a more comfortable position in the bed. Though you were completely taken aback, you didn’t refuse or decline his request as he laid his head onto yours.

“I don’t fully hate you Tomura. I just hate that you’ve been such an asshole towards me ever since that quirk incident. Not to mention you calling me all types of slandering names…and wishing death on me.”

Yeah, he was aware of him crossing the line with that. He didn’t even know why he got so mad to the point of even saying those things. You were being truthful about not remembering anything, yet he allowed his pride to overshadow his reasoning which caused the girl of his dreams to ultimately hate him.

Damn, he really was an asshole.

“I’m sorry.”

A deep sigh left your lips as you nodded your head in approval. You knew that it took a great ordeal in order for shigaraki to apologize, let alone own up to his faults. It wasn’t much, but you weren’t foolish enough to not accept what he gave you.

“It’s fine.”

Wrapping his arms around you more securely, he lightly kissed the newly forming bruise on your shoulder without a doubt in this world.

“I really meant what I said (y/n). I do love you.”

He waited with baited breath to hear your answer on his feelings, but didn’t receive anything instead of a head nod as your breathing slipped into a steady motion.

-Bonus Ending-

“Are you leaving?”

He noticed your fidgeting state in his arms ever since you fluttered your eyes open and began to stretch your muscles. It was still completely dark, yet who was really keeping track of time at this point?

Shaking your head, you pulled the blanket over your form with a look of comfort gracing your face.

“No.”

He honestly expected you to not say anything and just leave, though it would be hard for you to do so with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Yet you still haven’t complained about it, even with the space between you two being completely filled.

“Can you breathe?”

“Yes.”

“Are you comfortable?”

A stifled giggle left your lips as you shook your head while turning around to face him. Why was he suddenly on edge? Did your lack of an answer seriously leave him to question everything?

“Go to sleep shigaraki. I’m completely fine.”

He wanted to believe that, and something inside of him knew that what you said was true. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to know your opinion about his confession.

“Will I ever be on the receiving end of your love again?”

Your breathing came to a complete stop which made him instantly tense up. He wanted to take back what he just said and tell you to forget about it, but he couldn’t.

All he could do at this moment was wait for your response…yet with each passing second he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss of darkness and horrid thoughts.

Maybe if he could rephrase what he meant then there could be a chance that he could avoid a less brutal truth?

Before he could even open his mouth to speak, you fully turned around to face him again as you gently placed a hand onto his face while littering kisses all over his face and lips.

“Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

You kissed the forming pout off of his face with a small smile adorning your own. The answer was obviously evident behind your actions, but he wanted to hear it verbally from your own mouth.

Sighing, he laid his head back onto yours after placing a kiss to your shoulder. You were sleepy after all, so he’ll just patiently wait until you’re fully rested to give him the answer that he seeked.

Even if that meant making your morning better with what he had planned.

#bnha #bnha fic #bnha fanfiction #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #mha fic #mha angst #mha shigaraki #bnha angst #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia shigaraki #pnkbloom

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nightklok · 3 years

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Title: 'Cause I've been hurt so many times, I need someone who will try to soothe me, and not use me Pairing: Abigail Remeltindtdrinc/Pickles the Drummer Rating: E (For one future smut scene but chapter one is T-rated) Tags: Fake dating, Additional tags on AO3 Summary: Abigail considers herself great at her job; she knows how to make a successful album and her track record shows it. Dethklok proved to be the biggest challenge yet but she learned to overcome any hurdle thrown her way. However, what she didn’t anticipate was Seth’s second wedding. Specifically, Pickles’ mother getting on his case about finding a date to the wedding. Logically, she decides to be his fake date for the wedding. Just fake a relationship for a few months until the wedding then 'mutually' break it off; should be easy enough. It’s just the most renowned music producer and most popular musician fake dating. Surely no feelings or trouble will rise out of this.

Chapter One on Ao3 Here! Chapter one is also under the cut

Abigail had learned quickly that working with Dethklok was oftentimes like walking through those Halloween hay mazes blindfolded. Years upon years of working with pretentious celebrities, tight deadlines, and challenges that were thrown her way would never prepare her for working with them. For a group of five who lived together and knew each other the best, it didn’t always mean that they thought the same way and one would think they finally learned what worked best for them after years of working. But for some reason, they continuously went with the same method that never worked out because it seemed like the best to them. And clearly, it wasn’t.

She was no stranger to challenges so when Dethklok proved to be one, she did her usual process of breaking through to them. And that was asking questions to the right people. Charles stated it was just how they were. Knubbler said they were a bunch of dumb jackoffs so she had to hold the least amount of expectations for them...and lower it. Melmord had offered her weed because it would be the only way she could ever handle working with them. Twinkletits had suggested unresolved trauma and perhaps banana stickers would solve it.

She would find soon enough that everyone was right in their own suggestions but it didn’t mean she followed through with any of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that scheduling private sessions with each individual band member was a lot better compared to them being together only to yell at each other. Within a few days of the focus being more on private sessions, the difference being made was incredible. They seemed to thrive better under one-on-one time and having the group meetings at the end of the day so they could go over their progress had helped incredibly.

The only problem that she couldn’t solve was their old habits. Most of the time the sessions were either forgotten or recordings had to take a week or longer just to make sure the sound was perfect. They were still five people with different ideas of how the album could be better; it would be hard to find common ground and even harder to get them to be responsible under her schedule.

It didn’t mean every member was a thorn in her side though. Pickles and Skwisgaar were some of the more responsible ones compared to the rest. They’d sometimes forget to show up but that was expected.

Skwisgaar did have a certain way of speaking about music she couldn’t quite understand but she found herself slowly understanding him the more they recorded his sessions. It became like learning a new language but less on the fun part. Luckily, he was never one to speak much regardless; music did the talking for him and that was a good enough language for them to understand.

And Pickles, despite his years of experience under the spotlight, wasn’t the pretentious celebrity she expected him to be when they recorded together. He did his work without much complaint, left when she was satisfied and his first-week recording for a song would be the last as there generally wasn’t much left for him to retake. He normally trusted her judgment and any criticisms offered were never given for the sake of belittling her. It came from a place of experience and knowledge and it became something she quickly respected him for. He still occasionally missed his recordings, however, but with how time felt so rapid in getting things in order, she didn’t notice he actually began showing up more often.

He couldn’t show up one day due to a last-minute scheduling conflict that day and since he had a valid excuse, she didn’t expect him to show up at all. Deciding to not let those hours go to waste, she spent it contacting Knubbler for a quick meeting. He sent her the tracks he finished for her to listen to and she offered her critique. They were tossing track after track at one another to see what sticks and eventually something did. After sending him the latest track to fix-up by the end of their meeting, she checked her email to go more into the boring parts of her job.

She loved her job without a doubt but it didn’t mean there were some parts she actually dreaded doing. Emails were one of them; business language, having to wait up to a day for a response, and everything else just to show she was a professional despite her name being tied to so many influential things. Maybe she was famous enough to sign off her emails with a ‘k thx’ but didn't quite know if it was even worth the impending backlash soon after. She was known for her professionalism, not lack of.

But the album wouldn’t be finished for quite a while so she simply had to make do with what she could. Regardless, the marketing director wanted to listen to one of the demo songs. The day was winding down, she just had to spend an extra hour or two in the recording studio, then she could grab food, take a long bath and watch a movie until she fell asleep.

The motivation of food and a chance to relax was enough to look through her emails once more as she played the finished track. She didn’t hear the knock on the door but she did hear the door opening but didn’t turn around. She had expected it to be a klokateer doing some late cleaning.

“Abigail?” A voice all too familiar filled the silence. As she turned around, Pickles closed the door behind him quietly as if to not disturb her (even though he already did). He seemed a bit sheepish as he put his hands in his pockets to play off a calm attitude, “I just wanted to know if you still needed me.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you didn’t show up to a session, Pickles.” She answered a little too bluntly. It came off harsher and she had almost expected him to be offended by it but he shrugged instead, “Charles told me you wouldn’t have been able to come today, anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true I have bailed out on a few sessions, but I was planning on showing up to today’s session. I promise.”

She folded her arms, leaning back against the chair. It was new territory having Pickles actually show up when he wasn’t meant to. It didn’t seem like he was there for anything else too, “And you really mean that?”

He casually held up his right hand in a three-finger salute, “Scout’s honor...if I was a Boy Scout, that is. But I’m here now. That should be enough proof, right?” He grinned at her before he walked to the recording booth, “I got this beat stuck in my head I wanna get out of my system. Won’t take too much of your time.”

She glanced at the clock; it was still early enough to record a few takes and he did seem excited to record. Might as well give some time to humor him, “Alright, you get one hour to impress me.”

“I’ll make it count,” He finished her sentence as he closed the door. Taking the drumsticks and headphones, he took a seat in front of the drum kit and quickly prepared, “This is for uhhh...what did we call 8?”

“ Uncensor My Songs On The Radio You Fucking Tool. ”

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, I think I figured out why it doesn’t fit on my end. Can you play from the beginning?”

“Sure, get ready in five seconds” It took just a few clicks to get to the song he wanted. She let the metronome play for just a few seconds for him to get the beat before hitting the record button as soon as the song played.

As soon as the song played, Pickles began without hesitation. The sound was much different compared to his other takes...and it fit perfectly as he had said. She waited though; listened to every hit and snare intensely for a mistake to come and screw his take over. But that moment never happened and before she knew it the song was over.

“How did I do?” He grinned at her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm, “Not bad for one take, right?”

Impressive. “Not bad at all. I think this might be just the parts we needed to get the song to be finally done,” She answered as she hit the record button to pause the recording. She made sure to save the file and backed up the file into her work email. (Charles had requested she make backup copies of each recording without the boys’ knowledge when she began working. Just in case).

She watched as Pickles removed his headphones but quickly stopped him, “It’s great but I think another take would be good to have, right?”

“Oh C’mon! Isn’t it great as it is?!” He pleaded. He was foolish to think he could impress her with just one take.

“I’m not denying that it’s great but I’m sure you would be able to do another take if you got it all memorized, right?” She answered. The tone of her voice just shifted slightly enough to indicate a challenge and that’s all that Pickles needed to hear from her.

“Don’t think I can do it, huh?” He smiled back at her as he put the headphones back on. It was a challenge he could easily win, after all, but she was never one to even let him believe it would be easy. The rush of it and the feeling of adrenaline starting to kick in made it all the more tempting, “Well get the song playing again. I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“You’re gonna end up tiring yourself out, Pickles.”

“You can let me off the hook then if you’re so worried about me.” He answered with the signature lopsided grin he gave out as freely as sweets, “I think there are some restaurants around that we can go to if you still haven’t eaten yet.”

Bargaining and banter had become something that they learned to communicate with. If there was anyone else in the room, there was no way she would be talking so loosely with him. They were alone however and would be for a long time so it became easier to shake off the layer of professionalism she had to keep up with all day. However, the remaining part of her brain that was still in work mode rejected his offer despite the temptation being far too great, “Not a chance; you walked yourself into this one...But if you wow me just early enough, I might take you up on your offer.”

“Get the song playing again and tell me when to stop.”

The truth was she was already satisfied by the third take but she did let him keep going at least two more times for good measure. By the time she said he was finished, Pickles’ legs were sore but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. Five takes weren’t bad at all and he found himself confident in the progress.

“Not bad, Pickles. I think there’s something there I can take for the recording.” Abigail answered with a grin that he tiredly returned.

