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rahuratna · 2 months ago

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Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most.

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars.

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times.

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

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neteyamssock · 28 days ago

Text

🧸ྀི 𝓲 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ྀི 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: neteyam x fem!metkayina!reader

ྀི 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: neteyam wants to know why you dislike him so much.

ྀི 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 2k

ྀི 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦: misunderstanding, sfw, miscommunication, etc.

➻ a/n: wrote this while eating breakfast and its unedited. i hate it lmao.

text divider credits to @/cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

“She's so loud, does she think everyone is deaf?”

Neteyam watches you kick Ao’nung as you whine about your stolen prey, going as far as throwing stones into his direction. Frankly speaking, Neteyam finds you extremely immature and childish, even more so than Tuk.

Lo’ak snickered on his side, tossing a piece of shattered shell in the water and watched it disappear. “You’re the only one that kept complaining about her, bro. People here don't seem to mind.”

Neteyam sneered, picking up a shell beside and observing it as he spoke. “I’m sure they're just putting up with her because they cannot get rid of her.”

Lo’ak looked at his brother with amusement. Neteyam’s one sided beef with you is something none of the family expected, but he finds it interesting to see how his brother crumbles into self doubt when someone finally doesn't look at him like a god. “you’re just saying that because she doesn't like you like everybody else. you’re not used to being disregarded.”

He said it in a joking tone, but it only fanned the flames inside Neteyam. That is in fact one of the reasons why he came to dislike you very much aside from the fact that you're polar opposites. It was because right from the start, you never once showed any cordiality with him.

When the Sullys came into awa’atlu, as Tsireya and Ao’nung’s paternal cousin, you also tagged along in helping them learn the way of the water. At first, Neteyam finds you extremely interesting, like a breath of fresh air, but as time goes by and your treatment of him never changes, he also begins to resent you for it.

He’s not used to it. Just like Lo’ak said. All his life, he had done everything to please his family and the Omatikaya People, and even when they came to Awa’atlu, he had done his best in making everyone like him.

You're just one tough rock that he cannot crack no matter what he does. Smiles don't cut it. Fishes don't do it either. Pretty shells collected are a lot more mediocre than yours. He totally cannot figure you out. You seem to dislike him very much, going as far as pretending he doesn't exist. He was unprepared for it, a total disregard from someone he wanted to be close to from the very start.

“If I were you bro? I would talk to her about it and clear shit up rather than sulking everyday.” Lo’ak patted Neteyam’s shoulder as he stood up, ready to meet Tsireya half way as she walked back to the shore.

“what is there to talk about anyway?” Neteyam grumbled to himself, flicking the shells away in annoyance. Lo’ak just shrugged and walked away, totally enjoying seeing his perfect brother in dilemma.

The oldest sully once again looked at you as you play with Tuk and Kiri, seeing how happy you were with his sisters. Deep inside, he also knew why everyone loves you. Despite your loud mouth, you are always sincere. You always mean what you speak, and people appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness, well except for neteyam.

your questionable behavior directed towards him is getting on his nerves. he's at the end of his patience with you, but his self control is holding him back from erupting and asking what the hell is wrong with you.

days passed and the day for the bonfire communal feast arrived. neteyam had heard from his siblings that you and Tsireya are to dance and sing to eywa in celebration for the excellent results of the hunt done yesterday.

neteyam had never heard you sing, nor seen you dance. he never thought you could do those things, but based on his siblings' words, you're quite good and proficient. Tuk says your voice reminds her of eywa's gentle guidance, and your body as the ocean waves.

it's just another reminder that he never really knew you, that you built a wall around you to solely keep him out. that you could be free in front of his siblings but would be hard as a rock in front of him. how can you be so cruel?

"there's never gonna be any progress if you just sulk and sulk and sulk everyday. you have to understand that not everyone is obligated to like you."

neteyam glanced at his sister, bitterness in his tongue. "yea, real helpful sister."

"whatever," kiri rolled her eyes and focused on the kava in her hand, paying no attention to the distraught neteyam beside her.

when the tempo of the music changed and the people parted to reveal you and tsireya in the middle, neteyam felt his breath stolen away by your beauty. you are stunning, that he knew from the very start. he never expected to see you even more beautiful. you make him go crazy inside and he didn't even know why. no matter how you ignore him, he cannot do the same to you. you're always clouding his mind, making him sleepless every eclipse.

neteyam knew that he's being obvious by not taking his eyes off you the entire performance, he knew that his mother are looking at him every time his breath hitch like he couldn't breath, he knew that kiri is laughing at him, but he just cannot stop looking at you.

so when the time to dance with other members of the clan came, he didn't hesitate to stand up and walk towards you in hopes that he'd catch you and ask you for at least one dance.

"can i ask for a dance?" he asked, breathless and hopeful as he looked towards you.

he saw you hesitate, and his newfound confidence shattered. his lips trembled until you took his hand and murmured. "...just once."

Tsireya looked at Neteyam’s yearning look directed at you and giggled to herself. Lo’ak also saw his face and snickered. “he totally has a crush on her! he’s just mad she doesn't pay attention to him.”

The younger metkayina girl’s eyes widened. Then, she quickly accepted it. It's not like she hadn't noticed that tension between you and Neteyam. She thought both of you will figure it out yourselves that's why she didn't interfere at all, but turns out both of you are dense enough that you're still not confronting each other about what you feel.

She looked at you and decided to finally help you out. Turning to her beloved, she said. “Sister does not dislike Neteyam. She's just like that to everyone she likes.”

It was Lo’ak’s turn to be wide-eyed. “No shit? Really?! I mean she never gave him a good look y'know? Totally acting like he doesn't exist…”

Tsireya pulled Lo’ak to sit with her in the sand. “Sister does not know how to deal with her feelings properly. When we were children, she once liked a boy from another clan that visited awa’atlu. He played with us all the time and really liked sister. But since she didn't know what to do, she accidentally made him cry before he and his family were about to leave. When the eclipse came, she cried so hard that it became everyone's favorite story to talk about during communal feasts.”

Lo’ak laughed but then slowly turned melancholic. Somehow, he relates to you. Often misunderstood because you cannot express yourself correctly, and it drives you to keep your thoughts on your own even more. “That’s sad… my brother… My brother is not really the one to pursue feelings. Back in the forest most of the girls our age liked him, some he was interested in, but really didn't bother doing something for it. He’s too busy taking care of us and training to be a good warrior. I don't know if he and your sister can even work it out at this point,”

Tsireya hummed, looking at you and to Neteyam every few seconds, before an idea formed in her mind. “I know exactly what to do!”

Lo’ak looked at his beloved’s bright face and can only pray for his brother’s well-being.

sitting down after dancing with neteyam, you friend immediately sat beside you with a grin. "how does it feel to dance with your beloved?"

you rolled your eyes despite the racing of your heart. you cannot admit that you almost sang in joy when neteyam asked for a dance. you didn't even know what happened during the dance as you just gone blank. he might have thought you were uninterested as he left right after the first dance finished. although you felt at loss, you acted like nothing and continued dancing with others.

seeing you like this, your friend teased you even further. “why don't you just go and proclaim your intentions, hmm? that you want to mate with ne—”

you covered your friend's mouth, scared that someone might hear. "be quiet will you! what if someone hear?"

your friend shrugged, "then you'd probably be forced to confront your feelings and then there would be celebration for your uni---"

"impossible," you cut her off. "we are never possible right from the very beginning. he's from the forest, i'm from the ocean."

"so what? you are both na'vi and obviously liked each other."

you sneered. like you? impossible. why would someone as perfect as neteyam like you?

he's the most perfect na'vi you have ever seen. a skilled warrior, with kind and loyal heart, and would do everything for his beloved family. he's the son of Toruk Makto, admired and well-liked. you? you're just a daughter of a warrior, a niece to the olo-eyktan of the metkayina. you have no real status, no great skills like neteyam.

you do not deserve him. "eywa knows that's not true, sister. eywa knows."

Walking into the lush greeneries of the island, you wonder where your friends are. Tsireya said she wanted everyone to gather in your secret place and play the demon’s game Truth or Dare. Although you detest sky demons, it didn't diminish your curiosity for their creations.

So against your better judgment, you still came when the eclipse started. Thankfully, you know your way in quite well and didn't get lost in your trek to the heart of the island.

As you went further, you began to notice the lack of noise your friends usually make. Lo’ak should be laughing boisterously by now, Tuk screaming, and Kiri wandering around. But no matter how you strain your ears, you don't hear any familiar noises.

So when you reached the hut where you and your friends planned to stay, you were shocked to see only Neteyam inside, seemingly waiting for everyone to show up.

Your feet froze and you cannot stop your heart from racing, hammering against your chest making you gasp for breath. Your heavy breathing was quickly noticed by Neteyam who was also surprised to see you.

The gears in your head turned and you already knew what your friends were doing. It must be Tsireya, who always can see through you and your thoughts. She must’ve conspired with everyone to deceive you and Neteyam.

Without thinking things through, you turned around and walked back to where you came from, but before you could even take a few steps, a hand forcefully held you back.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“But shouldn't we wait for the others?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your arm out of his grip. “Don’t you understand? They set us up for their own amusement. Now, if you can please let me go. I can't be alone with you right now. I swear to Eywa I will feed that girl to an akula—”

“Why can’t you be alone with me? Do you hate me that much?!”

“What’s your problem?!” You glared at him when he pulled you again, his fingers digging into your shoulder.

“No, what is YOUR problem?!” He looked at you sharply, trying to mask the hurt he felt inside when he heard your words. He had always known you don't like him, but to hear you imply yourself definitely hurts the most. Shaking his head, he continued. “Y’know what? Perhaps this is the time we finally talk. So tell me now, ocean girl! What the hell is your problem with me!”

You let out an unbelievable huff, feeling ridiculous as you shouted back. “Me?! It’s you always shooting daggers at me every time we meet! Why is that my fault?!”

“Because you treat me like shit!”

Both you and Neteyam froze with his outburst. He looked rather regretful for allowing himself to be vulnerable, especially in front of you. His self control is crumbling away.

“I do not treat you like shit! Don’t make things up!”

“Oh yeah, right! Maybe you don't treat me like shit because you treat me like I don’t exist! Don’t act like you don't ignore me all the time, as if it's a great burden for you to even pay me any attention. I’m tired of your shit! So tell me, what is your problem, ocean girl, so we can finally end this farce!”

With mouth agape, you stared wide-eyed at Neteyam. You have never seen him this angry before. Most of the time he’s mellow and polite, always greeting you every time you hang out with his siblings. It's only recently that he had somehow changed, always glaring at you, shooting daggers at you every time you passed by.

You tried to explain but you cannot find the right words. Looking at you like this, it only solidified Neteyam’s belief. The hurt in his eyes was palpable, so he looked away. He can't let you see him so affected by you. His pride is the only thing he can cling to right now, as you have stripped away everything from him.

“What? Couldn't speak? Did I hit the mark, ocean girl?

You gasp, chest heaving so fast as your heart rammed against your ribs. You cannot look into his eyes, too afraid to let him see the feelings you are trying so hard to avoid. “...I-I don’t dislike you, I-I—”

“Liar! You can't even look me in the eye! Tell me the truth!”

“I-I don't want to!”

“Well guess what, you cannot leave this island without telling the truth. Tell me, and I’ll let you go.” His tone has mellowed, a hint of begging in his voice. His grip on your shoulder was tight, it was hurting you but you cannot ignore the voice in your head that urges you to just tell everything and end this ridiculous argument.

“tell me, how can make you like me?"

your heart skipped a beat, processing his words. like him? you already like him so much that it hurts. how can he ask you that?

seeing you silenced, Neteyam’s chest constricted. His eyes stung, but he tried so hard to never let you notice. He cannot crumble in front of you. He doesn't want you to have the satisfaction. He wanted to hear you say that you hate him. That you detest him. That you cannot stand the thought of being with him. So it would destroy him silently, and he can finally rebuild himself piece by piece.

“Tell me!”

“I hate you because I love you!”

“Bull—”

Neteyam paused, eyes wide as he looked at you in disbelief. Your tears finally fell like waterfall as your knees gave away and you sobbed into the ground. You finally said it. The reason why you cannot sleep at night. The reason you tried so hard to avoid Neteyam in fear that he’ll see through you, that he’d be disgusted with your feelings with him. You tried to mask your love as dislike to protect your heart, because you know if you give in you’d just be shattered. You know well how this would end. He would never be yours.

“I-I hate you so much, Neteyam! For making me feel this w-way! I hate you for changing my life and making me c-confused! I hate you for making me fall for you!”

“W-What—”

You stood up without waiting for his reply. With all your strength, you ran away from Neteyam. You didn't care if your feet were hurting, and when you bumped into someone you didn't look at who it was. All you wanted was to leave this place and never see Neteyam again.

Lo’ak looked at your disappearing back and patted his brother's shoulder. Neteyam was still standing like a statue, in shock, staring at the direction you had escaped to.

“Cat’s finally out of the bag, huh. Took you guys long enough. Congrats bro, you finally confessed to your cru—”

Before Lo’ak could even finish his words, Neteyam took off like his tail’s on fire, running after you with a huge triumphant grin on his face. Tsireya and Lo’ak looked at each other and laughed, proud of their successful plan.

“Looks like I won this bet. Kiri better pays up!”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #atwow #avatar the way of water #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x metkayina!reader #oneshot #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar neteyam #avatar james cameron #lo'ak x tsireya #kiri #neytiri #jake sully #james cameron avatar #avatar 2009 #neteyam x na'vi!reader

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dairy-farmer · 6 months ago

Note

Dick and Jason run afoul of some sort of universe swapping plot device. The timing is really poor.

See, Tim’s heat is due, well, tonight. And since Jason’s rut always starts a day after Tim’s heat, and Dick’s rut comes a day or two after that, the three of them have come to an arrangement. One where Jason and Dick spend the better part of a week and a half fucking Tim’s brains out well past the point where he cannot walk.

So they make a beeline to Tim’s nest. Either he’ll be smart enough to figure out how to get everyone back home before their cycles hit, or maybe they can fill in for the original Jason and Dick for Tim’s heat.

Except they get there and notice that something’s different. Tim’s not an omega. Tim’s not… anything. They quickly realize that this world doesn’t have designations. Tim’s heat’s not coming but their rut sure is.

Some quick explanation and Tim offers to help them out. It’s either that or try to explain the whole knotting thing to some sex workers, and nobody wants that. And Tim has been quietly lusting after his Dick and Jason for ages, so if he can’t have them at least he can have a different version of them.

Jason and Dick are happy to fuck any version of Tim. They unfortunately weren’t the first ones to knot their Tim, but this Tim has definitely never had a knot in his cunt before.

Tim was…unprepared for how big their knots were going to be. It takes a lot of stretching but they eventually make it work. It’s not painful, but honestly he would’ve been fine without it. And the amount of come… he could’ve almost drowned in it. He’s ecstatic with the rest of the sex though, and the amount of attention and care plied on him.

…

Human Dick and Jason have the same idea as their alpha counterparts, at least about going to Tim’s nest. They don’t have the right receptors so they can’t smell the heat scent Tim’s nest is saturated in. They do find their cocks stirring a bit from the unnoticed hormones, but they both have gotten used to suppressing their desire for Tim.

What they’re not used to though, is a naked, panting, needy Tim jumping them as soon as they get inside, pawing at them to get their clothes off. At first they think it’s pollen, but Tim’s heat is just getting going so he’s able to explain enough that Dick can quick look into this whole strange reproductive cycle thing on Tim’s computer.

And when Jason and Dick realize exactly what Tim is eagerly asking for, what he needs from them, well they can’t exactly say no. And they’ve wanted their Tim for so long but he’s never shown any interest in them so this might be their only chance. He’s flushed and needy and whining for their cocks. They never thought they’d ever see Tim like this.

They can’t knot Tim like he’s used too, but Dick’s always had a short refractory period, and the Pit has done the same to Jason-as well as make him come a lot. With their lack of knots they can both have him at the same time. When Tim’s really sobbing for a knot, they have to pump him full and plug him up-with toys, with heat aids, with their fists. It’s an amazing sight. Even so, they can barely keep up with Tim’s needs. They love it even though it’s exhausting, and a little chafing.

…

When the heat and their ruts are over, and everyone gets back to their own universes probably via a Tim built plot device, human Tim has a lot harder time keeping his desires and his blushes hidden. And now that Jason and Dick have finally had a taste of Timmy’s sweet sweet pussy, they’re not going to let him hide away any longer.

Meanwhile, the alphas are a little put out that their omega had to rely on someone else for his heat. Sure, he was sort of technically fucked by them, but THEY weren’t the ones doing it. They decide they need to remind Timmy who he belongs to. They drowned human Tim in their come so it’s time to do the same to their omega.

universe swap with an omegaverse would be WILD- jason and dick realizing humans have entirely different biology in that universe but its not enough to put them off from fucking tim ❤️❤️❤️!!!

then the omegaverse versions of themselves fucking tim in a way that he will literally never be able to replicate and even giving him some new kinks❤️❤️❤️!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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brabblesblog · 11 months ago

Text

Ch 7: And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

It is the day of the party, and Astarion slowly begins to find the side of himself he’s long hidden slipping out. Ban is all too happy to help.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The party was about to start.

Ban had yet to show up to the ballroom, and Astarion felt himself getting impatient. As he waited, his mind drifted back to earlier in the day, when she’d arrived in the carriage he’d sent for her, dressed in the simplest clothes he’d seen her wear in a while.

Without his input, she had shifted back to her old wardrobe, dressing down and picking more utilitarian styles, even in public. When he’d welcomed her into the palace, he hadn’t been able to help but curl his lip at her choice in clothing.

“My love. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable? Your clothes are right where you left them.” One glance at her face shut him up and ended that line of inquiry.

He wanted to hover over her, follow her around the grounds to see her reaction to the gardens and the other finished rooms as she walked through them. The palace had been her pet project for so long that he was quite sure that as much as she claimed to hate it, there was some affection there. However he held back, instead walking with her to their former bedroom.

“You are, of course, free to roam the grounds. You could take a walk in the gardens. The flowers are in full bloom.” He made no offer to join her.

She opened the door and headed inside, then blinked in surprise.

Is that…?

Yes. It was.

