#sometimes you just need a concerned looking shark to get you through the day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scekrex · 2 months

Note

Hi (●’◡’●)ﾉ 💕💕💕💕

Another request 💕💕💕 sorry if my another request was too over bearing (◞‸◟ㆀ) I will try to make my requests to you has sample has possible!

So for my request while listening to my play list I was thinking ftm teen reader x Adam were reader has gender dysphoria and really hates when his shark week comes around?

If you can thank you 💕💕💕💕

Nah hun, don't worry. Sometimes I just take a lil longer than other times, it all depends on life n what plans I have, I've been quite busy the past few days. But here ya go xoxo/p

Let me live/Let me die

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, body dysphoria, reader thinks about self harm

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

It was a bitch, really. When you had been back on earth there had been no way for you to get your hands onto hormones so your voice always stayed high pitched, your body never started to grow facial hair, there was no t-dick, no muscles and your shark week busted open the gates every fucking month. Not even in heaven you were free from that monthly bleeding, for Christ's sake, who the fuck made that decision?

So when it was that time of the month again you pushed yourself away from Adam - physically. You had been cuddling with the leader of the exorcists all night and it had been fine but now? Now everything felt wrong, your body, your voice, your soft facial features, the curves that made your body look elegant instead of bulky. The physical pain that shot through your body not to mention.

The second you pushed yourself away and turned your back towards Adam the man woke up to check where the warmth of your body went only to find you on the other half of the bed, curled up tight in one of the blankets. His confused expression softened and he scooted towards you, only for you to flinch away again, growling a low, “Don’t fucking touch me.” Adam stopped in his movement and looked at you in concern. “It’s that time of the month again, huh?” he simply asked as he finally moved backwards a little to give you the space you needed. A low huff escaped you and you wrapped the blanket even tighter around your body.

Your own nails were digging into your skin, it was the only thing that kept you from ripping open your stomach and pulling out all of your guts - including that fucking bitch of a uterus that you weren't even supposed to have. You were supposed to have a body like Adam, to look the part, to sound the part. Yet you were stuck in this female body you didn't ask for.

“Babes,” his voice was tired yet soft as you felt the mattress shifting, he just got up. He walked around the bed to kneel down in front of you, dressed in nothing but a boxershorts. You wanted to push the blanket away and cling onto him, to bury your face in his neck and breathe in nothing but his scent for the rest of this nightmarishly week. And so you did. The blanket landed somewhere on the floor and you basically launched yourself into his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck, nails dug into his back once you were steady. Your legs were wrapped around his hips and he placed a big, warm hand on your back to steady you while his other hand softly petted your hair. “I hate this, I hate this so fucking much,” you whimpered against his neck as tears started to well up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, you wanted to stay strong, to live through it without complaining. But you couldn't. It was just all too much.

Adam shushed you as he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek, “I know you do babes.” Adam never really knew what he was supposed to do during dysphoria breakdowns, you either isolated yourself from him and his touch until it wore off, or you clung onto him like a newborn baby. He liked you clingy better but would of course give you space if needed. “Watcha say about pancakes, huh? Sounds fucking great?” You lifted your head a little to look into the golden eyes you adored so much, a small, weak smile on your face, “Sounds fucking great.”

So the day continued. And the brunette was not going anywhere without you, hell might burn brighter today, he even canceled band practice and told Sera to “Fuck off, my babe needs me,” when she had called and asked him to meet Emily. Most of the day you two had been spending in bed, it was the most comfortable and cozy place to spend shark week at. And while tomorrow would be yet another day for you to walk through the hell of dysphoria, today was okay because Adam was there. Adam had wrapped his entire body around you so that all your senses could focus onto him and him alone. He was also singing a song, you were too zoned out to notice if it was the same song over and over again or if it were different ones. But Adam's voice calmed you down and Adam's touch made you feel less like tearing open your stomach and pulling out your guts.

While tomorrow would be yet the same painfully disgusting experience, today Adam was there to take it from you for at least a couple hours.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you #trans reader

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befuddled-calico-whump · 3 months

Text

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

cw: alcoholism, bad coping mechanisms, referenced violence, emeto

previous /// Wildefire Masterlist ///

°•°•°

Alexei trudged back to Chopper’s with the sunrise to his back, dried blood crusting the seams in his arms. Some was his, some was the mark’s, a loan shark he'd made quick work of, though it had taken most of the night to catch him alone.

He was exhausted, hopefully exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, hopefully exhausted enough to dream of nothing. He doubted he'd be that lucky.

This was all he'd ever hoped for in the last two years. Of being free, of life going back to business as usual. So why couldn't he sleep?

Making it away from the Tower, from Uriah, had been some big, stupid, out-of-reach fantasy. And in that fantasy, as soon as Lex was free, it was all better. Things were back to normal. The last two years were a bad dream. Easy to bottle away and forget about.

But in the real world, it wasn't so simple.

The contracts should've been easy. They were familiar, ironically safe, but sometimes he'd forget if he was taking down a mark for Chopper or for Uriah. Those moments made him stumble, force himself to press a hand to his throat, remind himself that the collar was gone, that the only one who controlled him anymore was him.

Not that he did a good job of it.

He'd all-but handed the steering wheel to Chopper, taking any job the older man so much as mentioned, if only for a way to distract himself, to try to find a rhythm, but the rhythm he found was nothing steady.

Track, kill, collect. Drink himself to sleep if he got sleep at all. Repeat in a day or two. Look over his shoulder every time he was out of the building, feel his heart start to race at every stranger who stared too long.

Once he'd sobered up enough to track his surroundings, he found he couldn't even attempt sleep unless the lights were on, or else he'd wake up back in the cell. The door couldn't be closed, because then he was trapped, but it couldn't be open either, or someone could sneak up on him. He couldn't be around people, because any of them could be a spy for Uriah, but he couldn't be alone or the damned silence would choke him.

And as it turned out, pretending he could be okay, pretending he'd never been taken in the first place, didn't help anything.

The other Neath freelancers knew it all. People he could've called friends once, who he should've been able to fall into step with, now looked the other way or fell silent when he passed by. They could see the Tower in his scars, in his flinches. They knew how Uriah had owned him.

He'd done the impossible and escaped both, but it still hadn't saved him.

He still wasn't safe, and he never would be.

Not until Uriah Fox was dead.

The thought gave him some solace as he sat awake that night, back flat against the wall, sipping on a bottle of something he hoped was strong enough to knock him out.

Fox had to die so he could sleep, so he could go outside without being seen and caught and trapped. It was the first long-term goal he'd had since being taken, the first goal that wasn't just avoid angering the guards, avoid pissing off Uriah, survive one more day.

Lex staggered to his feet. How late was it? Was Chopper still awake? He had to do this now, he had to get this done now, he didn't care if he was tired, he didn't care if it killed him. He stumbled down the hall, just sober enough to stay on his feet, and that was all he needed. The light was on in Chopper's office. Good.

The older man was leaning back in his chair, sifting through a handful of papers. His eyes darted up when Lex passed the doorway, expression turning from neutrality to mild concern.

“Cinder…”

“I need a contract,” Lex said.

“You just got back from a contract. Sleep.” Chopper laid the papers in front of him. “And take a shower, for fuck’s sake. I can smell the blood on you.”

“I can't sleep,” Lex muttered, rubbing at a splotch of dried blood on his arm until it began to flake away, tiny pieces floating to rest in the ground like a macabre snow. “Are there any hits out for… for higher ups in the city?”

Chopper frowned at the question. “Higher ups?”

“CEOs.” He'd play this as casual as he could, in spite of the tightness in his chest, in spite of how the knowledge that Uriah was still out there was locked around his throat.

Chopper sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh, pulling open a filing cabinet. “Slim pickings. Not many people have the guts or the funds to go after them.” He pulled out a folder. “Why the sudden taste for golden blood? You can't possibly be low on cash already, unless you…”

He trailed off, eyes landing on the bottle still clutched in Lex’s hand, and he knew what he wanted to say. Unless you already drank it all away.

“Does it matter?”

Chopper opened the folder. “I guess it doesn't.” He scanned the pages within in silence for a moment. “Looks like we've got some attorneys… project manager, company director… any of those shiny enough for you?”

Lex grit his teeth. “Are any of them Uriah Fox?”

The folder snapped shut. “Uriah Fox,” Chopper repeated. “You want to kill Uriah Fox?”

His fist tightened around the bottle. “What do you think?”

“I think you should know the code by now. We don't make it personal.”

“I can't fucking sleep, Chopper. I can't…” He let his head drop. “I can't keep doing this. I need… I need him to be gone, I can't—” He pressed a palm into his cheek, cold metal on hot skin. “I don't need a contract to do it. I'll do it on my own. With or without your help.”

Chopper let out a sigh, laying the folder on the desk. “I'm afraid I can't let you do that.”

Lex's stomach churned, uneasy at the way he said it. What did he mean? Weren't they allies? Hadn't it always been us against them?

“You understand.” Chopper spread his hands, something apologetic on his face. “Fox is one of my top investors. It's a conflict of interest.”

Investor. Lex took a stumbling step backwards. Investor, pester, sequester, how had he not seen it? How has he not realized he'd been hiding in the fucking lion's den this entire time? How could Chopper do this, side with Uriah, didn't he realize what he'd done to him? That he'd come for him, take him back, let him rot in the Tower, even further underground than a grave would put him?

Chopper pushed himself up. “I don't want you panicking over this. I'm perfectly capable of maintaining both relationships.”

“You… Y—” Lex hunched over, emptying his stomach on the linoleum tile.

“Fuck, Cinder,” Chopper muttered, moving around the desk. Lex staggered backwards, wiping acrid bile from his chin with the back of his hand, eyes wide and locked on the older man.

Maintaining both relationships. He knew what that meant, he knew Chopper would have no issue handing him over to Uriah if only he was asked to. How had he thought this was a safe haven? (raven) How could he have passed out drunk here, let his guard down so severely? (clearly) He'd been lucky. He'd been so damn lucky Chopper hadn't seen fit to give him up in the last few weeks, and fuck, it would've been easy. Lex had made it easy, by being stupid and trusting and complacent (adjacent).

“Sit down. We can talk about this.”

We can calm you down and keep you in place long enough for Uriah to come barging through the door.

“You're not thinking rationally. I know you haven't been yourself lately.”

You haven't been the same since your return from hell.

“It was a bad idea to set you back to work so soon.”

You came back ruined.

Lex's back hit the wall, and he flinched away from it as if it were another enemy. He couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe, nowhere was safe.

“Cinder…”

He whirled around, head spinning, heart pounding in his throat, not safe.

“Alexei.”

He barreled through the door, feet hardly moving fast enough to keep him upright as he made a mad dash through the front door and stumbled out into the cool night air.

Nowhere was safe (waif, chafe, strafe). Chopper had dozens of freelancers on his payroll, hundreds of allies (spies, cries), thousands of eyes that could watch for him, nowhere was safe, he couldn't sleep (cheap, creep).

He didn't stop running until he was several blocks away, practically collapsing against the wall of a locksmith shop. What now? He couldn't stay awake forever, couldn't stay vigilant, and it was only a matter of time before he passed out and someone took the opportunity to snatch him or report him and fuck, fuck, he hadn't escaped, he'd never really escape, nowhere was safe—

…was it?

He forced himself to inhale, shuddering breaths fighting against the way the world was spinning. There were like-minded people out there, people who hated Uriah as much as he did, people who wouldn't hand him over to Titanium, if only out of spite.

Enemy of my enemy.

He sucked in air, his heartbeat slowing down, if only a little.

"You don't have to go out and face the world alone.”

He still didn't believe that, didn't trust any of the rogues, but he could trust in their shared goal. He'd saved them once, weathered Uriah's anger to protect them from his own fire, and maybe they were still grateful enough that they'd be willing to watch his back and let him rest.

He pushed up from the wall, squinting into the darkness. The rogue's safehouse was miles away. He couldn't even be certain that they'd still be there, but it was the only plan that made sense.

Lex took a swig from the half-empty bottle, still clutched in his fist, hoping the liquor would beat back the fear that still clawed at his chest.

He had a long walk ahead of him.

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump ,

#someone refrenced the title poem as i was editing this #spooky #anyway i feel like I've used the title before but i love it sooooo #wildefire #assassin whump #alcohol #alcohol whump #emeto #messy recovery #whump writing #bad coping mechanisms

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drades-lair · 11 months

Text

What does it mean?