“Hm, not satisfied yet, or just wanna keep my ego down?”

“Maybe.” She watched him put the headphones and drumsticks away before exiting the recording studio.

“I wanna hear it though. Play the best track.” He went to the mini-fridge and offered her a beer which she declined.

“Just get me a coke. The drink, I mean. I’ll play the best track in a second,” She had already labeled the track files by a number scale and taken notes so she didn’t need to relisten. He set the can of coke beside her as he watched her take a few moments to look through the notes before finally deciding on the best track. She quickly spliced it in with the demo and hit play.

Pickles already flopped on the couch, on his second can of beer already somehow (She didn’t know if it was impressive or horrifying). He didn’t say anything while the song played, leaned back against the couch. When it ended he asked, “Is that the best one?”

“Well, I think it is. It’s the one that doesn’t even need much editing. The others are just as great too, in all honesty,” She answered as she checked her notes briefly. She could go into great detail over the tracks, maybe even explain why the tracks were a perfect fit for a song but she didn’t want to ramble. And besides, he seemed a little bit bothered, “But what do you think?”

“Hm. Not as good as I thought it would be,” He said a little sullenly, “Nate’s gonna wanna delete it. I just know it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think he’d want you to delete them especially when he knows you’re having a hard time with this song. They’re all pretty good but if you want to talk with Knubbler since he’ll be doing most of the editing, just give him a call tomorrow.”

“Do you even think it’s good?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t satisfied enough, I would’ve had you still record a few more takes.”

That was an answer that seemed to satisfy him at least as he didn’t say anything else in retaliation. He only asked to play the track again, and finished his second can of beer, “I guess if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it. It’s probably getting late isn’t it?”

“Come in tomorrow and you can listen to it again. If you really aren’t satisfied with it, you can try again,” She offered. She checked at her watch briefly; 10:45 PM. How has it been almost two hours already?

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. We can put a stop to it for now. But uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

She shrugged, “You’re not, Pickles. Don’t worry about it. I would’ve left around this time anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.” With a shrug, he shifted his mood and stood up. He didn’t seem to sulk longer than he usually did, probably because it was already late and they were both tired, “Did you still wanna eat?”

“Don’t you usually eat with your bandmates?” Usually, mealtimes were the quickest and easiest ways to find them if she needed to. Having memorized that schedule, she knew that dinner was about a few hours ago...or a few hours from now depending on what they did that day.

“Yeah but not today; Offdensen really had us doing interviews all fuckin’ day. I don’t think I’ve eaten lunch yet and I guess you didn’t get dinner either?”

“Nope. I was planning to, anyway.” A late dinner invitation was not rare to get but it was rarer to get one by someone she wouldn’t mind having dinner with. Their relationship with each other was always professional, and he also had years of experience in the music business outside Dethklok. It always felt refreshing to talk to someone who shared the same interests as her. She put her laptop away in her briefcase once she saved all her files; her night was officially done, “Is there someone even able to make dinner at this time?”

“There should be. If not, there are probably leftovers in the fridge. Or we can order pizza, it’s completely your call.”

She slung the briefcase over her shoulder, following him to the hallway. After shutting and locking the door to the recording studio (Charles gave the only keys to her and Knubbler), she walked with him to the kitchen where the conversation of dinner slowly shifted to music and almost anything they could cram in the next two hours.

And by the end of that night, the late dinner invitations became frequent and she had accepted every single one. He always hung around by her last hour of work, even if it meant staying up late. It only meant ordering food to be delivered to them as Pickles convinced her to watch a film she hadn’t seen in years or her convincing him to watch one of her favorite guilty pleasure sitcoms.

For the most part, it was assumed she was just working with him on the album. No one really needed to know about the breaks where they shared a beer and gossiped about the celebrities they had interacted with before. As far as Knubbler and everyone knew, she was using most of the two hours to perfect his recording.

But just a few months later, the hangouts and late-night dinner invitations stopped in their tracks with no warning whatsoever.

She wondered at first if it was something she had done. But then it began affecting his work and it was clear he was distracted about something. She knew and learned enough about him that he was a perfectionist when it came to the drums; he was always a person who wanted to do his job correctly when it came to something he really did care about at the end of the day. Music was his passion, after all. And if he didn’t have passion for the things he cared about the most, then something was going on.

“Do you want to take a break, Pickles?” She asked. It was currently her fifth time asking the same question that week alone.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He answered as he picked up his drums and waited for her to press record.

She didn’t say anything else after that and she let him leave after a few hours. He left before she could get a word out and she would be met with the rising feeling that something bad was about to happen and recordings that not even Knubbler could salvage.

A few days later, she figured out what happened. It took a text from the staff group chat and an email that contained a video to piece the puzzle together.

“Hey, Neon Genesis Evan gail ion. It’s me, your coworker, Seth.”

She did not watch the rest of the video (sober) and instead asked about the video in the group chat. Seth was never invited to the chat for the same reason Melmord was not invited to the second wedding of Seth and whatever poor woman he got roped up with.

Just by that video and conversation, she had connected why Pickles might be upset. It had something to do with the wedding, sure, but what specifically about it? Was it that he had known the girl Seth planned to marry? She wanted to ask so many questions but limited herself to three. But even those three questions were quickly narrowed down to one, then none at all when she realized it would be harder to pry anything out of him.

But, as advised by Knubbler, it was best to keep going. He’d probably breakthrough midway through a recording session. Being someone who knew to listen to others, she listened to his advice for at least a few more days.

She waited those few days and then two more. It was clear whatever was bothering him was still going to continue bothering him until the end of time probably. She had to talk to him against their better judgments; it felt like the only option available to her.

It was a session that lasted over seven hours and she was sure both of them were getting frustrated on their own ends. No amount of coffee or whiskey could even cure the boredom and annoyance that was of a session that would lead to nowhere. It was better to just cut things short and talk about it. If not even the drums could help him feel better, how serious was the situation?

She pressed the intercom button when the song finished and she immediately hit delete. There was no way to salvage the song, “Pickles, would you mind if we talk?”

His expression was perplexed for a moment before he resigned to his fate, not giving much of a protest, “Alright,” he answered with a sigh. He set his drumsticks down as he walked out of the booth, taking a seat by the couch.

She was never all that good at talking to people about feelings in all honesty. And he seemed like a rather emotional guy, to begin with. There were a few moments of awkward silence between them as she tried to find what a good way to start the conversation would be, “I think we know that you seem distracted lately. What’s been bothering you?”

And despite all her mental preparations that he would find it hard to pry open, he actually opened up quite honestly, “Well you know about the wedding right?”

“Yeah, he invited me too.” She answered as she thought back to the weird video message Seth had sent her. She wondered if she should even make a comment about that but decided against it, “You don’t want him to get married or something?”

“I don’t care about that. He could get married as many times as he wants; He’s still getting a fucking Vitamix. But it’s not about that,” He answered, “It’s my mom. She’s been blowing up my phone all week asking about who I’m bringing with me to Seth’s wedding. Keeps talking about how I should settle down, find someone to marry, or whatever. But I don’t have the time to date!”

She stared at him and didn’t say a single word until he caved in.

“Okay, time’s not the problem but dating while you’re this famous is fucking hard. You must’ve seen that public divorce in ‘89 right?”

She definitely remembered. She was on college radio at the time and had taken over someone’s show. It was either some debate or public opinion show and that was probably one of the more shows she had ever experienced. Did it help that she was a fan of his music back in the day? No, but she would not admit that “I kind of knew about it. It sounded like it was an awful divorce for you. But you were only nineteen, weren’t you? You shouldn't stop yourself from dating for something that happened when you were just a teen.”

“Nineteen, thirty-five, ninety, does it matter? It was as awful behind the scenes as it was in public. I’m not gonna bore you with that but basically, I’m done with dating. And she won’t see that!”

“Well...maybe one of your bandmates can be your date?” She offered.

“Nah, been there, done that, it didn’t work out. And plus, would you even fake date any of them?”

She thought for a moment, “Yeah, smart choice.”

“It’s gotta be someone she has never met before to make it more believable.”

“I see,” Abigail paused. She had waited, expecting almost, for Pickles to look at her, drop the ‘except…’, and plead for her to be his fake date but he didn’t. He only reached into the mini-fridge to pull out a beer, offering one to Abigail who accepted. She didn’t like the beer and had to hide her disgusted look as she took a sip and tried to set it down casually.

The conversation had died out like that. She kept on sipping the beer and hoping he would say something. But he didn’t and it became clear that she had to be the one to speak up. There was only one possible solution to it and it felt like the most obvious., “If you can’t find anyone else, I can be your date.” She offered.

Pickles looked at her like she had asked him to play the drums with his mouth, “I respect you too much to get you involved with my family. They’re like...leeches that suck the fuckin’ life out of you! This is a me problem, you don’t need to fix that. ”

“Well...it’s affecting your drumming too.” she pointed out as she looked at him, “And trust me, I know what I’m getting into. I can handle it, Pickles. I work for Dethklok and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than just a wedding party. I appreciate your concern, but let me help.”

“Abigail...” He almost pleaded.

“I owe you, remember?”

He clearly did remember, “but-”

“He invited me anyway, Pickles. I’m still going out of work obligations; I promise this won’t bother me at all.”

“But you know it’s gonna have to be a lot more than just going to my brother’s wedding right? My mom will want to meet you and who knows what other folks are gonna try and meet you too.”

That was one thing more terrifying than the branding ceremony. Was it even worth it to complete the album?, “Then basically we’d just be faking a relationship until the ceremony?”

“I guess yeah...and that’s...three months from now? You really don’t-”

“As I said, I know what I’m getting into. I want to help you and if we have to do this for a week, months, or a year, it’s okay with me.”

Pickles said nothing for the longest time. He held the half-empty can of beer, nulling over his options that probably didn’t help with him being slightly intoxicated, “You won’t hate me right?”

It caught her off guard almost but she remained on track, “Of course not. I promise,” If she hated him, that would mean there would be no more all-nighters together but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Okay. Just so you know you can back out of this anytime, I won’t be offended if you do.” He said finally and that had sealed the deal, “But we need to keep this a secret which I know is probably obvious enough. If the guys find out, they’ll never stop teasing us about it.”

“But if all we really need to do is just please your parents, I don’t think that will be a problem. Don’t worry about me, Pickles; it’ll be fine. I promise that I will back out if I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was clear he was unsure still and she didn’t know how much more convincing he would really need. But perhaps that was something to let sit and process; and hopefully, in time, he’d warm up to the idea enough to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

There was nothing else she could really do at this point she knew. It was a quick resolution but a slow payoff and she had done what she could for the day, "How about you take the rest of the day off? If you wanna give recording the song a shot tomorrow, we can."

“Alright,” He threw out the half-finished beer can, beer spilled from the can, some of it splashing into the sides of the trash can and leaving a potent smell of beer. She made a reminder to herself to have a klokateer replace the trash can later. But it would be quickly forgotten when he spoke up again, “I uh, appreciate it, Abigail. I really do."

"It's not a problem at all. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need anything?"

"I do, yeah, and uh the same right back," He paused for a moment, "I'll take you out to dinner sometime if you want. It's the least I can do."

"That would be nice but I don't need a big fancy dinner. I'm fine eating here, and watching a movie." She answered. She wanted to speak more but her phone began ringing and she saw that it was from Charles, "I should probably take this."

"Oh yeah, go ahead. And uh, if you wanna grab some dinner again you know where to find me. I'm sorry I bailed out on you this week, I'll make it up to you." He quickly left before she could speak.

