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anothertransauthor · 1 month

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hiya !! this is a bit of an odd request but is there any chance you'd be willing to write pickles x reader , where the reader has shied away from alcohol / substances all their life until they start embracing them after becoming close with pickles ? all good if not , thank you and have a great day !! o7

Oooh i kinda adore this trope ngl. keep coming with these bangers im so excited!

Only With You

Summary: Dethklok's newest babysitter has been observed to be quite the dildo. They never want to drink with them, smoke, or generally party with them in a significant way. Pickles opens his own investigation into them and starts to genuinely enjoy the time they spend alone. Maybe he'll lower their walls, and open them to some new mind-altering experiences.

Warning: obvious drug and alcohol use, as a general pot user I'm going to be as specific as possible. I'm going to make this as fluffy as possible but there might be some suggestive content. Reader has they/them pronouns

Word count: 2345

"What are you? Schome kind of fucking schquare?" Murderface quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nudged Nathan playfully. "Yeah, come on, don't be a dildo," Nathan retorted, his deep voice rumbling with frustration as he batted Will away from him.

Their banter filled the cramped bar, the air heavy with the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a dim glow on the worn-out furniture and peeling wallpaper. As the tension between Murderface and Nathan escalated, Toki attempted to intervene, his gentle voice drowned out by Skwisgaar's disdainful remarks about both of them being a "lady dildos." The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, their argument blending with the other patrons' raucous laughter and clinking glasses.

Feeling overwhelmed, y/n glanced around the bar, a headache forming from the noise. Just as they were about to suggest leaving, Pickles came to the rescue, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"I know a quiet spot; let's dip while they're distracted," Pickles suggested, his voice low and inviting. The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and distant laughter, creating a hazy ambiance that enveloped them both.

Y/n hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing their features. "I don't know, Charles might kill me for leaving them by themselves," they replied, their voice tinged with uncertainty.

Pickles waved off their concern with a casual shrug. "He'll get over it as long as they don't drive. Then again, they wouldn't leave without me. So therefore, we can hang out in a cool alleyway while they drink themselves to the ground."

With a sigh, y/n bit their lip, their mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Despite their hesitation, the allure of escape beckoned, tempting them to leave the chaos of the bar behind.

After much internal debate, y/n finally nodded and walked with Pickles into the alley. It was nothing spectacular, but the relative quietness offered a welcome respite from the clamor of the bar. The cool wind brushed against their skin, causing goosebumps to rise on their arms.

"So uh...this is where you run off to when they get loud," y/n remarked, their breath forming wispy clouds in the frosty air. "Shoulda known to check the alley."

"Aww, you look for me?" Pickles teased, his voice laced with amusement as he pulled a joint from his pocket.

Y/n watched in awe as Pickles took a long drag, the smoke swirling around him like a halo. The air was thick with the scent of cannabis, earthy and pungent, mingling with the sharp bite of the night air. "For as much as you brag about being rich, you think your lighter could use an upgrade?" y/n teased, their voice laced with amusement.

"Eh... this lighter and I have a history," Pickles chuckled softly, leaning against the cold brick wall. "I smoked my first ever blunt with this Zippo... would you believe I stole it from my dad?"

As Pickles continued to talk about other crazy stories, y/n found themselves drawn in by his easy charm and effortless charisma. They watched as his fingers traced over the worn metal, the flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the alley wall.

"Yeah...I believe it," y/n replied, their voice soft with admiration. "So you've been smoking a long time, huh?"

"For as long as I can remember, y'know, before I got into the other shit," Pickles admitted, nudging a crate beside him. "You've been standing a while; you should sit."

Their body moved instinctively, gravitating towards Pickles as they settled onto the crate beside him. With a sigh of relief, y/n felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of calmness in Pickles' presence.

The silence between them was almost palpable, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional clink of cans on the ground. Despite their attempts to enjoy the tranquility, y/n couldn't shake the nagging feeling of restlessness that gnawed at their mind.

"Wow..." they laughed awkwardly, their fingers fidgeting with their sleeves. "A whole five minutes without being asked to partake...must be a new record."