That ragged, dirty blanket he’d dragged along throughout their adventure. She hadn’t seen it since…

Since he’d ascended.

It was now laying on the floor of the bedroom, along with a pillow. It was cleaner now, having been washed at least, but it was definitely the same blanket, down to that small tear on the corner.

Before she could speak, Astarion walked in briskly and turned to face her, hiding the view of the blanket behind his legs.

“I’ll have your tea and lunch served wherever in the palace you wish to dine. Simply ask anyone, and they will provide. I will personally be overseeing the preparations for tonight, but I shall be in the dining room at noon. You’re welcome to join me.” The words came out in a nervous rush.

Ban bit the inside of her cheek, weighing her next move. She took a step forward and closed her eyes briefly. Just a quick test, she told herself. Her hand reached out before she could think too much, taking Astarion’s hand in her own.

His first instinct was to flinch. He braced, fully expecting to hear the loud bang that would accompany his body being flung away again, but it didn't happen. His eyes widened, meeting Ban’s as she opened hers.

“Just testing it,” she said, “Wouldn’t want to go to the ball unprepared and have you flying in front of everyone. That would be humiliating.”

He managed to muster enough presence of mind to nod, but hadn’t said much else. She touched me. He looked at his hand in hers, feeling her palm. She turned her hand to lay on top of his, her fingers finding his pulse.

His heart was racing. He couldn’t hide it from her, just like he couldn’t hide the blanket on the floor, or his desperate, pitiful need for her. He was frozen, a war raging in his head. The Ascendant wanted to grab her, kiss her, take her, but Astarion - her Astarion - won out.

He cleared his throat. “Does this mean that the spell is gone? I can touch you?” He heard the nervous lilt in his voice, but he couldn’t keep it out.

“Yes, but I can bring it back up the moment I want to.”

Their hands were still linked, her fingers still feeling his pulse. Before he’d ascended, she had always liked listening to his heart, at the way it sped up, just for her.

He covered her hand with his, sandwiching it between his palms. She had derailed his train of thought yet again. He had been planning to be his usual self today, but she had wormed her way through the chinks in his armor with one simple gesture.

She had touched him willingly. And then she’d held his heart in her hand. He despised it, but at the same time also reveled in it.

Ban saw it, how his gaze went from their joined hands to her face again, his eyes round and wide. It was a look she hadn’t seen often since his ascension and it melted her traitorous heart. She decided to give him a little break from the intimacy, an out so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed and lash out.

“Is the offer of better clothes still available? I think I wouldn’t mind roaming the gardens for a little bit.”

He relaxed, content to slip his mask back on again. That had felt a little too raw. “Of course. I have made some alterations to the clothes you left here, pet. I hope you don’t mind.”

He reached for the nearby closet, opening the door and taking out one of her old outfits without even looking. It was the most recent piece he’d added embroidery to in his free time. He held it out for her to see.

The backless extravaganza, the vendor had called it. They both remembered purchasing it when they’d first made it to Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had wanted to steal it for her, but she’d made him purchase it instead. The memory made him smile wistfully.

“Just buy it,” she said, laughing. “Or else I’m not wearing it.”

He scowled. “Darling. You know the coin I’m buying it with is stolen, right? What difference would it make?”

“I like the idea of you parting with your coin for me.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully, and just like that, he reached for his coin purse.

“I hate you,” he mumbled as he paid.

Releasing the memory, Astarion raised the pant section of the outfit. The right leg now had roses embroidered on it. Ban took it from Astarion’s hands, holding the work closer to her face. She’d known he enjoyed embroidering, and had seen it on his clothes and underwear before, but she had never seen him engage in it since the rite.

It was beautiful, and she didn’t mind saying so. “You do very fine work,” she said, her hands reverent as they ran over the flowers. “Thank you.”

If only he had done this type of thing before she’d left. But it was too late for that now.

The side of his lip curled up in a half-smile. “I had some time on my hands,” he said simply. That, and too many things to forget.

As Ban moved to put the outfit on the bed, she walked past Astarion and saw the blanket again. Carefully she leaned down, picking it up along with the pillow. He almost protested, but stopped as she placed them on the bed along with her outfit.

“The floor never did wonders for your back, Astarion.”

His eyes darkened a little, feeling a bit cornered by the path the conversation had taken. He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off.

“The pretty thing I brought home last night wanted to sleep over, so I let him kip out on the floor.”

Considering that the bed was pristine and not slept in, Ban highly doubted that but merely nodded. The Ascendant straightened up.

“Well.” He clapped his hands together once. “I shall be off, then. I hope to see you at lunch.”

As he turned to leave, Ban gripped his wrist. The touch made him shiver involuntarily, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

She leaned in, smiled, and kissed his cheek - his reward for behaving relatively nicely today.

It was a quick, chaste move, but Astarion felt like he might swoon. He mastered himself swiftly and looked at her with a smirk.

“What was that for, my treasure?” His voice oozed with false, playful innocence, as he attempted to sexualize the moment in order to process it. He could not even begin to think about it in other terms without falling apart.

“Just a taste, my lord, of things to come your way if you behave.”

The Ascendant bristled. How dare she dangle herself and her affection in front of him like that! He deserves it - is even possibly entitled to it. But he knew that if he pushed back, she'd just bring her wards up and he wouldn’t be able to touch her again. He would probably rather die than have that occur.

The spawn deep inside him also knew it was a sign of trust from her. The fact that she had touched his hand and kissed his cheek of her own volition could be the first step in winning her back, and he wasn’t about to squander that.

“I’ll play along if it’s worth the reward.” He deftly maneuvered himself so that he was leaning over her, invading her space, a subtle but unmissable attempt to shift the tide of power his way. “What… can I expect to receive?” He trailed a finger over Ban’s shoulder to her collarbone.

“You’ll have to find out when you earn it,” she said simply, meeting his gaze head on. She no longer cowered or bowed to the Ascendant’s will, and to his surprise, he found that resistance overwhelmingly attractive.

His eyes locked onto her lips for one second, letting her know exactly what he was thinking. Then he pulled away. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

He’d been perusing paperwork at the dining table when she finally walked in. Astarion immediately put the parchment down and let his eyes roam over her body, taking in the sight of her in the skintight outfit. Every muscle and curve was very much defined with little left to the imagination, which was exactly why he had wanted to steal the ensemble for her in the first place.

He aimed to say something a little sexy and teasing, but ended up being sincere. “You look beautiful.”

She beamed at him, a smile that instantly made him feel a little too pliant and soft. He stood to pull a chair out for her, much like he’d done when they’d still lived together.

She sighed as she sat. “The gardens are amazing. Exactly how I imagined them to be.” Ban looked a little rueful, and Astarion took that moment and decided to press his advantage.

“They’re still missing something,” he mused, keeping his tone light as his fingers snapped together and the servants quickly served Ban her lunch and tea. “This whole palace is missing something.”

She laughed, a sound he realized he would willingly lay down his life to hear again. “Before you say it’s missing me, Astarion, do know that I am extremely aware of when you’re fibbing.”

“Flattering you isn’t exactly lying, Ban,” he corrected, “I merely say what I perceive to be the truth.” He picked up his fork and began to eat his lunch, an appetizer of fresh salad as his first course. “The Crimson Palace does miss its mistress. It needs your touch to be a home again.”

He offered her a small grin, but it was less teasing and more pleasant than the ones he’d thrown her way in recent memory. He’d slipped last time, told her he missed her, and he was trying not to have that happen again. This new, unflinching resistance to his will both vexed and enamored the Ascendant, so much so that he found himself willing to do almost anything to have her back. He wouldn’t concede to letting the spawn inside him free rein, but he was more than willing to make concessions. Instead, he decided to take measured risks, allowing himself bit by little bit of vulnerability.

She looked around the room, in no hurry to settle in to eat her own salad. Although the taste of mortal food was flavorless and unfulfilling, it wasn’t repulsive and she did occasionally indulge, just to keep some sense of normalcy. But she didn’t look forward to it, either. Her observations turned up no significant changes to the room. The table was still too big for the two of them, but it didn’t feel as isolating as it used to.

Astarion watched her begrudgingly begin to eat, then frowned. “I have an idea,” he said. He’d been doing an awful amount of thinking in her absence.

He tapped his temple, a quick indication of what he was about to do, then reached for her mind. As she let him in, he took a bite of his own meal, letting her perceive what he could taste as he ate.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and not just because he'd thought of doing this when it had not even occurred to her; but because of why he was doing it. Something to think on later. For now, she chose to enjoy the moment, eating her salad and letting his taste buds do the work for her.

With her salad quickly finished, she severed the mental link. He paused, the sudden emptiness in his mind a little unpleasant, but he didn’t react. He looked over to her and was surprised to see something he hadn’t seen in ages - affection. It had been so long he almost didn't even recognize it.

“Thank you,” she said, for the second time today. It was almost odd for Ban to be doing so. Their relationship had taken such a horrible turn that every single favor each did for the other had been balanced and counterbalanced on a scale of favors and resentment. This was… refreshing. And sure, there was the promise of something at the end of it all, but really - Ban knew she’d end up with Astarion deep inside her anyway; she knew he knew this too. And so all these favors he’d been doing felt all the more sweet, especially since both the embroidery and the food tasting idea were obviously not off the cuff things.

Astarion offered her a crooked, goofy smile in response, for a moment utterly disarmed by her. That smile, the one she had only ever seen when he was still her Astarion, erased all sense of control she had; she leaned closer to put a hand on his knee.

The contact made him freeze, and immediately he waved a hand at the staff waiting nearby, a gesture that told them to clear the room. He turned to her, the smile turning into a more predatory grin.

“Have I behaved enough then, Ban?”

She silently scanned his face, then picked up her goblet and downed her actual lunch - fresh blood. Her tea remained untouched.

“The day isn’t quite finished yet. However, I’m sure a small aperitif wouldn’t go amiss.”

With her impressive strength, she turned Astarion’s chair towards hers. He was taken off guard. Months of having her acquiesce to his every whim and seeing her do little more than lounge around the house had made him forget just how strong his consort was. His breath caught in his throat, and he was stunned for a moment, unsure if he wanted to fight her or if he wanted to fuck her. He thought it was probably both.

His hands wrapped around each arm of the chair, as if he was holding on for dear life. She saw this and knew she’d won this round. Ban stood, parting his legs with her thigh, moving in close and leaning down to kiss him roughly.

With his head tipped back to accommodate her lips, Astarion groaned weakly when their tongues made contact. It had been so, so long. His cock began to harden, and he couldn't help the jerk of his hips, rubbing himself on her thigh. Immediately she drew her leg away, stepping back, and he growled at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be bad and ruin this, Astarion. Remember - I can end this the very moment I decide you’ve gone too far.”

The reminder was enough to cow the Ascendant, much to his shock. On a surface level, he thought he should fight back - this was not how things usually went for him. In fact, this had never happened, save for the times when he’d been forced to endure it for some of Cazador’s victims. But deeper within him, he felt an odd sense of ease - that he wouldn’t have to think or decide how to go about this, that Ban could and would guide him through it all.

A rather belated moment of clarity hit him then. Had he allowed her to have him like this back then, had he offered her his submission, shown her vulnerability in at least one area, their love might have not become so barren. She might never have left in the first place.

He forced his hips to still, staring up at her as she broke their kiss. That cocksure look in her eyes made his own cock throb, and he bit back the moan that was about to escape him. Ban saw him bite his lip and snickered. Before she proceeded, however, she leaned in, her expression shifting to one of concern. When they’d lived together they had made love every night and they had indulged in similar play, but the roles had been switched. She tried her best to do what he’d done for her back then, even though she hadn’t exactly appreciated it at the time.

“Are you amenable to this, Astarion? I need to know, or we can’t proceed.”

He understood the question, understood that she wasn't asking if his ego could take it. She was asking if he could handle it.

He gave her a nod. “I’m sure. To be honest, darling, I’ve barely experienced it this way. But better you than anyone else.”

Darling. Ban was pleased. He almost never used her old nickname, not if the Ascendant could get away with using pet, or treasure.

She nodded, then continued, “We need a surefire way for you to tell me when you’ve had enough. Shall we use the word I used before?”

Another nod from him and she was satisfied. Wordlessly she spread his thighs further apart with her hands, then knelt in the space between them.

Astarion looked down at her, his shirt suddenly feeling too hot and constricting, his cock fighting against the cloth of his trousers.

The only sound that came from his mouth was a broken groan, and she laughed again. The sight of him like this - legs spread and pliant, cock throbbing, waiting for her next move - it was something she thought she'd remember for eternity.

Ban moved forward, getting up on one knee to mouth at his jawline, tracing sloppy kisses down to his Adam's apple then to his collarbone. He shifted his torso closer to her, giving her access. The scent of bergamot filled her nose and she inhaled deeply; he had always smelled like home.

“Be a sweetheart and keep your hands on the chair.”

Astarion was only able to nod yet again, as her hands found the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them. There really wasn’t much thought left in him, just her. Her presence, her hands stripping his clothes off, and that almost painful pulsing in his cock.

She finished undoing all the buttons and paused to admire her handiwork. “Beautiful,” she breathed, “I’ve wanted to do this since the fitting, Astarion. I won’t hide behind false words and bravado like you do. I missed you.”

His eyes locked on hers. He wanted to say it back, but the walls were still there. Instead, the Ascendant whined. It was a desperate, undignified sound, but he preferred to show her his lust rather than the contents of his heart.

That low whine sounded like music to Ban. She ran a hand down his chest, down to his abs, and then lower, wrapping her fingers around the outline of his cock. He gasped, his hips fighting the urge to buck, his body trembling with the sheer effort of it.

Ban rubbed him through his trousers, and she felt dampness where his tip was, an obvious sign of how much he was aching for her. She flicked her eyes up to his face, and the look of wanton desire and need on it was almost too much.

“Do you want me to suck you, my lord?” She teased. She squeezed a little roughly, eliciting another sweet groan from his throat.

“Yes.” The word came out in a hiss as he fought down his instinct to push back and reassert dominance.

“Repeat after me, then. ‘Ban, my love, please suck my cock’,” she said, still stroking him slowly, thoroughly enjoying the sight of him so desperately needy for her. She was wet too, but she could attend to her own needs later. Besides, this was only the start.

“Ban… my love. Please. Suck my cock.” He gritted out through clenched teeth. He found that it was getting easier and easier to relinquish control as he parted his legs further and shifted forward on his chair.

“Very good.”

She moved to undo the buttons of his trousers, reaching in to free his aching cock. The first contact with the chilly air made Astarion hiss, his head already sensitive and still leaking. A bead of precum formed at the tip, and Ban watched it for a moment, then leaned forward to playfully lick it up. The salty, musky taste was almost too good to resist, and for a moment she fought the urge to take all of him in immediately, anticipation and games be damned.

“Ban,” he gasped out as her tongue made contact, his voice a little higher than it usually was. He had his pride; he wouldn’t ever beg unless she forced him to. But the way he said her name was more than satisfactory to her.

She chuckled darkly, looking at his face. She made a point to lock eyes with him as she finally opened her mouth and slipped him inside, inch by painstaking inch.

The sight of her, of his beloved, taking him in almost made him come on the spot. It had been in his fantasies ever since she’d left, but the reality was utterly different from his dreams and memories.

Before, he had fucked her mouth, grabbed her hair while he pumped into her throat. But now he daren’t even move, knowing that if she chose, this would end painfully and embarrassingly for him. All it would take would be for her to think of rescinding her consent and he’d go flying. So he held still, refusing to analyze why it felt so right to surrender to her, to let her rule over him like this.

“You’re thinking too much,” she said, pulling away for a moment. “Just enjoy it.”

He hesitated briefly, opening his mouth as if to reply, but she swallowed down his cock again and his words were lost to a loud, needy moan.

Ban sucked his cock the way she knew he liked best, her tongue running over that delectable vein at the top, and then sliding to put more focus on the tip. She could feel and taste him leaking still, his flavor filling her with want. But she knew she had to be patient.

Astarion throbbed in her mouth and whimpered again. The trembling of his body told her that he was getting close to losing control, and she stopped her ministrations. “You can’t come,” she said, “Not until later. Like I said, this is only a taste.”

He managed to glare at her, but there was little heat in it. He swallowed and then spoke. “Then I won’t.” He couldn’t help but challenge her a little, however, lips curling as he continued. “But I’m sure you won’t be able to resist yourself, pet. You’ll want me to come.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ever the brat, hm?” She playfully slapped a thigh. “Seems like you’re done playing, with that tone you just took.”

Ban pulled back, satisfied with her handiwork. Astarion’s ass was as far forward on the seat as possible, cock still rock hard and proudly jutting out from his hips. It was glistening, slick with her saliva, twitching at the loss of stimulation and the cold air rushing over it.

Astarion was still glaring at her, but he huffed in resignation. “Fine. I’ll…” he had to fight himself for a split second, “I’ll do better later, little love.”

Despite himself, he’d been enjoying her dominion over him immensely. As she pulled away, he exhaled roughly, knowing by her gaze that he had little choice but to wait. He wrapped a hand around his cock, feeling its velvety length throb in his grasp. He was momentarily tempted to just come this way, but he knew that if he waited, the reward would be all the sweeter. So instead he tucked himself in, buttoning up his trousers, realizing he didn’t really mind having to wait.

Ban watched this with dark amusement. “I finished my lunch,” she said, showing him her empty goblet. “But I wouldn’t mind tasting more food again, if you don’t mind.”

Astarion smiled. He didn’t mind at all. This, he could easily give her. As he buttoned up his shirt and called for the next course, they linked minds.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence, the sharing of sensations taking precedence over anything else. Astarion made sure to chew slowly, savoring each morsel for her.

And if she could also read his deeper thoughts? If she could read how much he’d enjoyed having her take control and dismantle his ego?

Maybe he didn’t mind that very much, either.

Tonight could prove eventful if he could keep his wits about him, and he swore to all the gods that he would. He couldn’t afford not to.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Astarion watched as the guests started mingling and the wine started to flow. The Vampire Ascendant, dressed in his blood-red suit, stood away from everyone, near the ballroom door, waiting for his beloved.