All alone in the studio, she took a moment to compose herself. Refusing to give herself even more time to let what she had gotten herself into sink in, she answered the phone.

It was only three months but somehow this new task felt like it would end up being the hardest task yet. But, she had an album to finish. It was just part of the job, right?

#metalocalypse #abigail remeltindtdrinc #pickles the drummer #picklegail #my writing #goddd im not sure about this but this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly...4 months now its time to release it sdflj

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drunken-drengr · 2 years

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Hey ho how bout questions 1, 8, 26, 27, 42, 56, 57? >:3

Heyo thanks for the ask! Found the time to answer all these questions! But before I do that I would like to gloat over my absolute success last session. (In hindsight my gloating and rage got long and you'll have to read it under the cut)

What does your character typically keep in their pockets?

Hm, good question. Typically, nothing too special. Her coin bag, some things she picked up along the way when travelling, a small notebook and writing utensil. She doesn't carry any big bag, at most a satchel. She's doesn't like carrying all that much weight, not when you have a great axe and 2 hand axes.

What is something they cannot resist?

Karrie couldn't resist a chance to prove herself, a chance to gain glory and honor. If she was given the chance to fight an eldritch being, if it meant giving her a lasting legacy and redemption, she wouldn't hesitate.

What would they want for their funeral?

Somewhere in the mountains, burned on a pyre with all her treasured belonging.

If they were a ghost, how would they haunt in the afterlife?

Another good question. She'd mostly mind her own business, but offer words of wisdom and guidance to those who come across her in the mountains, perhaps some advice for vengeance and schemes.

Is there something your character isn’t very good at, but enjoys doing nonetheless?

She enjoys baking, when she can afford to. Not very good by any account, but still, a nice treat.

If your character had wings what would they look like?

I'm thinking raven wings, ebony. Large compared to her body, short stature, but not actually that big in comparison to other's.

How does the way they act seemingly contradict their ability scores?

She likes to use intimidation a lot, despite having a very low charisma stat. Like a 9 in charisma. Yet, she is proficient in intimidation nonetheless. Scary lady.

We left off in a shady tavern, which I managed to go through unseen, a fucking miracle considering my uncannily low dexterity. Sat down at a grimey ass table(really fucking grimey holy shit my hand stuck to the table) and was like 'Haha hey yo whats up with that murdering guild lately pal?' to the lady sitting there, you know, like a liar. My dumbass failed to foresee everyone in the tavern hating that particular guild, which was unexpected, considering it was a shady tavern. So boom yeah everyone is pissed at Karrie, small misunderstanding, a lack of communication there. They're all so pissed none of my companions can fucking help me, got like 20 of these guys cornering me with their weapons drawn. I take a second to think, like, I have a great axe. If they're all surrounding me, then I should be able to just like.... y'know.... DM says if I rolls above a 12 7 times out of 10 he'll let me do the epic great axe swing and kill them all at once. What he failed to account on this seemingly unprobeable feat is that Karrie is fucking broken, she has a 20 in strength, is proficient in athletics. I receive a +7 modifier to all my hit rolls, there is no way in hell I don't roll below a 12. And thus, que badass Karrie moment where she one shots everyone. Stupid asshole starts screaming his head off (like what the hell dude??? I only murdered 10 people simultaneously calm down) and draws the attention of the city guards. You know, Karrie could've TOTALLY taken them all on by herself, then and there, it would have been fine BUT NO little pasta man had to open his bag containing a pocket dimension that also contained a little goblin that tended to the farm in said pocket dimension. I hate.... I hate that little goblin.... If you're reading this FUCK YOU TERRY I'VE HATED YOU SINCE DAY ONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT. His stupid fucking southern accent, his fucking flannel, the way he chews that piece of hay. I don't think Karrie has ever been more terrified than when Terry stepped out of the bag for the first time, appearing as an absolute eldritch horror, something out of Lovecraft. This bitch stole the spotlight and killed all the guards, how fucking dare he. Fuck that guy. I'm gonna kill him one day.

#ask game #oh man i am tired x2 #dnd #karrie cadash

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saiyanwhore · 3 years

Text

Arranged (Vegeta X Reader)

Chapter Two // Friends and Allies

It was later in the afternoon and Vegeta had not joined you for lunch after his little temper tantrum.

You had made him a plate down in the kitchen before walking through the large halls to his room.

You had knocked three times and entered the room where there was no sign of Vegeta.

Well, until you heard the shower running.

You assumed he had gone into the shower to relax after the emotionally and physically exhausting training session the two of you shared.

You knew Vegeta loved showers very much actually. He liked how they gave him time to think.

You smiled as you walked into the bathroom.

"Vegeta?" You softly hummed his name.

He didn't answer the first time, so you tried again.

"Vegeta?"

Still no answer.

You knew exactly what had happened.

He had fallen asleep in the shower.

Vegeta must have really not been feeling well. He only falls asleep in the shower when he's extremely sad and upset.

You grabbed a towel, nice and fluffy. You gently opened the curtain to see him sitting criss cross on the shower floor, his hair laying over his shut eyes.

You turned the water off and wrapped the towel around him, trying to be mindful of his tail.

You effortlessly picked him up and carried him to his bed, covering him up in the process.

You wouldn't want anyone walking in on a naked Vegeta lying on the bed.

You walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out some sweatpants and a t-shirt for later and laid them out on the end of the bed.

You had previously set his plate down on the table next to his bed, and you allowed it to remain there.

He could always eat later and he was overdue for a nice nap.

You left a small kiss on his forehead before smiling to yourself and exiting his room.

*Hours Later*

Vegeta woke up and immediately realized he had fallen asleep in the shower.

Embarrassment fell over his face as he realized it was either you or the maids who carried him out and brought him lunch.

It was revealed to him that it was you when he saw the clothes laying on the end of the bed.

The maids always laid out armor for him.

You, knowing he didn't feel well, gave him comfy clothes.

He would never admit it, but there was something about you that made him giddy.

The thought of you carrying him from the shower to the bed, all by yourself, made his heart feel funny.

Vegeta was scared, but his pride would not allow him to give away his vulnerable position to anyone but you.

He trusted you to keep quiet and not to bug him about things that he didn't want to be bugged about.

Vegeta got up and dressed himself. He sat and ate a cold lunch. His stomach still felt a little unsatisfied after he basically inhaled the plate of food.

Which reminded him to check the time.

8 o'clock at night!

He had missed dinner!

He grumbled loudly as he stood up and walked over to his wardrobe. It would be entirely unacceptable to be seen in his current attire outside the training room and his own room.

He was looking for his usual armor when he realized he forgot about his fitting tomorrow.

"For heaven's sake!" He screamed.

"What's wrong?" You had snuck your way in.

Vegeta's eyes lit up once he saw you had a cart of food in front of you.

"Finally, someone has the decency to find me for dinner." He put up his tough guy act and made a snarky remark as he sat down.

"A thank you would be nice Vegeta!" You flicked his ear. "And your parents were absolutely furious you weren't at dinner! If it weren't for me making excuses for you, you'd be dead meat."

The Prince didn't say anything as he started shoving his face with food. You watched him devour the whole cart in minutes, you doing something similar at dinner an hour ago.

After all, you were a Saiyan just like the Prince. You too had a tail.

Once Vegeta was done, he crossed his arms and looked up at you.

"How ya feeling?" You questioned sitting next to him on the bed, pulling fuzzies off his shirt.

"Would you stop that!?" He yelled. "And I am just fine, woman. I don't know why you insist on checking on me!"

You laughed at him.

"Vegeta. It's me, Y/N. Quit treating me like a stranger. You can cut the bullshit, love."

He became flustered at the sudden nickname. He put a hand to his forehead and cleared his throat.

"I suppose you know that I fell asleep in the shower."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for getting me out. It's always embarrassing when I wake up knowing the maids saw me...well you know..."

"Naked?" You questioned, poking at his chest.

"Shut up!" He crinkled his nose.

You giggled at your best friend's behavior as you plopped back on the bed.

"You're welcome." You softly hummed. Vegeta looked back at you with expressionless eyes before speaking again.

"I apologize for earlier as well." He mumbled, almost inaudible.

You knew it took Vegeta so much guts to apologize. He always was an asshole, and he knew it too. His pride would never allow him to say sorry to anyone really. It was rare that even you received an apology from him.

You gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand.

"Thank you Vegeta."

He blushed and looked away, eyes going to the floor as you watched the gears turn in his head.

"Vegeta, I know this is all really scary and stressful for you. It will be alright. Even if you are in an arranged marriage or whatever. You'll still be the strongest warrior I know. I mean come on! You kick everyone's ass all the time while training. Even mine! You know that not even the toughest trainees can beat myself. You'll find your way. I'll be here too. Supporting you and always making sure you're alright and comfortable. Always."

You got done with your little speech and you could tell by the look on his face that it meant a lot. He probably wouldn't admit it though.

You sat up and engulfed him in a huge hug. He just stayed still as you embraced him

"I cannot allow myself to be with a woman who is weak. I am afraid that is what I will receive." He huffed. "My mother is going to be searching for a family woman. Someone who is not a warrior or in any sort of leadership position. Whoever they deem fitting will be entirely family focused which is the last thing I will require."

"I know, Vegeta. Which is why suggested maybe looking around at some of the female warriors. I know there are few, including myself, but it's worth it if you don't want to just settle for some weakling."

"I am acquainted with every female warrior and none of them are of my liking." Vegeta snarled. His eyes closing shut.

"Not even Sarada?" You teased.

Sarada was Vegeta's long time crush. She was 2 years older than the Prince and was a strong female with determination and guts.

She was the best behind you, of course. But her physique was something men drooled over. You'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous.

Sarada refused to settle down with anyone, despite the several attempts from each and every male that passed her way.

You, on the other hand, were never approached by any male.

And it was all because of Vegeta.

No one dare touch the Prince's lady friend. Any guy that ever showed remote interest, Vegeta would immediately annihilate them. He almost acted like a protective big brother.

You, of course, weren't complaining considering the silent crush you had on him.

"I do not even engage with Sarada anymore, Y/N."

Your stomach bubbled at the use of your name. Vegeta only called you by your name every so often, and each and every time it made you heart flutter and your stomach burn.

Your cheeks flushed as you turned away from him, eyes at the ceiling.

You could feel his stare on you. He was watching your every move, not really understanding why you were so flustered.

"Regardless. Maybe you should try to talk to her?" You quietly started the conversation again. His eyes now tearing away from you and focusing on the floor.

He grunted. "I do not want to speak to her."

You sighed and frowned. If he was not willing, you knew he would be stuck.

The whole time, the both of you thought about the idea of being with one another, but you never dared to suggest it.

Vegeta would never flat out say it, even if he wanted to. You were the same.

"Well, I hate to say it..." You sighed softly. "You may have to just settle."

Vegeta winced at the words that flew so carelessly out of your mouth.

"I will not!" He spat, arms crossing in the process.

You stood up and stretched.

"I probably should hit the hay. Tomorrow's group training and you know how that is." You chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

Vegeta stood up with you to walk you to your room. He always did this when you two were spending time with one another at night.

You both headed toward the door and out into the hallway.

Vegeta placed his palm on the small of your back as if to lead you down the halls. His hand touching so gently.

The walk was very silent, but not awkward. It never was. It was actually very nice in a way. To have him be there with you.