Fandom: HelluvaBoss

Rating: M

Pairing: Criminale

Crimson hated when things interrupted his usual schedule a fact everyone knew well hence why many gave the mob boss his space however sometimes it wasn’t a person who interrupted his time. Crimson sat at his massive oak desk in the library casually doing his usual paperwork when he felt the tell-tale signs of his rut starting to creep their way up his spine. Crim irritably growled to himself because of course on the night he had a stack of papers to attend too this would happen luckily Alessio walked through the large double doors to the library just as Crimson was about to pick up the phone to summon him.

“Ale, I require something of you,” Crimson declared catching the shark off guard for a moment before he obediently approached the don’s desk.

“Go to my bedroom and strip down,” Crimson bluntly ordered once again eliciting a surprised look from Ale.

“Um…yes sir,” The answer came with a hint of a question.

“I’m in rut and you know what that means…now go get ready, I’ll be up in a moment,” Crimson elaborated having picked up on Alessio’s slightly confused tone.

“Ah, yes sir, I’ll go now,” Ale obediently stated heading back out the double doors he’d come through moments before.

Now to anyone else this interaction might have seemed strange however to the duo it wasn’t anything new, Crimson had started going into rut regularly after marrying his late wife unfortunately after her…disappearance, he’d not stopped having his regular ruts meaning he needed an outlet. Ale had been the only one Crimson trusted in the slightest, although he wasn’t pleased with having to fuck a guy it was the best option considering getting even a stripper was dangerous now a days. Crimson had dealt with the concept after all it was simply to satisfy an ich once every few months, making Ale no more then a sex doll to Crimson in those moments at least in his mind.

Ale did as he was told heading to the don’s private room where he made certain the door was shut before stripping down. Ale would always be there for anything Crimson needed, ANYTHING, he wasn’t ashamed nor hurt by the fact Crim used him to pleasure himself during his ruts as far as Alessio was concerned this was just another part of his job. A long time ago when he was still foolish, he’d hoped for more from Crim however after years of serving under the don he’d learned better than to hope for anything more then what was already here, speaking of learning Ale had also learnt that Crim didn’t care about his partner getting what they wanted during this time. Ale had brought a small bottle of lube with him into the bedroom and set to work prepping himself, bending over the bed while inserting a pair of lubed up fingers into himself with the hopes he had enough time to prepare before Crimson arrived.

Crimson opened the doors to his private bedroom a short time later revealing Ale just standing in the dimly lit room completely naked as he’d instructed. Pleased Crim closed the large doors behind himself then proceeded to remove his own clothing, draping them over a nearby armchair however this was where the routine changed. Crimson wondered over to his closet where he pulled out a length of rope causing Ale to eye him with both suspicion and curiosity. Crim walked over to stand right in front of the shark with the rope in hand, giving it a snap that made Ale narrow his eyes slightly and furrow his brow.

“Turn around,” Crimson instructed.

Ale did as told although it was a little hesitant, whipping his head around moments later when Crim suddenly yanked one of the shark’s arms behind his back swiftly followed by the second. Crimson proved his skill with rope as he tethered Ale’s wrists to one another, he also proved his stocky stature shouldn’t be taken lightly because the imp was incredibly strong, manhandling Ale to turn him around then shoving the shark backwards onto the bed. Ale grunted as his back hit the mattress, scooting up as much as possible before Crim started crawling up between his legs, shoving them apart aggressively. Ale tipped his head up to the side as a submissive gesture that apparently was welcomed because Crim latched onto the shark’s neck with a series of aggressive bites with undertones of growls. Crimson’s tongue lapped up the blood that ran from the marks he left, moving down to leave a mark on Ale’s chest all of which wasn’t for Ale’s benefit, these were possessive markings brought on by crimson’s rut instincts nothing more. Ale let out a pained groan as the imp sunk his fangs into Ale’s inner thigh right before grabbing onto the sharks’ hips with his talons, pressing his girthy cock right into Ale with no warning or prep fortunately the shark had done that earlier.

“Ugh…shit…” Ale cursed under his breath.

Crimson sunk balls deep in one thrust only to pull almost all the way back out then shove back in. The pace was brutal as usual but as usual Ale just laid there to take whatever Crimson dished out unfortunately with his wrists tied behind his back Alessio couldn’t touch himself like normal leaving both his dicks aching with want. Crim selfishly chased his own pleasure quickly reaching that point of no return, burying himself deep in Ale as he spilled into the shark with a grunting groan however, he didn’t withdraw. Ale braced for what he knew was coming and without fail Crim started up a second round instantly causing Alessio to groan, drawing his bottom lip up between his teeth. Hours passed with crimson spilling into Ale several more times till after about the tenth time when he was finally spent, withdrawing as he panted with sweat beading along his skin in the dim light while Ale panted heavily in turn, cocks flushed the same deep color as his cheeks as they ached for release. Alessio watched as Crimson raked his eyes over him, a small smirk building on his features at watching his own cum leak from Alessio’s ass while pre-cum drooled from the shark’s double dicks.

Ale closed his eyes to await Crimson to leave as he normally did which would allow Ale to take care of himself however tonight Crimson did something for the second time that surprised Ale. Alessio gave a sharp inhale as he felt a hand wrap around one of his cocks, immediately stroking swiftly causing his eyes to fly open to glance down. Crim was smirking as he stroked Ale’s left cock at first eliciting a confused furrow only to have it swiftly fade into a needy upwards furrow as he moaned through soft moans. Crimson grabbed Ale’s other cock with his other hand making sure to stroke in opposite intervals making Ale tip his head back with deep groans that turned into a full out cry when he came, arching his back as his body shook from the orgasm.

Crimson found the sight oddly satisfying especially afterwards as he left Ale a trembling, cum covered mess on his bed while he went to take a shower. Ale lay there just trying to get his senses back yet as his body stopped tingling, he had to wonder what this meant?

#HelluvaBoss #HelluvaBossfanficiton #HelluvabossCrimson #HelluvabossAlessio #fanfiction #fanfic #Crimson #Alessio #Criminale #angst #smut #drama

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ripperdoc-is-daddy · 2 years

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Gah they are all good!

32- reader x Sanemi?

Here ya go! More fish people! Now with biting! Hope ya dig it <3 TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! READER IS BLACK FEMALE, FISH PEOPLE, Shark anatomy, Crude Humor, Suggestive Content, Ocean references, LOTS OF OCEAN TALK, Violence, mentions of murking,I am watching too many fish documentaries, Soft Boi Sanemi. Biting, Blood, Pirates! ARRRRGH! Passport weight mentions, thicc reader. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE DENIED!

You were bathing inside the brackish waters of the rainforest you lived in. It was remote and other beings rarely went here. The valleys were lush and full of beautiful Acacia and Palm trees that grew from rich, fertile soils. All sorts of edible vegetation growing at their base fed various species of life from bacterium to larger more complex creatures like primates.

Animals of all kinds would wander about freely, unconcerned with predation or other forms of danger. This land and its waters were sacred and protected. And you were one of the beings who kept it that way. You were a Jengu and belonged to the bodies of water that ran through the forest like veins whose water was the lifeblood of everything that dwelt here. They are part of who you were as a Jengu.

You were now resting in warm brackish waters off the coast of your rainforest home after a long night of cleansing the waters in a particularly large estuary. An incredibly strong storm had blown through and stirred up much under that surface that needed to be settled and, in some cases, sealed. It was tedious and you were sore all over. Just wanting to rest, uninterrupted.

The warmth of the brownish waters rubbed over your body massaging your supple, rich brown skin. Your hair was in waist length, long, black locs that sometimes covered your eyes that were a deep, murky, forest green color. Your lips were plump and thick and hid an adorable gap in between your top front incisors until you gave one of your dazzling smiles. You had curves for days on your human half, full ample breasts. You weren’t a waif. You had muscles and meat to your being which was an advantage when you needed to do harder labors like last night when you pulled a whole tree out of the river. Your lower half was reminiscent of a Night Shark. Your tail was a Quetta Green color with an off-white underbelly and looked incredibly powerful. Your heterocercal caudal fins were ginormous, even larger than your pectoral fins. Your first dorsal fin was medium in size with the second being fairly tiny. About the size of your anal and pelvic fins. Overall, you were a creature of beauty and power.

The rhythm of the waves was slowly lulling you into a comforting sleep. The aroma of the sea wafting through the area on the gentle breeze that caressed your warm, brown skin. You were dreaming of swimming with schooling fish when something large and heavy was dumped on your head ripping you from your pleasant slumber. Reacting on instinct and the assumption you were being attacked you contorted your body and bit whatever had come at you.

Your eyes widened as they locked onto frightened violet ones. Before you was a human who looked badly injured. It appeared to be a male, with tanned skin, average human height with stark white hair. What caught your attention was that his face was bleeding heavily as was his body. His left hand was lodged in your mouth and caught in your teeth. He had used the blade of his hand to defend himself when you had attacked which is why it was there and bleeding his metallic flavored life’s fluid into your mouth. What alarmed you more was the bucket attached to his right foot that had some sort of solid rock in it that was dragging him down.

Immediately after this realization set you dove down, wrapped your arms around his waist, and hauled him up to the surface. He fought against you but you ignored it. The only concern in your mind was getting him to the surface again before he lost all air. His elbow knocked you in the head a few times which greatly irritated you. Reminding yourself that he was in desperate need of assistance and not meaning to cause insult and that if he was moving like this then he still had breath in his lungs.

You were 3m away from the surface when his movements started to slow down. Looking up into his eyes you redoubled your efforts seeing the light drain from them. Putting everything you had into breaking the surface and keeping him alive. You broke the placid surface with an amazing breech just as his head lolled back. Off in the distance, you saw the lights of a boat fading into the black, inky darkness of the night. This information was filed in the back of your head for later evaluation. Right now, you needed to get this human oxygen and out of the water. Shaking him a few times didn’t get you any response which was extremely concerning.

Worrying your bottom lip, you decided drastic action was needed. Supporting him with one arm you punched him in the gut where you assumed his diaphragm was. You didn’t know much about human anatomy and just hoped this would work. Fortunes favor to you and to him your idea worked. The man hacked up a mouth full of water and began coughing. A feeling of relief settling in your body now that you had him breathing. Now for the next fun part. Carrying him back to land before any of the coastline’s natural predators came out to see if there was a free meal lurking about.

Your arms encircle his waist again and you pull him with you towards land. His body stiffens as he realizes he is not alone. A brief struggle follows that you stop by slapping him upside the head. “Stop strugglin’ boy! Makin’ dis harder than it need be. Keep actin’ out and I will let you go.” you warned him after. The man stills and sobs out a “Yes ma’am.” Nodding satisfied you continue your awkward trek to land from sea. The man in your arms silently whimpers which pulls at your heartstrings. The urge to comfort him and ask presses upon you but right now the priority is getting him to the shore and breaking this bucket off of him.

The swim wasn’t particularly long, just arduous because of the additional, dragging weight of the bucket. Eventually, the two of you made it to the black, volcanic rock and sands of the beach. You all but flung his body out of the water then flopped down on the warm sands. Exhausted from hauling the dead weight. The man is hissing and clutching his sides. Picking up your torso you drag yourself over to him and grab his leg.

Violet eyes lock onto your green ones and you stare at each other once again. “Breaking the bucket.” You point to the offending item. He nods, fear riddled in his eyes. Your orbs search around for a large rock you can use, hands groping to feel. Your vision underwater was amazing but above water, you were a nearsighted mess.

One of your hands was grabbed at the scaled and delicately finned wrist. You jerked back and hissed but the hand didn’t let you go. “Rock.” A rough, scratchy voice tells you. Halting your motions, you see that he is giving you something to work with. “Ah, yes. Thanks.” Shyly you duck your head and nod at him then raise your hand with the rock and begin to bash the metal object. He slumps back down and waits as you work your way to free him.

An hour later the man’s shoe has finally been freed from its imprisonment. “Thank you.” He says up into the cool night air. You are burying the offending metal pieces deep so they can’t hurt anything else, saying nothing to the stranger. In your head, you are trying to figure out what you can do to help out this poor, pitiful creature. How did he get there in the first place?

He attempts to sit up and you turn on him, placing one of your palms on his chest and forcing him to lay back down. “Lay down, boy. You are injured and I don’t know the extent,” you tell him with authority carrying your tone. He sneers up at you. “Could have thought about that when you punched me. Shit hurt like a bitch.” his voice sounds like it is improving. Less gravelly. This is a good sign.

“Is that why you were crying like a youngling?” you taunt him bringing your body up and over him. “Yes! You hit like a truck!” he snaps. Your head tilts amused then you throw your head back in laughter. “Here I thought you were crying because you were terrified of your situation and near-death experience.” you rib him good-naturedly. He glares at you, rolls his eyes, and flops backwards. The sand meeting his cuts causing him to hiss.