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mentalnote1 · 26 days ago

Text

Haunted House ~ Poe~ Es~Story

The floors creaked and the halls reeked of many things

And this house knew just what hell this dark could really bring

Drunken silhouettes lined the walls staring blameless straight ahead

Mouthing bad words backwards of everything this house has said

Toy clowns make sounds that only this house could hear

The little girl who lived inside knew

But the others were unaware

Because her eyes saw thing they didn’t

Then the image would disappear

Mom, dad and little girl walked quietly down the halls

Shadows stared pointing fingers

From behind these haunted walls

The air is cold

The wind is strong

Inside this haunted house

The little girl heard every word

But to the visitors

This house stood quiet as a mouse

Mummified tombs

And vacant rooms

Consumed this haunted house

The stench became stronger

Straight from its haunted mouth

And when she tried to warn others that things were not all clear

They looked at her

Patted her head

And brushed her off as weird

The things the walls would tell her

They often cried out loud

She covered her ears

Shook her head real hard

The words were not for a child

I knew the house was black

But the visitors would say…

What a pretty color blue

I looked at them with tainted thoughts

And just pretended everyone else knew

The things this house would tell me

So shaken by its pain

As I got older

I started to believe everyone but me was sane

I looked at visitors with squinted eyes

Paranoid by their smiles

I made mental notes of each visitor

And planted them in my haunted files

Their evil grins confused me

Like actors, I watched them take their place

While some blended with the walls

It was hard to hide their face

I told this house to leave me

And stop talking in my ear

No matter how hard I tried

The walls I could still hear

We moved and I was so happy

But the walls were still the same

The haunted house had followed me

And I was unprepared for these fucking games

I met the next door neighbor

A boy about my age

I seen the faces peer at me

Beyond his twisted rage

He had something trapped

He held it close

He kept it in a cage

I knew I had to be dreaming

Please turn this FuCking page!!

I asked him what it was

He said his haunted house

But there was nothing in that cage

But just a simple mouse

I couldn’t make him see

What he believed was really there

I looked at him

Shook my head

And brushed him off as weird

We look from different lenses

And it’s hard to find the truth

After meeting this boy

I knew it was time

To do some construction on this haunted roof

It’s frightening to believe that

I was my haunted house

I silenced the walls

They cannot speak

I WROTE away its mouth

The sun could not penetrate these dark and hollow walls

I try not to answer even when the voices call

Now, the cries are still here

But muffled and not so clear

A lot of the things the house said to me

Was really hard to hear

The meds help tame the thoughts

And the voices from the walls

The house is not that scary

But really very small

The walls are really angry

I suppose because I'm FREE

I now know

That this haunted house

All along was really

ME!

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years ago

Text

Impeachment Part 1

Rick Grimes x plus size reader x Daryl Dixon

Alpha!Rick Grimes x omega!reader x Alpha!Daryl Dixon

Everything was gone and destroyed but she was still theirs

Warnings: this one’s angsty, death, presumed death of reader and unborn baby, walkers, past violence, pregnancy

WC: 3.3k

Minors DNI

The Trial

Michonne had gotten Carl to smile again and for that, Rick would be eternally grateful. It had been hard seeing the boy so heartbroken, he had already been through so much, lost so many people that the beautiful smile that looked so much like Rick’s only appeared on the rarest of occasions.

Daryl walked silently beside him, the joy radiating from the boy barely breaking through the huge wall of ice he had built between himself and everyone else and Rick knew why, it was the same reason he constantly had a pit in his stomach, an overwhelming sadness invading his soul. They hadn’t found her.

The change in her scent became prominent about one month after her heat had finished. It became more milky and flowery instead of the usual vanilla and with a quick exam done by Hershel, it was confirmed. She had been pupped. Daryl had hugged her tight and hadn’t let go for a solid four hours after she told him. Both alphas had stepped up and agreed to be the father of the baby, no matter who had sired them, though each had a secret hope that it was their own pup in her belly.

That night, Rick asked her to mark him. It was rare for an omega to claim their alpha but not entirely unheard of. “We are equal omega. We’re partners and I want to prove that.” The alphas let her take the lead. For the first time, they allowed her to ride them, to control the pace as she sank her teeth into their mating glands. It was perfect.

Everyone doted on her constantly, the anxiety from Lori’s unfortunate pregnancy rearing its ugly head once more. But with almost daily checkups and the best prenatal Daryl could scavenge, people settled down and the excitement of another pup became palpable. Y/N often had to escape back to her nest to get away from people who wouldn’t leave her alone. Carl or Judith went with her if her alphas were busy, the former being greatly excited at the prospect of being a big brother again, even if he didn’t outwardly show it.

Things were amazing until the sickness came. In a single night, an entire cell-block was dead and even more infected. She and Judith were immediately rushed into isolation, Carl begrudgingly staying by their side, even if he was chomping at the bit to help his father. Then, just as hope rekindled with Daryl finding the life-saving medicine, the Governor returned.

Through the madness of the firefight and waves upon waves of the undead, the pack was separated and presumed the others dead. Rick and Carl had found Michonne, then Daryl, then Terminus happened.

Terminus burned behind them as they walked through the woods, the sounds of the explosions still ringing in their ears. “It’s right here.” Daryl pointed out the place where they had hidden their guns before being captured, and quickly dug them up.

Rick wanted to go back, exterminate the rest of them, but looking at his pack, his resolve wavered. They all looked so tired, covered in walker guts and sweat, and they were completely unarmed and unprepared if that hoard decided to make its way back towards them. Part of him knew he was just angry he had let someone take advantage of him and they all nearly died as a result. He knew that he just wanted to go back and see if you had been there, if she was one of the unfortunate souls being lured into the trap of perceived safety.

Daryl could sense his distress, and knew they were both feeling the same thing. “We gotta stick together.” His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand over his face. “Fine, we just need to find shelter for the night, then we move on.” The creaking of branches behind them had Daryl whipping his head around, only to be met with the sight of the matriarchal omega awkwardly standing between the trees, his crossbow in her hand.

He ran at Carol, embracing the older omega as Rick walked up cautiously behind him. “Did you do that?” His southern twang is more prominent with the emotion of finding another pack member. She tearfully nodded and embraced the other alpha, he quietly spoke into her neck. “Thank you.” As they separated, she looked up at him, a small spark of joy lighting in her gray eyes. “You have to come with me.”

As the pack came over the hill, they were met with the sight of Tyresse walking out of a dilapidated cabin, baby Judith tucked safely in his arms. Rick immediately dropped his weapon, almost stumbling in his hurry to get to his daughter, Carl and Sasha following closely. The alpha pulled the pup from the beta’s grasp, almost collapsing to the ground with sheer relief.

He held both of his children close, vowing never to let them from his sight ever again. The pack watched on, small smiles coming over their faces at the reunion. However, a sour taste built up in the back of Daryl’s mouth. His omega would’ve never left Judith alone, she was her baby just as much as the one in her belly. “Where’s my omega?” He growled.

Carol’s smile dropped as her trembling fingers reached into her pocket. “I’m sorry, this was all I could find. It was outside the prison.” In the palm of her hand was the small friendship bracelet he had given to the younger woman when they were courting. The blue threads, picked out specifically because they matched his eyes, were dirty and covered in brown blood. The little sunflower charm which Rick had given her to put on it, was scratched up and also stained red.

Daryl felt his heart shatter in his chest. He fell to his knees, the bracelet clutched tightly to him as he howled in pain. She was gone, his omega dead, his pup dead. Rick’s head shot up, eyes widening as he felt the heartache through their bond. His brother was near hysterics, crumpled on the ground, the trail of tears creating clean tracks down his face.

It was jarring to see the normally stoic hunter display so much raw emotion. Carol tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders but he shook her off, snarling, his inner alpha telling him that she was going to take the last thing remaining of his omega. Everyone backed away from him while Carol lowered her head in submission, not wanting to upset him further.

A little chirp broke him from his grief. Rick knelt in front of him, hand on his shoulder as Judith reached out and touched Daryl’s face. Her big eyes seemed to stare into his soul as her chubby hand, still miraculously covered in baby fat, stroked his cheek. Rick tilted her forward so she could crawl into the archer’s strong arms, resting her head on his collarbone. The scent of milk and flowers comforted him, it was the same smell she had.

He could vividly remember being curled up with her in her nest, the late afternoon sunlight making everything warm and calm, her scent permeating his senses, making him forget the horrors of the world for just a moment. He held Judith tight to his chest, her breathing settling him. “She’s-“ His voice was broken, weak.

Rick sighed. “I know but we need to keep going. When we find somewhere safe, then we grieve but we have to keep going. It’s what she would’ve wanted.” He was just as heartbroken as his brother but as the head of the pack, he wasn’t allowed to be weak, not anymore. The shock of Y/N’s death would hit him in full later, but for now, he shoved those feelings down as far as he could, taking the other man in his arms for a brief moment. “We’ll be ok.”

——————

Daryl fiddled with her bracelet which he had tied around his own wrist. The building horde of walkers that had been behind them was setting him on edge. He knew that all of them were too tired, too dehydrated to deal with them, so they just kept walking, hoping for some sort of reprieve.

They had been on the road for weeks, slowly making their way to D.C. The losses of Tyresse and Beth weighed heavily on all of them. Sasha seemed to be teetering on the edge, with Bob and Tyresse gone, it seemed there wasn’t much for her anymore. Daryl knew without Rick and the pups, he would be in the same position. He probably would snap soon, his alpha was constantly tearing at the barrier he built in his mind. He was grieving and in pain but Rick was right, that didn’t matter at the moment.

Michonne had been trying to keep the kids distracted through all of it. Her bond with Carl let Judith warm up to her as well, and through some bad jokes and silly faces, she got them to smile. Those smiles lifted a weight from Rick’s chest even as the stress of passing through the high walls was creating a dark feeling in the pit of his gut.

Alexandria felt like a joke. How could one community survive all of this practically unscathed when everyone else had lost so much. Christ, even the people in here didn’t know how to deal with walkers. It was too much like the old world, too safe. The people were too nice, too comfortable.

It was almost voyeuristic, the way Deanna filmed all of them, asking invasive questions while relaxing on her couch like it was normal. “I’ve noticed you and Rick both have a mating bite.” Daryl subconsciously pulled his vest tighter over the juncture where his neck and shoulder met, shooting her the dirtiest look he could muster. “Are you two a pair?”

“Don see how that’s any o yer business.” She shrugged and crossed her legs, relaxing further into the couch she was sitting on.

“The two of you are close. It was only a natural question to ask.”

“Yeah well ya don need ta know.” Deanna raised her hands in surrender.

“Fine. I think we’re done here anyway. You can go.” He practically vaulted over the desk in his attempt to leave and rejoin the group. He felt trapped in this stupid house, in this community.

By the way Rick was standing, shoulders slightly hunched, vein in his forehead popping, and avoiding his brother’s eyes, Daryl knew he was asked a similar question about his mark. With a silent nod, the alpha told his lesser they would discuss it later when there were no prying eyes or ears. They were naked without their weapons, even within the obviously strong walls, all of the survivors were unsettled.

Daryl’s blue eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, unconsciously pulling his shoulders back so his chest was fully inflated, making him look bigger. Aaron walked out of the house last, Deanna standing in the doorway, observing the pack dynamics of the group.

She could see the pairs, Glenn and Maggie, Abraham and Rosita, but with the two lead alphas, there was a piece missing. She knew their bites couldn’t have been from each other, it was too small but they were identical, obviously having been done by the same person. Her chest ached at the thought, she was fiercely protective of her own omega and couldn’t imagine what she would do if she lost him.

Maybe they could restart here. Get some kind of comfort from the safety of the walls, keep the pups safe. They would be an asset once they settled. Aaron led them away, towards the empty houses in the back of Alexandria, she’d drop by later to check in on them.

The yowling coming from below the building Aaron had identified as the infirmary, was off-putting. It sounded almost pained. “I’m sorry about that.” Aaron seemed almost bashful as he walked the group by the house. “Who’s in there?” Rick was on edge in this new environment, and the strained screams set him off even more.

“We’re not sure. Eric and I found her about a month back. She’s pretty much feral but no one wants to give up on her.” Yet, Aaron didn’t stop, he led them on like a museum tour guide. No stopping for questions, don’t touch the exhibits. They were led to the outskirts of the town, far enough away from the others that they couldn’t pose a threat, but close enough that they could be watched. “Here’s where you can stay tonight, Deanna will find jobs for you all so you can spread out a bit more.” Carol took the lead as they filed in.

“Thank you so much for this, it’s nice to finally feel safe.” Her head was bent demurely, fingers twisting around each other, a shy smile on her face. Aaron seemed to relax a bit with her admission, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s really no problem. You folks have a good night.” Daryl recoiled at his friend’s crocodile tears, he wouldn’t admit it, but her suburban housewife act was thoroughly disturbing. Rick gave the recruiter a nod of thanks. Aaron positively beamed at her sentiment. “I’m glad I could be of help.” With a polite nod, he left the pack to their own devices. As soon as the door was shut, all eyes snapped to Rick.

“We need our weapons back.” Maggie leaned against the kitchen counter, Glenn sliding his arm around her, kissing the small claiming mark on her shoulder. “We need a plan.” He added.

They all gathered around the brand new kitchen, still wary, and slightly offset by the cleanliness of the house. Eugene unconsciously stood near Abraham and Rosita, as Michonne took her place beside Carl and Noah. Rick and Daryl were at the front of the group, the latter's eyes still darting around, trying to assess possible threats.

“It’s a smart idea for us to be in the same house, at least for tonight.” Stick together, no one goes anywhere without a buddy. The rules were the same as the outside, that’s how they would stay safe and more importantly, not lose anyone else.

They spoke in quiet whispers, too worried about listening ears and watchful eyes. And yet, Rick looked around his pack and noticed the exhaustion that seemed to settle over them like a raincloud. He sighed as he watched Carl’s head nod forward for what must’ve been the tenth time, his sheriff hat almost slipping off.

“We need ta get some rest. Daryl and I will take first watch.” Surprisingly, there is no fight. Michonne slipped Judith from his hold and led the others to the living room, they followed obediently, too tired to argue. But Carol stayed behind, still at her place by the kitchen entryway.

She looked so much older now, her eyes darker with a pain neither man could understand. “Just these walls won’t protect us and you know that. These people are too ignorant of the world out there.” Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, his omega’s bracelet catching the fading light of the sunset.

To think yourself safe and protected after all this time with only a 15 foot steel wall and a gate keeping out the world was foolish. It had been almost 2 years since the world fell, there was no telling how many walkers were out there now, how many Terminuses, how many Governors. The people of Alexandria were delusional and that made them dangerous.

Rick crossed his arms over his chest, chancing a brief glance at his partner before turning back to the omega. “We need proper weapons. Guns. But Daryl and I can’t go out, it’ll be too suspicious to have two alphas roaming around after dark.”

Carol smirked, her lips turning up in a small smile that Rick knew well. “But a meek omega looking around, needing some air, wouldn't call any attention.” Immediately Daryl answered.

“No.” His answer was final, no room for debate. But she ignored him, instead, she did up the buttons on her shirt and smoothed down her hair. It was almost magical the way she shrunk in on herself, the fierce lioness they knew so well disappearing behind hunched shoulders and downturned eyes. But to Rick, she looked like a predator waiting to pounce.

“I’ll be back in an hour with whatever weapons I can get. Don’t wait up pookie.” And she slipped out the door, quiet as a mouse.

Rick could hear the others settling down in the large family room, Judith making little squawks in response to her older brother’s muttering. It was a comforting white noise, the pack was alive, they were protected. “I don like when she does tha.”

The lead alpha clapped Daryl on the back as he walked past, smiling to himself. “C’mon we all need some rest.” With one last glance at the door, the archer followed.

——————

None of the pack could sleep. It was surreal to be safe for the first time in forever, to have access to (hot) running water, ready food, and actual beds instead of the flimsy mattresses in the prison, or even just the ground. But now, after being freshly showered with a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, sleep wasn’t coming.

Daryl was leaning against the entryway to the living room with Rick, watching over their pack as they settled. Rick couldn’t help but smile as he watched Carl play with Judith on the floor. The pup was smiling and giggling at her older brother who was leaning over her cot, fist clenched tight around his index finger, laughing every time he moved which caused her pudgy little arm to shake up and down, shaking her whole body.

“We’re safe here right?” The alpha wondered aloud, rubbing his freshly shaven jaw. Daryl only grunted in response. “We need somewhere to stay. If we can get back those weapons, we have a chance here. A real chance to live.”

“But can we do it without her?” Their hearts ached. It was finally settling in, that they were alone again, that they lost something they would never find.

“She woulda liked it here.” Daryl picked at his nails, still caked in dirt.

“Yeah she would.” The hope that the city had given him earlier was quickly dying as he got lost in his thoughts. Rick finally allowed himself to breathe. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, the tears quietly slipped down his cheeks as he thought of her, of her last moments alive. Were you trying to run? Trying to find him and Daryl? Did she fight through the hordes? He couldn’t stop the flashes of images behind his eyes if he tried.

Her smiling face. Walkers devouring a body. Her body arching in pleasure below him, sweat dripping down her skin. Dead hands clawing, pulling her apart as she screamed for him. The way she practically glowed in the moonlight as she danced with him on the farm. He knew Daryl could feel everything he could through their shared bond, he focused on the good, how she would run to him every time she saw him, how she coddled her pups.

The hunter’s fists clenched tightly into fists and his jaw locked. Rick opened his mouth to apologise but then, the front door swung open, revealing a greatly disheveled Carol.

“Carol?”

“Rick, Daryl. You need to come with me now.” She was trembling with excitement and fear, a little smile breaking through her usually schooled expression, her white hair mussed up from running her fingers through it.

“What’s goin’ on?” Rosita’s voice was thick with sleep, rubbing her eyes as she leaned against the fireplace where she had set up. Glenn and Carl also looked up, one of the last few still on guard.

“Please, just, I need you to trust me. This is important.”

She turned to leave once more but Daryl grabbed her arm. “Tell us.” None of them heard the creaking of the floorboards until another voice spoke from behind the matriarch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Deanna stood in the doorway, her expression guarded, locked onto Carol. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

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rootsofdread · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I just found your blog(? is it called a Tumblr? a blog? I still don't know) and I love it! I'm sort of an on-and-off Dead by Daylight player, but seeing this great thing you've got going on here makes me kinda want to go play more.