When you both reached your room, Vegeta removed his hand and was waiting for you to go in, to which you grabbed his hand and pulled him with you.

You immediately hugged him, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down in the back.

He was hesitant, but he hugged you back. You knew he needed this right now, whether he would admit it or not.

"It's going to be alright, Vegeta." You whispered.

His scent made its way to your nose. It was almost comforting and nostalgic for you.

He pulled away from you and softly nodded before getting ready to leave.

You reached up and kissed his cheek as he exited through the door, softly closing it behind him.

"Goodnight!" You called.

Vegeta, once he had made his way down the hall a ways, grabbed at his cheek where you had kissed him.

His heart began to flutter. Something he had always felt around you, but did not want to give into. You made him feel okay. You made him feel like it would all work out. You took care of him, even though you both were warriors.

He thought to himself that he wouldn't mind you as a wife, but quickly suppressed his thoughts.

You were his friend, nothing more. He knew you couldn't like him in any other way.

Vegeta reached his room and immediately laid on his bed.

Images of you danced around his brain as he tried to get some sleep.

As you had said, tomorrow was group training. He couldn't afford to lose any sleep.

#vegeta x reader #dragon ball #dragon ball super #dbz #dbzvegeta #x reader #vegeta fanfiction #vegeta #prince vegeta #arrangedvegetaxreader

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kuviras-eyeliner · 3 years

Text

Remembering Home

ᵈᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ❤️

Words: 2.7k

Trigger Warnings: Angst angst revolution ;D

Relationships: You can see it as platonic or romantic Zukka

Summary:

Zuko had always expected Sokka to be a loud, hysteric, public crier.

He was wrong.

❝ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ. 💙❞

“Well!” Sokka exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think it’s time to hit the hay. I’m gonna go to sleep,”

Toph raised her eyebrows. “This early? The sun isn’t even down yet!”

The sky was a faded purple shade, almost pink, as feint clouds slowly began to drift in and coated the sky. The sun was still in its early stage of setting, honey clouds and veils of fog drifting over, creating scattered shades of bright yellow like a lightbulb.

Sokka shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? It’s best to sleep early. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. And the next day," Sokka looked down like he was counting on his fingers. "And the next, then the day after that, and then the day after that day, and then the day after the day of that day-"

"Alright, alright!" Toph said. "Fine, go to sleep. I have a big session with my toes tonight,"

Katara continued to practice her bending with Aang as the two laughed in the distance at a nearby lake. Sokka smiled, nodded, and went on his way into his tent, which was further away than he was used to.

He opened up the veil and closed the drifts of fabric and sprawled out on the make-shift mattress. It wasn't massive, but it was definitely big enough to fit more than one person. He just wished that he had someone to share his thoughts with.

"Okay, so..." Sokka muttered to himself, trying to figure out what it was exactly that he wanted to do. He shut his eyes, but just as quickly, snapped back open. "Um, I just realized that I actually don't want to sleep."

So instead, he laid back down and stared up at the very top of the fabric sheets and rested his head on his arms. "I guess sometimes; the fun guy needs his alone time,"

He could barely hear Katara and Aang anymore, and they sounded like he was submerged underwater in a quiet nothingness.

"I wonder what Zuko's doing right now," Sokka muttered to himself. "He's probably doing his firebending... things. And his jerkbending," he laughed quietly. "...Jerkbending."

He heard laughter again.

He missed the sound of laughter.

“No, no, I don’t,” Sokka said. “I don’t miss that, it’s okay, my problems aren’t even as big as anyone else’s anyway--”

The sound of his laughter.

The sound of plates and utensils clinking against each other.

The smells of rose, dirt, and rain, all combined to be a smell of...

...home.

Home.

"I don't even know what home is anymore," Sokka whispered to himself, testing the words out, trying to get himself to stop thinking about what home was like-- which was rather easy because he couldn't think of anything that was really worth remembering.

And that's the part he hated the most.

Sokka hated that he just couldn't remember what his home was like. He could remember how it looked like, he could remember how it smelled, he remembered how warm it was inside the comfort of his home, but he didn't remember how he felt at home. He couldn't. He tried, with everything he could... when was the last time he felt at rest? When he felt like he didn't have to get up and put on a new persona every day?

The cold wind seeped in between the openings of the cloth.

Sokka could only remember how something looked like, but how did he feel? How did he felt when he had a warm feeling inside him, this feeling like he actually belonged and wasn't just the planner? The boomerang guy? He liked that name, he did, but was he only the jokester? Was he even valid to people?

"No, no," Sokka muttered. "Don't think like that... your problems as bad as other people's. You shouldn't be upset over something that isn't even half as bad. It shouldn't be a problem."

But why was it?

It's not like he didn't want to remember how he felt at home.

It was that he physically couldn't.

And he was angry at himself because nothing should have ended up this way. He was supposed to remember what it was like to have his mind cleared of thoughts and to actually like who he was inside, as a person. But he couldn't-- what was his home life like? Could he even remember anything?

What was it that he could remember?

He could remember how he failed.

He could remember how he failed Yue-- she deserved so much more than she got. When Sokka had first seen Yue, she was more than just "a girl," or a part of a royal family. Yue had been someone that Sokka knew that he loved, no matter what. He had sworn to protect her. And he had broken that promise.

Sokka also remembered how he'd failed with Katara-- when Katara needed him most, when she felt down and felt like she wasn't enough, Sokka had failed her. Sokka had always imagined that he and Katara should have been together, as closest siblings, always fighting for each other.

But every time, Katara had to fight every single battle alone. He wasn't there for her. And he was supposed to be her older brother-- but where was he now? Had he become someone who was never there for her?

Was he someone who only made jokes and never truly expressed how much he loved her?

Who was he?

What kind of brother was he?

Sokka clenched the sheets of the makeshift bed, trying to control himself, from bursting or making any sudden movements.

But just because he was quiet didn't mean that the tears weren't there.

And he remembered how he'd failed everyone who tried to enter into his life. People who genuinely wanted to help him, but he didn't know how to express himself, how to talk about his feelings. He knew that he was pretty verbal with many things, and he liked to talk about himself and his accomplishments a lot, but when it was about himself... his faults, his mistakes, it was entirely different.

There were only two times where he could honestly talk about himself. The first time had only lasted for a few seconds before the person started talking about themselves again.

The second time went smoothly-- with Zuko.

When the two had gone to go rescue his dad, with Zuko, the words just... fell out. He couldn't even describe it, but one word after the next, he was repeatedly explaining how he felt. That time, Zuko hadn't interrupted him, but rather acknowledged him. Zuko had given him time to explain himself, and instead, it had been Sokka who stopped himself.

Zuko had helped him open up.

Sokka managed to get himself to smile as he turned over on the side of his bed.

That's when he realized that he had cried.

"Wh-what? When did I-I..." he wrapped his arms around himself as the world darkened around him, with an odd, vibrating, and dull pulse pumping in his chest.

He fell asleep with tears in his eyes.

Zuko woke up late in the night with an odd feeling in his chest.

It was as if someone had tied an invisible string and was constantly pulling him, pulling at him to keep on walking, or an odd, gravitating, magnetic feeling. But whatever that force was, it wanted him to get out of his tent and head outside.

Zuko wasn't quite used to sleeping with so many people around, so he managed to get up anyway, compromising with the fact that he needed water.

He peered over at the stars that glistened in the night as he took a few sips of water, and stared at the moon that was off far in the distance.

And at first, he thought he heard a mellow melody in his head when he realized, one, it was not a melody, and two, it definitely wasn't in his head as he slowly peered his head over to see where the sound was coming from.

He searched across every tent, trying to be as quiet as possible since it was late in the night when he turned his head in confusion.

There were only five tents, including himself, which meant that someone was missing.

He just had to figure out who's.

A million thoughts began racing through his head as he started picking up speed again, almost running as fast as every possibility that showed up in this train of thought and came to a stop when the sound got loud enough for his ears to pick up where it was coming from.

It was rather far from where their base was, which was a slight issue, but Zuko shook his head and kept on running nevertheless to the left, where the sound got even louder.

After running a few more feet, he realized that sound wasn't a melody.

It was someone silently sobbing.

It was a quiet, hiccuping noise, but there was definitely a low sound for initial help that sounded muffled.

Someone could have been hurt. Someone could have even been kidnapped by now. How long had he wasted time not checking his surroundings?

Zuko cursed at himself for a second, but without a second thought, moved past the feeling that his lungs were bound to explode when he finally heard the sound coming from...

...Sokka's tent?

In utter confusion, Zuko stopped immediately, just to make sure.

This time, for some odd reason, he actually had to lean in closer to verify that it really was Sokka.

He could be hurt.

Without hesitation, he lightly jogged over and flung open the tent's covers to find someone who was Sokka, yet didn't look like him.

Even in the darkness, Zuko could see that his eyes were blood-shot, his shoulders shaking and he was on his knees, doubling-over, his entire body racking with muffled sobs as his hand was clenched over his mouth like a muzzle, and it took Zuko a few seconds to realize that Sokka was crying.

He had seen Sokka cry a few times-- once in battle with Azula, and another almost-time when Sokka was talking to him about his dad.

But nothing in the world could compare to the broken, frustrated, confused expression that Sokka wore which was like looking in a mirror.

Zuko remembered when he was only a young prince after his own father had burned him, he had spent hours crying, alone, in the darkness while his scar was healing. He remembered how much he always had the urge to cry whenever he woke up, and spent most of his time sleeping because then he didn't have to face reality. And when he finally broke down, and sobs racked his chest and he cried till he could barely breathe, it was painful to cry. There was a terrible, firey, prickling, needle-like feeling that sparked like a wildfire with every tear that fell across his scar, and he would want nothing more than to just rip his skin off and get it over with.

But the thing is, that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was was that no one was there for him. No one knew the tears he had cried, the restless nights he had gone through, the terrible feelings of darkness and fear that someone was always watching his every move, and he just wanted someone to tell him that it was going to be okay. But then he had met Iroh-- who had changed his entire view on life.

He had shown him exactly what it was like to feel broken, to be broken, but learn how to mend. Zuko knew that he never addressed his Uncle's problems, but he was willing to admit that he had gone through some pretty awful things. But Iroh had never let it get to him, and he learned and mended. And that was who Zuko strived to be.

But who was there for Sokka?

Zuko also knew that Sokka did have more people around that he had as a kid. The best people Zuko had was Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee, which he didn't consider people who he could really open up to. But he had his Uncle, so he managed to push through his bad days. But who was there for Sokka?

But when Zuko remembered the days where he had cried in the darkness, alone, he wasted no time to instantly run over into the tent and wrap his arms around his friend.

His friend.

Sokka pulled back for a split second, Zuko could tell-- his hands pulled away for a second in confusion, but the moment he blinked again, tears cascaded down his face, and he instantly hugged, back, wrapping and grasping his arms around Zuko's back, trying to feel that feeling again, the feeling of home.

Zuko's mind instantly went both blank and full of thoughts at the same time. He could feel Sokka's heartbeat against his chest, his muffled hiccups as Sokka continued to put his hands around his mouth, trying to quiet the noise. Zuko almost hesitated, but he remembered that his Uncle had always been there for him. So why couldn't he?

"It's okay, Sokka," he wrapped his arms around tighter, rocking Sokka back and forth. "It's okay to cry. I... I'm right here, okay-?"

That was when Sokka cried out loud, his lips trembling and his voice strangled as his breaths were short but panicked, as he wailed into Zuko's chest, his entire body heaving and racking with sobs as he struggled to breathe, his entire face covered in tears as he wailed again.