“You are injured but I can help you. Before I do, why are you here? It shouldn’t be possible.” you briefly explain that this area is separate from the human domain. Still part of the world but different. The man looks at your unclothed chest then back at your tail, back to your fish-like eyes. “Yeah, I’ll believe that. Nothing else explains this.” He says unusually calm.

“So, you want to know why I am here and like this?” he asks you, bringing his arms behind his head. “Humans are cruel creatures. I was on a cruise line that was hijacked. I spoke English which made them assume I had a more powerful passport that they could negotiate my release but turns out that Japanese passports don’t carry as much weight as European or American ones.” he said nonchalantly. “They realized they weren’t gonna get anything so they cemented my foot after some light abuse and chucked me overboard their vessel. That is the unremarkable tale of how I ended up disturbing you. My apologies.” He sounds resentful which is more than reasonable given his story.

You let his words settle into your mind and you determine he speaks no lie. He was just unfortunate. Leaning down you brush your nose against his. “I will heal you, allow you to rest here then guide you back to your people,” you tell him. Staring into his strangely pupiled eyes. Humans must have amazing vision above the water you deduced seeing how their eyes looked. “I appreciate it. Can you back up some? I need to breathe and that is hard since you hit me in the diaphragm.” his request is soft despite how rough his voice is- but his tenor is soothing to your ears.

Sitting up on your palms you flash him a dazzling smile then scooch off to his side. Lying down in the sand next to him. He turns his head to look at you. Probably to take a better inventory of the creature who had rescued him. A hum breaks the silence that developed during his observations. The hand you bit rubs gently across your shoulder and you turn to look at him. “Your eyes and body look like a shark. Like a hot shark.” He seems confused and disturbed by his words.

Chuckling you tilt your head to him and throw your locks over your shoulder flirtatiously. “I would hope I have a sharkish appearance since we are relatives. Thank you for your compliments.” Leaning over you kiss his bloodied temple and nuzzle his hairline. “Your hair is soft. It must feel amazing when it is dry,” you mumble into his flesh.

“Umm...” he drags out the “m” sounds because he had no idea what to say. Another assumption on your part based on the idea you are the first of your kind he has ever encountered. “Are you going to eat me?” he inquires a blush forming on his face. You bring your head down and stare directly into his strange, foreign creature eyes and very seductively ask. “Would you like me to? I can forego the healing.” He sputters and coughs, dramatically turning away from you with a furious red blush on his tanned cheeks. You throw your head back in raucous laughter and he shoots you a dirty glare. “Not nice!” he barks out at you.

“Never said I was. Now come here and let me heal you.” you are still laughing as you grab his body and pull him flush to your side. Rising back up on your palms your settle back on top of him. One last snicker and you lower your head to his chest, placing a kiss on each of the lacerations on his torso. The skin knitting itself back together, scarred but no longer angry and open to the world and infection. Motioning for him to turn around you do the same on his back, going back to the water to cup water to rinse the skin first before you repair the damaged tissue.

Once done you lay down on your stomach and stare at him. He touches your face and strokes it gently. “You’re beautiful,” he tells you, voice dropping to a low tenor but high baritone. You nuzzle against the touch, enjoying the heat coming from his flesh. “Gettin’ fresh now, are we? Boy, you bold,” you say with a snark, relishing in the attention he is giving you.

“Man. I’m 24. My name is Sanemi Shinazugawa and I’m not being fresh. Tales say when a mermaid rescues someone they kiss and live happily ever after.” he teases back. He doesn’t look or sound offended, no rather, he is leaning into you. Face getting close to yours in what you assume is an attempt to kiss you.

“Mmm, those are about a different kind of mermaid. I also hear they drown uppity menfolk who don’t know how to behave. Besides, I already gave you a present. Life and that bite is goin’ ta scar. You’re welcome.” you nip at his nose then boop it. He smirks at you and brings his lips closer “Much obliged. I’ll enjoy reliving this feeling when I look at the mark then.” he purrs against the soft skin of your lips. “Mm, what feelings are those?” you ask him, subtly daring him to continue. “Not sure yet, but it starts a little something like this,” he speaks into your mouth before claiming you in a deep, heated kiss.

Fin

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judgeplough75 · 2 years

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iambilliejeanok · 3 years

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Omg can I plz plz plzzzz get a Dom!Kisame x Sub!Fem!reader? Where the reader and Kisame are constantly bickering back and forth and don’t like each other but one day an argument they have leads into some rough sex? I hope this makes sense. I really enjoy your writing by the way!!

I like this one. I like it alot. 😏thank you anon💜

Warnings: 18+. Unedited. NSFW. Language, slight overstimulation and violence.

“Not today Kisame! I’ve had enough stinky!”, you yelled, irritated beyond belief at the mere sight of the shark boy, let alone the mean words coming out of his fowl mouth. You huffed, crossing your arms and cocking your hip in a way that Kisame admired. He didn’t like that he thought you were very attractive and sought to squash any and every thought he had about you by being mean. “Get yourself together y/n”, he spoke in a very demeaning way, despite the fact that he was clearly aggravating you with his patronizing taunts. “I thought you could handle a little criticism. You’re weak and you ought to train a little more to at least compensate for your failures y/n”. That was it. He reached the boiling point. Why would he say that considering the fact that you were alone, on a mission to capture the four tails. Unlike like you, everyone else had a partner to help them succeed. The four tails was strong, forcing you to back out of the fight before you’d needlessly hurt yourself. Your taijutsu was neat, but you lacked the physical strength to inflict any serious harm, your strength being the ability to absorb chakra and return it to the user in five fold. Also that you were abnormally intelligent, making you a crucial member of the akatsuki as you played a role in managing the group, sometimes helping pick out the right teams for the right tasks. And your main focus was to collect information about the jinchuriki to share with Pein, who would use that information to select an actual team to hunt down the host. Kisame was happy you failed. There was just something about seeing you so miserable that he couldn’t help but take pleasure in. “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that y/n?”, Hidan deviously questioned, successfully riling you up. You literally pounced on him, not caring that you were in the midst of all the other members, taking him down by complete surprise. You both fell to the ground with a loud thud, Kisame completely taking the hit as you landed on top of him. He was rather stunned that you were able to easily take him down. “Yes y/n, get him!” Hidan cheered, enjoying the view of your ass as you hovered above your new opponent, earning himself a glare from Kakuzu. You certainly weren’t tiny. You were packing in all the right places, standing at 5’8, your curvy body showing in all its glory because your clothes burnt off in certain areas after escaping the four tails brutal lava release, making you look all the more fucking sexy to the swordsman, as well as every other member in the room. But even then, he was way too big and bulky for you to manage bringing him down to the ground in a spilt second all by yourself. You brought your fist up, ready to wipe away that smug look on his face with a nice and hard blow, infuriated at how he calmly waited for you to hit. Your fist connected with his cheek, Kisame quickly flipping you over so he was now on top of you, blood dripping out his nose and falling on your cheek as he easily pinned your wrists on either side of your head, his solid, muscly frame dominantly hovering above you. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”, he growled, angered by how you took him down in front of everyone, but also more than happy to fight you, to see what you’re really capable of. You brought your knee up between his legs, a loud grunt leaving his mouth as you landed a hard blow on his crotch. You used the opportunity to head butt him hard before flipping him over so you were right back on top of him. He was obviously holding back, but today you were in the mood to really fight. “Enough!”. You both snapped your heads in the direction of the familiar voice. Pein looked down at both of you, his purple eyes piercing your own, his expression stoic as always. You quickly got off of Kisame, dusting yourself off as you walked off to your room. He really underestimated you, but next time Pein wasn’t around, you would certainly give him a big taste of the strength he didn’t know you had.

The next morning you felt somewhat better, dragging yourself out of bed to start your day with the rest of the miserable human beings in the hideout. You finished up your breakfast, washing only your dishes, drying them and packing them away, growling at anyone who dared to near you with their dirty dishes. You would die before you washed somebody else’s dishes in this hideout. No one was worthy. Except maybe Itachi. You dried your hands off, walking back to your room to meditate, shower and change before you’d go out and train a little. Not because Kisame said so, you reminded yourself, now debating whether or not you should train, so Kisame wouldn’t think you were training because of his rude remark last night. You walked with your eyes glued to the floor, not watching where you were going as you sped walked the rest of the way in deep thought. You bumped into something hard, the impact throwing you off balance, causing you to stumble backwards and land hard on your bottom. “Ow!” , you whined, looking up to see Kisame. He didn’t have his cloak on, just a skin tight black turtle neck shirt with a pair of black pants. Barefoot. The shirt he wore hugged his muscular chest in such a sinful way. His beefy arms flexing as he gazed at you. This might of been the first time you’d seen him without a cloak. He wasn’t just a big shark. He was a tall, muscular, sexy shark. He reached down to grab your arm, pulling you up a little too fast, causing you to stumble once again, but this time, he held you until you were able to stand on your own. You were pretty much gawking at this point, gulping away your arousal as you immediately looked at the ground, embarrassed that he caught you. “Watch where you’re going little girl”, he said, ignoring how cute you looked still dressed in your pijamas. The pink, spaghetti strap shirt hugging your ample bosom, your nipples confidently introducing themselves through the thin cotton material. The shirt ended just beneath your natural waist, revealing your pierced belly button and a whole lot of smooth skin before your navy blue with white polka dots pants took over, a drawstring keeping them around your hips as they draped all the way down to your ankles, folded twice so you wouldn’t step on them. You both stood in the middle of the long passage, awkward silence surrounding the two of you as you shyly checked each other out. “If you were watching where you were going you wouldn’t of let me walk right into you”, you started, trying to distract yourself from the 6’4 hunk of sexiness standing in front of you. Quickly overcoming your shame you looked up at him, clearing your throat as his eyes were glued to your chest for a good few seconds before he lift them up to look at your face. Unlike you he wasn’t embarrassed at all, his eyes continuing their journey down your body as he nonchalantly replied, “Yeah whatever little girl, I don’t have time for this today”. Your eye twitched. “I’m not a little girl”, you spoke, trying to stay as nonchalant as he was. “Is that so?”, he challenged. “Yes. I’m much more than you could ever handle Kisame. But anyways, I’m not going to to stand here and argue with an angry fish, so bye”, you retorted, starting to walk past him and to your room. His large hand found your neck, causing you to stumble as he dragged you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall all in one swift movement. You gasped out as your back hit the wall, knocking a little air out of your restricted windpipe. Kisame eyes met yours, his teeth showing in his devious smile. He didn’t know whether to laugh at your confidence or respond to your smart remarks. Whatever it was he was feeling made his dick twitch. If only you weren’t so damn cute gasping for air in his hold he would’ve ignored you and continued on about his day. But today he reached his limit. He was going to teach you a very good lesson.

He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “Much more than I could ever handle?”, he questioned. “Are you sure about that little girl?”. At that he let go of you, watching you greedily suck in air before easily picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You blushed at how strong he was. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to be gentle”, you remarked, only further triggering his irritation. “For once you’re actually right about me. I do not know how to be gentle and I hope you learn from this”, he responded. You could hear the seriousness in his tone, hoping he meant to do what you thought he was going to do and not actually kill you this morning. Uncertainty travelled through your veins, making you nervous as you tightened your grip on his shirt, trying to keep your balance. His arm sat between your thighs, the grip on your upper thigh just below your ass the only support you had on his shoulder. You were genuinely concerned. Trying to think of a plan to escape or fight back if you needed to. He entered a room, shutting the door behind him. A few steps later he threw you onto his unmade bed. You could smell his musky scent all around you, spiking up your arousal as you sat up on your elbows, looking around you before concluding you were in fact, in his room. You looked up at him, gulping away your nerves as he lifted his shirt over his head. Holy fuck. At this point his sexiness would surely kill you before he got the chance to. You could only watch him in silence, as he crawled onto the bed, slowly making his way to you, like an animal sneaking up on it’s prey, forcing you to lie on your back. He spread your legs open to settle between them. You felt so little beneath him, actually nervous about what was currently taking place. Kisame stopped just above you, sensing your nerves building up. “Where did the cocky girl run off to?”, he chuckled. You felt rather embarrassed that he was right, all your confidence left your body when he threw you onto his bed, suggesting that he was going to fuck you. As aware as you were you couldn’t find any words to retort. A smile appearing on his face, showing his sharp white teeth as he waited for a reaction. “Did you forget how to talk?”, he asked, before planting a small kiss on your soft lips. He pulled away, looking at your face before coming back down to plant another kiss in the crook of your neck. You lifted your chin up to give him more access. His hand rubbed your thigh, slowly coming up to your hips, then your waist, your abdomen and finally your breasts, not ceasing the kisses that slowly turned into sucks and bites, his sharp teeth piercing your skin, making you moan out before his tongue lapped at the blood, soothing the pain he caused you. His big hand squeezed your boob, causing him to groan at the feel of the soft mound. His fingers pinched your nipple hard enough that you squealed. “Answer me y/n”, his tone serious as he continued his attack on your neck. You complied, “Yes I can talk, I’m just a little surprised”. You figured you should be honest about how you felt right now. He ceased his marking, coming up to look at your face. “I hate to admit it but I find myself very attracted to you, annoying as you are. Right now though, I want nothing more than to fuck you, hard and fast”, he confessed, emphasizing his last words with a buck of his hips, grinding into you, smiling at the way you bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan. “I’m sure I can handle you just right”, he continued, deciding to slowly roll his hips into yours, roughly dry humping you. “I’m just not sure if you could keep up”. At that you snapped your eyes open, a small moan escaping your lips as his erection rubbed your lady parts just the right way. “I can keep up Kisame. You’re not all that”, you quickly retorted. Kisame chuckled, watching you slightly squirm beneath him, enjoying the way he rubbed against you.