I dunno if this is an acceptable request, but: how would the denizens of the Fog feel about a friendly and helpful dog!Reader?

For the killers, the faithful companion is leading them to injured survivors and also barking at people who try to sneak by (though likely not always successfully, since the Fog is likely messing with their senses), maybe even knocking things out of survivors' hands because they're a mischief maker.

For the Survivors, the friendly pooch is leading injured survivors away from the killer and to healers, picking up and bringing them dropped items, and barking at stalking killers to warn the people it cares about.

Everyone needs a friendly animal sometimes, I think. There's something really nice about petting a fuzzy friend when you've had a bad day, and I feel like being in the Fog probably means you have a lot of bad days.

most people call them blogs hehe! this was honestly such a fun request to do though, i was delighted seeing it in my inbox!! very unique and fun to write :-D!!

Jake Park:

Jake had long learned to be wary of animals — creatures, more like — found in the fog. So he was understandably skeptical when he saw a dog sniffing around in the distance. He was sure he’d see you transform into some grotesque monster. He was shocked to see you lead the killer into a trap he had set up earlier in the trial, jumping over it while they stepped into it.

He knew you’d be next if they caught up to you. He whistles to get your attention and makes sure you run away with him, ahead of him, even. There’s something strangely freeing about being with an animal again, to him, running with one and feeling like he’s truly in the wild again.

You help him a lot with building make-shift traps and getting items together for himself and his teammates. He never has to worry about being unprepared with you around, he can tell you to go find something he needs, and chances are, you’ll be back with it in no time. You’re often more helpful at times than his teammates are.

Jeff Johansen:

Jeff couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you walk up to him while he was working on a generator. A stray dog. He was sure you were a figment of his imagination — but attempts to snap himself out of it proved futile. But he still wasn’t too sure, of course, he figured you must be something conjured by the Entity to mess with him and other survivors.

But he began to trust you more when you lead him into a nearby out-of-sight corner just as the killer skulked by. He was in disbelief that you knew they were coming before he did, and seemed to figure this must mean you’re here to protect him rather than mess with him.

That said, he often spends more time protecting you than you do protecting him. He tells you to run and takes chase from the killer before they find you, and he’s thankful when you decide to listen instead of continue to follow him; he wants you to help everyone else when you can’t help him. You’ve brought him happiness and he’ll protect you at any cost.

Max Thompson Jr. / The Hillbilly:

Max doesn’t have a great track record with animals, and he nearly killed you when he first noticed you during a trial. The incessant barking is almost what did it — but then he noticed you were clearly barking at something. A bush? No, something inside the bush. He could hear something.

He swung his hammer into the greenery and collided with flesh. An injured survivor had been hiding from him, and you led him straight to them. He seems to decide for himself, maybe you can be useful. He lets you follow him around for the rest of the trial, occasionally looking over his shoulder to see you wagging your tail.

He eventually becomes much more attached to you, thinking of you more as a pet than a convenience. He can frequently be seen petting you and throwing you treats after you help him catch survivors, and perhaps, on occasion, he lets you lay your head in his lap while the two of you rest after a long trial.

Anna / The Huntress:

Of course, Anna had seen animals in the fog; the nasty creatures the Entity had spawned. They’re easy pickings, a fun activity for her when she’s not in a trial. She was surprised when she lobbed a hatchet at you and you actually dodged it. She knew you were smarter, a different kind of animal. A real animal, like from before.

Believe it or not, she was actually delighted to have found a real animal in the fog. She loved animals. And a dog, too — she always wanted a dog, particularly for hunting, but she had heard what great companions they make. It was never a secret how much she’d always wanted a friend.

She immediately takes to you and lets you come with her. She loves having an easy way to pinpoint where survivors are with you, letting you run off into the trialgrounds and alert her to the exact locations of them, occasionally even dragging injured survivors straight back to her. You’re rewarded with treats from her hunts.

#inbox #jake park #jeff johansen #max thompson jr #dbd anna #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #gender neutral reader #jake park x reader #jeff johansen x reader #max thompson jr x reader #the hillbilly x reader #dbd anna x reader #the huntress x reader

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theriveroflight · 6 months ago

Text

so it seems the vultures came in too full to fly

@fyeahghosttrick ghost swap contribution number 2! This one is for prompt A39: "Apocalypse AU where Kamila is lost trying to find her father and Yomiel finds her and tries to take care of her/help her"

Wordcount: 4664

Summary:

There’s a kid walking alongside the road. She’s got a dog on a leash and is carrying a backpack, so she doesn’t seem unprepared or anything, but it still strikes Yomiel as odd.

Or: at the end of the world, two people form a connection.

AO3 | Superlove

There’s a kid walking alongside the road. She’s got a dog on a leash and is carrying a backpack, so she doesn’t seem unprepared or anything, but it still strikes Yomiel as odd. Especially since the dog’s a small little toy breed.

“Sissel? What do you think?” Sissel perks up at the mention of his name, flicking his tail back and forth. Yomiel turns around and pulls over near her.

She shrinks back as he leaps out of the car. Her dog starts barking at him. “Stay back!” She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a can of pepper spray.

“Good instinct, kid,” he tells her. “Look, I’ve got more self-respect than to rob some kid.”

“I’m fourteen,” she responds flatly, as though that stops her from being a kid.

“Where are the people who are supposed to be looking after you?” he asks. She’s fourteen. There’s probably someone, even if her parents are dead now.

“Well,” she begins, “my mom died five years ago in a car accident. My sister, as far as I know, should still be alive, but she’s really busy since she’s a police officer. One of my dads died three days ago, and I’ve been looking for the other one since.”

“And what, is that dog tracking him for you?” he asks. Something about the combination of her appearance and the reference to a mom who died five years ago in a car accident sounds kind of familiar. Come to think of it…

“I can’t just leave Missile behind!” She picks the dog up, bundling him to her chest. “If…if Dad’s really gone…”

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’ve got a cat in my passenger’s seat. If he likes you both, I’ll let you come along.”

“And where are you going?”

“Fair question. The answer is anywhere but here,” he says. “Me and my cat are going literally anywhere else.”

She shifts on her feet, clearly weighing her options. “Okay,” she says at last. “What’s his name?”

He opens up the door. Sissel leaps off the seat. “This is Sissel.”

The girl sets Missile down and kneels down to pet Sissel. Missile starts barking again.

“Missile, no,” he hears her say quietly. “If you scare Sissel off, we’ll have to keep walking. You don’t want to keep walking, do you?”

Missile sits back on his haunches. Yomiel decides in that moment he’s going to give them a ride — no matter what Sissel thinks. But…he seems to have taken a liking to the little lady, and seems to at least tolerate her dog.

“Get in,” he says, opening up the back door. “No, you’re not getting shotgun. That’s Sissel’s spot.”

“Okay.” She gets in, shrugging off her backpack into the seat. Missile follows her in. “I’m Kamila, by the way.”

“Yomiel.” He looks up at the rearview mirror. She’s chosen to sit behind Sissel, so she’s easy to spot. “Where to?”

“Both my dads were together when they died,” she answers, looking down. “But…only one of their bodies was recovered. They were out hunting, and…”

Oh. Yomiel knows that shit is dangerous — even before the apocalypse isolated everyone. “So you know where they were hunting?”

“I even know where the body was found. Missile and I were heading for the woods so that we could go find him.”

“That…” Sounds like an awful plan, if he’s being honest with himself, but he’s sure as hell not gonna say that to some kid whose only family is a dog, an absent sister, and the hope for a dad that’s still alive. “Well, I’ll take you as far as this thing will let me go. After that, you’re on your own.”

A better man probably wouldn’t leave a kid like her behind, but he’s got better things to do than traipse through the woods looking for some probably-dead hunter.

“I know it’s not the brightest idea,” she admits. “But if there’s even a chance he’s alive…I have to take it. No one else is going to.”

That much is true. A lot of people have died searching in the wilderness — no doubt more than the amount of bodies recovered. People who die in the wilderness tend to…stay there. And the search parties meet the same fate more often than not.

Can he really send a kid into what’s probably certain death in good conscience? He knows what it’s like to lose someone. She’s gone now, after all, and there’s no point in trying to bring her back. This kid has some hope left when it comes to her loved ones. And she’s lost far more — her entire future, destroyed by these storms and disasters.

“Like I said…I’ll take you as far as this car will go. From there…we’ll see what happens next.” He looks up at the mirror again, but this time, he only sees himself and his sunglasses staring back.

“Yes, that’s fine. I don’t expect you to come along. I hadn’t expected to have anyone take me in the first place. I know it’s rusky. I know…I know he might be dead by now. I just need the closure. I need to see him. I need to know for sure.”

“And if you’re…lost forever out there?”

“I know Lynne will be sad. She’s done her best to look out for me since…the beginning of all this.” She gestures out the window towards the gray sky. “But we’re only kind of sisters. We don’t share any parents or anything.”

That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Lynne’s probably the sister she mentioned earlier, after all, which means she’s about as important to this kid as the father she’s searching for.

Dammit. He’s gonna have to make sure this kid lives, isn’t he?

***

They drive as far into the woods as his car will let him go. He wrestles Sissel into an over the shoulder bag and loads his backpack with some food, first-aid, and water purification stuff.

“We should try to come back to the car for the night if we can,” he says, “just in case. I have a lot of stuff in here, and I don’t want it to get stolen. Plus we’re less likely to get mauled by bears.”

“I did bring a tent,” she says. She looks up at him and frowns. “You might be too tall for it, though.”

Clearly…

Actually, he’s not sure what her plan was for shelter. Maybe bringing a little plastic camping tent really is the best she can do.

“You said you knew where your dad was last spotted?” he asks.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming,” she replies.

“I said we would see about that. I can’t let a kid like you go out there alone. I’m not really an outdoors guy—” A massive understatement, really… “—but I’m an adult that wants to help, and it sure sounds like you need some help.”

And if this really does end with both of their deaths, then…

Sissel always believed in the afterlife. If she’s right, and he chooses to belief alongside her, they’ll be together — and Kamila can reunite with her parents, too. And if they do manage to make it out of here, he’s still going to get the hell out of this place.

But…if they do end up dying, it’d probably be pretty shitty for Kamila’s father to find the dead body of his daughter with the stranger that killed her mom five years ago in that car accident. It has to be the same woman, right? They look the same.

“I…really appreciate it. Thank you!” She smiles at him, and he sees more hope in her than ever before. She tugs once on Missile’s leash, getting the dog’s attention. “I was going to search from the location my other dad’s body was found…and then look for any signs of mine.” Her face falls. “Whether he’s dead or alive.”

“Lead the way, then,” he declares.

***

The woods were dangerous even before the solar storms took out worldwide communications and that volcano erupted and the rain started. They’re even more dangerous now that the only distress signal is to send up a flare and pray someone, anyone finds it — and finds the source before it’s too late.

It’s a massive risk — one he wouldn’t be taking if not for Kamila.

Frankly, he isn’t even sure they’ll find anything — even the body. The closure that Kamila’s looking for might be completely out of reach. But the hope for a sign has been keeping her going, so he can’t just crash it that easily.

Sissel used to tell him that it was always darkest before the dawn. Pretty ironic, considering what happened to her in the end. Maybe she just couldn’t convince herself to believe it anymore. Optimism was never either of their strong suits, after all.

But before the solar storms hit, he was a tech guy. Running away and living in the woods was never going to be his escape from the apocalypse the way some foolish people thought it would be theirs.

He can hear running water in the distance. Is there a river that comes up here?

“Dad’s body was found near the beaver pond,” Kamila explains as they walk. “Daddy’s probably not there anymore, but retracing his steps is the only lead I have, so…”

“It makes the most sense.”

She told him about her plan to retrace his steps earlier, but he can’t fault her for being nervous at a time like this. They’ve only known each other for a couple hours at most, and he’s followed her into a dangerous but important quest.

They follow the river down towards the promised beaver’s dam, silence only broken by birdsong and Missile’s barking. He thinks Sissel probably fell asleep, but he doesn’t want to check in case he wakes Sissel up in the process.

“This is where it happened?” Yomiel stops short of the dam. It looks different from the type of thing he would have pictured hearing the words ‘beaver dam’, but he can’t deny that it certainly does look the part.

“Yeah,” Kamila answers quietly. Missile, oblivious to the gravity of the emotional situation, continues sniffing in a circle with as large a radius as the leash permits him. “According to the scouts, at least.”

“What was he like?”

Kamila’s family are all strangers to him. After all, it’s not like anyone would want to hang around the man who killed the family matriarch in a car accident. But he should take the time to respect the dead — especially at a time like this, when electronic records won’t be restored for a long time and permanent memory is so much less of a guarantee.

“He…defied people’s first impressions. But he was also aware of the kind of impressions he gave off and made an effort to play into them.” She smiles. “Mom and Dad and I were some of the only ones who really got to see through it all to who he really was. He always gave me really weird stuff, but…somehow, it’d always wind up being the thing I needed at the right time in the right place. He really liked to dance, too. Him and Mom met through that. Both of my dads were police detectives, but he met Mom separately, because of dance. Apparently, there was a while where they all knew each other separately…but never realized they were a group.”

Yomiel kind of misses that sort of thing. Sissel…she was the only human being he had a real connection with, before the despair of the world ending overcame her attempts at beating back depression. He didn’t really have any true friends at work. It made it easier to leave this place behind, sure, but he’s still a human being that needs to interact socially with other human beings.

Back in college, the prospect of him and his cat against the world would’ve sounded pretty great. Now that he’s living that reality, it’s not everything it’s chalked up to be. Maybe that’s why he decided to hitch his car to this kid’s quest.

…maybe that’s kind of pathetic, too. But at least he isn’t lonely.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he says, “while we’re bringing up the dead. I was…I was the one driving the car five years ago.”

“Huh?”

“I couldn’t tell at first,” he says, “but the timing’s right, and you…you look a lot like her. I know it was a while ago, but I don’t really…have an excuse for why it happened. It was pretty awful. And…me managing to walk away from it while she just died was a matter of luck.”

She swallows and looks down. Missile pauses and sits near her feet. “They call them car accidents for a reason, right? That means it isn’t your fault, I think. It’s been long enough that I’m okay with you. Besides…just now, you were a pretty good driver. And you didn’t do that on purpose, right?”

“Of course not!”

“Then we’re settled.” Kamila tugs on Missile’s leash, and he stands right up. “Let’s go find my dad.”

***

Missile is keeping his nose to the dirt, clearly clinging onto some kind of olfactory information. However, he’s still but a puppy, and the woods likely provide an overload of said information.

“We won’t find him before sundown,” Yomiel declares. Dusk is already upon them, and all they’ve found are some vaguely human-shaped footprints, which are probably from the search party when taken into context. And he still thinks they’re safer in the car than in Kamila’s tent, no matter how prepared she is for that. Especially considering her earlier remark about him being too tall for it. “We should head back.”

“We’re not going to get very far if we’re limited by sleeping in your car,” she points out.

“We’ll be able to cover more ground tomorrow, since we’ll be able to get started earlier,” he replies. “And I’ll rest more easily there. So will you. If it rains tonight, we’re a lot more likely to stay dry.”

She frowns and looks at her backpack, but ultimately follows him. From the crunch of leaves under her feet, he can tell she’s not really happy with him, but he doesn’t want to look back at her to find out for sure. It takes them a while to trek back to the car, but not as long as it took them to get out there in the first place. When he gets back to the car, he immediately lets Sissel out of the bag. Sissel was a stray that kept coming back before he named Sissel after her and officially adopted him, so he’s not really worried about Sissel refusing to come back. He’s immediately run off to shit, but he’s been cooped up in a bag for hours, so that’s not a huge surprise. Yomiel unlocks his car.

“You can go on ahead and set up your sleeping bag in the backseat or whatever,” he says. “I’ll figure out something for us to eat.” He spends a while staring at his trunk before deciding that they’ll try to start a fire so they can have cup ramen. He’s never really been good at that kind of thing, but he’s got a lighter, so it can’t be that hard, can it?

Kamila’s actually pretty helpful, in that regard.

“It’s easier to start with something that’s easy to burn, like these dried leaves,” she explains. “Then you move up to small sticks, and then you can start putting bigger stuff on the fire.”

Makes sense. He lights the leaves, and watches as the flames build.

“You’re pretty good at this kind of thing,” he notes.

“I like chemistry,” she says. “And physics. And that sort of stuff. I’ve always been good with science.”

“This isn’t really my field,” he says. While the water’s boiling, he gets out some food for Sissel. Kamila feeds Missile some kibble.

They’ll take things one day at a time. What he’s got won’t last forever, but it doesn’t need to.

***

Yomiel’s always been pretty sensitive to light. It’s why he’s always wearing sunglasses. It’s also why, no matter when he goes to bed, he wakes up right at dawn.

At least this time he went to bed early. It’s especially bad when he goes to bed at 3 AM and then wakes up with the sunrise at 6 because his curtains don’t keep out enough light. They wrapped up for the night earlier than he usually slept before everything happened. Plus, waking up this early will mean they have extra time to search.

He sits up first, grabbing for his glasses on the console. Then he puts his seat back up. He takes a look back at Missile and Kamila in the backseat, and then at Sissel next to him. They’re all still fast asleep — no surprises there. He honks the horn to wake them up. Even if Kamila’s not immediately awakened by it, Missile definitely will be, and his barking’s sure to be good as any alarm. True to his own thoughts, Missile starts barking, leaping up onto the console.

“Ugh…” Kamila looks out the window after sitting up. “Missile…be quiet…it’s too early for this…”

“Really?” Yomiel asks. “Because I think it’s the right time to rise and shine, little lady. We’re gonna spend a long time out on the trails, and the earlier we get out there, the longer we can spend searching. He stretches and gets out of the car, opening up the trunk and then the cooler. “You’re probably a little too young for this, but I’ve got some coffee here. Cold brew, so it’s going to be bitter. Don’t give it to Missile if you don’t like it. That stuff will kill him.”

“I know that,” she protests. “Give it to me. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.”

He hands her the bottle without further conversation. She’s a kid, so she probably won’t like it that much, but she seems pretty desperate. And it’ll be faster than getting some more water heated up so they can use his instant coffee packets instead. Especially since it was pretty chilly last night — not cold enough for frost, but enough that it’s still a reminder of the approaching winter.