Zuko usually never cried, but seeing someone he always thought was so strong, so full-of-life, so kind-hearted, when Sokka wailed again, he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. It wasn't a weak wail of a baby, it wasn't a howling noise, but it was a fragile and frustrated, yet so broken noise that made Zuko's eyes spring with tears.

"It's okay, it's okay," Zuko said quietly. "Let it all out, I'm... I'm here for you."

Sokka gasped breathlessly, choking on air, mumbling in a strangled voice that sounded like, "thank you for everything."

And then Zuko started crying with him.

Not as much, but just enough for Sokka to know that he cared, that he really did care.

"I'm here if you ever want to talk."

Zuko knew that had always been bad words-- horrible, really. He couldn't even bring himself to say a single thank you before it sounded too awkward. But seeing someone he cared about so much, someone who always made him laugh even though he never expressed it outwardly, crying, the words just fell right out of him. They almost came naturally as Zuko hugged Sokka even tighter, slightly rocking back and forth as he finally felt Sokka scooch back the slightest bit.

"Hey, hey, hey," Zuko said, noticing that Sokka was about to start crying again. "Whatever you're going through, whatever you're feeling, I... I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'm here to listen. To anything, really. I promise you."

Sokka's blue eyes met Zuko's as his shoulders, slowly, but surely, stopped shaking. "A-are y-you sure?"

Zuko smiled sadly. "I'm not sure about many things in life, but this? Yes, Sokka. I'm sure."

Sokka made a weird strangled noise that Zuko couldn't quite make out.

"Um, can you say that again?"

He heard it again the second time, but it was an odd, uplifting feeling that almost made it feel like he was spinning.

"'s... you... home..."

Zuko tried his best not to sound rude and gently asked. "Uh, one more time? I'm sorry I..."

Sokka hugged Zuko again this time.

"Y-you're my best friend..." Sokka said quietly. "I had no i-idea that we'd ever even meet,"

Best friend.

To be called a best friend by someone you really, truly, wanted to get to is something that can be so treasured to the point where it can be called impossible. But Sokka made everything unreasonable reasonable, and that's what counts.

"But..." Sokka said quietly. "I-I realized, that home isn't just in one place.” Sokka kept on talking even when his voice shook. “It's... e-everywhere," Sokka's voice was still trembling, and even though he only had the ghost of a smile, there was still a smile, and that was all that mattered. "I realized that home is wherever you make it to be, home isn't a place, it's a-a heart, i-it's a soul, it's an entire place where you can just be you. Katara's my home, Suki is, Toph is, Aang is, and you, too,"

"You're my home."

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thisblogisdead4good · 5 years

Text

Walkin' After Midnight (Jerome x Female Reader) - One-Shot

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Jerome x Female Reader

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, mentions of physical abuse, masturbation, loss of virginity, SMUT, Awkward/Innocent!Jerome

The dark of night had long settled in over the city of Gotham, a soft drizzle of rain kissing the pavement as it fell from the looming clouds above. In spite of the late, late hour, life in the city raged on – the darkness nor the rain nor the hour of night seeming to calm the hectic energy that encompassed this place. The noise of the city filled the air – you could hear the sound of the train as it scraped down its tracks, sirens as they raced deep into the depths of Gotham, and the ever present sound of traffic. You could hear all of this, even in the relatively sleepy hamlet nestled just along the outer edge of the city that the locals called ‘Amusement Mile’.

That is where you found yourself, buried beneath a pile of soft blankets, your head rested atop a pillow that was arguably a bit too squishy for its own good, though you liked it all the same. You were having an obnoxiously difficult time trying to lull yourself to sleep and so there you were, staring blankly at the thin wall of your trailer, its form hardly enough to shield you from the outside elements. You weren’t quite sure how or why you ended up here, traveling with the circus with your father and brother, but that was what had become of your life…well, to be honest, you DID actually know how AND why, but in hindsight, you briefly considered that perhaps it would have been best if you had allowed your grandparents to take you in after your parent’s had split up. Your mother could not have supported you or your brother on her own – hell, she would be hard pressed to provide for herself – but your father, in spite of his peculiar line of work, was able to take care of the three of you fairly well. He was a Strongman – one of Haley’s Circus’ odd attractions, and you and your brother…well, you two simply helped set up and tear down. It was not a glorious life, but it was yours and it didn’t come without it’s small benefits…like the shy, cute redhead your brother had befriended earlier that summer.

The circus wasn’t exactly brimming with people your age, and so naturally you gravitated towards your brother and his new friend, Jerome, when you felt the inclination to be social. Luckily, you had a good relationship with your sibling and he and his friend welcomed you into their regular hang out sessions with open arms. The three of you would wander the grounds - smoking, talking, and occasionally getting into some kind of random hijinks. It was fun - the boys were generally the instigators of any trouble while you attempted to be the voice of reason but, well...with a group of three, you were routinely outnumbered. You grinned at the thought even as you let out an exasperated huff, pushing yourself into a seated position while you gently pulled the covers away from your body. Perhaps a walk would help to clear your mind and grant you some rest, you reasoned, pulling a baggy, black hoodie on over your shoulders before carefully moving out of your room and straight out the front door.

The cool air caressed your skin in a strangely pleasant way, the light drizzle of rain softly patting at your hair and face as your eyes scanned the dark and emptied fairgrounds. The large circus tent looked odd in the night and the various trailers of the entertainers made the usually vacant stretch of land look like a small village. You began to wander, your hands tucked deep into the pockets of your sweatshirt, before you came to the small, metal mobile home that you knew belonged to the Valeska’s. A single light shown from the window of the boys bedroom while the rest of the home remained dark - knowing Jerome’s mother, the boy was likely enjoying some time alone without that monstrous woman. She was horrible to him and she made no effort to disguise it...your heart broke for the poor kid, but you dared not to ever let that show. You gathered that the one thing that Jerome hated more than his mother was the pity of those who knew how she treated him.

Approaching the door, you knocked softly a couple of times before letting yourself in, as was typical - though admittedly, you usually did not visit this late at night or without your brother following closely behind. The place was impeccably clean, save for a few drained bottles of booze that you strongly suspected were likely placed just within the past few hours - Lila was constantly nagging at Jerome to clean the place up, and he was actually quite on top of keeping things tidy...but keeping up with a destructive alcoholic of her caliber was no small feat.

You quietly made your way down the narrow passage that led to Jerome’s room, the warm light peeking out from the crack between the door and its frame. As you approached, you heard the boys soft, mumbling voice and you smiled. Had you caught him talking to himself? It was a funny thought, though truth be told you too were guilty of that every now and again. But then you heard it.

“Y/N…,” He groaned, his voice gravelly and desperate.

You paused for a moment, not knowing whether or not you should proceed. On one hand, he could have suffered another round with his mother, her boyfriend-of-the-evening, or his uncle and be calling out to you for help; on the other hand, though...

You decided to creep forward regardless, reasoning that you would hate yourself if he was hurt and you left him to fend for himself. Peering into the room through the slight opening in the door, your jaw dropped as you took in the sight before you. The fiery-haired boy sat on his bed, his back pressed against the wall as his head lulled back. His eyes were pressed closed and his flannel button up hung open, exposing his tight, white chest that was peppered in sparse ginger hair. He was panting heavily, his brow furrowing as he jerked his hips upward into his hand that was closed in a fist around his stiff manhood. You quickly tore your eyes from the spectacle and backed away in shock and panic, bumping harshly against an end-table in doing so and rattling a couple of the emptied bottles that sat atop of it.

“Shit!” You heard Jerome spit under his breath as his bed creaked loudly beneath his rapidly shifting weight.

You continued to move for the door, hearing him call out in a questioning tone for his mother after a moment - his footsteps sending slight vibrations through the floor as you gripped the handle and pushed, darting out into the night.

A few days passed and you managed to continue on pretending that you hadn’t seen anything - in all honesty, you figured that you hadn’t really seen THAT much. Enough to know what he was doing, sure, but you didn’t really get a good look at...IT. You resumed hanging out with Jerome and your brother and everything seemed mostly normal, though you could have sworn there were a couple of times where Jerome’s gaze lingered on you for a moment with a strange sort of darkness. You wondered to yourself if he knew that it had been you, but you swiftly dismissed the idea. You had gotten out before he had left his room, there was almost no way he could have known that it had been you...right?

It was starting to get late, the final show of the night had long since ended, and you were sitting at home with your family watching television when a light set of knocks came down upon your door. Your father answered, and there at the foot of the steps stood a slightly bloodied Jerome. His left eye was blackened and he had a cut across his lip and right temple...another scuffle with his family, no doubt.

“What was it this time, boy? Tell me it was Zach - least I can whoop that sonofabitch into next week,” Your father growled, stepping out of the way and ushering Jerome inside.

“It’s okay, Mr. Y/L/N. Really. It looks a lot worse than it is,” The ginger insisted softly, attempting to wipe the blood from his lip but only succeeding in smearing it around.

“If you say so,” Your father grumbled, “Anyways, have yourself a seat - Y/N, why don’t ya go get the boy a wet washcloth or somethin’?”

You nodded and sprang to your feet, making your way towards the kitchen with purpose. You warmed the water to a comfortable temperature before saturating the cloth and returning to the couch. Curling a leg beneath you, you seated yourself next to the boy and began gently patting at his face, clearing the blood from his skin as he winced.

“Thank you,” He mumbled as you carefully wiped at the blood caked across his chin and cheek.

“Anytime,” You smiled, again doing your best to mask anything that might be mistaken for pity.

“You can sleep here for the night, alright? Just make yourself at home. There’s plenty of blankets and the couch ain’t so bad,” Your father remarked after a while, “I’m gonna hit the hay - I’ll see you kids in the mornin’.”

You said goodnight to your dad and watched as both he and your brother turned in for the night. You handed Jerome the washcloth and stood.

“You know where to find us if you need anything,” You stated as you smoothed your hands down the thin fabric of your nightgown.

The boys eyes darted up and down your frame for a second, his hand pressing the washcloth against the side of his face before he nodded and offered an almost unintelligibly soft “goodnight”. You offered him a small smile and went off to bed.

Hours had passed and you found yourself stirring, the sudden feeling of your mattress sagging beneath some inexplicable weight stealing you from sleep. You blinked a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the darkness before you were able to finally make out the form of the boy seated at the edge of your bed.

“Jerome? Everything okay?” You managed to ask, your voice heavy with sleep.

“I’m fine,” He answered softly, his gaze flitting between your face and the closed door of your room, “I’m...I’m sorry for letting myself in, I just...I wanted to talk to you.”

You instantly felt very awake, a lump forming in your throat as your mind immediately deduced what it is he wanted to speak to you about. He was quiet for a minute, twiddling his thumbs in his lap and avoiding looking at you before he finally spoke.

“How much did you see?”

You swallowed hard and pushed yourself so that you were sitting, facing him on the bed.

“I, uh...I dunno what you’re -”

“Please don’t lie. I know it was you...I saw you running from the trailer through the window.”

Well, fuck.

You bobbed your head lightly and took in a deep breath.

“Okay...I saw. I’m sorry, I should have knocked louder….but I didn’t see IT, if that makes you feel any better,” You offered.

A small smirk pulled at Jerome’s lips.

“I guess it does a little bit,” He chuckled, “But uhm...I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or anything.”

You shrugged.