His lips smashed into yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, making you squeal in delight. His hands immediately worked on undressing you, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and dragging your pants off along with your underwear. In less than a minute you were bare beneath him, your legs spread out as he pressed kisses onto your inner thighs, slowly nearing your wet and aching heat. You brought a finger to your mouth, bracing yourself for what was to come. Kisame looked up at you, waiting for a thumbs up. You looked back into his eyes, whining as you bucked your hips up. Without further ado he drove right in, greedily lapping up your juices, spreading your lips apart before sucking on your throbbing nub, forcing you into a fit of long, breathy moans. You buried your hand into his hair, the other tugging on one of your nipples as you neared an intense orgasm. His large hands kept your thighs spread apart for him, purple nails digging into them as he ferociously ate you out. His mouth found your clit once again, sucking hard on it, the pleasure almost painful as you screamed out in ecstasy. You legs shook in his hold, juices spilling everywhere as he kept at it, making sure you let it all out before he pulled away from you. He got off of the bed, watching you squirm around in pleasure as he pulled his pants off, his boxers following, revealing his thick, long, glorious member. He crawled right back on the bed, flipping you over so you were on your tummy. “I’m sure you feel just as good as you taste sweet girl”, he teased, watching your fat ass jiggle as he slapped it, hard enough to pull out rough moans from you. He snaked his arm under your chest, wrapping his hand around your neck, your breasts snuggling his forearm. “Kisame!”, you moaned out, desperate to feel him inside of you. “What is it?”, he asked, biting his lip as he rubbed his dick along your slick folds, lubricating it and stimulating you at the same time. “Oooh please!”, you moaned, pushing your ass back against him. “You’re going to be begging me to stop soon little girl. Be patient”, he reprimanded, focusing on lubricating his dick in your juices, making you whine out in sweet frustration. Your legs were tucked underneath his own, your thighs pressed together, waiting for him to fuck you.

After what felt like forever he finally pushed the tip into you, slowly stretching you out. He watched you barely manage to take him, squirming beneath him as he sunk into your tight cunt. He couldn’t hold back a moan of his own, sinking his sharp teeth into the back of your neck as he pushed himself all the way into you, your tight pussy snugly swallowing him in. “Kisame! Fuck!”, you moaned out in pain and pleasure as he lapped up the blood dripping from your new wound. He didn’t give you anytime to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. “Mmm fuck! Here we go baby”. He immediately set to a fast and hard pace, his strong hips pushing you up the bed with every thrust, his hand on your neck keeping you in place as he pounded you into the sheets. You couldn’t speak, struggling to catch your breath as your screams took over. His dick was so big, hitting a spot inside of you that made you wonder if he was actually trying to kill you with pleasure. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool falling down your chin as he roughly fucked you. Your whole body was now violently convulsing beneath him and you hadn’t even reached your climax yet. Heavy pants fell from Kisame’s mouth as he brutally fucked you, enjoying the way your tight pussy threatened to milk him dry. “You feel way too fucking good baby. Come now”, he spoke through gritted teeth, the demand in your ear sending you over the edge as you came hard. All you could do was scream as the pleasure brutally consumed you, leaving you a complete mess as your grip on the sheets failed to anchor you through this one. Your walls clenched hard around him and he couldn’t hold back, grunting your name out in your ear as he came after you. It took everything in him to not bite you again as his orgasm ripped right through him. Sparing your skin from any more nasty marks.

His weight on top of you crushed you but also anchored you as you both rode your orgasms out. He calming himself before did, pulling you into him as he rolled onto his back. “That was quite intense. Are you okay?”, he asked, holding you tight against him as he kissed your face. His hands ran along your back, to help sooth you down, your whimpers muffled into his chest as you gradually caught your breath. “Y/n, are you okay? Answer me”, he asked again, slightly worried that he might of been a little too rough. He was sure it wasn’t your first time, considering how well you took him when he sunk into you. Maybe he was way too rough. He panicked, slightly tugging your head back to see your face. “Y/n. Answer me”. “K-Kisame. I’m f-fine”, you tiredly whimpered, snuggling into him to find sleep. He finally breathed out, kissing your forehead in relief. So this was all it took to get you to behave? He was hoping you’d be open to doing this again sometime soon, letting sleep take over as he relaxed onto the bed, feeling very satisfied with how things turned out.

#kisame #kisame x reader #kisame smut #kisame x y/n #kisame hoshigaki #nsft post

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ak47stylegirl · 3 years

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Doctors Appointment: Chapter 3

Okay guys, here’s the third chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this!!! 😁💙

First two chapters.

@janetm74 @dragonoffantasyandreality @katblu42 @cg29 @alexthefly @inertplanetary ----

Scott stood with his arms crossed, watching with a worried frown as Alan’s doctor, Dr David, examined his baby brother. At this moment, Dr David was examining Alan’s joints, mainly his arms and legs.

Alan’s eyes glanced over at Scott.

“Okay, tell me if any of this hurts, okay?” Dr David began to put pressure on Alan’s unbraced leg joints, feeling around with his fingers.

Alan’s face was scrunched up in discomfort, slightly flinching each time pressure was applied to his limbs.

But then Dr David put pressure on Alan’s ankle joint-

“Ow! Ow!” Alan wailed from where he laid on the bed, tears gathering in his eyes. “Ow! That hurts! Stop!”

Dr David instantly took the pressure off, frowning as he gently examined them further. At the same time, Scott had rushed over to Alan’s side.

“Shhh, it’s alright….” Scott whispered, brushing his fingers through Alan’s soft blond hair. “It’s alright….”

Alan whimpered, pouting up at Scott in disagreement.

Scott’s eyes saddened immensely at the sight, tilting his head slightly in sympathy. Oh, my poor little one…

You never should’ve had to deal with this...

Dr David sighed heavily, catching Scott’s attention in a snap. Scott’s stomach flipped at the deep frown on the doctor’s face as he typed his notes into his tablet.

Alan’s joints have gotten worse, haven’t they?!

Oh no, please no!

Alan struggled enough.

Please...no...

“Well, unfortunately, I can’t see much improvement from last time…” Dr David explained sadly, placing his tablet back down, “There is some stiffness in Alan’s left knee, but overall not much has changed….”

Scott let loose a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. While no improvement wasn’t good, it was better than the other option.

Oh, so, so much better...

Alan blew out a frustrated breath, “Can...Can I sit up now?” Alan mumbled, looking up at the two adults.

“Yes, of course….” Dr David nodded.

Alan slowly sat up with Scott’s help, leaning his head heavily against Scott’s side with a weak groan.

Scott’s eyes creased in sorrow, lips pressed tightly together as he stroked the back of Alan’s head.

This was only the first part of the appointment, and Alan’s tolerance was already getting paper-thin.

It didn't bode well…

Especially seeing as Alan’s appointment was actually multiple appointments.

First, there was the appointment with Dr David, Alan’s main specialist. The team leader of Alan’s health professionals. They had the main ‘check-up’ with Dr David, who checked all the basic things they needed to watch.

After that, Alan was handed over to the pathology lab for tests and scans. That usually took quite a while.

Alan wasn’t overly fond of some of the tests, to say the least…

But once that was done, Scott and Alan would retire to a private hospital suite for a little break as Alan needed to rest.

Because if Alan didn’t get said nap, there would 100% be a massive meltdown. Like laying on the floor crying his eyes out, refusing to cooperate…

Lots and lots of screaming…

So yes, Scott very much insisted on that break.

(Though sometimes, even that didn’t stop the meltdowns from happening…)

The second main appointment of the day was with Dr Suzzy, Alan’s fitness/rehabilitation specialist.

It took place down in the hospital’s rehab gym, where Dr Suzzy would walk through a couple of simple exercises with Alan. Alan actually had a training schedule for home as well, created by both Virgil and Dr Suzzy.

As their medic, Virgil pulled rank to be the one to help Alan with those exercises.

Scott tried to help sometimes, but unfortunately, running a business and rescue organisation kept him tied down most of the time...

The guilt plagued him…

Gordon also helped out with those exercises at times, especially if the pool was involved.

If there were two things that Gordon took deadly seriously, it was pool safety and looking after his only little brother. So you could be damn sure Gordon was going to be there.

Don’t think you can stop him. He’s a sneaky one, and he bites.

Scott had a faint scar on his arm from a four-year-old Gordon to prove it. (It had happened shortly after mum died, Gordon had been having a bad day… he hadn’t meant it...)

Don’t mess with the Gordo; at times, he’s a cuddly squid and others…

Shark.

Pure shark.

Anyway, after that appointment, it was onto the final and honestly worst part of the day.

Alan’s treatment.

It would occur in the same hospital suite as before, with Alan hooked up to an IV containing his medication. It was a slow process, taking an hour or two. Alan typically spent that time cradled up in Scott’s lap, hugging his Thunderbird Three plushie.

Virgil had gotten it for Alan when he was first diagnosed.

Scott knew Virgil was tempted to get Alan the Thunderbird Two plushie instead but went with Three as that was Alan’s favourite ship.

Also, that before mentioned Thunderbird Two plushie?

It was sitting pride of place on Virgil’s bed.

Because-

‘I couldn’t just leave it?! She was looking so sad sitting there!’

While Virgil needing to have the plush version of his bird was understandable, buying the whole store’s supply of plushies was a bit much.

Like seriously, Virg…

Most of those toys got donated to families that couldn’t afford toys or sick children in hospital.

It ended up being a very good experience for everyone involved…

Virgil had personally gone to the hospitals himself, handing said plushies to the unwell kids himself.

There were tears…

And the lucky survivors that remained either got a job as an International Rescue’s cuddle operative; tasked with comforting young rescuees.

Or adults, it has definitely happened before...

And the last few were adopted by Gordon, whose bed was a sea of plushies.

Scott would never know how Gordon could sleep in that bed…

But it was a pretty adorable sight, he will admit.

Dr David put his stethoscope in his ears, “Okay, let’s have a little listen to that chest of yours, shall we?”

The stethoscope was slipped up the back of Alan’s shirt-

“Cold!” Alan squealed, flinching away as the cold metal of the stethoscope touched his skin. “That’s freezing!”

“Sorry, Alan…” Dr David smiled apologetically. “I’ll warm it up a bit next time, okay?” The stethoscope was placed against Alan’s skin once again.

“Now, deep breath in for me..”

Alan’s eyes narrowed, a grumpy pout on his face as he took a deep breath.

Scott sighed wearily, spotting a possible meltdown brewing on the horizon. He didn’t know when it would hit, but Scott knew that it would happen some way or another.

Alan was displaying all the signs…

Dr David moved the stethoscope around a couple of times, each time asking Alan to take a deep breath. By the time the doctor was finished, Alan was slightly out of breath.

“Well, his heart sounds good, which is always a good thing….” Dr David slipped his stethoscope back around his neck. “But his lungs sound a little wheezy….”

Scott frowned in concern.

“Has he been sick in the last week or so?” Dr David asked Scott, once again typing down notes on his tablet. “Cold? Flu?”

Alan shuttered with a grimace.

Being completely knocked down with the flu or cold was horrible for anyone. Let alone for someone like Alan, who had a weak immune system…

Scott’s eyes slipped close briefly as he nodded,

“Yeah…” Scott replied, remembering that week well. “He was unwell with a bad cold about a week and a half ago….”

It hasn’t been fun...

“I figured as much,” Dr David remarked, putting his tablet down, “Nothing to be concerned about, as I’m sure Dr Tracy wouldn’t let her grandson out of her care otherwise….”