Probably another good reason they need to find her father soon. When winter comes, he’s pretty unlikely to stand a chance out here. It’s hard enough when everything’s still in bloom.

He grabs a second bottle for himself and shuts the cooler, preparing for another day of hiking.

He was supposed to be far away from here by now — far away from the past. Instead, he’s on the verge of confronting it.

***

They reach where they stopped yesterday a lot more easily now that they know the best ways to get through the woods. He lets Kamila guide the search — he sure as hell doesn’t know where her father would go. “Somewhere in the woods” can mean a lot of places.

“According to the maps,” Kamila explains, “there’s a defunct quarry a little further in. There should be some caves there or something. It’d be a good place to hide for someone who doesn’t have any other shelter, and it’d be easier than trying to build one. It’d make sense for him to go there.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “I’d rather look for a cave than build something myself, especially if I knew there might be one around here. Let’s go.”

“By the way,” she says as they walk off, “thanks for the coffee this morning. I don’t usually drink it iced or cold or whatever, so it was a little weird, but…it really helped.”

“Was the best I could do,” he answers. “Your family really lets you drink that stuff?”

“Not before the world ended,” she answers. “After that they weren’t paying as much attention. Not that I really needed it, though. I slept a lot more. Not a lot of other things I could do, considering the school was destroyed. And most of the interesting stuff in the shelters can’t be done by a kid.”

“Well, what would you be doing if all this hadn’t happened?”

“I’d probably be working on my next invention.”

Well, that explains a lot. She’s an inventor. Of course she knows a lot about the physical sciences and doesn’t mind black coffee.

“All I can really do right now is play with Missile and draw blueprints,” she continues. “I miss being able to build stuff, but we’re trying to preserve all our supplies.”

“Well, hey, if we manage to stay in touch after all this, hit me up if you need any software assistance. I was a software engineer before, well…” He waves his hand. “All the software died.” He hasn’t even thought about working again once he makes it to wherever he ends up, the city or another town or something else entirely. It’s not like the computers and power plants are really back up — he’s pretty sure the only power plants still going are nuclear, and that’s only because stopping operations might actually make things worse.

“Sure,” she says. He blinks. “I might take you up on that. I…really want to build my own CNC machine — it’s basically an automated mill, it’d be super cool to have one — but my dads said I can’t start on it until I’m sixteen, which is just silly. It’s not even a dangerous machine! It’s so much more safer than the machines I already have. And it’s not like building one will be that dangerous, either, especially compared to other stuff I’ve built before. It’ll be safer in the long run if I have one, and they’re way more expensive to buy than to build. But since they said no to the building part, I started trying to learn to code so I could at least get the software done in advance, and…I haven’t gotten very far. Even before all of this. I guess I have more time now, but…”

“Well, I’d be happy to help,” he says. The words coming out of his mouth surprise him — because he’s pretty sure he means it. Which means…staying in touch with this kid. “I’m sure you can pick it up pretty easily if you have some help learning. Trying to self-teach is…pretty difficult. Not impossible, but definitely pretty hard. And you’re starting with an awfully big project. Nobody ever show you ‘hello world’?”

“Well, sure—” She freezes in her tracks. “Do you hear that?”

Coyotes.

Missile starts barking in response to the call the coyote pack has issued. Kamila reaches downwards to shush him, but it’s too late. The pack’s already starting to encircle them. He’s not really sure what he can do, but he puts out a protective arm in front of Kamila. Missile seems more hostile than usual, growling at the coyotes, fur standing on end. When he looks at Sissel…he seems pretty nervous too.

Bang!

Was that a gunshot?

The coyote pack flees from the sound, scattering.

From out of the woods emerges a tall, broad man wearing a green trench coat.

“Kamila!” he yells.

“Daddy!”

She runs over, Missile on her heels, and leaps into his arms.

***

Just as Kamila suspected, her father (“Jowd”, the man had introduced himself as) was in a cave created by the quarry.

“Thank you for looking out for my daughter,” he says. “And…I apologize for how I acted five years ago. Perhaps it was fate that brought us together once more — so you could bring my daughter back to me.”

“My wife was always more into that kind of thing,” he answers. Not that he doesn’t understand how they’d come to the conclusion that fate was behind all of this. “But we still lived in the same town after all of that. It’s a small world. The fact that we crossed paths again wasn’t because of some higher power — it was just because I chose to pull over for some kid I didn’t know yet.” He shrugs. “Anyone else would’ve done the same if they saw her. I wouldn’t find it easy to leave a child behind in all of this.”

“I’m not sure just anyone would’ve,” Jowd says. “A lot of people right now are just looking out for themselves.”

“If you’d asked me a few days ago, I’d say I was doing the same.”

He certainly can’t claim this was all in his own self-interest now — in fact, it was kind of in the opposite of self-interest. Dying in the woods wouldn’t be self-interest, and digging up the ghosts from five years ago wouldn’t be either. He would have rather left it all behind. But now? Now he’s not so sure about all that.

“We should get you two back to town,” he says. “And then…then I’m going to head back out again.”

“You’re still going to leave?” Kamila asks. “After all of this? You said you were going to help me!”

“Hey, it isn’t like we can do anything about that right now,” he says. “The computers are still all on the fritz because of the solar storms. Our infrastructure isn’t back up yet.”

“You promised,” she says. “You can’t leave now! Besides…Missile and Sissel are friends now. You wouldn’t break them up, would you?”

She’s giving him the puppy-dog eyes. It’s true that Missile and Sissel do seem to be hanging out together just fine, though he wouldn’t exactly call them the best of friends.

“...let’s get back to the car.”

***

He lets Kamila take the front seat. Jowd sits in the back with the pets. He seems pretty happy with Sissel and Missile, though, so it’s probably not a total loss.

“Where’d you get Missile, by the way?” he asks.

“Missile belongs to Lynne, technically,” Kamila answers, “though I’ve been taking care of him more because I have more free time than she does. He’s both of ours. How long have you had Sissel?”

“Only since…all of this started, though he was hanging around my house for much longer,” Yomiel answers. “I…named him after my late wife.”

“Oh.”

The mood is significantly lower as he drives back into town. He’s starting to get a little low on gas. He’ll have to find a place to fuel up soon.

Maybe it’s a sign.

He pulls up at the shelter where most people in the town are staying together — what was once a hotel. At least there’s enough space for everyone here, he thinks as he parks. Not a lot of cars here. A lot of people left for the city, hoping they’d have a better chance there. Yomiel was supposed to be among them.

Kamila hops out of the car. Jowd follows more slowly, and both Missile and Sissel hop out onto the pavement.

“I…do hope you choose to stay,” Jowd tells him. “In times like these, we need to stick together, not run away. No man is an island. And beyond that…I have lost many of the people I was close with. It sounds as though you, too, have suffered a great deal of loss. Neither of us must be alone.”

“Sounds nice,” Yomiel answers. “I’ll think about it.”

Kamila’s saying goodbye to Sissel, and Yomiel wonders if it’s more so long or until we meet again.

“Thank you so much,” she tells him, bundling him into a sudden hug. “I really wouldn’t have done it nearly as quickly, and it could have turned out really bad.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

He’s glad he stopped at the side of the road for her. Maybe even glad that he has a reason to stay again. But then again — he’ll have to stick around to see if that’s really the case, won’t he?

#ghost trick #ghost trick spoilers #yomiel #kamila ghost trick #sissel #missile ghost trick #jowd #fanfiction #my writing #ghost swap

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komotionlessqueenmm · 10 months ago

Text

Imagine # 1,058

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 9 minutes & 40 seconds

Is Billy awful? Yep. Do I care? Nope. It's Bill Paxton, so I could care less. I'd still let him hit it. I made the reader a singer in this story, and I wrote with the idea that your a singer similar in style to Lana Del Rey. But you can imagine whatever you'd like, because I never describe the music. I just feel that some of Lana's music fits real well with him.

Also if you've not seen this episode, you can find it here on YouTube. And if you're curious what season and episode it is, its from season 5 episode 5. "People who live in brass hearses" is the name of the episode, and it aired on October 13, 1993. If you'd rather check out the wiki talking about this episode, you can find that here. Also Billy is most definitely OOC.

"You'll really like her Billy, she's real nice, and pretty too!" Virgil beamed at his older brother, who'd just gotten home from prison earlier that day. "Yeah?" Billy smiled softly at his brother's enthusiasm, glad to finally be home, and back with his numbskull of a brother. "Yeah. She moved in next door a few days after you were sent to prison." Virgil yammered on and on about how he met the lovely girl from next door, and how much she helped him while Billy was gone. "If she's so great, then why'd she help a goof like you?" Billy teased his brother while playfully ruffling his hair. "I told ya Billy, she's real nice. You'll see." Virgil promised, continuing to lead his brother to their destination. "Where exactly are we going?" Billy asked as he took in his surroundings, not much had changed from the two years he was gone. Aside from a house or two that had been demolished, and a few businesses changed to something else. "She's a singer Billy, and she's got a show tonight. I thought you might like seeing her sing." Virgil explained, his words having caught Billy's attention.

"Why do you want me to meet her so bad? And see her sing?" Billy asked, pulling Virgil's arm, to get him to stop and answer his questions. "Well... (Y/n) doesn't have a boyfriend... And I was thinking..." Virgil looked away in embarrassment, trying to avoid actually answering his brother's questions. "You were thinking?... What come on spit it out already." Billy urged Virgil with a small sly grin, though he already knew where this was going, he wanted to hear Virgil say it. "Well I was thinking maybe you could be her boyfriend." Virgil said as he nervously rubbed his arm. "Virgil you sly dog you." Billy's grin widened as he playfully wrestled with his brother, which made Virgil laugh excitedly. "I told her all about you Billy, she was always smiling when I talked about you." Virgil added when Billy let up the playful banter. "Was she now?" Billy slung his arm around Virgil's shoulders. "Well then what are we waiting for?" He added as they continued walking to the bar. Virgil told Billy all about her on their way to the bar, trying to describe her appearance as best he could.

But by the time they reached the bar, Billy was woefully unprepared for just how pretty the young singer would be. They had gotten comfortable at the bar, ordering beers, and waiting patiently for the show to start. When the lights dimmed and a melodic music began to start, a hush came over the crowd, and everyone's attention turned to the stage. Then out she walked, the star of the show, in all her glory. Glimmering under the warm glow of the stage lights, her smile brighter than the sun itself. Billy nearly choked on his beer when he laid eyes on her, his jaw dropping as she crossed the stage with graceful steps. Her red dress hugging all the right places, and her jewelry sparkling like stars in the night sky. Billy could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest, from the very moment she began her first song. Her voice enchanting his very soul in ways Billy never could have anticipated. "See I told ya she was pretty." Virgil smiled brightly at his brother, happy to see that Billy apparently approved of her.

"No kidding." Billy chuckled, unable to draw his attention away from the enchantress on the stage. Her words rang in Billy mind, and the things she spoke of began painting a picture in his mind. A picture of him and her together, slow dancing together chest to chest, as she sings to him of her love and desire for him, and him alone. Song after song went by, and Billy found himself growing increasingly impatient about getting to actually meet her. His leg bouncing when she spoke to the crowd about how the next song would be her last for the evening. Her eyes swept over the crowd as she spoke, and when she spotted Virgil, and the man sitting beside him, her eyes visibly lit up. Sparking hope and desire within Billy's heart. She shot a quick wink their way, before starting her last song for the night. Virgil chuckled at the way Billy toyed with his appearance, happy to see that Billy was eager to meet her, and make a good first impression.

The show was now over, and Virgil and Billy eagerly tried to meet up with her outside of the bar. But unfortunately for them, a rather large crowd had formed around the young women, who smiled politely and thanked everyone for their kind words. "Fuckin people." Billy grumbled under his breath, growing increasingly impatient with the unwanted delay. Billy perked up a bit in anticipation, when he noticed a visibility drunk man push his way through the crowd to her. He made unwanted advances towards her, and she tried pushing him away. No one seemed interested in helping her, and that only increased Billy's anger. Similar to the drunkard Billy shoved his way through the crowd until he reached her side. And without a word he pulled back and swung, knocking the man unconscious in one hit. Protectively putting his arm around her waist, and pulling her into his side.

"Scram you vultures." Billy hissed at the crowd, who grumbled in annoyance, but complied none the less, dispersing in less than a minute. "My names (Y/n)." She peered up at Billy, who grinned at her words, holding her a little tighter against his side. "I'm Billy." He flashed her a charming smile, his chest swelling with pride when he noticed the blush dusting her cheeks. "Hiya (Y/n), the show was amazing tonight." Virgil cut in with a bright smile. "Oh thank you Virgil, I'm glad you enjoyed the show." She smiled at her friend, breaking away from Billy to pull Virgil into a quick hug. When she pulled away from her hug with Virgil, Billy noticed the shiver she gave from the chill in the night air. And without a second thought, she shrugged off his prized leather jacket, and slung it across her shoulders. (Y/n) turned to him with a bashful smile, thanking him in a soft tone of voice. "Mind if we walk you home?" Billy asked. "How do you know I didn't drive here?" She asked with a small grin. "Because there are no more cars in the parking lot." Billy pointed out, making her grin widen. "Well then in that case, I'd love it if you'd walk me home." She mused as she took his hand in hers.

Billy and (Y/n) took the lead, and Virgil followed closely behind them, smiling brightly at the sight of his good friend, and brother getting along so well. "So you've been looking after my baby brother this whole time huh?" Billy asked, smiling down at her. "Oh well Virgil was doing okay on his own. I just helped around the house, cleaning up a bit, cooking, shopping for groceries with him, and helping him manage his bills. Really it's what any good neighbor would do, and he's a sweetheart so I enjoy spending time with him." She explained with a fond smile. "Well I think little old Virgil got lucky to have such a generous neighbor such as yourself. And I got lucky to meet the beauty looking out for him." Billy flirted making (Y/n) giggle softly as she leaned into his side, grinning when he casually wrapped his arm across her shoulders. "Who knew you'd be such a charmer." (Y/n) mused as she peered up at him. "And who knew you'd be such a dame." Billy countered before suddenly sweeping her off her feet, and into his arms making her squeal in surprise.

"Billy!" She cried out with a laugh. "Can't have you walking through a puddle now can we?" Billy asked as he turned her attention to the large mud puddle in the broken portion of the sidewalk. "My hero." She leaned into his hold, again making his chest swell with pride. "Anytime babe anytime." He grinned still carrying her despite being well passed the mud puddle. "Hey (Y/n)." Virgil called to her. "Yes hun?" She turned her gaze to him, peering over Billy's tattooed shoulder. "Would you... Would you maybe be interested in dating Billy?" Virgil asked. His words made (Y/n) giggle bashfully, hiding her face in Billy's neck for a moment. Billy was unbothered by his brothers blunt question, but he was definitely curious about what (Y/n) would say. "Yeah what do you think darlin'?" He inquired with a grin. "Well... Yeah I think I might... He's just my type after all." She grinned at Virgil who was beaming with excitement. "Good to know." Billy muttered before planting a quick kiss against her cheek. (Y/n) again bushed and hid her face in Billy's neck with a bashful giggle.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

Billy is such a weirdo with his whole butter obsession, but again it's Bill Paxton so I'm in love.

Also I doubt this one will get much attention, considering how obscure it is, but that's okay, I mostly just write for myself anyways in all honesty.

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astarionfixation · 9 months ago

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Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!

A multi chapter adventure in Astarion's mind

Chapter 2 - +As if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over+

Rating: eventually Explicit but just a lot of mind tease so far.

Word count count: 2.3k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/137824306

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

Teaser:

In an exasperated sigh he breathes in again and all the effort he put into keeping lucid since he got back into her room is crashing down upon him. The nauseatingly spiced mix of wine and flowers assaulting his senses once again, and her breath caressing his face as he just now realises he must have leaned in without thinking. *As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!* But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger *I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!* Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

Chapter Two - *as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over*

Notes: *Astarion's Thoughts* +quotes from her journal+ "audible dialogue" -remarks-

aul iasa nha tho is Elvish for "in vino veritas", otherwise said "In wine there's truth" or the general idea that people are much more guileless when intoxicated.

He must’ve read those pages so many times that it’s surprising how they have not been worn out. And the fact he doesn’t technically need to sleep surely hasn’t helped the surprise quickly turn to addiction.

*How could I have not noticed?!*

The tightly kept book gave him more access to her mind, her actual thoughts, that any connection the worms might have forced them to share, and that’s likely why everyone promptly agreed to stay out of everyone’s business for the time being. And it wasn’t quite like he meant to break that deal, he was just severely unprepared for what he had found in that insignificant shiny little volume. All handwritten. By her.

Along with the odd note of information gathered during the last few days, the pages were filled mostly with just her reflections, clearly never intended for eyes that were not her own deep ones, eyes he never felt lingering on him more than the time it was necessary to be called for duty, to be addressed as politely as an accidentally forced companionship put them together. And he was supposed to know, to see, to read people and understand how to play them as if fiddling with an instrument he himself had built from scratch! The countless souls he alone had enticed and played every key, including -especially- the dark, heavy ones. Then how could he have missed the eyes she had been looking at him with? How could he have missed the intention? How could she have walked this earth without a tenth of the time he had and compete with his own ability to mask and dissipate any impression of sentiment or feeling?

He started to genuinely wonder if there could have been a mistake, perhaps she had been keeping the little metallic book for someone else *and yet I saw her and her damned quill on it! I saw her unimpressed and vacant eyes!* while clearly less than a day ago her thoughts must have been so focused on him they should have burnt a hole in his back:

+I cannot cope with the heart rending clench, from my stomach to the tip of my hair, diffusing a cold, quivering heat as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over in just a moment, every time his voice pours, like honey, into my ears+

He found himself catching breath he didn’t need for hours, disgusted surely by the idea that she kept him in her mind so often, yet compelled to scrutinise every single line, with no chance to concede that even just one word she spent on him could have gone amiss. He had dozens of pages to commit to memory before sunrise, now that his plans toward individual freedom had suddenly fallen apart. There was no tadpole solution, no way to charm and dominate the worms, nothing to guarantee he could remain himself while still feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

*Nothing to guarantee the warmth of her skin if her thoughts get consumed until there’s nothing left of her*

And he has to shake his head physically from the thought because *why!? Why would she be the issue now!?* when he has his own thoughts, his own brain to worry about, his own survival as the only thing that has kept him unnaturally alive for over two centuries, well before she was barely an idea in her parent’s minds!