"No sense in pushing it; it's a waste of good pot," Pickles remarked casually, his demeanor relaxed and nonchalant. "Besides, the first high will be shit if you don't know what you're getting into."

Y/n nodded in agreement, their gaze drifting down to their hands. "You just make it look so easy..."

Pickles tilted his head, the crimson strands of his hair falling over his shoulder as he regarded y/n with a knowing smile. "Make what look easy?"

"Everything!" y/n blurted out, their words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "Just...everything you do is effortless. You make it look so easy to talk to people and operate under pressure like nothing affects you. I want to relax, and I want the rest of the band to like me...and I shouldn't be rambling right now, but it's like I can't stop myself because my brain just won't—"

"Shut up?" Pickles interrupted gently.

Y/n blushed brightly, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "S-sorry..."

"No...like your brain just won't shut up? I get it. Hell, why do you think I smoke this stuff?" Pickles reassured them, nudging them with his shoulder. "It's not easy being so laid back; it takes practice."

"Practice?" y/n echoed, their curiosity piqued.

Pickles nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Gotta practice not worrying what other people think. I'm fucking famous; who cares what nobody at the bar has to say? It's vain, I know, but it works. It's easy to be friends with people when you can shut off that little nag in the back of your head. You just have to stop assuming people are out to get you."

Y/n nodded in understanding, their thoughts swirling as they absorbed Pickles' words of wisdom. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the silence punctuated only by the soft sound of their laughter and the occasional drag of the joint. Despite the cold, y/n felt a warmth spreading through them, a sense of peace settling over their troubled mind. As they sat side by side, y/n couldn't help but admire Pickles' easygoing demeanor and the way he seemed to effortlessly navigate through life's challenges. For a moment, they forgot about their worries and insecurities, lost in the simple pleasure of his company. And as they took a hesitant puff of the joint, feeling the smoke fill their lungs and the tension melting away, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Their eyes wandered over Pickles, taking in every detail with an almost reverent appreciation. Each freckle, every smile line, and the faint scars that adorned his skin told a story of a life well-lived, adding to his allure in the dimly lit alleyway. Despite the chill in the air, the warmth emanating from Pickles enveloped them, comforting and reassuring like a soft embrace.

As they sat there, a thought lingered in their mind: why was everything about him just so perfect? His casual demeanor, his effortless charm—it all seemed to come naturally to him, effortlessly captivating those around him.

Caught off guard by Pickles' quizzical expression, y/n felt a blush creep into their cheeks as they realized they had been caught staring. But Pickles' playful demeanor quickly put them at ease, his snicker breaking the tension that hung in the air.

"You see something you like?" he cheesed lightly, dramatically waggling his brows.

"No- I mean yes- I mean- shit.... uh-"

"Relax, I'm messing with you," Pickles chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "I gotta teach you how to flirt."

"Heh...um, actually, I was maybe wondering if I could try..." y/n trailed off, their gaze flickering towards the burning joint in Pickles' hand.

"Holy shit, you actually wanna smoke with me?" Pickles exclaimed, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

"Well...kinda. Maybe it won't be so overwhelming if it's with you..." y/n admitted, their nerves beginning to dissipate in Pickles' reassuring presence.

"I'll take care of ya, don't worry," Pickles reassured them, passing the dutchie with a gentle hand. "Don't try to show off, ok? Baby hits..."

After calming their shaking hands, y/n carefully placed the joint between their lips, their senses heightened as they inhaled deeply. The taste was harsh, earthy, and unfamiliar, causing their shoulders to tense with each choppy cough.

"Deep breath. You're gonna choke no matter what, you got virgin lungs. 'S normal," Pickles reassured them, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"It tastes like dirt..." y/n grimaced, their discomfort evident in their expression.

"Well, it's weed; it's gonna taste bad," Pickles shrugged, his easygoing demeanor soothing y/n's nerves. "Take one more, then pass it back."

With a nod of determination, y/n took another deep breath, the smoke swirling around them in ethereal patterns. Despite the initial discomfort, a sense of calm washed over them, easing the tension in their shoulders and allowing them to relax fully in Pickles' company.