“No, I just...I felt bad for intruding,” You explained, “I wasn’t uncomfortable per say...it was actually kind of intriguing.”

A blush spread across your cheeks with your final comment, growing deeper as Jerome’s eyes locked onto you with a serious, inquisitive meaning.

“Yeah?” Was all he said, his voice soft yet so very low and masculine.

You nodded as a small, nervous giggle escaped your lips.

A tense silence hung in the air for a while, Jerome’s eyes fixed on your scantily clad feminine form. His tongue darted out quickly to whet his lips as he continued to toy with his hands that remained folded in his lap, though now that your eyes had adjusted more to the darkened state of your room, you were able to notice the slight strain of the fabric at the front of the boys jeans. You didn’t intend to stare, but you that's precisely what you found yourself doing and unfortunately, it did not go unnoticed.

“Do you uhm…,”The boy cleared his throat, “Do you wanna...see it?”

You couldn’t believe that this was happening, and yet despite the small amount of apprehension and fear that lived within you, your buried desire for the redhead spoke much louder. Biting down gently on your lower lip, you raised your gaze to meet his and offered him only a soft nod in response.

Jerome’s lips curled into a small, nervous grin before he turned his attention to his belt. He fumbled for a moment, struggling to undo the clasp in his anxious excitement, but soon he was slipping the button of his jeans free of its loop and slowly sliding the zipper all the way down. He gave you a quick, questioning glance - giving you an opportunity to stop this before it went any further - but you simply shifted, pulling your body just the tiniest bit closer to his as you waited for him to continue. Reaching his pale hand into the open fly of his pants, he carefully removed his swollen cock from its confines. You gulped at the sight of it, a warm, tingling sensation coming to life between your thighs as you drank in every inch of the boys formidable member. You had never seen one in person before this, and yet you knew without such previous experience that Jerome was big. His cock stood proudly with a slight upward curve and was decorated with blood-engorged veins; his head a deep red and the slit wept with precum in his arousal.

“Oh my God,” You whispered, leaning in more closely to examine him.

“You like it?” He questioned quietly, softly stroking his long fingers up and down his length as he watched you.

“Yes,” You practically moaned, staring at the impressive manhood pulsating before your eyes.

“Do you maybe wanna,” Jerome paused, his cheeks reddening as he struggled to find the words, “Do you wanna...taste it?”

Your eyes met his as you considered his request. Certainly you had already crossed some sort of line, but how far was too far, you wondered.

“Please,” He added needily.

You needed no more encouragement as you slid yourself from the mattress and situated yourself on your knees between the boys legs.

“I’ve never done this before,” You prefaced nervously, wrapping your dainty hand around the base of his hardness. His skin was surprisingly soft and hot to the touch.

“Me neither,” He replied with a low, short laugh.

You smiled, his words taking a small amount of pressure off of you before you regarded the large appendage and decided how to begin.

Delicately pressing your lips to the underside of his cock, you began to place open-mouthed kisses up his shaft, allowing your tongue to trace small patterns over the large vein that ran up and down his length as you slowly made your way to the head. Circling the tip with your slick, wet muscle, you lapped at the boys slit, pulling a small amount of salty precum into your mouth - a small grin playing on your lips as you heard a sharp intake of breath above you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jerome breathed, reaching down and gently entangling his fingers in your hair, “Please...please put me in your mouth...fuck.”

You were more than happy to oblige, slowly wrapping your lips around the large head and suckling softly at his flesh before pressing downward, inching his thick member deeper into your warm mouth. He was so big, you found it somewhat difficult to breath or even move your tongue, but you were determined to make him feel as good as possible and so you persevered, forcing yourself to take in more of him until ultimately, you felt his tip reach the back of your throat. You coughed a little at the sensation, causing you to spit and sputter a bit around him as you backed off slightly, but you quickly recovered and delved back, taking his cock as deeply into your mouth as you could before pulling back and lapping at his head.

Jerome bit down on his lower hip hard, reopening the wound from earlier as he fought to suppress his moans. You released him from your mouth with a small, wet pop and turned your eyes to study his face, trying to gauge how you were doing. With the hand that he had entwined with your hair, the boy pulled you up off of your knees - bringing the two of you face-to-face before he pressed his warm, bloodied mouth to yours. His kiss was hot and needy and soon you found his tongue slipping in-between your lips, a small hint of the metallic taste of his blood washing over your senses.

Lost for a moment in the heated kiss between yourself and your brothers friend, you almost did not notice the straps of your nightgown as they were slid down your arms, causing the thin fabric to fall away from your body and pool at your feet. Jerome broke away and leaned back slightly, his eyes roaming over your bare form hungrily as you tried to catch your breath and fight the urge to cover yourself.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” He murmured, cautiously cupping one of your breasts with his large, warm hand and delicately brushing at your rosey nipple with his thumb, “So much better than I’d ever imagined...:”

“So you were jerking off to me?” You inquired smugly.

He grinned a little.

“Only been doing it since the day you guys got here.”

You swallowed thickly, imagining him stroking himself to you late at night after you had gone your separate ways for the evening. You never had a clue that he thought of you that way...but you definitely had thought of him that way many times before.

“This is feeling a little one-sided,” You remarked after a minute, gesturing towards Jerome who was still, in spite of his cock having been released from its confines, fully clothed.

“Right, sorry. Lemme take care of that,” He chuckled lowly, quickly pulling his top off over his head and standing to push his bottoms down his legs.

He stood mere inches away, his lankey form towering over you as the moonlight streamed in from the window and illuminated him - his pale skin looking almost ghostly as he smoothed a hand through his hair nervously.

“I uhm...I don’t have a condom...if you wanted to -” He stammered, his gaze locked on the wall just past you, avoiding eye contact.

You weighed the risks…

Fuck it.

“Then, I guess we’ll just have to be extra careful...or steal some Plan B or somethin’,” You smirked.

The boys eyes lit up as they snapped back to you, a mischievous grin flashing across his face before he wrapped his arms around you and backed you onto the bed, climbing over top of you as your back pressed into the soft mattress below.

“You sure you want this, baby?” He questioned lowly, pressing the fat head of his cock against your heat, “You want me to fuck your pretty little pussy?”

You moaned, feeling him rub himself up and down your soaked seam - giving Jerome the green light to fuck you had definitely awakened something dark and dirty within the typically well-mannered boy.

“Yes - Oh my God, please. Jerome,” You panted, a small whine escaping your lips as the head of his cock bumped against your clit.

“Mmm, fuck,” He growled as he tightly wound his fingers into your hair, his breath quivering in your ear as he pressed his lips against it and whispered, almost pleadingly, “Beg for it...beg me to fuck you.”

“Please, Jerome,” You lamented as you felt him press against your hot slit with a little more pressure, “Please fuck me - I need it so bad.”

And you did. You really, really did.

The boy let out a low growl as he pressed forward against your entrance - you muscles fought his intrusion, but slowly Jerome worked the tip of his cock into your pristine channel. Already you felt a sense of fullness and you could not believe that you had just taken the head of his manhood inside of you - you began to doubt your ability to take him the rest of the way, but Jerome laced his fingers with yours and cooed sweet words into your ear...telling you how wonderful you felt around him and how good you were doing. After a moment of allowing you to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of your virgin pussy, Jerome began to move once more. He sank into you slowly, your walls struggling to stretch to accommodate this massive intrusion as he inched his way forward. You could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his large cock as he continued to push into you, splitting you open and touching areas within your depths that you were unaware even existed until you felt the hot, engorged tip press firmly against a barrier deep within your canal that could only be your cervix.

“Ah, fuck,” He shuddered, his eyes drifting down to where the two of you were joined, “Look at you...taking all of my cock...fucking gorgeous.”

You let out a small whine, you were almost painfully full and your insides felt somewhat raw from being stretched so much.

“Shhh,” Jerome soothed, nuzzling his face lightly against yours as his hand travelled down between your bodies to gently rub at your clit, “You’re doing so fucking good, baby…”

His ministrations felt amazing and soon your sex felt hotter and wetter than you’d ever known. You were moaning and squirming. It felt like electricity was shooting through your body in the best sort of way and then suddenly you felt yourself come undone - your muscles contracted violently around Jerome’s cock, causing the both of you to moan in pleasure as he began to move.

He dragged himself back until just the head of his dick remained inside of you before sinking all the way back in, his balls gently slapping against your skin as he grinded his hips into yours, only to repeat this motion moments later. He steadily began to pump himself into you, gradually increasing speed as he moved his hands down to grip at the curve of your hips, soft curses spilling from his mouth as your walls hugged his rigidity. It wasn’t long before his thrusts became rough, the rhythm he had set became sloppy as he quietly moaned above you.

“Ah, fuck...fuck...I’m gonna -” Jerome groaned, rutting into you harshly.

Suddenly pulling you to him so that your bodies were pressed together tightly, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and let out a primal growl. You felt his cock throbbing inside of you as he filled you with his hot essence - the excess of which managed to seep out of your seam and slide down your flesh. He continued to pump into you for a few moments until he began to soften and pulled himself from your body.

It was quiet for a time, the two of you working to catch your breath and process the events that had just transpired before Jerome wordlessly climbed from the bed and began to redress. You watched him, a sudden heaviness in your chest as you considered the idea that perhaps you had just lost a friend. His eyes flicked up to meet yours as he finished doing up his pants and he must have sensed a kind of sadness within you, as he smiled sweetly and leaned down, placing a warm kiss atop your head and gently caressing your face with his hand.

“That was amazing,” He whispered, peppering your face with his lips before returning to look you in the eyes, “It didn’t hurt too badly, did it?”

You shook your head and offered him a small smile.

“Good,” He grinned, straightening himself so that he could finish buttoning up his flannel.

Once he was redressed the two of you again bid one another goodnight and he made his way back into the living room. You laid in bed for a while, your mind racing before exhaustion eventually overtook you, the last thing to cross your mind was the simple thought: Family breakfast is gonna be weird tomorrow.

#jerome valeska #gotham joker #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut

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elfnerdherder · 4 years

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Opus Dei: Chapter 4

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Chapter 4: Extemporaneous

It always began with questions. The drugs prescribed made it difficult to handle the questions. Fog that spread, a head that dipped to whichever way the mind wanted to take him. It made lips glue, though, emotions difficult to handle in hands that didn't know how to hold them.

"Are you having nightmares?"

Will stared at the point fixed just beyond their shoulder. Dr. Lattic was their name, and they were as pleased as punch to have an intelligent psychopath like Will Graham in their clutches. They liked to tell them that whenever they appeared to witness him take his medicine.

"One of the orderlies thought they heard you crying out in your sleep." They made a note on their legal pad and observed him over their reading classes set to perch just at the edge of their nose. "Are you dreaming of the illness, or the things you've done?"

Jared Freeman paced behind Dr. Lattic, and Will tracked where he supposed he'd wander if he was stuck in such an interview as this. That they'd presume to understand him, that they'd suppose they'd ever seen into a mind like his...

"Dreaming of what he did while you slept under the blue," Garrett Jacob Hobbs whispered, just beside the doctor's ear. He was a rat. "What did he do to you whenever blue lights made you sleep?"

"I can't say that your cooperation will ease your sentence, given the things you've done, but if we can make you come to terms with some of the things your troubled psyche made you do, there might be something we can do to ease your experience here," Dr. Lattic said, tilting his head. A different tactic.

"Fool's gold," Jared snarled.

"The things done to you," Garrett Jacob Hobbs corrected. "You only enjoyed hurting the ones that tried to hurt you first."