His arm pulls back and the book’s metallic cover hits the door he’s still sitting against. He should be throwing it with such force that would destroy that little insignificant piece of paper conjuring all kinds of soft, enticing visions, while none will help with their shared issue: they are all on borrowed time.

+it was a good delusion of power, as if anyone could really be just... So mature for their age... But that's another story, I don't like the stories of my memories, read in hindsight…+

And that’s what froze him in place. She doesn’t spell it out but just reading the words pulls his stomach just the same, he knows that feeling, the lulling comfort that the idea of pleasing a tyrant and taking each beating as a compliment will do. His eyes close and this time the little precious book is brought to his chest, just where his heart last beat all those centuries ago. And his tintless eyebrows furrow, his usually graceful traits tighten in what is almost a grimace, teeth clenching as his head shakes once more, but this time it’s because his own memories made stories out of his delusions of power, when no matter the amount of sacrifices he brought back every night, neither his body nor his mind were spared the abuse and humiliations from his cruel Master. Cazador’s looming body flashes behind his tightened eyes.

*Fourth: thou shalt know that thou art mine.*

The rules of his master played like an obsessive charm in his head over and over, and then it’s kinder, it’s easier to embrace what felt like the only power he had, seducing and pleasing whilst hoping for the lesser beating.

It does not matter that air is not needed now, because the sharp intakes cut through his lips and down to the bottom of his lungs, and his lips pull almost as if from muscle memory and like he so often did before. To please and appease him, to make the punishment shorter and numbing his own mind for longer.

And all of a sudden it all stops. His arms feel as if they are strained by efforts he does not recall, the heavy door behind his back certainly not as comfortable as the bed in front of him and

*oh yes, the little useless book*

The book that gave him no more freedom he had the night before. He would throw it mindlessly but his hand finds a way to just leave it to rest on the floor, while with an agile movement he’s back on his feet, and in a moment he’s theatrically falling on the bed, face hitting the pillows first, and a long unnecessary breath empties his lungs with the last remnants of something that reminds him of mulled wine and flowers.

—-----------

The noise of boots outside snaps him out of his trance just when the last of the candles must have burnt out as a swirl of smoke still rises in the otherwise darkened room. Voices muffled behind the door tell him his companions are only now getting to their beds which means not much will be expected of him that morning.

*Thank fuck!*

His arms move the pillow around to bury his face onto it and hoping to fall into trance again when a deeper sigh rises from his chest, and he knows. He knows what he has to do to avoid any consequences to befall upon him. Never before a sleight of hand has failed him so spectacularly and now he's not only stuck with the merry fellowship of warmbloods ignorami

*no closer to understand and control the worm in my head*

but now with the knowledge that their pretty, little accidental leader has had her eyes fixed on him way more often than he ever realised.

*Shit… does she know?*

And with that thought he rolls on his back, the crook of his elbow sheltering his eyes and with a final exasperated sigh he pulls himself up. Even in the darkened room he can see the metallic cover trying its best to reflect whatever resemblance of light it can catch. His long, delicate fingers pick it up and he finds himself almost laughing at himself

*You thought this was going to be your freedom and now you're just more chained to her them*

Of course he's just stuck being a monster, what did he expect? He gathers the book in his hands and not far, discarded by the door, he finds the small lock, the mockery of having to use his lockpicking skills to put it back together does not escape him.

Once the lock is back in place there’s only one thing left to do. His resignation has almost taken over if it wasn’t for that tinge just at the bottom of his stomach that wishes for him to destroy the book, destroy the room and have splinters find their way under his skin so that maybe, hopefully, the pain will take his attention away from the spectacular failure he is.

*serves me well for conceding anything to hope*

In a flash he’s out of his door, gliding through the shadows. The corridor should simply bow to his graceful presence as he approaches her room. Again.

His hand pushes the door slightly and in a moment he’s in, this time making sure the lock is turned just to avoid any sudden interruption, and within a few seconds his senses are assaulted once again by that scent that makes him feel both a drunkard and abstinent by necessity more than choice. A sigh is the loudest noise he allows himself to make as he exhales: the less he has her scent in his lungs, the easier it will be to ignore it.

Her breath is deep and regular which gives him information enough to carefully reach for her bedside table where her bag was discarded, and indeed, it’s still there waiting for him, half open. The little book still in his hand and he’s just about to place it back there

*Like absolutely nothing ever happened*

And in that moment he realises, as soon as it’s back, it’s gone. His one window to her unadulterated thoughts is gone. The one access he has ever had to someone, anyone’s actual idea of him that wasn’t serving a purpose or trying to extort something from him. If her behaviour had fooled him so completely then it was reasonable to consider the possibility she never intended to act upon any of her reflections, and the book held so many he found himself cursing the fact his elven life ended earlier and lasted much less than his immortal one, before he could learn how to commit to memory more enduringly that the last few hours perusing the little tome allowed him.

*nasty little tease! letting my mind slip that far back!*

His head shakes slightly and a bitter smile pulls the corner of his lips. There’s no point crying over spilled milk again. His hand doesn’t even touch the bag, but the book is back in it, as if it never left. With his body crouched next to bed he can see the look on her face, the look of someone who has really been peacefully resting for the last few hours, completely and utterly unaware about how she has taken that peace almost directly from him: he should have rested, he should have gone hunting and the mere thought reminds him of that dry, stinging feeling in his throat. But instead of satiating his hunger, gaining any ounce of strength back, any semblance of mortality, he just wasted the entire night on that vexatious little book that she guarded so intensely for absolutely no reason.

*Nothing no one of value in it!*

*As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!*

But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger

*I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!*

Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

And she might just have given him an excellent solution. Out of that image it finally dawns on him:

*For all she knows, I have never left*

As if the mystification of the last hours had never happened, he can just slip back into the flirtatious role that she last remembers, and at that, he whisks himself up and his leg gracefully drapes over hers so that in the next moment his body is now behind hers, without so much as a breath *or heartbeat* skipped on her part. She wanted him to stay didn’t she? In hindsight it’s just like they say *aul iasa nha tho in vino veritas*. And now her tipsiness really reads as someone’s infatuation, he had confirmation from her own well guarded thoughts, her fingers and heart committing words to paper that would have kept being nothing but denied by the demeanour she carries herself with, except for last night.

*And isn’t it going to be a delight to coax the truth out of her own lips, when I already know I have her protection, before I even had a chance to persuade her so*

That is the first time the realisation dawns on him: no matter how well she hides her feelings, he is already under her skin, there is nothing that he can’t convince strangers to give him, the knowledge that

+he’s on my mind, really almost all the time+

And *oh! What a terribly applicative concession!* He knows, before he even thought to strike, that he will hit the target in the perfect bull’s eye. The attainment of that awareness almost lets him enjoy, for the first time, fully, completely, the exhilarating aroma that she emanates, because in due time, understanding how that little precious tome has opened her mind, her actual mind, to him, he now knows.

Before he has to ask.

He will taste her.

Because she already says yes to him in every thought of hers he occupies.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg 3 #bg 3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #am i fucking insane astarion fanfic

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allsadnshit · 11 months ago

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I had a terrible nightmare last night that my bosses were my old art teachers in school and when I realized that I knew it was going to be unfair to have teachers so biased against me and all I wanted to do was draw and none of the other students would stick up for me or believe me that I was being treated badly in fact they were mocking my frustration and saying how easy the class was so I went to the supervisor to tell them I just needed to be excused from that class and could take any other one in its place and she started pulling receipts saying id done this too many times before and it was a boy who cried wolf situation that had absolutely no substance anymore and I was clearly the one making the problems and wouldn't be believed by anyone given my history of always getting bad blood with people

I kept begging everyone to see that I wasn't asking for anyone else's punishment and I wasn't trying to get people to be angry about what I was angry about I just wanted to be able to leave a situation that is unhealthy for me but they kept laughing in my face and saying I had no where to go

I woke up feeling so so sick. Everything with my job in real life feels it's escalated even though I've tried to handle things as well as I could and went to therapy before making any decisions to make sure what I wanted to do was aligned with sincerity and myself and when I tried to call my co workers to tell them i was demoted and to not keep working on the specialty drink ideas I had given the shop before finding out I wouldn't be paid on them they had me on speakerphone and my boss heard me saying I was demoted and they quickly hung up to avoid conflict and when I called them back I told them sorry yeah it's awkward but it's not a secret and I am not hiding something this is just actually the situation and that hanging up and bolting probably looks more suspicious than just telling them.

Then last night after I told my bosses I want my Sunday shift covered (cause I need more time to think about things and how I want to handle them and going in and working with them right now is not okay for me) the husband responded in a separate text which was weird and just said sure but that we should all talk if I need to do things don't fester if I have something I need to say. And I do, and I will but I need time to because half the problem is that they sprung the whole conversation and demotion on me without any warning like didn't even tell me we would be talking about it that day so I was so unprepared and it was really unfair to me. I muted the business and the other bosses instagrams i follow from seeing my story cause I want some privacy from them whether I'm having good days or bad days I just don't want them having access to me right now with everything going on and so they started lurking on my story from a secret account I didn't know the husband even had and I only caught it because he watched a story of mine for the first time and so quickly after I posted it that his name wasn't just lost in the views and I saw it. It was so off putting and like clearly they've never done that before so it wasn't normal and felt so invasive since they clearly realized I had blocked their other accounts from my story...

I'm going to probably have to be unemployed for MONTHS when I quit and I'm not trying to spite anyone I am trying to have some self respect and uphold the boundaries I have with myself about what treatment I will allow and what energy I'm willing to give to businesses that profit off it but don't appreciate it.

I've never ever ever quit something like this before but I know it just won't sit right with me to stay just for the sake of the money and peace it's just going to become worse and I need to walk away but I feel like none of my peers are gonna have my back.

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mermaidchan05 · 9 months ago

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Vesuvia Weekly: "We're going to Disney World!"

(Insert "When You Wish Upon a Star" audio here)

I guess this one kinda looks like the "explaining our world to the M6" prompt if you squint?

Yeah I don't know how to explain the real world to people in the real world, so... imagine a scenario where the M6 has somehow been transported to our world, and then introduced to movies. And upon being introduced to Disney movies specifically, clearly the next step is a trip to Disney World. Here's some headcanon bullets for how I think a trip with the four main LI's I write for and their loves would go!

Julian (and Damian)

Julian is living.

Seriously this is one of the best days of his life.

He knows theater magic, and he just stepped onto the world's biggest interactive stage.

It's extra magical with Damian there.

Thanks to Damian (who is a gamer at heart), Julian now knows as much about computers as he possibly can, so “this ride goes this way because of a computer command” makes perfect sense to him and it is wonderful.

He was very nervous about going on the Haunted Mansion at first, and if he had just gone unprepared he would have hated it. But he had Damian by his side, and Damian has all the behind-the-scenes information. He’s talking Julian through every single trick and story concept, and it is fascinating.

Julian is entranced by the Pepper’s Ghost effect now and he’s going to try it out the second he gets home.

Get this man on Pirates of the Caribbean, stat!

Julian sees Flynn Rider in the parade and starts rambling about whether or not he could pull off a part like that.

(oh no now everyone is going to be introduced to the idea of cosplay...)

Asra (and Meleia)

Best day of their life Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Asra practically needs one of those child leash backpacks he is looking at everything.

There is so much to see and so much to do and everything is beautiful and fascinating and you walk down the street and end up in an entirely different world...

It's practically as fun as exploring the Magical Realms. And here he has sights and activities and food that he's never even dreamed of.

But the best part for him is just reveling in Meleia’s joy.

Meleia loves Disney. She loves Disney World. And she adores sharing all of her favorite rides and shows and restaurants with Asra.

And Asra loves seeing her so happy. The two of them are basically wrapped up in an endless feedback loop of childlike wonder and whimsy and it’s incredible.

While they see the benefit of skipping the lines, Asra can also thoroughly enjoy just interacting with all the fun queues. Catch them almost stalling the line to spot every single one of Tinkerbell’s hiding spots and play with his own shadow in the Peter Pan’s Flight queue.

(Since it's his favorite Disney movie according to the og devs) Asra absolutely goes on a hunt for every single possible piece of Emperor’s New Groove merchandise he can find. Comes out with a surprising amount of it despite no one else actually seeing anything. Where did this come from, Asra?

Collects those little plushies with magnets that can sit on your shoulder. Has a new Shoulder Buddy for every day of the trip.

Nadia (featuring a brief appearence by Portia and Chimalus)

Nadia is the Ultimate Planner

She loves puzzles, she knows all about how to organize people, and the gang just dropped the world’s biggest organization puzzle right in front of her.

She is on it.

There’s a long list of things that everyone wants to see? And they have a limited time to do it all? No problem.

She did the research. She found the best possible times to get everything done. And now she has a color-coded schedule, complete with contingency plans.

She could have just done one of those fancy VIP tour things, but this is much more fun.

She knows exactly how to Navigate the parks despite never being there before.

Disney World has a gift shop practically around every corner. This is the perfect place to spoil all of her friends.

She will find a way to secretly buy things for everyone. Sometimes even while they are all exploring the same store.

Gets the perfect fancy dining reservations.

Absolutely sets aside time for people to break off into smaller groups.

Since she knows that Chimalus doesn't do loud noises, and Portia desperately wants to see the fireworks, Nadia would absolutely book one of those fancy Dinner and Fireworks experiences where you can admire the show from a safer distance while also enjoying delicious food.

She makes several mental notes for the next Masquerade. New goal: Outdo Disney. If anyone can pull it off, it's Nadia.

Portia (featuring a brief mention of Chimalus)

One might think Portia would be the second person you’d want to give a child leash-backpack to, but no.

She’s not going anywhere without "dragging" as many people alongside her as she can.

In a beautiful world where the original Fastpass system is still in place (because it was scientifically proven to be the Best One) Portia is the one running to the kiosks to get The Perfect Fastpass.

This girl has never been on a trip like this, but she has still somehow mastered the art of the Disney World Mom Bag.

Ponchos for the rain? In there. Bandaids? Covered. Snacks and water bottles? Oh, absolutely.

She even brought ear protection for Chimalus, so nothing could stop them from enjoying every experience.

Absolutely cries over the fireworks.

She has also discovered the joy of a camera. She will find time to take the best possible pictures of everyone, and no one knows how she pulls it off.

For Portia, this isn’t just a place where all those fun new movies she’s just learned about comes to life, it’s the place where some of her favorite childhood stories are actually real. And she loves it.

Has about a million ideas for writing her own books when she gets home. Chimalus highly encourages this and can't wait to read what she comes up with.

#vesuvia weekly #educate the m6 #(okay only kinda sorta but still maybe it counts lol)#fun with headcanons #finally my knowledge of disney world comes in handy lol

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sarahsmi13s · 2 years ago

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Picture Perfect Tattoos

(not my gif)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x tattoo artist!reader

characters: bradley bradshaw, the dagger squad, mickey ‘fanboy’ garica, jake ‘hangman’ seresin, goose and carole bradshaw (mentioned)

warnings: fem!reader, language, canon character deaths (carole and goose), reader’s mother was a marine, parental death, memorial tattoos, if i missed any i apologize

word count: only ~8.5k (i thought it was higher than that but i still apologize)

quick summary: bradley had always wanted something to memoralize his father, but he could never come up with anything he liked. until he meets you, a local artist that can relate to him on a level not many people can.

*********

Rooster had always thought of getting a tattoo in remembrance of his father. But he just didn’t know what to get.

He had gotten one for his mom when she had passed. The one for her was easy, her handwriting. “You got this! Love, Mom” was tattooed on his wrist. It was a copy of a sticky note she had put in his baseball bag for an away game she couldn’t make it to. He pitched his best game that night and has held onto the note ever since.

But for Goose? He wouldn’t know where to start. He could get so many things. He just didn’t know what would really show him who his dad was.

Rooster had always felt like if he wanted a tattoo, he needed to have it planned out and ready. He hated feeling unprepared.

“Why don’t you just get a goose tattooed on you?” Hangman suggested casually as he sipped his beer. Everyone else at the table looked at him with wide eyes before looking at Rooster. “You know, he’d actually find that really funny.” The other pilots relaxed, they weren’t sure what grounds the two were on considering the last time Hangman had the balls to talk about Rooster’s father nearly got them both kicked off the mission.

Rooster shook his head, and rubbed his nose as he sat up, “But seriously, I want something that really represents who he was. Or at least who he was to me.” He brandished his wrist to the group, “Like this. My mom wrote me a note and stuck it in my baseball bag. I pitched my best game that night, so I kept it with me. I still have it. But paper only lasts so long, I wanted it in the sky with me but I was too afraid I’d lose it if anything happened.” The group nodded, small smiles on their faces.

Bradley had always been a private person. Sure he was outgoing and could bring life to a party if he needed to, but he didn’t get close to people. So him sharing that little detail about his life showed them that he was letting down his walls.

Fanboy spoke up, “Why don’t you just get a consultation?” He said it like it was the most obvious option. Phoenix nodded, “Yeah, that’s actually a really good idea!” Rooster’s brow furrowed, “A consultation?” Fanboy nodded and sat up a little more, “Yeah, I mean, you know what a consultation is, right?” “Of course I know what a consultation is, Garcia. But they do those for tattoos?”

The WSO laughed, “Yes! I actually went to one the other day and the artist was really cool, she nerded out with me over some things and it went really well. She had a few designs drawn up the next day and I go back to her on Saturday. I could give you her card if you want?” He was already reaching for his wallet, but Rooster held out a hand. “Give me a day or two to think about it and I’ll get back to you.” Fanboy nodded and got up to pull Fritz, Bob, and Omaha into a game of pool.

Everyone got up and went off to do their own thing, leaving Rooster to sit and observe.

He lifted his bottle to his mouth, finding it empty. He pushed himself up and walked to the bar to get himself another.

When he gets to the bar, the bell rings. He smiles and claps his hands, scanning the crowd for the poor soul that broke a rule. He spotted someone laughing with their phone in the air, bingo.