Pickles extinguished the joint with a flick of his wrist, the ember sputtering out as he tucked the carton back into his pocket. Leaning back against the cool brick wall, he regarded Y/n with a curious expression. "So, short stuff, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest. Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. "You're one to talk," they scoffed, a small smile playing at their lips. "I feel…slow, but in a good way. Like, I can finally think clearly, funnily enough."

"Yeah?" Pickles raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yeah...is this how you feel constantly?" y/n returned the question, genuinely curious about Pickles' experience.

"More or less," Pickles snorted, kicking around some cans on the ground with a lazy gesture. "I could get used to this," y/n mused, a sense of contentment settling over them like a warm blanket. "It feels…easier to talk as if a barrier was temporarily moved to the storage room of my brain. This is nice. Thanks, Pickles." "Hey, any time," Pickles replied, a genuine smile gracing his features. "You remind me a lot about myself, actually."

Y/n tilted their head curiously, they scooted closer to Pickles, craving his warmth in the chilly night air. "How so?" they asked, their voice soft and curious. Pickles paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered his response. "I used to worry about how everyone perceived me," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I was always so…strung up, like the world was out to get me." He chuckled softly, the sound rough and raspy in the stillness of the alley. "I know I'm nothing but a pampered, rich airhead," he admitted, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet y/n's eyes. "But I know this job keeping us out of trouble isn't exactly the easiest. If no one else is on your team, you can relax knowing that the world's best drummer is." Y/n felt a flutter in their chest, their cheeks flushing as they met Pickles' gaze in the dim lighting. His words were simple, yet they held a profound depth of meaning that resonated with them. "Pickles, I—" they started, their words catching in their throat as they struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions. They leaned away slightly, suddenly self-conscious about intruding on his personal space. But before they could retreat too far, Pickles grinned cheesily, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Geez…you really are the coolest," they blurted out, a shy smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Pickles' grin widened, his laughter echoing off the walls of the alley. "You think?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

The air between them crackled with anticipation as y/n struggled to find the right words, their gaze locked with Pickles' in an unspoken exchange of longing and desire. In that moment, everything else faded away—the noise of the city, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, suspended in time. Pickles waited with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently urged y/n to speak their truth. He could see the turmoil in their eyes, the raw vulnerability laid bare, and he felt a surge of tenderness wash over him.

Finally, y/n took a deep breath, their voice trembling slightly as they found the courage to voice their feelings. "Everything about you has always been cool," they began, their words soft and hesitant. "I wish I could say I was jealous, but…I don't think that's it." A flicker of understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken attraction that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. Pickles' heart soared with a newfound sense of hope, his gaze never wavering from y/n's as he silently encouraged them to continue.

"Oh?" he prompted, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation. He knew what they were about to say, could feel it in the way their gaze lingered on him, and he silently willed them to take the leap. Y/n hesitated for a moment, their mind racing with a new uproar of butterflies. But then, with a surge of determination, they pushed aside their doubts and fears, allowing their heart to lead the way. "How do I say this…" they trailed off, their voice barely above a whisper. "Other than I just don't want tonight to end…" And in that moment, the weight of their confession hung heavy in the air, the tension between them palpable. But before either of them could say another word, Pickles closed the distance between them, his lips capturing Y/n's in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, the world fading away until nothing was left but the warmth of their embrace. And as they pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, y/n felt a sense of peace settle over them, knowing they had finally found the courage to speak their truth. "Me neither," Pickles whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and affection. "Let's make tonight last forever."

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ok that took a really really long time. now time to go back into my writer whole. Leave more requests for me :DD

EDIT: HI so for some fucking reason in the translation from docs to tumblr, half of the fucking fic was just OMITTED. HOW DID I NOT NOTICE UGHHHHH im so sorry yall if the pacing felt weird. thats what i get for not proof reading before i post but i was SO EXCITED to have another bomb fic doneeeeee.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #pickles the drummer #x reader #pickles x reader #metalocalypse x reader #dethklok x reader #mtl #mtl x reader #dethklok pickles

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