Scott chuckled in agreement. Grandma was a force to be reckoned with when it came to matters of health.

And she had a pupil called Virgil.

“But if it’s not gone by this time next week, I would advise getting it checked….” Dr David suggested as he set up the blood pressure monitor.

Scott nodded thoughtfully, “Will do….”

And seeing as they had a doctor in the house, and most of them were trained medics or EMTs, Scott had no doubt that Alan would get the best care possible.

He would personally make sure of that…

TBC..

#alan tracy #Scott Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #sicktember2021 #sick character #sick alan #AU #tw chronic illness

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biggirllifestyle · 3 years

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Over The Rails

Summary: After Peter posts a video of him and his friends at the roller rink on their group chat Bucky can’t seem to get his mind off Peter’s friend who stole the show, and after getting goaded into going skating with the other avengers (Natasha’s conniving planning) where Peter’s friend works at Bucky can’t help but feel that there’s something to look forward to.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-Sized Reader

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Swearing, Physical harm (from Roller Skating), Future Confrontational Violence, etc.

A/N: So I am taking up a new hobby, Roller skating, it’s been something I have always wanted to try but I was always told that something like that was not meant for someone of my size, and stubborn ole me is gonna prove them wrong. So here I am writing a story that I hope will help break that insecurity telling you that something was not made for you because of your size. Do what you want to do and Fuck those people telling you that you can’t do it be Petty and prove them wrong. ALSO I think this will be multi chaptered which I’m kind of worried cause I suck but like yeah. Enjoy!!!!

The first time Bucky had seen them was on a video Peter had sent to the group chat he took the liberty to make, mostly it was filled with messages from Peter and Shuri catching up with each other or asking feedback on their current inventions and sometimes (not sometimes all the time) they would send each other memes (as he was told they were called) they were a funny bunch some he didn’t understand the references to but over all he tolerated it (also he was still getting used to having his own mobile device so he had no clue how to get himself out of it) and surprisingly enough Steve himself joined in on the shenanigans sending his own versions of these memes that Bucky himself could understand.

The day that Bucky had seen Peter’s video he was just coming back from a mission, next to him snoozing away and taking up too much space than she needed was Natasha, he figured she was doing this to test the other agents who had questioned her credibility of being brought on to this mission short to say she wasn't amused. Bucky knew when to not get involved and in this instance Nat seemed to be on a mission and he in no way was gonna stop that.

After securing himself to the seat he retrieved his phone from the holding compartment, as he waited for it to turn on he thought about Steve’s offer to move in together he was finally cleared by medical to move out of the compound it was a hard process of healing from the trauma that came from the brainwash and the actions he did while under different people’s control with an agreement to attend weekly therapy and he was free. Steve had helped and while he was out here finishing up his mission, he figured that this was his chance to start anew in a world where everything has come to progress.

When he finally looked down at his phone he saw that it was bombarded by notification from the chat, it seemed that Peter had posted another one of those videos with his friends and Shuri seemed to be raving about it, his curiosity got the better of him even though he knew better not too (last time he ended up watching a minute long video of Peter and his friend Ned trying to stuff four slices of pizza in the shortest amount of time, least to say Bucky was not amused).

The video seemed to be of Peter, Ned, and MJ Peters girlfriend at a skating rink, Ned and Peter seemed to be struggling keeping themselves upright as MJ cruised around them acting like it was the easiest thing in the world as she laughed at the boys struggle, but what caught his attention was not Peter and Ned’s struggle but instead he was focused on the person behind them who seemed to be moving towards them with ease, almost as if they were flowing in water, she came to a complete stop behind the boys as she said something to MJ who burst out laughing before they joined hands and moved away. The camera seemed to be magnetized towards them and it caught as MJ and the other girl started dancing around as they cruised through couples meeting at certain points to sing along as the song continued in the background, everything was going good until the girl crashed into someone sending her sprawling on the floor and the video was cut abruptly.

Bucky made a noise of concern and that seemed to have peaked Natasha’s interest, she watched silently over his shoulder to see what had made him worried a small grin spreading across her face,

“Why Sergeant Barnes I wasn’t aware that you were interested in new hobbies, if you wanted to be hip with the kids I would have suggested something less vigorating like crocheting.”

Bucky gave Natasha a glowering look at her jab to his age, she was giving him an annoying grin and he couldn’t help the push he gave her forgetting his strength and almost dropping her off the seat, she didn’t seem to mind as she reached over and grabbed at her own phone texting away into her phone at a rapid speed, before another grin with a sharper edge came over her face and Bucky knew that he was fucked. His phone went off and he ignored it because he knew it was her doing, but the moment he felt it go off continuously nonstop he couldn't help the dread that came over him so he opened the chat seeing Natasha’s doing.

*W.A.P Chat*

Arachnobaby🕷:*Video Attachment*

Arachnobaby🕷: So we went roller skating

*Seen*

Widow Queen👸: It seems baby Spider that you got our sergeants

attention, I think he wants to give it a try.

SnowCAP⛄️: Oh I wouldn’t be surprised back in the day Buck used to

be the best at roller skating, I mean one time we were

on a mission in Berlin he showed what he could really do

skated circles around those hydra agents.

BirdMan🐥: Now that I would have to love to see, What do you say

Robocop when you come back wanna hit the rinks and show

Your inner Bill Bogash.

Arachnobaby🕷: Oh that sounds like a great idea my friend bibi,

She’s the girl who crashed at the end, works at

the rink so I can ask her if she can book us a night

where it could only be us and that way we won’t

bother anyone or anything.

The Supreme🧙‍♀️: I feel like this is a disaster waiting to happen

especially with @BirdMan🐥 goading our sergeant.

The Vision: Sergeant Barnes capabilities are meant to be used for a

greater purpose, I do not believe he would want to waste

his energy in these trivial competitions.

Arachnobaby🕷: How did he get in!!! *he doesn’t even go here meme*

RoboCop🤖: I hate you…

RoboCop🤖: But You’re on.

Bucky turned to Natasha with a glare ready set on his face, he wasn’t glad that he was goaded into going out with the group but he was also glad that Natasha hadn’t really figured out what had really interested him from the video. Natasha seemed to be distracted looking towards the Reeds, the one who questioned her authority, giving him a shark like smile as he sat ramrod straight trying to ignore the assassin who was giving him her full attention.

Bucky nudged her trying to make her ease up since they were ready to land, as soon as the hanger doors were open Reed booked it as if his ass was on fire the other agents following close behind. Natasha turned to him a small smile on her lips as she began to grab her duffle,

“Maybe as you’re trying to prove your skills on the rink, you also take the chance to ask out Peter’s friend, might do you some good to abandon your grouchy persona.”

And with those last words she turned and marched off, she knew.

“Fuck!”

Part 2

#plus size ofc #pluss size #original work #plus size oc #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky x plus size reader #sebastian stan

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 2: Della [ao3 link]

She didn’t trust the lady. Not for one second. Not for one teeny tiny eenie meenie little extra small second!

Not when Uncle Scrooge would always come home looking like he wanted to cry or scream and he’d mutter Goldie’s name under his breath and then lock himself in his room for the rest of the day. Visiting him was supposed to be exciting and cool and fun and if they had the terrible timing of coming by right after Goldie, then the trip was basically pointless.

Not that she wasn’t also sad to see her uncle sad! That also sucked a lot.

Last time they’d seen Goldie, she’d stolen their map and left them behind in some woods in the middle of Iraq. Sure, she’d oddly left them a clue to help get into the ziggurat safely, but that didn’t make up for the betrayal of stealing their stuff! And Donald was so sour about it for days and days. He really thought it was his fault, as if Miss O’Gilt wasn’t always stealing and leaving. It was pretty much her whole thing.

She tried to convince him that but he just grumbled and sighed about it. He was really hung up on how he called her “Aunt Goldie” when she’d told him not to. So what? They always did things adults told them not to do. It didn’t usually make them run away like little babies. And Della was confident that that wasn’t the reason why Goldie left them behind - not like the lady needed a reason, she clearly just did it for fun - so she knew she’d have to convince Donald of that so he’d stop being so mopey.

Conveniently, Goldie visited the manor again only a few months later. They were at the dinner table with Duckworth when they heard a suspicious sound coming from upstairs. Uncle Scrooge and Duckworth made eye contact and then started walking towards the stairs, so Della and Donald followed out of curiosity.

As they reached the source of the sound, which started as some kind of stomping but had turned into maybe a sliding? And Della could’ve sworn she heard a groan? Anyway, Duckworth opened the door and Uncle Scrooge peeked into the room for a half-second before suddenly shouting “GOLDIE?!” and running in.

Duckworth followed him, but Donald and Della stayed at the door and just looked inside. They could see Goldie was on the floor and Scrooge was some mixture of tending to her and yelling at her because, and Della wasn’t yet an expert on this but she’d had some experiences, there was definitely a pool of blood underneath her. Goldie muttered something and Scrooge muttered something back but neither she nor Donald could understand what they were talking about.

The twins made eye contact, silently agreeing to head inside, when Duckworth suddenly exited the room and closed the door behind him, leaving them out.

“You two should go finish your dinner.”

“What? But what about…” Della motioned towards the door.

“Ah, he’s right, Della,” Donald muttered softly, accepting defeat too easily for Della’s liking. “It’s not like we can help.” He started to walk away, looking just as bummed as he had been for the past few weeks.

Della pouted and thought about how she was hoping to improve Donald’s mood when Goldie returned, but of course the old lady had to make it more complicated than it needed to be. As Duckworth gently pushed them towards the stairs, she turned her head and looked up at him. “Is Aunt Goldie okay?”

Duckworth raised an eyebrow at her and decided not to comment on the name. “Goldie O’Gilt is harder to kill than a cockroach. She’ll be just fine.”

The kids chuckled at his comparison and rushed back down to eat. As soon as the kids were gone, Duckworth sighed and walked towards the bathroom, knowing he could find one of their First Aid kits in there.

The rest of their meal was quick, both kids just wanted to finish so they could go back upstairs and find out what happened to Goldie.

“I’ll bet she was fighting a sea serpent over a single gold doubloon and it just completely tore her arm off!”

“No way! She probably got into a back alley knife fight when she tried to rob a guy that was too tough to rob.”

“Oooh, or maybe she was making her way through an ancient tomb when all the traps went off and she’s just got a ton of arrows poking out of her, leaking her blood all over the floor and the side of the mansion while she climbed up the wall!”

“Ew, Dumbella! That’s so gross!”

“How is that grosser than her arm getting torn off?!”

“I dunno, it just is!”

They argued over Goldie’s potential source of injury for a few minutes as they finished their food. As they agreed to head upstairs, Uncle Scrooge came down and plopped himself and his cane right in the entranceway so they couldn’t leave.

“Kids. I’m sure you saw that Goldie’s here.”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss,” Della said with an eyeroll. “Did she steal anything from you yet?”

Scrooge blew out some air and tapped his fingers at the top of his cane. “Not yet. And yes, she probably will. But...it might be a few days.”

Donald and Della looked at each other incredulously. “Days? Like...more than one?”

“Probably at least a week.”

“Wait, what?” Donald stepped towards his uncle, looking concerned. “Is she, like...actually really badly hurt? What happened?”

Scrooge looked up towards the second floor when he thought he heard a noise before sighing and looking back down at the kids. “She hasn’t given me all the details, but she’s...she’s not in the best shape. She’ll need a few days to recover.”

Della was already thinking back to her guesses for Goldie’s injuries. She’d been kidding before, but maybe she wasn’t too far off?

“You two don’t need to do anything, Duckworth and I can take care of her just fine,” Scrooge said softly. “But we might need to postpone our trip to Svalbard until she’s better.”

“Boo!” Della whined. “Aunt Goldie ruins yet another adventure! Can’t we just leave her here with Duckworth?”

Scrooge’s eyes widened and he sputtered a bit at her words. “I-I, um...no, she’s...what?”

“C’mon, Della, it’s just another week,” Donald commented, not noticing his uncle’s discomfort. “Uncle Scrooge probably wants to make sure she doesn’t steal anything while we’re gone.”

“Um...right,” Scrooge muttered, still not over what he just heard. He remembered Donald referring to her as ‘aunt’ the last time they’d seen her, but he kind of thought that was just an odd little one-time thing. Now if Della started doing it, too, then he didn’t know how to handle that. Goldie would absolutely lose her mind if she found out. “You two shouldn’t bother her so just stay away from the guest room two doors down from mine.”

The kids shared a look before looking back up at their uncle simultaneously. “Okay, Uncle Scrooge!”

As Scrooge nodded and walked away, seemingly headed towards his office, Della and Donald quickly rushed towards the stairs so they could go bother their new houseguest.