The bloodstains on Hobbs' shirt never came clean. Will dreamed of washing it in a cold stream of thought, but it never came clean because you can't wash away bullets once they've been fired, and he'd learned that the hard way. He wondered if Abigail would have helped, if the monster under the bed hadn't decided to eat her, too.

"Silence for another session, I see. Perhaps we should lower the dosage. Your eyes are unfocused, and I wonder where your thoughts are directed today."

He was wheeled through two security doors before he's dumped into his cell, the cuffs released from his hands and feet only after he's laid back onto the bed. It's degrading, but emotions are fog. He can't grip one enough to feel it, and he lays in the damp of the low-budget facility midst the screaming of one of the other inmates whose lunch wasn't delivered at the right moment pertaining to their OCD.

Will visited Wolf Trap National Park when the body could only fix so much of the house. Things had to be taken slow, no matter how much his mind raced. He wondered if the ideas had begun to fester yet, if Hannibal had taken his bait.

He sat at the park and did as he often did, as he often had to do. It was a flat, open area with small spattering of oaks and sugar maples. Some Bradford Pears lined to the right threatened to stink the entire place up soon. A few people walked, mostly young adults or the elderly with small children. The playground nearby entertained the children as their guardians gossiped and caught up on old news. The latest body found was suspected to be the second body in the new Chesapeake Ripper wave. Much of the gossip, it seemed, circulated that, from hands that gripped and folded the newspaper article to mouths that puckered and pulled. Hard to talk about death at a park. Things were cheerful, there.

He thought about calling Molly, but it seemed in poor taste to call someone just to waste their time. Dating was commitment, dating was honesty and vulnerability and hands clasped just to walk down the grocery aisle. Still, she'd smiled so brightly when she realized he wasn't trying to be condescending. She looked like the type to like dogs.

He thought about time and hobbies and let his fingers idly scroll through his limited contacts on the phone. The Chesapeake Ripper probably wouldn't want him to date. Maybe he'd kill anyone that got too close to Will like he did last time. Maybe he wouldn't only until Will's guard was down.

It was the bird that caught his eye, even though he was supposed to be people-watching and letting the time pass. It limped along, not like the other birds around it that hopped for the worms bursting from the earth fresh from Spring rain. He stared for a moment, then another as it registered. When the bird tried to hop again, he stood from his lonely bench and slid his jacket off.

It was a male cardinal, bold and ruby red against the green. Its leg was bent oddly, and when it fluttered in panic at his approach, he stilled. "Easy," he murmured, and he wished it could be so easy as that. Say something, and it come true. Easy, and the bird was eased. Catch him, and the killer was caught.

He tossed the jacket and made the clumsy effort of scooping the bird up, all awkward elbows and quick hands. Its plaintive cries were muffled, and he straightened the arm of his jacket to try and give the bird some air flow.

"H-hey, hey," someone called, and Will turned to see a small-statured man with narrow shoulders and an uneasy expression. He stood hesitantly on the sidewalk, and he gestured once he had Will's attention. "I saw the bird...are you gonna h-help him?"

"Do you know how to help him?" Will asked. "Or do you know someone that can?"

"I-I can help him," he said, and his face brightened.

"You can?" Will smiled, and the cries of the bird didn't bother so bad.

"Follow me, I can help the bird..."

And just like that, Will found himself in the care of one of the stable hands that worked with the horses at the park. He managed to catch as much as they worked their way past the park, past the stables, and back towards a quaint white house whose trim matched the stables perfectly.

"Back here," he said, and the closer they got the brighter his face became. Behind the quaint white house sat a barn, and when Will ducked inside, he was greeted by the sound of dozens of birds, a disarming cacophony.

"Here, y-you can set him here." He gestured, and Will complied.

"Do you take care of all of these birds?" he asked, turning around. Now that the surprise of them wore off, their calls seemed more interwoven, less chaotic.

The man carefully unfolded the jacket and made quick work of securing the bird. "Yes."

Will smiled. "What's your name?"

"Peter." He glanced up, then away and smiled, his hold on the bird careful and gentle.

"I'm Will. I'll let you work...can I see him when you're done?"

"Ye-yeah, just wait out there...I'll call you in, he'll be okay."

Will headed out of the barn and gave Peter his space to work. A bale of hay sufficed for a seat, and he listened to the trailing calls of the birds inside, each secured in their own cage. Chickadees, scrub jays, a pigeon, doves, robins; maybe a caretaker on the grounds. Will had made a point not to look at the dent in the back of his head when he'd followed him.

Bird casts were delicate things, and Peter Bernadone took delight in Will being fascinated by it. He was humbly surprised by the care Will took in waiting, and they sat outside of the barn for awhile. Will felt a gentle disposition in him, as well as a genuine kindness.

"I love the animals, they...they don't do harm."

"They can do harm," Will said, thinking of Winston. He hadn't done harm until Agent Crawford decided to find out just who his previous owners ha been.

"Not like us...n-not like humans," Peter disagreed, and he watched a horse in the corral just across from the barn. "Humans are the only...the o-only ones to intentionally do h-harm. Animals don't have that, but we do."

Will couldn't argue that. If the latest killing was the Chesapeake Ripper, that artist hadn't stabbed himself in the chest before removing the kidneys. At least the animals wouldn't have let it go to waste.

"Is that why you work with animals? Because they're better than people?"

Peter laughed and looked down at the cage where the cardinal rested. The small cast dwarfed his stick-thin leg, but he'd assured Will it would heal. "Gotta p-protect them from people."

"We also have to protect people from people," said Will. "I think you're onto something.

He left the park a little while later, but only after asking Peter if it was okay if he came back.

The news could be savage when it wanted to be. When it couldn't speculate farther on the latest killing to hit DC, it ruminated on the infamous Will Graham and how he was now alive and well and on the roam. Was he truly innocent, or an acolyte, the news wondered? Could he return to his life after four years of incarceration? Would he begin to amass a wealth of death to rival the Ripper's before the jury was out?

Insomnia was a bitch. When he dreamed, he dwelled on the shadows filling the hollows of Hannibal's cheeks. Awake, he lay in a half-coherent doze on the couch and let the TV drone, anything to keep him from thinking too much. He was tired, but not tired enough. The news speculated on his absence from any media outlet. A month free, and the victim wasn't ready to start talking yet. If he started getting cold calls, he'd have to change his phone number. He wanted his story to be as old and stagnant as a standard traffic stop.

Work was easy, mindless, and the house was looking great. University classes for credits were pending, and should he get accepted he'd be allowed to swing right into a summer semester and begin getting his degree. A GED in the cell wasn't as impressive as a diploma across a high school stage, but he'd take what he could get, should they let him in. At the end of the day, bosses just wanted to see a degree. How you got it was irrelevant.

"--membered, displayed, I mean, if we analyze this realistically then the only indication that it could be the Chesapeake Ripper is because their kidneys are missing!"

"So you're saying that you don't think it's the Chesapeake Ripper's latest kill?" the newscaster asked.

Their interviewee fluffed their coif lightly. "I'm just saying that it's a bit presumptuous this early to say. It could be, but normally this form of psychopath is a tad more...violent in his attack. A single stab wound?"

"A single shot," Will corrected her in the otherwise quiet living room. As if he could have stopped at one, should he have decided to pull the trigger.

"The kidneys are a tell-tale sign, though. Our analyst, Brice Hoey, can confirm that there are currently no other known serial killers in the area that take organs as trophies."

"It's too early to tell," their guest pressed, and they shook their head. "If there was more information on the crime scene, we could confirm if the Chesapeake Ripper's other calling signs are there, but until the next report is released, I can't put my stamp on the case."

"We could always ask Will Graham," the newswoman joked.

"I think any information from him would have to be verified before it could be taken as fact," they replied. "Encephalitis is a serious illness, and coupled with the other traumatic things that happened to him at a young age, it's difficult to say if we can trust--"

Whenever the topics steered towards his mental state, Will would find it in himself to let the silence of the house keep him company, instead. The expanse of it yawned, and there were no repairs to be easily made. He needed a distraction.

Maybe that's why Will found himself pouring two cups of coffee one Friday morning a week or so later instead of one. Part time ensured he'd have time for some classes before Summer arrived and let him begin college in earnest. Hobbies. Busy hands. He'd called Molly and had the brutal pain of leaving a voicemail. All that courage, wasted in the face of a busy schedule. He'd stammered once before hanging up. Likely she'd been watching the news, too.

"You won't return my calls," Jack said, accepting the cup.

They sat out on the porch while Winston trotted about the yard, sniffing through the hesitant grass. Spring was trying its best in Wolf Trap.

"I won't," Will agreed, sitting down in the chair next to his. He'd re-stained them one evening, and they looked better than new.

"Have you watched the news recently?"

"I have," said Will.

"Then you know there's another body."

Winston was older, and it was apparent in how he didn't wander too long before trotting to Will and laying down at his feet. What was he, seven or eight? Will reached down and rubbed his ears affectionately.

"That's a nice dog you've got there, Will," Jack tried again.

"Same dog as the one you branded me a killer for," Will said curtly. Then, throwing somewhat of a bone, "he's a good dog. I didn't expect him to remember me."

Discomfort sat stupid between them for a time, each one sipping their coffee with grimaces. It was uncertain if it was the strong coffee or the silence that made it bitter. Will knew exactly what Jack wanted, only it was the very thing he didn't want to give. He had busy hands, only they didn't want to be busy with something like Jack and his manipulations. His mind was trying to confuse the two, though. It reasoned how much it wanted to do already.

"You see this person the way no one else does," Jack tried for a third time.

"I just interpret what I see in front of me."

"So just interpret something for me."

"Am I the only poor bastard you could corner on such short notice?" Will wondered incredulously. "Seriously."

"Who else would I ask?"

"Specialists, therapists, hell; ask Alana Bloom."

"I have gone to specialists, detectives, therapists, doctors, and every behavioral analyst known to hell and creation. None of them see him like you do. None of them saw the others like you did, Will. Otherwise I'd have never used you." There was a catch in his voice, something that seemed to surprise even Jack. "I'd have...never asked you to look if I didn't think you were saving lives."

"You think maybe I see him like no one else because I've spent the night at his house?" Will wondered. Ever thought it was because I've fucked him?

Jack ground his teeth. "I think it's because you look at things from a perspective uniquely yours. I think you pay the price for it, but you do it."

"And don't you wonder if I ever get tired of seeing things that way?" he asked, ashamed at how his own voice betrayed him. "Maybe I'd just like a simple life where I don't have to feel that way all the time. Shouldn't you care about something like that?"

"He's hurting people, Will," Jack needled, and it's there that Will was forced to feel the sunburn ache of Jack's guilt. "The longer I take to find him, the more people he hurts."

Winston made another round in the yard, and Will watched him halfheartedly chase a bird. "I'm not leaving this porch," he said. "And I don't want to see pictures, either."

Jack snatched the bone offered. "Okay."

He set his empty cup down and left Will to his own drink, the grounds fine enough some had seeped through the filter. He wasn't too experienced with making coffee, but he was trying. Learning adulthood was one step at a time and one Google search with each failure. He hadn't had a lot of people-watching in the hospital. He didn't have a lot to go on when he was learning how to get the stains out of a white t-shirt or timing the coffee grinder to keep the beans from turning to dust.

"The body was found in their workshop," Jack said, and he looked out across the field. Will wondered what memories Jack held of this place in comparison to his own. Ones no uglier, that was certain. "The victim is an artist, Sebastian Bibee, displayed in front of his work station. A young artist, one up-and-coming. No criminal history apart from one minor-in-possession."