“What can I get you, Rooster?” Penny asked, leaning against the bar. “Just my usual, please.” She patted the bar, and was off to get his drink. Rooster turned and leaned against the bar, just watching the crowd but avoiding looking at his fellow pilots so he didn’t have to bring them a round.

His eyes landed on the back widows, watching the families on the beaches packing up as the sun began to set behind the water. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a girl on a table out back.

There was nothing really special about her appearance, she wore a university sweater and sweatpants with her hair pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. But compared to the girls on the inside of the bar, she stood out. And Bradley was entranced.

“Here you go, Lieutenant.”

Penny’s voice pulled him back. He smiled at her, “Thanks Pen.” She smiled and turned to walk away, but he spoke again. “Hey, who’s that girl outside?” Penny followed Bradley’s finger and spotted her. She smiled fondly, “She comes in all the time. Sometimes she’s here with friends, sometimes by herself.” Rooster nodded, “Does she always sit outside when she’s here by herself?” Penny shook her head, “Not always.” He nodded and looked back out at the girl.

Even now, Penny could tell Bradley wanted to talk to her. He was obviously hesitant, not knowing the perfect way or moment to approach her. Same ole Rooster.

She smiled, “Hey, I’m a little swamped here with these drinks and she ordered cheese fries, I’d hate for them to get cold. Would you take them to her for me?” Rooster turned his head to her, “Uh, yeah, yeah sure. What’s she drinkin’?” Penny chuckled, “Water mostly. She had an Angry Orchard when she got here.” Rooster nodded and watched Penny walk to the kitchen to grab the food.

When she brought it back, she added a glass of water and a bottle of cider. Bradley nodded and headed to the back door.

Penny smirked and turned to Mav, who arched a brow at the look on her face. “What’s that look for?” She just shook her head and moved on.

********

You had been sitting outside the Hard Deck for a little bit now. Just watching the waves and the sunset, trying to find inspiration.

“Oh my gosh, brain, why can’t you just work?” You groaned, dropping your pencil onto the picnic table.

“Don’t be so hard on her, she’s doing her best.”

You gasped, startled by the new voice. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, sitting the tray he had down. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Laughing as well, you shook your head, “No, it’s okay. Just-” You sighed, not really knowing what to say.

You laughed again and got off the table, sitting in the actual seat. You looked down at the tray and saw the cheese fries. “Oh, yeah, Penny sent me out here with those. Some poor soul left their phone on the bar, she got swarmed.” Smiling, you looked up at him, taking in his appearance.

He was a pilot, that much you could tell by the tags over his black t-shirt. You’d seen him around the bar before. He’d caught your eye the moment he came in, but you had been too nervous to talk to him.

“Thank you…” Your arched brow prompted him to fill in the blank. “Rooster.” You nodded, smiling. Of course, you already knew his name, well his call sign at least. But you thought it weird to just say it, he didn’t know you.

He smiled, “You’re welcome…” He copied your previous action. “Y/N.” He repeated your name and you're certain it gave you heart eyes. “Mind if I join you?” You gestured to the space across you, “Not at all.” Rooster sat down and surveyed your set-up.

“So, you totally don’t have answer and can just tell me to fuck off,” Rooster started, taking a sip of his beer. “But, why are you outside? Alone?” You shrugged and took a gulp of the cider he brought you, “I needed a change of scenery. Artist block thrives when you look at the same four walls.” “So you picked a bar?” You smiled, glancing inside to see groups of friends laughing or engaged in friendly competition. “Not just any bar,” you said, turning back to Rooster. “I picked The Hard Deck.”

The way you said the bar’s name with such pride and fondness had Rooster’s heart beating out of his chest.

You grabbed a fry, carefully moving it so you didn’t get any cheese anywhere before shoving it in your mouth. After swallowing it, you spoke again, “The atmosphere here is just phenomenal. It’s warm and inviting, the owner works here and she does a damn good job of keeping people in line.” You looked back out to the shore, the waves frothing seafoam onto the sand.

Rooster’s breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. The golden hour sun was hitting your face beautifully, it made your hair shine and caught the different shades of (h/c) in it.

He snapped out of his trance when you moved to face him again.

“And the view is just gorgeous,” you looked at him when you said that, trying your best to be subtle but obvious at the same time. Hoping that he would question whether you meant him or the beach. He seemed caught off guard but played it off, smirking behind the rim of his bottle, “I’ll definitely agree with you on that one.” You giggled and grabbed another fry before turning to your sketchbook, typing something on your laptop.

Rooster cleared his throat and pointed to your sketchbook. “You working on something specific?” You shook your head, smirking a little bit as you looked up at him before going back to your paper. “Not at the moment, no. Just trying to get the juices flowing.” You pointed to the fries, “Feel free to take some.”

Bradley watched you work, his eyes taking in everything on your face from the way your nose twitched and your tongue pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He saw your brow furrow before you sighed and sat back.

You groaned and ran a hand down your face. “Everything okay?” You rubbed your eyes before turning back to him, “Yeah.” He hummed, “How long have you been staring at that screen?” “A few hours? Maybe.” Rooster reached over and slowly shut your laptop, obviously giving you the opportunity to stop him.

“How about you take a break? At least from the screen.” You smiled, “Probably should take a break from all of it.” You closed your sketchbook and placed it on your laptop, facing Rooster to give him your full attention. “And getting to know someone new might be a good source of inspiration.”

He smiled and from there you both talked about yourselves. Taking turns asking questions and getting to know each other.

******

Before you knew it the bar’s crowd was thinning and you hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Rooster!” You both looked towards the door, seeing a tall blond. The blond smirked and leaned against the door, “Oh, was I interrupting something?” As you went to shake your head, Rooster nodded and spoke up, “Yes, Hangman, yes you were. We were having a very engaging conversation.” He pushed himself off the frame, plucking the toothpick from his mouth, “I’d say. You’ve been out here for hours.”

Your brows shot up as Rooster turned to you. Both of you glanced at your respective watches. “Holy shit, we have been talking for hours.” You smiled at him, “Hours well spent, I’d say.” Rooster smiled at you, “Agreed.”

Hangman looked between you two, smirking to himself. “Well, I’m glad you got the foreplay out of the way. But Penny wants to close up, so go pay your tabs and then you can go at it. I’m going home.” He patted the wood and went in.

You laughed to yourself and packed your things into your bag. Rooster frowned with worry, “Hey, don’t mind him, he’s just-” “Being Hangman?” You asked with an arched brow, humor in your voice. He chuckled in relief that you weren’t upset. “Yeah.” You nodded, “I’m sure my friend would have said the same thing.”

It was silent as you shouldered your bag and you both walked in.

He opened his mouth, but you spoke first. “Look, Rooster, I really did have a good time talking to you. But I don’t just want to be a hookup, I don’t think you want that either. Or at least I hope that’s the case.” He nodded, “Well you’re right. I don’t want this to just be a hookup. I really enjoyed talking to you.” You smiled, “Good.”

Penny walked over to where you both were at the bar. She had a playful glint in her eye, “I was wondering where you disappeared off to. Here to pay your tab?” “Yes ma’am,” Rooster said, pulling out his card. “Put Y/N’s on mine too.” Penny nodded and smiled, “I’ll get right on that.”

You shook your head, “You didn’t have to do that. Pen-” You lifted your hand to grab her attention, but Rooster pulled it down. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” You pointed a finger, grinning, “I’m paying next time. Non negotiable Lieutenant.” He hummed, “We’ll see.”

A plastic tap on the bar pulled you and Rooster from each other. “There you go, Rooster. Y/N, when will I get the pleasure of seeing you again?” “It wouldn’t be as special if I told you, would it?” She laughed and you sneakily grabbed your receipt. “I guess not. Y’all have a good night.”

Bradley nodded at her before gently cradling your arm to lead you outside.

“Which one’s yours?” You pointed to the black 67 impala. “Holy shit, you’re serious?” You nodded, smiling, “Oh yeah. But I only drive her occasionally. My dad got her for me.” You unlocked it and slid your bag across the seat, before closing it and leaning on the car. “I’ve got a Tacoma at home I drive most of the time. It’s easier to find parts for that.” Bradley scoffed, “Tell me about it.” You giggled and glanced around the parking lot. “Which one’s yours?” He pointed to his Bronco. You nodded in appreciation, “I guess I’m not the only one with good taste around here. 75?” He nodded, smiling fondly, “Yeah, it was my dad’s.”

You nodded and turned to open your door, but Rooster beat you to it. “Thank you, Roo.” “Of course.” You reached over to your bag, turning your back to Bradley, and grabbed a pen, some cash and the receipt from before. You wrote down your number on the receipt and folded it over the money to conceal it. You put it in his shirt pocket, “Here’s my number. Text me when you get home, okay?” He chuckled, “I thought I was supposed to tell you that?” “We text each other, Roo. It's a mutual concern.” He nodded and smiled, “Right. Have a good night, Y/N.” You started your car as he closed the door. “You too Rooster.”

He watched to make sure you made it onto the road safely before going to his vehicle.

Bradley climbed and pulled the folded up paper you put in his pocket. It felt thicker than he thought it should have been. He read the note on the receipt. ‘I had a great night. Text me when you get home. Keep the change ;)’ His brows furrowed in confusion and he unfolded the paper, finding the cash in it. He laughed and shook head, sliding both back into his shirt pocket and heading home.

*******

Rooster texted you when he got home and called when he got your text that you made it home. Over the next two days you talked and texted when you had the chance. And he had invited you out for drinks on Saturday. But you had to decline because you had work.

And Bradley was a little mopey because of it. “Hey, what’s got you so down man?” Phoenix asked at lunch. “He’s upset ‘cause his girlfriend can’t come to drinks tomorrow,” Hangman said with his mouth full. Phoenix arched a brow at her friend, “Girlfriend?” Rooster shook his head, pointing his fork at Hangman, “She’s not my girlfriend.” “Not yet.” “I’ve known her for two days!” Coyote sat up, “Wait, is it that girl you were talking to the other night?” He nodded, “Yeah. And she’s really cool, I kinda want to see what you guys thought of her before I actually took her out. But she’s got to work and might not be able to come out tomorrow.”

Fanboy straightened up, “Oh, yeah, I might be late tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment with my tattoo artist.” “That’s right, you told us about that the other day.” “Speaking of,” Hangman turned to Rooster. “Have you given any thought to Fanboy’s offer?” Rooster tilted his head, trying to remember. “The consultation with my artist?” “Right! Right, uh, yeah. What the hell, you know. Worth a shot.” Fanboy fist pumped. “Actually, I’m gonna call her right now. And I’ll get you all set up for tomorrow after me. Sound good?” Rooster nodded, “Perfect.”

Mickey pulled out his phone and called the tattoo shop.

*******

You sat under a LED light, the sleeves of your flannel rolled up to your elbows.

“You’re doing so good, keep it up, I’m almost done with your linework.” You praised your client as they sat still as you tattooed their ribs down to their hip. The phone rang but you didn’t get up to answer it, letting the front desk handle it.

“Y/N, it’s for you!” “I’ll be there in a minute!” You filled out the last line of the butterfly.

Turning off your machine, gently patted their leg. “I’ve got the black outlines done, I’m gonna take that call and you can do whatever you need. Go to the bathroom, smoke, get some food, what have you.” They nodded and gently adjusted their shirt, “My partner’s bringing pizza.”

“Ooooh, hope he brought enough to share!” Your coworker and friend, Finn, said as he tattooed his client. “Hush, Finn-” “Actually, he is. I had them get one of everything.” Your jaw dropped, “You’re kidding? Really? You guys spoil us!”

“Y/N, the phone?” You pulled off your gloves, “Right!” You picked it up, “Thank you for calling Island Ink. This is Y/N.” “Hey, it’s Mickey!” You smiled, “Hey, Mick! What’s up?” “I just wanted to know if you had any open slots after me tomorrow?” You pouted as you tried to remember. “I’m pretty sure, but just let me check real quick.” You jogged over to your desk.

You pulled your planner out of the wall basket and opened it on your desk. You hummed as you found the date, “Yes, I’ve got a slot open after you. Why? Do you need to move it back?” “No, no. I’ve actually got a friend that is looking to get a tattoo. He’s not really sure what he wants, has to have a plan and all that.”

You stood up and grabbed a pencil, “Well, if it has significance, they’re best to be thought out and planned.” “Exactly, so do you think you could get him in after me tomorrow?” You smiled, “Of course, what’s his name?” “Bradley Bradshaw.” You hummed, nodding as you penciled him in, “Okay, Mr. Bradshaw is set for tomorrow.” “You’re the best!” “Tell your friends.” “Thank you.” “Of course, fly safe Mick.”

He hung up first and you gave the phone back to the front desk. Before you called your client back over you cleaned up your station.

*******

Mickey slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling victoriously. “You’re in! Just come in tomorrow with me. We’re just going to pick which one I want and then go over the price and time frame. So it shouldn’t take long.” Rooster nodded, “Thanks man.”

*******

Rooster followed Fanboy to the tattoo shop the next day.

When they pulled he noticed that there was only a blue Tacoma in the parking lot. “Where is everyone?” He questioned when they got out. “Oh, yeah, she’s the only one here on Saturdays. Does it for military workers so they don’t have to rush around to leave work.” “Oh, that’s cool.”

They walked in and the floor was empty. The bell on the door chimed to let whoever was there know someone came in.

“I’ll be out there in just a second!”

That made Rooster pause. He knew that voice. He had heard that voice on the phone for the past three days.

Only to cement his suspicions, you walked out from a back room, most likely an office, with papers in your hands.

You wore something casual, wanting to be comfortable but stylish at the same time. Just a simple pair of leggings and the sleeves of a worn out, bleach stained shirt were cut off and a plaid shirt was tied around your waist.

Rooster stopped walking completely and took you in. You had ink up and down one arm in a sleeve and little tattoos on the other one. Through the hole in the shirt, he could see tattoos on your ribs, and he was sure if you were wearing shorts, you would have tattoos littering your legs.

You looked up and made immediate eye contact with Bradley. You gasped quietly and nearly dropped the papers in your hands. “Rooster, hi!”

Fanboy looked between the two of you, connecting the dots. “Wait, Rooster, is Y/N the girl you’ve been talking about the past couple days?” Rooster blinked, getting himself out of the daydream he was in to look at Mickey, “Yeah.” He looked back at you, “You didn’t tell me you were a tattoo artist.” You shrugged sheepishly and pushed your hair behind your ear, “It never really came up. Much like your name, I assume you're Bradley.”

You had never heard his name, only his call sign, around the Hard Deck. And it hadn’t come up over the past few days.

He just smiled, “Yes ma’am.” Fanboy waved his hands in the air, “Wait, how did you not tell her your name?” He shrugged, “Never came up.” You cleared your throat, “Mickey, let’s get started. Bradley, you are more than welcome to look around, get a drink from the fridge or pull up a chair at my desk.” He nodded and started to look around, seeing portfolios on the coffee table and some pieces on the walls.

A few minutes in and Bradley was sitting next to Mickey at your desk and was flipping through one of your books, listening as you went over pricing and time frame for each tattoo option.

“Hey Bradshaw?” Mickey nudged Rooster’s knee. He hummed and looked up. “Which one is more ‘Fanboy’?” Rooster sat up to get a better look at the photos. “Well, they both scream ‘Fanboy’.” “Okay, but if you had to pick one.” “Garcia, this is going on you, get what you would be happy with.” Mickey groaned, “But I’d be happy with either one of these! I’m way too indecisive for this.”

“Well,” you started, gaining both men’s attention. “Both of these would take the same amount of time to do. I could maybe combine the two. Like I could….” Any words you said after that were lost on Bradley as he watched you get so into your work.

He was brought back by Mickey. “So, we’re talking same price and same time frame to get the best of both worlds?” You nodded, “Yeah, it may take a little longer to get started. But I could work on it tonight and send it to you and see what you think?” You neatly put the rest of the ideas in a desk drawer. “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mickey held his hand out for a handshake but you slapped it away and gave him a hug, “Of course.”

You smiled at Bradley, “Let me get him settled and then we can talk about you.” He nodded and took the seat Fanboy was sitting in. You went over to the register and handled that. “Okay, are you staying for this?” He shrugged and checked his watch, “I got time.”

Sitting down at your desk, you grabbed a notebook and flipped it open to the next clean page. You wrote Rooster’s name at the top before looking up at him, “Let’s get started.”

You twirled the pencil in your hand, “Okay, so, have you gotten a tattoo before?” Bradley nudged his nose with his knuckle as he sat up a little more, “Yes, I’ve got one on my wrist. I got it when I was 18. So, it’s been a while.”

Biting your lip, you held out your hand, “May I take a look?” He shrugged and placed his wrist in your palm, “Sure.”

You ran your thumb over the ink. “She had beautiful handwriting…”

Your compliment was breathy, but full of fondness.

Rooster smiled, “Yeah, yeah she did.” He looks from his wrist up to your face, eyes scanning your features.

In this moment, Fanboy felt like a third wheel. Seeing you two look at each other the way you were looking at each other, he thought it better to leave. Also this tattoo was very personal for Rooster; it’s for his dad, someone he had limited memories of and also talked little about.

He told Payback to call him and get him out of there.

When his phone rang both of you looked at him. He answered it quickly, “Hey PB! What’s up?” You watched him nod along to whatever was being said. “Well I’m with Rooster right now.”

Rooster waved his hand, “If you gotta go, go.” He looked at you, smiling, “I think I can handle it from here.” Mickey nodded, “Okay yeah, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, bid farewell and promptly left.

You and Rooster shared a look before laughing. “He is something else,” you said, shaking your head. “Yeah, he sure is.”

You let go of his hand and grabbed your pencil. “So, tell me what you want to get.” “I don’t know, honestly,” Rooster chuckled, looking at his lap a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I usually have things like this prepared…” “It’s okay, that’s what these consultations are for. Let’s try a different avenue. Why are you wanting to get another tattoo?”

Bradley clenched his jaw a little, swallowing, “My dad. I want to get a memorial tattoo for him.” You nodded, giving him a small smile in understanding, “Alright, that’s a start.” You wrote that down.

You tapped the paper with your eraser, trying to figure out how to phrase your next question. “What was he like?” You decided on just asking it as gently as possible.