They peeked into the room together and saw the mess of blonde hair strewn across the pillows. Goldie definitely looked like she was asleep, which was very disappointing, but they decided to walk into the room anyway and see if she was just faking.

She didn’t react to them coming closer. Della leaned towards her brother and whispered, “She’s sneaky and sharp, right? So she probably knows we’re here even if she’s asleep!”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Donald whispered back. “Look at her arm! She’s probably just really tired and hurt.”

Della followed his pointer finger and saw that there were bandages all over Goldie’s right arm - from her wrist up past her elbow. Clearly she’d been pretty badly hurt from something and Della desperately wanted to know what it was. She took a deep breath and walked the rest of the way towards her bed, ignoring Donald’s shocked protest behind her.

“...are you awake?” Della asked quietly, not sure how she should approach this.

Goldie didn’t respond, which just made Della pout.

“Aunt Goldie!” she said suddenly, at slightly-higher-than-normal volume. “What happened to your arm?!”

That time, Goldie’s eyes were wide open, but she was simply staring up at the ceiling and taking deep breaths. Donald noticed and joined his sister at the older woman’s bedside.

Another few seconds passed and Goldie closed her eyes again. Della wondered if she thought they were just a nightmare she was having. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Aunt Gooooldie!” Della smacked her little hands against the top of the bed. “Did you get bitten by a shark? Or stabbed by a guy on the street? Or shot by a laser?”

“Or did you fall from a tower in the sky and land on your arm and it got all gross and beat up?” Donald added, feeling his sister’s contagious enthusiasm.

Goldie groaned and opened her eyes again, clearly wishing the kids weren’t really there. “Is there any way for me to get you two to go away?”

They just smiled at her innocently.

“...if I tell you what happened, will you let me sleep in peace?”

This time they nodded, completely in-sync. Goldie would’ve felt a little creeped out if she wasn’t used to them mirroring one another.

She turned back towards the ceiling and sighed. “I got burned. Badly.”

“Burned?” Della and Donald said together. Neither of them expected that. “Then what was with all the blood?”

“I wasn’t careful enough on my way here,” she said casually. “Burns got scratched up, started to bleed. Hurt like hell.”

Della climbed onto the bed, plopping herself down far enough from Goldie that the bed didn’t shake but close enough to get a better look at the bandages. They were definitely a little red and her arm looked inflamed. “So how’d you get burned? A dragon?”

Donald leaned onto the bed. “A flamethrower?”

“It was some kind of magic.”

“Oohh,” Della crooned. “Did you meet Magica De Spell? Uncle Scrooge complains about her sometimes.”

“She sounds scary.”

Goldie closed her eyes for a second before looking over at the kids. “It wasn’t my first time crossing paths with her, but yes. She had some stupid fancy magical artifact with her and caught me off guard and now I’m stuck here ‘til I can remember if that healing spring was in Caladrion or some other dimension that starts with C!” She started to move her arm and then hissed in pain before setting it back down. “I’ve got enough vicodin in my system to keep me from remembering the name but not enough to stop my arm from hurting. Great.”

Della and Donald looked at each other again. “...Aunt Goldie?”

“Please for the love of God, stop calling me that,” Goldie groaned, closing her eyes once again. “What do you want now?”

Donald took his sister’s hand and tugged her off the bed. “Do you want any tea or anything?”

Goldie froze momentarily before turning to look at the kids again, seeing surprisingly innocent looks on their faces. She almost felt bad for snapping, but god was she tired. “...no. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Donald said quietly. “We’ll leave you alone now. Right, Della?”

Della nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sleep tight, Aunt Goldie!”

They headed out the door as Goldie groaned one last time and tried to get back to sleep. Donald shut the door behind them and glared at his sister. “She said to stop calling her that!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to get a reaction outta her!” Della responded, putting her hands on her hips. “You said it made her run away last time, but this time she’s still here!”

“She doesn’t exactly have a choice,” Donald muttered, crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet she’d be running if she could!”

“Nah-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Nah-”

“Della, Donald.”

The twins turned to see Duckworth standing at the end of the hallway, giving them a suspicious stare.

“Miss O’Gilt is trying to get some sleep so she can recover faster. Perhaps the two of you could continue this argument somewhere else?”

The kids nodded sheepishly and rushed past Duckworth on their way to another room to argue and play in. Duckworth watched them over his shoulder for a few moments before turning back towards the room that housed their current uninvited guest. He thought back to the last time Goldie O’Gilt had stayed in the mansion and how Mr. McDuck’s mood was lifted and then subsequently crushed when she inevitably left in the middle of the night.

Though he thought this time would probably be no different, having the kids around would make her stay a bit more interesting, he was sure of that.

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #della duck #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #duckworth #scroldie #fic #fics #not your aunt

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valdemart · 3 years

Text

Valdebreed (Part 1)

When your significant other is a wealthy mad scientist demon lacking several human emotions, you don’t get a normal life. In fact, you give up a lot more than you realized you would have to. You just have to hope they also realize it.

(Afab Reader has sex with Valdemar with the intent to start a family. Some good angst, minor body horror, breeding kink tentacle smut. No sex in the first part. I wrote too damn much.)

“You’re going to pop any day, huh?”

Annabella beamed at you, grinning widely.

“The doctor says it will happen sometime this week. Early next week at the latest.”

That comment gave you pause.

“Wait. You’re not working, are you?”

Annabella waved your concern off.

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, the Countess wouldn’t allow it. But I’m bored at home all day just waiting for the baby to come and I wanted to chat with everyone.”

That was reassuring, at least. You didn’t think Annabella could work, not with such a huge belly. Her arms probably couldn’t even reach the stove at this point.

“Oh! They’re kicking! Did you want to feel?”

Without waiting for your answer, Annabella grabbed your hand and placed it on her lower stomach and, sure enough, you felt a little kick against your searching fingers. You couldn’t hide your delight and the mother laughed at how happy you looked.

“Careful. You’ll catch baby fever from me and end up the next staff out on maternity leave.”

You smiled in response, your hand still resting against her stomach.

“Who knows? Maybe.”

You didn’t know Annabella well enough to get into why children probably weren’t in the cards for you. Besides, why bring the mood down? You were perfectly content to let this little baby kick you all day.

“Ugh. Excuse me, dear. This little bundle of joy has me having to pee every 20 minutes, I swear.”

You waved goodbye and watched the cook waddle away down the hall. As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a small hand tug on your shirt and you jumped in surprise.

“Procurator! You scared me!”

Volta stood well below you, looking up at you with her large, watery eyes.

“Volta saw you rubbing that servant girl’s belly. Do you like babies?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, I do. Doesn’t everyone?”

Volta shook her head.

“No. They are loud and their crying scares Volta. But Volta wonders if what the servant said is true.”

“If what part was true?”

“That you will be the next one to have a baby.”

The bluntness of ponderings made you blush.

“Oh, um…probably not.”

She cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy.

“But why not. You just told Volta that you like babies.”

You liked Volta. She was genuinely sweet, weird quirks of hers aside. But this was a weird conversation to be stuck in with her. Even if she was pushing a couple decades old, she didn’t seem to know much about more ‘grown up’ matters. And you didn’t want to explain the birds and a bees to a tiny demon in the middle of a palace hallway. Especially when there were elements of your particular birds and bees that you yourself were unsure of.

“I don’t think the Quaestor would be much interested in having children.”

“Did you ask Quaestor Valdemar to have a baby with you?”

That one was a step too far for you. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Oh no! Volta has embarrassed the magician!”

“It’s-it’s fine, Volta. It’s just complicated, is all. Hey, uh, I heard they were making cucumber ice cream in the kitchen.”

That was all you had to say to make Volta scamper off. While horribly embarrassing, at least that conversation was short. However, you noticed your mood had soured quite considerably in that time. While you had never discussed children, you knew Valdemar would never want them even if they could get you pregnant, and you doubted very much that they could. Your elation for the sweet mother to be had deflated and you felt a weak longing in your chest.

You could give sweets to the children of staffers and entertain them with card tricks and little illusions, but you would always be the fun auntie and never the mother. That was just your life now. A part of you had always known. From the moment you let Valdemar kiss you after learning what they truly were, you knew your life would never be ‘normal’. And that was fine at the time. It was then, it was when you moved in with them, and it was still fine now. But it wasn’t until now that you were hurt by that knowledge.

As long as you were with Valdemar, you would never be a mother.

The sun was setting as your carriage pulled up at the front gate of Valdemar’s estate. You had been able to forget your somber morning realization enough to fulfill all your duties as Court Magician that day. Luckily it had just been some minor spells and charms. But, as you had worked, you made a promise to yourself to not think about it any longer. Why should you lose sleep tonight over something you couldn’t control?

You thanked the driver and gave him a few coins while ignoring his concerned look. It was the same look all the drivers gave you when they dropped you off. Every single one of them always looked at you with a face that screamed ‘Hey, Lady, are you sure you want to go in there? I’ll drive you somewhere safe and not horrifying’. It was just another concession you made in your new life. Put ignoring weird looks right up there with never having babies and never getting married and sleeping alone most of the time and…

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes and your shoulders slumped.

‘So much for not letting me get myself down.’

You stood at the front door for a moment. You could run. You could go back to town and start a normal life. Fall in love with a human. Do normal human things. Fall asleep with a warm body next to you every night. Have a family. Grow old with them and die a few months after each other.

You shook your head at your foolishness. You don’t pick who you fall in love with, and you don’t deny it for the sake of comfort and familiarity. If anyone could roll with the punches, it was you. So far, not even death had been able to stop you.

“I’m home!” You called out once you were in the large marble foyer. You did this every time you came home, but you rarely got an answer. If Valdemar wasn’t out doing gods only knew what, then they were downstairs working.

“In the dining room, Little One,” came the reply, and you almost jumped out of your skin.

Valdemar? In the dining room? Not once had you ever seen them in there. Not once in over a year. Did they even know how to get to the dining room?

If you had been confused when you first arrived home, you were double confused once you were actually in the dining room. The fireplace as well as several candelabras were lit, warming off the darkness that was taking over outside.

“There you are, Dear Magician. Please, have a seat.”

Valdemar was sitting at the far end of the dining table, which was clear on the other side of the room. On the side nearest you was a bowl of soup in fine, white china. There was steam rising tantalizingly off it, and your stomach rumbled. You were always invited to dine with the servants at the palace, and normally you did, but your dower mood had spoiled your appetite so you hadn’t had much. Still, this was a bizarre sight and you stayed where you were.

“Who died?”

Valdemar grinned. You could see their large, white shark teeth clear across the table.

“Several thousand humans I imagine. As they do every night. But no one we know.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Valdemar just sat, unblinking and smiling, waiting patiently for you to sit. So, you did.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment until Valdemar motioned towards the food. You could smell that it was chicken and you saw droplets of oil floating on top of the broth above peas and carrots. Whatever horrible news Valdemar was about to tell you, you could at least hear it with a full stomach. It was warm and salty and you were quickly halfway through the bowl. Then they finally spoke.

“I had an unexpected guest for lunch. They brought their own servants to cook.”

Well, that was still weird, but at least it explained everything. Valdemar only had a few cleaning staff that came a couple times a week. You were the only one that ever used the kitchen. Valdemar also wasn’t terribly concerned with etiquette, so you raised the bowl to your lips to drink down the rich broth.

“My guest was the Procurator.”

Also weird for Valdemar to actually host the Procurator, since they usually didn’t care what she had to say, but they did work together.

You licked your lips and set the bowl down, realizing how much better you felt with something warm in your stomach.

“What did the Procurator need?”

Valdemar smiled wider, which shouldn’t have been possible, but it was Valdemar, so they could.

“She told me the two of you had a very interesting conversation.”

“We did?”

You talked to Volta about Annabella’s baby for all of two minutes before she ran off for a snack. It was embarrassing, yes, but hardly lunch visit worthy. You tried to think back to any other conversations the two of you had in the past month, but they had all been about food. What the Hell was Valdemar talking about?

“What makes you so sure I don’t want children?”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no!

Your mouth opened to speak, but no words came out, so you sat there, looking like a palace pond koi.

“I must say, that’s a bit presumptuous of you. I don’t recall ever having spoken to you on the subject.”

Valdemar was clearly enjoying your discomfort. They were looking at you like they were Valerius reading the label of a fine bottle of vintage wine.

“You look embarrassed. You couldn’t have been this embarrassed when you were discussing such intimate things with the Procurator. She said it was imperative that I give you a baby. She recommended us starting on it tonight.”

Did you know a spell to make the ground open up and swallow you? No, unfortunately. But you did make a mental note to figure one out if you survived this.