Will thought about it; the news hadn't gone much into detail on how he was displayed. He was glad he'd had the thought to forbid pictures. Pictures would have made him see, and he didn't want to see Hannibal's wrath after being threatened in his own home by something so artlessly tasteless as a gun. "How was he displayed?"

"A single stab wound to the chest and a small surgical incision in the back. He took the kidneys."

"How do you know it's the Chesapeake Ripper, then?" Will asked dubiously.

"That's what I'm talking to you for. The media's looking for answers, but I won't give them one until I know for sure."

Will stood up and took Jack's empty cup, using that as an opportunity to think as he went through the motions of making another one. When he set it down, he leaned against the post on the porch and frowned, cramming his hands into his pockets.

"Could have been someone harvesting organs," he said slowly. He thought of one of the late night guest speakers on the news. "Normally they leave them alive, though, don't they?"

"Yes."

"Could've gone wrong."

"The painting on the easel was Jael and Sisera," he said, and his expression sobered as he looked Will over. "Does that mean something to you?"

"Should it mean something to me?"

"I'd show you a picture if I thought it'd help," he offered.

"I'll look it up later," he promised.

Jack looked out over the field, and if his memories of those awful days haunted him, it didn't show on his face. Only time did. Time, and a bitter sense of wounded pride. Will wondered how much crow he'd had to eat when the time came that he'd realized Will wasn't the killer. A dark part of him wished he'd lost his job over it, but the FBI takes care of their own. The good old boys club, and Jack was just trying to be a good, old boy.

"It's a bible story," he explained. "Jael promises aid to a defeated Canaanite leader, Sisera, and while he sleeps she drives a peg through his head. One of my guys said it's pretty symbolic."

"Pretty something," Will grimaced.

"You think you're in danger, saying it's him?"

"No," Will lied, only it was the kind of lie he'd practiced in the hospital, the kind orderlies didn't think to look for. "I'm not the only thing that revolves around this guy, Jack. He was killing long before me, and he'll kill long after if he's not caught."

"I don't think that's necessarily the case," Jack argued.

"Who says he's not threatening to kill you? Lull you into a sense of security, then drive a peg through your head just when you think you're getting close."

It was like being at the crime scenes again, only Will wasn't eighteen and sick and terrified and naive. Age didn't feel like wisdom, but it made it easier to talk back to Jack, to pick up his ebb and flow of speech and accidentally mimic it. He wondered what they'd done with the FBI jacket he'd used to tote around--likely rotting in an evidence locker somewhere.

Jack scowled, and he sat on that for a bit. "...What's that mean for the body?" he asked the coffee mug.

"Fuck all about the body, it's just another tool to him. Humans are tools to him."

Winston trotted back once more and laid down.

"Who's he trying to direct it at, then," Jack mused. "Me or you?"

"I bet he's hoping you ask me that, and you did." Will grinned. "What's that say about you, Jack?"

Jack stewed on that, and he didn't finish his second cup of coffee. They watched the breeze tease small shoots of tall grass out in the field.

"How's he choosing them?" Will murmured, more to himself than Jack.

"Don't you know?"

"If I knew, I'd have found him a long time ago." Will chewed on his thumb, stewing. Some symbolic, some close, some far away and strangers. "I wonder what connects them."

"We're looking for connections, but apart from the ones that all had relationships with you they don't have any correlation. Seemingly random, even before you came along."

Will had nothing for that. He thought about the artist, and he resisted the urge to ask for a photo.

When Jack left, he didn't promise not to call, but he didn't say they'd be in touch soon either. Will took it as a bit of a win, and he went back to mend a bit of fence he'd noticed needed repair while they talked.

Will looked up Jael and Sisera on his phone long after Jack left, and he stared at it for awhile, thinking. Thoughts leapt like the fish in the river back behind the house, plentiful and distracting, and he supposed that if it was the Chesapeake Ripper's response to Will pointing a gun at him, it was time that he toss the line in again. He had a fish ready to bite.

Jael, knelt, poised, her lap the pillow Sisera lay his head to sleep. The expression on her face was not violent as she pressed the nail to his ear. For a moment, he saw it much like her carving thoughts, ideas, beliefs into him. He blinked, and the hammer just above would surely strike too hard to be of any aid once she had finished crafting his mind. Surely the mallet would strike, and her creation would be obliterated? Surely everything would be destroyed in the aftermath of her actions?

An artist recreating it, only they were interrupted. Had he finished the painting? Was Sebastian stopped halfway, a single stab wound to the chest the only thing keeping him from finishing his work? Jael's mallet never striking the nail, dust never again beaten from the marble. Frozen on the canvas, she looked to Will much like Hannibal, carving secret things into whatever dark crevices he could find. Had Will killed him that night, would Hannibal's creation have been considered finished? Or would Jael's hammer have fallen and taken Sisera with her in the end?

Will couldn't have said, but he thought about it long after. Insomnia was a bitch, and so was Jack Crawford.

#LiaS scribbles #Opus Dei #Hannibal fanfic #hannigram #slowburn hannigram #ish #grey!will #nbc hannibal #will graham x hannibal #Peter Bernadone

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abbybandianna · 5 years

Text

It’s a Sunday,

And there’s a storm on the way, right now it’s 12:33pm, I am sitting in my double bed with it’s newly purchased bed spread, the spread has a velvet side and a cotton side (the cotton being the inner side). It’s a warm, dusty, luminous mossy olive green, it compliments the deep slightly dull and dark red wall it clashes into. I awoke some time late 8am, it wasn’t an alarm that awoke me as that was set for 9:38am, yes 9:38am, I hit the hay early last night after a very early wake yesterday morning which deprived me of adequate sleep for my body to function at some degree of optimal. Usually when I’ve had lack of sleep I tend to stay up late, later than I want to and later than I normally do, always a contradicting habit but I do enjoy the state of mind that comes with lack of sleep causing a delusional state of awake, it brings ghosts I can fall into nostalgia with, it brings things I need to hash over or work out, man one sec sorry to deter away from this but I have incense burning and I need to.. back, ahh that's better, I enjoy burning incense but I does get a little too much and I have a sudden urge to extinguish the stick, my old room (one suburb over, how did that I happen I wanted to be far away ah ha) was a bit bigger so burning a whole stick would bother me too much, my new digs is 3x3 which I like as it’s cosy, especially with a large window and glorious RED wall, COLOUR, ugh, one thing my old place lacked, you will never find me owning a house with a large white wall ANYWHERE, okay tread carefully Abby your you may fall into a rant here, steer away, steer away love before it’s too late!

There, distraction, as I pressed down on that “!” my superficial would twinged, I had my 3rd laser removal session the other day on the tattoo on my wrist, my useless desire to connect in my early twenties felt a band name as a tattoo on my wrist was a good idea to get me through the life of working in a shit job 50-60 hours a week and being paid below what they should have been paying me, another story another day if I have find the need to dwell time again on that part of my life, so the tattoo is on day 3 of healing and typing on my laptop I probably shouldn’t really be doing as I have a TERRIBLE habit of not being able to just CHILL after a session and SLOW DOWN I like to GET SHIT DONE... well I am always STRIVING to be in a place in life where I am always TAKING IT ALL ON and working towards them life goals... and dreams, both of the same thing to me, don’t fear what you dream, not all will come true but hey, some of them if you put the time, dedication, and effort into they might just manifest even greater than you initially engendered because to THINK, to CONCEPTUALISE is one thing but when actions and movement continue to be applied to a given situation a catalyst begins to form...

Where was I...

Oh yes, you see what my mind is like?

I was mentioning my sleep, well anyway, I slept 9-10 hours straight last night, have not slept like that in many months, I cannot remember the last solid sleep for that long.. it was delectable.

I awoke slowly and got out of bed to open the shutters which block out all the light and most of the noise from the street outside, I crawled back into bed and laid snuggled in my cocoon of 3 blankets, one my doona with a new cover, one a blanket from my family when we were growing up, it’s blue died wool (poor sheep) with a fabric binding on the ends that is red with printed shapes, the print is a combination of white and blue paint brushes, tubes of paint, and pallets. I remember thinking when I was 8 or 9 how some of the brushes look like a set of drum sticks, the third blanket which is a quilt was made just for me by a family friend for my 18th birthday, also blue. As I slowly adjusted my well slept eyes to the morning light seeping through the paisley swirls of my make shift “hung fabric” curtains spills into my room gently illuminating the space, the material itself is a rather dull colouring in moderate light but when light is passing through it electrifies the colours from dull blues, red, oranges, and yellows to vibrant hues. Once the nag for coffee beckoned my being more than the desire for the warmth and cosiness of my cocoon I got up and peculated a mug of black cawffee ***makes Homer Simpson drool noise***.

I have been making a many on changes in my habits for what feels like a long time now, one of the very few last things I am yet to do is either cut out coffee all together or at least not have a it everyday, I use to drink 3-8 cups a day and have only been drinking one cup a day for about 3 years now, just struggling to take that next step to have it a few times a week, it’s a personal thing not something I believe everyone should do, I would one day like to see how it feels to live predominately on a very low acidic diet and a high alkaline and ph balanced diet. Modern lifestyle habits can be a hard bad habit to kick, or at least so I’ve discovered on my own personal journey on this spinnin’ ball of dirt.

There is no real point to what I’m rambling on about here, fuck I need to change song wait, ahh, now yes, there’s no real point, this is what I call rant pant rambles, sometimes it’s nice just to write what ever is on your mind, after my coffee I relaxed fighting the urge for a possible wake n bake (something I DO NOT do that often, especially nowadays), I ended up feeling today needed to go in that direction, I have been working so hard lately on focusing on all that I want to develop and create in my life right now, I need a day just to relax in my little nest all day, eat fruit, drink tea, smoke billies, and just create, draw, write, read, listen to music, plan, organise... I am so fortunate to be able to have a roof over my head right now and for all the things that have been becoming a part of my life lately... to have the time and money to obtain and do these things is a blessing, I try to always be appreciative of all that I have at my finger tips, from hot water in the pipes to gas in the car, to the technology I type and communicate with and utilise for all the things I am trying to manifest right now. Time, time is energy and energy is money, a game I don’t agree with, money, what a concept hey... that’s a whole other ramble, oh golly, I now must listen to Ramblin’ Rose by Chuck Berry after this current tune which is just now drowning out to a close, uno momento, ahhh there we go, in come the brass, the drums, the keys, and vocals n’ guitar of our late Chuck, sing it brother, I have this tune on vinyl in a storage locker but yet here I sit with only a few seconds past with a few taps of the finger and here plays a tune with no wires connected to the waterproof portable speaker next to me. Modern Technology has changed human life forever...

Rain is gently starting to fall outside, it’s a chilly day, my fingers a cold as they along with my head are the only parts of my extremities that are exposed direct to the air right now, the storm is due in the next 2 hours, should probably close my window.

I stretch daily, a combination of general stretches, yoga, tai chi, and low impact callisthenics and/or pilates. I just call it “stretching” though AH HA. It is just insane how much stretching daily has aided getting my body back, I feel so good after a stretch, I usually do 20-45 minutes daily, I try to focus on all areas with my routine but make it different everyday so I don’t get bored or have it feel like a repetitive mundane daily chore, ya know, keep it fresh and different, routine is good but too much consistency can lead to dissatisfaction and restlessness.

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