Rooster chuckled a little, sighing at the end, “From what I remember… he was the life of the party, goofy, loud, bold…” You looked up at him, watching his face as he spoke. You could see the pain matched only by admiration.

“How old were you? When he passed…” “4, he was in a training accident.” You rested your arms on the desk. “I’m sorry, that must have been confusing for you. I know it was confusing for me,” you said.

Now, to be clear you didn’t mention that little fact about yourself to make it about you, but simply to show Bradley you could relate and sympathize.

He seemed to realize your goal and gave you a small smile, “Only a little. My mom had always been honest with me about things. But she made sure that I knew how much he loved me, loved us.” You nodded, smiling at him.

Bradley cleared his throat, “Do you have any memorial tattoos? Maybe you could help give me a direction to go?” You nodded, getting up to get closer to him. You sat on his left side and faced him.

Holding out your left arm, you exposed the tattooed dog tags on your bicep with a hand-written quote and signature accompanying it.

Upon closer inspection, Rooster saw that it was signed ‘Mom’.

“Your mom was in the military?” You nodded, smiling a little, “Marine Corp.” “What happened?” You tensed a little and Bradley noticed. “I’m sorry that was-” You shook your head, “It’s okay. She was in a bombing, died on the medevac. I was 5.” “I’m sorry.” You waved it off and sat back down, “It was a long time ago.”

“Tell me about your dad, or at least what stands out the most to you.”

The smile that graced Rooster's face was contagious. “He loved to play the piano. Remember when I said he was the life of the party? That’s why. He’d sing and crack jokes, everyone liked him.” You smiled, “He sounds like a great man, Rooster.” Bradley nodded, “He was.”

You wrote down piano, given that it was something they had in common. “Did he have a favorite song?” Bradley nodded, “Oh yeah, he had a lot of favorites. But-uh…” He trailed off for a second, a bittersweet smile making a short appearance.

“One of the last memories I have is him playing ‘Great Ball of Fire’ on the piano; with me on top of it singing along with him and my mom, my uncle and whoever his fling was at the time.” You both chuckled at the last part. You wrote that down too.

As you wrote little notes down, Bradley noticed a polaroid photo sitting on your desk. He picked it up and looked at it.

It was a photo of you on, what looked like, a dorm bed. You had less tattoos than you do now, but you look more or less the same.

“That was when I was in college, those were the days.” He could hear the fond smile before he looked up and saw it. “You look beautiful.” He watched the blush creep up your cheeks before smirking and looking back at the photo.

His cocky smile turned into a soft smile as he remembered his father. “My dad loved polaroids, he said they capture natural beauty in its purest form, that they memorialized a moment in a way no digital camera ever could. I couldn’t tell you how many polaroids he had of him and Mav up in the sky, or of me when I was barely walking, or of my mom when she was mid laugh.”

Tears had stung your eyes a little as Rooster confided in you.

You wrote down ‘polaroid’ and circled it. This was something you felt needed to be in the tattoo.

Rooster was still looking at the photo when he noticed what you were wearing. “Are you wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” You looked back at the photo, “Oh yeah, I wore it to bed a lot, or when I woke up.”

That put way too many thoughts in Bradley’s head.

He put the photo back, and leaned his arms on your desk. He tried not to be nosy but he couldn’t help but to glance at your notes.

He watched you place your pencil down, “Do you have any photos of him?” Bradley nodded, “Yeah, uh, just a second.” He pushed out of his chair and went to his Bronco.

When he came back he had a photo in his hand.

You gingerly took it when he handed it to you. He chuckled and rubbed his neck, “Unfortunately it’s not a polaroid. But it’s the only one I have on me.” You smiled a little and looked down at the photo.

It was a black and white photo. Nick was posed stoically in front of his plane, and you glanced from him to Bradley. “You look like him,” you said with a smile, gently sliding the photo across the desk.

Rooster chuckled and slid the photo into his shirt pocket, “I get told that a lot. I’m starting to question whether or not it's a compliment.” You smiled, “Oh it’s definitely a compliment.” Bradley arched a brow, “Are you hitting on my dad?”

Your face fell and you pointed an accusatory finger at the pilot across from you, “That was a trap.” He broke out into a laugh and you began to laugh as well.

“Oh!” Rooster reached into his pocket for his phone. You waited patiently as he scrolled through his photos. “Here,” he turned his phone around to show a photo of a photo, it was his parents and him when he was young. You held out your hand for him to place it in your hand. You took in the details, Carole wore a colorful dress, he wore a striped shirt, and Goose wore a Hawaiian shirt covered in hibiscus flowers.

You smiled, head tilting slightly, “You know, you really do look like your dad, but I can see your mom as well.” You gave him his phone back, picking up your pencil to jot something down.

Bradley’s brows raised in surprise, no one had ever told him that- save for his aunts probably. But it wasn’t something he heard often.

“You think?” You nodded, “Oh yeah, your curls and the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you smile. But that smile is all your dad.” He smiled at you, a full genuine smile. “That one right there,” you smiled back.

Then an idea popped into your head, “What’s your favorite flower?” Bradley looked genuinely baffled by your question, “You plan on getting me flowers, Y/N?” You shrugged, “Maybe. Answer the question.” He chuckled, “Hibiscus, they were actually my dad’s favorite as well. They just help me feel close to him. But the amount of wildflowers I picked up when I was a kid was insane.” You smiled at him and quickly wrote down ‘hibiscus’ in your notes.

You sighed contently, “Okay, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to approach this. I’ll try to get some sketches done within the week and get back to you when I have enough.” You both stood. Rooster wiped his hands on his jeans, shaking his wrist to adjust his watch, “You know how to get a hold of me.” You smiled, “I do. Let’s get you settled.”

After he paid for the consultation and you gathered your things, you both walked out.

Rooster stood guard while you locked up the shop. “Hey, thank you for today and taking time to really sit down and talk it out with me.” You turned and smiled up at him, blushing slightly at how close you were to him, “Of course. A tattoo is a big thing, not everyone can just find something and go with it. Especially something as important as this.” Bradley smiled and opened his arms, offering a hug.

You smiled and hugged him, “I’ll talk to you later Bradley.” He rubbed your back and gave you a quick squeeze. “I’ll text you later.” He walked you to your truck and held the door open for you, helping you up into the seat.

As you started your truck, his phone went off.

“It’s Hangman, hold on.” He answered it, putting it on speaker, “Yeah?” “Hey, where are you?” “I just finished my consultation, why?” “Well, Garcia’s already here so I figured you’d be with him.” “Oh he left early.” You both heard the man pause, “So you were left with the artist by yourself?”

Both of you could hear the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Hi, Hangman,” you spoke up, a playful smirk on your face.

“Bradshaw! You didn’t tell me I was on speaker!” Then it clicked, “Wait, was that the girl from the Hard Deck?” “It is, good ears.” “Well, in that case, take your time Rooster. Bye.” Jake quickly hung up.

Both you and Bradley lost it.

When you calmed down, he checked his watch, “Hey, it’s still pretty early, do you want to head to the Hard Deck? Let me properly buy you a drink this time?” You sighed and you watched his face fall. “I’m sorry-” “No, it’s okay.” “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. But I need to get Mickey’s tattoo finished and then get started on yours. I really am sorry Bradley.”

He smiled softly and gently pushed hair out of your face, “Hey, don’t sweat it. Maybe we could go to lunch tomorrow?” You smiled, nodding, “Yeah, that sounds nice. Or… you could come over and have a drink at my place? Order pizza or something. I make mean mac and cheese.”

“It’s not Kraft is it? If the powder isn’t mixed in well enough the texture just- blegh,” he said, obviously teasing. “Kraft? What do you take me for? It’s shredded cheese and bowtie noodles. Only the finest for you,” you teased right back, gently punching his shoulder. “I look forward to it.”

He closed your door as you rolled the window down, “I’ll follow you?” You nodded, “Try to keep up.” You winked and he shook his head, chuckling as he patted the door, “I’ll see you there.”

********

After dinner and a few beers, you and Rooster moved to the living room.

You sat up in the corner of the couch, your work iPad in your lap as your stylist bounced between your pinky and thumb. You had both tattoos Mickey picked on the coffee table and side by side on your screen.

Bradley watched fondly as you worked. Watching you intently as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. Watching your blue-light glasses constantly moving from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose. He thought it was cute that you got so focused, seeming to forget he was there as he watched Magnum PI on your TV – the Tom Sellek version, not the reboot.

“Finally, I finished!” You called out throwing your arms up as you dropped your things onto the table. Rooster sat up, “Can I see?” You smiled, passing him your iPad, “Yes!” He smiled and took it, looking over the perfectly merged tattoo for Fanboy. “Holy shit, he’s going to love this,” he complimented as he gave you the device back.

You smiled and sent it to Mickey, relaxing back as soon as it was confirmed to have been saved and sent.

Humming you sat up, your back popping as you stretched. “Snap, crackle, pop over there,” Bradley laughed. “Oh ha ha, you sound like my dad,” you laughed back reaching for your sketchbook to start on Bradley’s.

He rested his hand over yours on the book, “Hey, you just sat there for two hours working on that. Take a breather. You can start on mine later, I don’t mind waiting.” “Are you sure?” He nodded, “I’m sure. Just relax for a minute.”

You nodded and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I need to change.” Rooster nodded and watched you leave.

He sat back on the couch, just watching TV when something caught his eye. On a bookshelf next to your TV looked to be a photo album.

Being nosy, he stood up and went to look through it. As he did he saw a bunch of photos of whom he assumed were your parents. Younger versions of them, and then photos of you when you were a kid. Photos from when your mom came home from deployments when you were barely 3.

When he turned a page, a photo caught his eye.

At first glance, he could have sworn it was you. Everything about it screamed ‘you’. But when he looked closer, more specifically at the date on the photo, he realized that this was your mother.

“I see you found my album.” He jumped at the sound of your voice, turning around, book still open in his hand. You were leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of your sweat and oversized t-shirt thrown over your top half.

He fumbled around for an apology, “I’m sor- I just saw it- I didn’t-” “Rooster,” you smiled at him, easing his nerves instantly. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. If I didn’t want people to see it, I wouldn’t have put it where it was within reach.”

Bradley’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, glancing back at the album. “You look a lot like her, your mom.” You walked over and looked at the polaroid. You smiled at it, it was the last photo you had of her. “She was gorgeous,” he said, looking at you, watching your eyes as they teared up. You let out a watery laugh, “Yeah, yeah she was.” You sighed a little, “That’s the last photo my dad took of her.”

He noticed your bottom lip begin to tremble and he put the book back. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him. You welcomed the warmth with ease, gently crying against his chest.

“I miss her a lot. But I’m glad my parents took the time to make sure I had good memories and to capture what they could.” He squeezed you a little bit, showing you that he understood.

He grabbed the book again, “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

********

After talking for hours about memories of your mother, and him throwing in his own about Goose. You asked him to stay and once he agreed you both fell asleep on the couch.

The next day you spent a lot of time together, watching TV, he helped you clean, you got Fanboy set up for his appointment. You had breakfast and lunch together.

You had decided to rearrange your room, and Bradley provided his assistance.

As you cleaned and reorganized you found a polaroid camera your dad had gotten in the 80s.

“Bradley! Holy shit! Look what I found!” You ran up to him and showed him the camera, “This was my dad’s, he gave it to me when I moved.” Bradley carefully took it, but the excitement on his face mirrored your own, “My dad had this exact same one. I ran out of film for it though.”

You smiled and held up the box you had, showing him the unopened packages of polaroid film.

“Holy shit… Are you serious?” You nodded, smiling, “Every time we hang out- we use this camera or one of the other polaroids I have and take photos when we believe we should.” He nodded, “Hell yeah!”

******

It had been about two weeks and you were still struggling on Rooster’s tattoo. Everything you came up with, you weren’t happy with. You’d show Rooster from time to time if he was around- which he usually was. Everytime he said he liked it, but he could tell that you thought something was missing- that it wasn’t perfect.

You lost count of how many ideas you cycled through, all differing in styles.

Nothing seemed to fit.

Until you were tattooing another client Friday night.

She was getting a tattoo of Spider-Man holding up a camera, but he was framed by a polaroid style frame. “Oh my gosh….”

Your client looked at you, worried something was wrong with her tattoo. “What’s wrong?” You shook your head, “Nothing, nothing, I’ve just been stuck on this other client’s tattoo and I think I just got the perfect idea.”

Later that night while you were at the Hard Deck, playing pool with Phoenix when Rooster came up behind you. “Hey, pretty baby,” he kissed your cheek. “Can you not kiss up on Y/N in front of all of us?” Fanboy teased, bringing his drink to his lips.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, making him yelp and hiss. His tattoo was still sensitive. “It was a cheek kiss.”

Rooster laughed and intertwined his hand with yours, “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” It was mumbled in your ear so only you heard it. You nodded and passed your cue to Yale.

When you got out to the back deck, Bradley turned to face you.

“What’s up?” You asked gently, giving his hand a small squeeze. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. I just wanted to ask you in private,” he assured you. You nodded, “Okay.” “Why did you ask me to bring my dad’s tags?”

You sighed a little, “I was wondering if I could borrow them until tomorrow afternoon? You can totally say no and I’ll understand.” “Can I ask why?” “For your tattoo, a really cool idea struck me at work today, but I physically need the tags to do it,” you explained, making sure to tell him your exact intentions.

“I can go into more detail, but I want it to be a surprise. You’ll get them back tomorrow night,” you held up your pinky. “Marines honor.” His eyes widened slightly at the promise, but he nodded and locked his picky with yours.

He pulled the tags out of his pocket and placed them around your neck before tucking them into your (his) sweatshirt. He kissed your forehead, “I trust you.”

********

The next morning you were out and about early. You had to run by the flower shop and then go to the Hard Deck before Penny opened.

“Hey, Pen! It’s me!” You shouted as you came in. “Y/N, good morning!” She stepped out from the back, “How are you this morning?” “I’m good, I just need to get one photo. So hopefully it won't be too long.” She waved her hand, “Take your time.”

You nodded and set your stuff up. You placed both the branch of hibiscus flowers and Goose’s tags on the keys.

Stepping back you took a photo with your dad’s polaroid. You let it process before touching your props. “No, that looks weird.” You adjusted and repeated.

You’d do that about 8 times before you finally got the perfect photo.

You knew before the image became clear that this was the one.

*****

Later that night, you and Rooster were at your house.

He was lounging on the couch when you came in, a mischievous grin on your face.

Bradley skeptically chewed his popcorn, “I don’t know how to feel about that look yet.” You padded over to him, “It’s good. I promise.” You held out the tags, “First, like promised, here are your dad’s tags.” He took them and placed them around his neck, “Thank you.” You shook your head, smiling, “No. Thank you.” You pulled the photo out from behind your back. “Look!”

Rooster could feel your excitement as he took the polaroid from you. His eyes scanned it and he fell in love instantly. “It’s a beautiful picture. If it were possible, this is what I would have tattooed on me.”

You smiled and sat down, “Well, it’s a good thing you said that, because that’s your tattoo design. All I need to do is add a few more finishing touches.”

He looked at you, speechless for a moment before finally sputtering out a thank you and kissing your cheek.

“How does tomorrow sound?” He raised a brow, “Isn’t the shop closed on Sundays?” You shrugged, “Normally, but Finn is tattooing his old college buddy tomorrow so I figured that I could bring you in.”

He smiled, getting lost in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Do you do this for all your clients?” You shook your head, smiling brightly up at him, “Just you.” “Well, aren’t I special?” “You are, Bradley.”

If Rooster didn’t pay so much attention to your voice, he never would have caught the adoration in it.

He smiled at you again, placing the photo on your work folder before turning to you. “Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me that you took so much time out of your life to do this.” “Of course I would, this is the first tattoo in a long time that I’ve ever felt personally connected with. I just knew I had to get it right.”

Bradley swallowed before he continued, “I think it's pretty obvious that over the course of the past month-” “I like you too, Bradley. A lot.” He sighed, his hand moving to cup your face, “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, “Please do.”

Smiling, his hand slipped to the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in the locks as his lips molded against yours.

******

The next morning, he was in your chair.

“You’ll only feel a little pinch man, it’s not too bad,” Finn said from his station. “Focus on your client Finn.” You rolled your eyes at your friend. “I would but he’s not as pretty as yours.” You arched a brow at him, “You really make it hard to believe you're straight sometimes.”

You all laughed as you focused back on your boyfriend, “But seriously, it shouldn’t be too bad. Let me know when you need a break okay?” He nodded, “Yes ma’am.” You gave him a warm smile before kissing his lips.

You prepped the area and placed the stencil on his forearm. “We’re gonna be here a while so, seriously Bradshaw. If you need a break, tell me.” He kissed your temple, chuckling, “I got it.”

Then you began and you were right, that tattoo took you nearly all day.

“It’s a good thing I added numbing cream before we started,” you laughed, as you cleaned it.

Bradley looked down at it, smiling at the blue of the hibiscus flower stood out against the brown on the piano. “It’s fucking gorgeous.” You smiled, holding up the original photo, “Want to do a comparison?” He nodded and you sat the photo on his arm underneath it. “Holy shit… if my skin wasn’t sore and puffy, I’d almost think it was the same photo.”

He looked up at you again, “Thank you, so much Honey. I love it.” There were subtle tears in his eyes, but you didn’t mention them opting to just kiss him instead.

Chuckling in surprise, he quickly reciprocated before standing up slowly.

You went to your desk to grab the fresh, clean roll of cling wrap and cut off a piece to wrap around his arm. “I’ll make sure you take proper care of that,” you said, going back to your desk.

That’s when you noticed it.

Finn had managed to find your old polaroid on your desk and snapped a beautiful moment of you and Bradley as you tattooed him.

You were tattooing him and he had obviously said something that made you laugh. Your head was thrown back and Bradley had this look of pure adoration on his face as he looked at you. “You look like your mom there,” he pointed out over your shoulder. You glanced back at him and then the photo, “And you look like your dad.”

You would take that photo home and put it in the album you had right in between a photo of your parents and a photo of his parents.

********

thank you guys for making it to the end!

i have plenty more ‘x readers’ in the drafts so if you want more let me know

and my asks are open, feel free to request what you would like to see next

feedback is greatly appreciated!

tags <3: @roosterscockpit

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #x reader #tattoos #tattoo artist!reader #top gun imagine

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