“I…It’s not like I…She didn’t even…”

Valdemar watch you flounder with your words, savoring each mortified little stutter you made. They may not have been physically sadistic with you, but no one could say they didn’t love to torture you other ways.

You sighed and looked down at the table, trying to collect yourself.

“Ok, I shouldn’t have assumed. But am I wrong? Do you want children? Can you even make children?”

At least hearing Valdemar admit you were right would help soothe your ego a little.

“I’m not sure.”

“See!? You don’t even want-“

You cut yourself off and stared at them.

“Wait. What?”

“I said I’m not sure. I hadn’t ever taken the time to think about it. Only a few short years ago I wouldn’t have considered a relationship with a human and yet here we are. That means there are other aspects that need to be considered as well. And physically, I’m unsure if I am able to procreate, especially with a human. It’s not something I had ever looked into.”

Valdemar admitting to being unsure of something? Clearly, you had died from the plague again and you were stuck in some coo coo crazy afterlife. Absurdity of it all aside, you felt yourself growing aggravated.

“Ok. Are you done now?”

Valdemar cocked their head.

“Whatever do you mean, Little One?”

“I mean, are you done now? You had this whole nice set up to embarrass me and I am. So, are you done now? You’re very clever and I’m a very dumb little human. I fucking get it.”

Valdemar’s smile dropped.

“I don’t appreciate that tone, Apprentice.”

Your arms prickled with goosebumps as they stared you down across the table. ‘Apprentice’ was what they said as a more polite way of calling you an insolent little shit. They rarely used it with you but, when they did, it usually had you shape up pretty quickly. But tonight, it wasn’t going to work. All the heartache of the day had come back to you, and you felt that hurt bubble into anger. Your mouth filled with venom. How dare they embarrass you like this? After all you’ve given up for them.

“I didn’t talk to you about it because I knew you wouldn’t care! You don’t care when I get home, you don’t care when I go to bed alone, and you don’t care if I’m lonely! I-“

You stopped. That’s exactly what it was. You got lonely. It was lonely in a giant palace with a demon that didn’t like to cuddle or play kissy face or have sex. You felt the unshed tears from earlier and all the anger in you shriveled and died like early clover under a frost. You couldn’t just have kids because you were lonely. Children shouldn’t come into the world with a job to do. That was a terribly unfair burden to place on an infant. You couldn’t just make someone and want them to fix you.

You turned away from the table, knowing that if you had to look at them you would cry.

“I’m going to spend to night at the shop,” You said, your voice unsteady.

Two cold, gloved arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled back against Valdemar. They had crossed the room in a few silent seconds.

“Lemme go,” you whimpered quietly, your bottom lip trembling. You didn’t want to start sobbing after you had just gotten done yelling like some kind of mad woman.

One of the hands released you and brushed your hair back from your face.

“Hush now, Little Mouse. There’s no need for tears.”

Of course, with Valdemar asking you not to cry, your eyes decided you absolutely had you and you sobbed pitifully.

“Poor Little Human. So many emotions to feel.”

They loosened their grip and turned you around gently so you could cry against them. You always tried so hard not to cry in front of them, but you were too far gone to stop now. Their fingertips started to trail up and down your back soothingly as they made no attempt to push you off of them despite the excessive display of emotion you were putting on.

“I knew you were lonely. It would be very lonely, to come back from death’s realm. Perhaps the only human to do so. I suppose it feels simpler than that.”

You stopped crying and looked up at them with surprise. They were right. Even when people knew you had come back, Hell, even with Asra, you felt a wall between yourself and them. No one understood what it was like to come back. No one understood death like you did. No one understood being alive but knowing exactly how it felt to die. Except Valdemar, of course. But you didn’t know they knew about those feelings.

“A child won’t understand you either,” they explained as they softly brushed their thumb against your cheek.

“Do you…can you have children?” You asked softly. The pain of earlier was gone. You finally felt seen. Someone finally understood your quandary. You had tried to voice your loneliness to Asra and Portia once. They had both hugged you tightly and assured you that you weren’t alone and that they loved you. But they were wrong. As much as you loved each other, they didn’t understand the loneliness you meant. Even with half a heart, Asra didn’t know what it was to be alive when you shouldn’t be.

“I simply don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

Valdemar looked down at you with crimson, slitted eyes that should have been unnerving, if not terrifying, but you felt so soft and safe under them.

“It’s…probably something we should talk about later.”

“Of course, Dear One. Although, for the sake of science, I was hoping you’d try with me tonight.”

You stared at them, trying to process what they were saying. You had swung through too many moods tonight for their weird analytical speaking.

“I had had your bedroom ready for after dinner. Before I had teased you too much.”

“Wait, you mean you wanted to...” Were they talking about sex? Had they planned to have sex with you before you blew up?

“Considering how the evening played out, perhaps you should just sleep for tonight, hm?”

Perhaps. They were probably right about you needing to sleep this off. But you had had sex with Valdemar so rarely that just the prospect had your body lit up. Of course, they got you off plenty with their hands and occasionally their mouth, but the two of you had only had actual sex a handful of times. But now they wanted to? And they set up for it?

You wiped your eyes on the back of your hands quickly.

“No. We mustn’t keep science waiting. Important discoveries to be made and all that.”

Valdemar searched your face, looking for any sign that you might be lying to them about being ok now. When they could only see your genuine excitement, they grinned.

“Fascinating little thing that you are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is gonna have it all! Body horror! Tentacle sex! Knotting! Dirty talk! Whatever else I decide is hot! Stay tuned!

#quaestor valdemar #valdemar x apprentice #valdemar fanfiction #I wrote this all IN ONE NIGHT #AFTER MONTHS OF NOTHING

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shijiujun · 4 years

Note

“you know you’re singing to your headphones out loud, right” au for moshang plz sqh singing modern songs that mbj doesn't know and being hella confused 🥺

Featuring karaoke-loving Shang Qinghua who gets a bit too drunk at a Cang Qiong mountain gathering, and he goes all out.

Or when Mobei Jun wonders why Shang Qinghua is singing about another man called Liang Shan Bo.

---

Sometimes, he thinks about his old life before he ever had the misfortune of landing in a world of his own creation, with an annoying gaming AI system of sorts hounding his every move (in the beginning) or turning up at the most inopportune times just when he thinks it’s finally gone and left him alone (more recently).

Shang Qinghua remembers not having many friends when he was still Shang Qinghua, when ‘向天打飞机 Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ was still merely his writing Weibo account moniker and when he had millions of people looking up to him for his crucial contributions in writing this amazing story about his son Luo Binghe and the way he overcame all odds to become a success with a harem of gorgeous women at his feet (damn you, Peerless Cucumber bro!).

Back in those days, he lived off cup noodles and instant coffee. If he didn’t have to leave the house, Shang Qinghua would simply curl up in front of his laptop, either writing for his novel or watching shows (clears his throat) - actual shows! Chinese period dramas were his favourite, where a skilled and intelligent consort in the harem would outwit all the other women to be with her one true love, the Emperor, who falls irrevocably in love with her.

And when he got bored, he switched from the laptop to his television to engage in his second most favourite hobby - Chinese karaoke. Going out to a karaoke bar would require some level of socializing, and also a few friends so he gets more bang out of his buck from what he pays for the room, but at home?

With advanced technology and a tiny ass microphone in either shining gold or silver, Shang Qinghua’s home entertainment system was his very own personal karaoke room, His tiny mic even had that echo-y effect on.

Shang Qinghua has a thing for classic Chinese songs - ‘The New Butterfly Dream’, ‘Liang Shan Bo and Juliet’, The Moon Represents My Heart‘ - and contemporary karaoke must-haves, like Wang Fei. For an embarrassing few days, the Chinese version of Baby Shark was a veritable earworm as well.

After transmigrating into his own story set in ancient times, where he lives without technology, Shang Qinghua would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the Internet. Laptops would be incredibly handy, and so would switches for lights, definitely indoor plumbing for toilets, and induction stoves. Phones too, that would be nice, rather than having to ‘send word’ with letters.

Of course, there is no karaoke bar or machine for him.

Not all is bad though. At least he transmigrated to Shang Qinghua in this world as a baby, so it’s not as if he was surviving on Internet and technology one day and left to do everything manually the next day since someone was always taking care of him. Peerless Cucumber bro, of course, wasn’t as lucky, but the man has definitely taken to this world (and his son!!) like a fish to water.

And as for himself, Shang Qinghua does not need to envy Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe either, because somehow, he has gotten the man of his dreams too, even if said man was a little cruel and rude to him in the beginning.

He has the love of his life (coughs coughs) and they’re stuck in this world for the rest of his life. What more is there to want? Not to mention how his cup of instant noodles betrayed him at the last moment, resulting in his death! It is slightly safer, ironically, to be in this world instead.

All is good except... well...

===

Shen Qingqiu marvels at the sight before him, torn between wanting to step in to stop Shang Qinghua, or watch this farce unfold.

He sometimes forgets where he, or where Shang Qinghua, who has been in this world longer than he, came from. They don’t always talk about the past when they meet, and aside from the occasional meetups, Shen Yuan is a part of him that doesn’t surface, not when he is with Luo Binghe.

Shang Qinghua, on the other hand, grew up here, and aside from referring to Shen Qingqiu by his Weibo account name, he seems otherwise well-adjusted, no hint of modern online writer Shang Qinghua in sight. It doesn’t feel as if he misses their original world either.

This evening, however, memories of modern times slap him in the face, quite literally.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe calls, frantic, tugging him back into his embrace out of Shang Qinghua’s way. Once Shen Qingqiu is safe in his arms, his eyes narrow at the bumbling, drunk idiot causing a scene in the dinner hall, “Shang Qinghua...”

Shang Qinghua stops where he is, and then before any one can stop him, he picks up a pair of chopsticks, brings it to his mouth, and begins bellowing his way through-

-Jay Chou’s Hair Like Snow.

“Shizun, are you alright?” Luo Binghe fusses, his hands coming up to cup Shen Qingqiu’s face when his Shizun doesn’t so much as respond to him. “Were you hurt? Did he hurt you? How’re you feeling? We’ll go back home now-”

“What is he singing?” Qi Qingqi frowns in disgust.

They all wince when Shang Qinghua attempts to hit a high note, but fails miserably.

Fuck me, Shen Qingqiu thinks, his eyes impossibly wide, who knew Airplane bro was such a karaoke fanatic?

“... maybe he is possessed by a malevolent spirit? Or perhaps this is an unidentified curse?” asks Ming Fan.

“Or is this some new form of cultivation?” asks Ning Yingying, curious.

Yue Qingyuan, seated at the front of the dining hall, cannot help but be concerned for him as well. “Shall we call Mu-shidi to take a look at him-”

They’ve gathered for their annual meeting - a condition that Yue Qingyuan has set in place a few years ago after Luo Binghe ‘stole’ (married!) him away from Cang Qiong Peak - and although Shang Qinghua said he didn’t mind that Mobei Jun was unable to accompany him today, he spent most of the dinner drinking alcohol while in a melancholic state instead.

Who knew that Shang Qinghua was a singing drunk?!

Hence their current predicament.

At the Sect Master’s words, Shang Qinghua suddenly turns around and looks at Shen Qingqiu. HIccuping twice, he then beams, “Cucumber-”

Shen Qingqiu has never moved that fast in his life. Within a fraction of a second, he has his hand pressed over Shang Qinghua’s mouth, holding onto him from the back.

“Cucumber?” everyone choruses in confusion.

“I believe your Shang-shishu has had a little too much to drink,” Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, nodding at everyone else. “We should... send him back to Mobei. Isn’t that right, Binghe?”

His disciple, his husband, still has on an affronted, murderous look for how Shang Qinghua almost brained Shen Qingqiu with his flailing arms in his drunken fit. The moment Shen Qingqiu asks, however, his expression morphs into something so soft and full of love that everyone who sees it chokes.

“Of course,” Luo Binghe smiles, devotion apparent in his eyes. “Anything Shizun wants.”

===

The words that are tumbling out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth are entirely incomprehensible, and so are the tunes he’s humming into his ear.

Mobei Jun thought he had gotten used to Shang Qinghua’s eccentric mannerisms, and also thought he knew everything about his husband, so many years later. Shang Qinghua is mumbling Chinese alright, but none of the characters put together make any sense.

Who is Liang Shan Bo? And who the hell is Juliet?!

His mood taking a turn for the worse, Mobei Jun hoists Shang Qinghua up further on his back.

After getting so drunk, the idiot had the gall to demand for a piggy-back from the throne room to their bedroom. Mobei Jun has never once suffered such indignity in his years of living. A bridal carry? Of course, anytime. A piggy-back? As if he was some beast to be tamed?

Well this definitely has to be a first.

While he was stewing in his thoughts, Shang Qinghua switches from that song to another one, and a stream of ‘du du du lu du lu’ emerges from his lips... AND something about... a sha yu? What the hell is that?!

Shang Qinghua lazily lifts his right hand as they approach their room, balls it into a fist and puts it to his mouth, as if he’s holding something, and whatever monstrosity Shang Qinghua is singing, his voice gets even louder.

Mobei Jun tosses Shang Qinghua off his back unceremoniously and onto the soft bed. Interrupted, Shang Qinghua blinks, his vision blurry, and is about to catch his breath and start singing again when his husband climbs in after him. Trapping Shang Qinghua with his entire weight, Mobei Jun seals his lips with a kiss.

“... My king...” Shang Qinghua murmurs in a daze, when Mobei Jun pulls back a few minutes later, his breaths coming out as short, harsh pants. “My king...”

“That’s right,” he says with a glower. “I’m your Da Wang, your husband.”

Mobei Jun doesn’t know who Liang Shan Bo is, but he’s going to make sure no other man’s name ever leaves Shang Qinghua’s lips again when they’re together.

And when his husband finally sobers up, he’s going to have a lot to answer for.

---

Songs Mentioned (YouTube Links in Comments):

The New Butterfly Dream 新鸳鸯蝴蝶梦－ A Chinese classic, sung by Huang An but done beautifully by legendary god of singing Fei Yu Qing and singing partner for the song A Yun Ga

Liang Shan Bo and Juliet 梁山伯与朱丽叶－ A Taiwanese contemporary classic of sorts by Genie Zhuo, most Chinese millennials would definitely have sang this at a karaoke once in their lives - Song is inspired by Liang Shan Bo and Zhu Ying Tai, the Chinese version of Romeo and Juliet to some extent - They both die in the end and become butterflies, so they’re also called the Butterfly Lovers.

The Moon Represents My Heart 月亮代表我的心－ ANOTHER CLASSIC CLASSIC!!!

Baby Shark (Chi. Ver) － ˆThe baby shark hype did move to China, and it’s pretty hilarious LMAO and in Chinese, shark is 鲨鱼 (sha yu) but I’m assuming that in this world, there isn’t a shark kind of animal of sorts? So Mobei Jun and everyone else except SQQ wouldn’t know what a shark is or looks like?!

Hair Like Snow 发如雪－ By Jay Chou, another classic that all Chinese millennials would have sang in a karaoke bar

Wang Fei 王妃－ Jam Hsiao’s version is known best, and it’s pretty epic, not that anyone can reach any of the high notes in the chorus, but does that stop us from trying?!! Hell no!!!

---

Notes: My first Moshang?!! That didn’t really have a lot of Moshang time?! But thanks anon, hope this sort of works?!

#svsss #scumbag villain #穿书自救指南 #渣反派自救系统 #scumbag system #moshang #bingqiu #mobei jun #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #everyone else is somewhere there except my bb lqg #and anw karaoke sqh!!!!

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judgeplough75 · 2 years

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Text

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

-----------

Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

-----------

Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

#critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #una #trinket #please reblog and comment!

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful piece they did with this and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

All the credit to birdsongisland as well for beta reading this!! It wouldn't have come out half as well without them ^-^

Chapter 3: Lay With Me

Chapter Summary: Having a soulbond means sharing dreams- and nightmares. Logan and Virgil comfort each other with hopes for their future.

Day 3 Prompt: Nightmares/Dreams

Warnings: implied death mention, nightmares, claustrophobia. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 2109

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

It was hot and dark and close and loud.

The sharp clanks of pickaxes piercing his ears combined with the sparks flashing in his eyes made his head spin with overstimulation. His hands and arms are numb as the constant vibrations of his own tool send prickling shock waves up his arms. No matter how tightly he would tie the respirator mask, the attempt to seal out the dust flying in the air was in vain as he could practically feel each particle rip its way through his throat and settle in his heaving chest. Still he worked- legs shaking, arms heavy with blackness threatening to snuff out the weak light of his head lamp if ever he grew too comfortable in his precarious position. The general din of tools slamming against rock, raspy hum of those few who could stand to carry a tune and the bark of supervisors pounded against his skull but for all the distractions he could swear he still heard the ominous creak of the wooden support beams beginning to buckle under the weight of the tons of earth above them.

It was a job with risks but one of the only ones he could find readily available and had taken it without a moment's thought when faced with the choice of that or living on the streets. It barely paid a decent enough wage to build up their savings but if it put food on the table at the end of the day he found it hard to complain. He was often described as a victim of circumstance, doomed to the heavy labor of mining for the coal industry for the rest of his days unless by some miracle he managed to find something better. Everything around him was owned by the industry- even the store he bought his overpriced bread from- but everyday he made his way home and was greeted with a warm dinner and an even warmer smile, promises of something better spoken on lips that pressed against his still dusty cheek. So he took a step forward in the claustrophobic darkness and took another swing that just barely broke off anything usable from the wall in front of him and hoped that today when he went home his dreams of something better would finally become a reality.

His next swing was punctuated by a crack that echoes through the low tunnel he was working in, making him squint in confusion at the wall that up until this point had remained stubbornly solid. Another loud crack sounded to his right just as he felt thin trickles of dirt rain down on his helmet from above. He knew what this was- had read about it and been in adjacent tunnels enough to recognize the beginnings of a cave-in- but he knew even before he dropped his tool and yelled out a warning as he started sprinting towards the entrance that it was too late. Desperate screams and warnings swirled around him to mix with the ever more frequent cracks and heart stopping sounds of splintering wood. He wasn’t fast enough, he couldn’t dare hope to compete with the will of earth this deep underground. Dust rose up as the walls began to buckle and cave, debris from the ceiling blinding him and turning him around even as he tried desperately to claw his way out- real exit be damned.

He ended up by one of the only walls still left standing, workers shoving past in an attempt to not be left behind. The exit was already gone as was most of the cave they had been hauling great piles of coal and dirt out of for the past month. He couldn’t see his feet and realized with a start that dirt was pouring around him at a quicker rate than he had cared to notice in his panic, cementing him in place while the support beams above him moaned and splintered. He hardly had time to close his eyes and send out a quick and silent goodbye to the one waiting for him at home before the beams snapped, dirt filling his grave and leaving nothing but a blanket of sudden calm in the wake of disaster.

-----

Logan shot up in bed, breath coming out in sharp gasps as he threw the blankets to the floor and fumbled with the oil lamp on the bedside table. Seeing the warm glow hardly helped setted his nerves, merely reminding him he was in fact in his apartment in bed and not underground with nothing but a few poorly secured sticks holding up the earth above him. Something stirred beside him and he was quick to turn around, placing a calm hand on the cheek of his soulmate who’s eyes snapped open at the touch, panic evident in his sleep deprived gaze.

“You didn’t tell me you were having those dreams again.” Logan murmured kindly, laying on his side as he stroked Virgil’s cheeks. His husband puffed them out in something that resembled a pout, the leftover fear from his nightmare ruining the effect.

“I hate that you see them too. You don’t work in the mines, you shouldn’t have to live them.” One of the upsides- or downsides depending on how you looked at it- of having a soulmate was dream sharing. Whether it was of your most pleasant memories to your most gruesome thoughts, dreams were shared and projected regardless of proximity so that one would always have their soulmate close in a sense. This meant, however, that Virgil’s increased anxiety over being caught in a cave-in with no way of getting back to Logan was easily shared with him no matter how hard he tried to hide it, which infuriated Virgil but made Logan increasingly concerned about being able to leave the town for something better before something actually did happen.

And now they were here, their chests still heaving from the unused adrenaline and looking at each other as if either one of them had the answers they so desperately wanted.

“Do you require space to calm down? I can scrounge up some tea.” Logan wasn’t sure if they actually had any in the house but if they didn’t he’d think of something. Comforting Virgil after dreams like this was always his first priority.

“You experienced the same thing as I did just now. You’re allowed to ask for comfort for yourself.” Virgil gave him a stern look, the effect somewhat ruined by the soft smile still playing on his lips.

“I know but-”

“Logan.” Virgil sighed and reached for his shoulder, flipping them around and somehow managing not to tangle the blankets as he went. “Just come and lay with me.”

Logan had to admit he liked this solution much better, tucking himself snugly under Virgil’s chin and feeling his strong arms wrap around him in the way that always made him feel safe and secure no matter the circumstance. Smiling he snuggled in further and wrapped his own arms around Virgil, trapping his hands in the warm pocket between his back and the sheets. Gradually they both relaxed completely, even as Logan's mind raced and a frown eventually carved its way onto his face. Hoping to hide it he buried his face against Virgil’s chest, earning a kiss to the top of his head for his efforts even if a moment later he was being booped in the same spot by something that he couldn’t quite place in his half asleep jumble of thoughts.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Virgil murmured, prompting Logan to look up and roll his eyes at the stuffed shark not two inches from his nose. Penny the Shark was something they had used back before they figured out how to voice their thoughts as something silly to talk to that didn’t put as much pressure on either of them when it came to speaking about messier things- something Virgil had nervously brought up as a possibility and Logan had immediately agreed to. They hardly needed it now, this far into their relationship, but sometimes it was a nice reminder that there wasn’t any pressure to know how to voice what was bothering you or even know what was wrong in the first place. Plus, Logan mused, it was an extremely adorable sight seeing a half asleep but blushing Virgil hide his face with a bright purple and cartoonishly blushing stuffed shark.

“I’m just thinking of the job I applied for. If I can get it we can start saving up and finally leave. There’d be no reason for you to risk your life in the mines and I could actually help support us instead of you having to do everything.”

Virgil laughed. “And what job would I have if I left the mines?”

“You’re good at whittling.” Logan said immediately. “You can paint- and barring all that you’ve worked heavy labor jobs most of your life, I doubt you’d have trouble finding someone who would hire you for that alone when you’re ready to work again.”

Virgil hummed thoughtfully, bopping the shark up and down and making Logan wrinkle his nose where it kept booping the tip. Loathe to move his chin and ruining his view of the man underneath him he instead freed an arm from its confines and stole the shark away, turning it against his former attacking and viciously tapping his nose with the soft toy. Giggling Virgil ducked beneath it and squeezed him just a bit tighter, bringing him up enough to steal a chaste kiss from the other man, earning a small squeak for his efforts. He grinned as Logan buried his face back into his shirt, grumbling obscenities while cuddling the shark into their sides. Cupping the back of Logan’s head, Virgil gently twirled the hairs around his fingers and hummed softly, staring at the dark ceiling until his eyes began to droop.

“We’ll figure it out, Lo.” He mumbled sleepily. “We’ll have a house with a big porch and an actual yard and neither of us will dream of anything except the kids from your future classroom and the garden we plan on growing in the spring. It’ll just be us with no anxiety or obligations past being happy in our own little bubble.”

He thought he heard Logan make a noise of agreement but he couldn’t be sure, drifting off even as the words left his lips. He had hope things would get better, he always did, with Logan especially he couldn’t imagine a future he wasn’t happy in.

-----

“You’ve been working on that one all day, what is it?”

Virgil looked up from the block wood he had been whittling down to a curve for the better part of the afternoon, finally having gotten the angle right and most of the details etched out. It was a bit crude for his liking and his knives definitely needed sharpening at some point but it wasn’t one he was planning on selling so it was more the thought than the final product that mattered anyway. Holding it up so Logan could see he smiled sheepishly. “It’s Penny. Thought it’d be nice to have something to remember her by.”

Penny the shark had been one of the casualties from their old home, having been burned down in the process of them moving out of it. They were both incredibly grateful that Logan had gotten the job teaching at the nearby university and they had transferred most of their things to the new house before the casualty but as silly as it was the loss still stung, and Logan smiled as he sat down next to his soulmate on their new porch. He hid a grin behind his drink as he watched Virgil’s tongue stick out in concentration, carving out a couple of fins along the bottom of the curve. He knew if he mentioned it Virgil would blush and be flustered and as fun as that was to see he really just wanted to watch him happily creating in his own little world.

It was such a far cry from how things used to be and Logan appreciated how far they were able to come from something he had never been sre they could work themselves out of. But now they were here, with Virgil safe and happy selling creative wares and Logan finally able to teach after years of study and searching for a position. Sitting back he closed his eyes and drank in the peaceful air around them, content to be met with darkness since he was already living his dream with the man he loved.

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#false writes #analogicalweek #analogical week #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #tw nightmares #tw death mention #tw claustrophobia #hurt/comfort #logan x virgil #ao3 #collab

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