#it is my blog and sadly you are all being dragged around by my brain the same way I am

[euporie-art]

Hellooo there!! I saw your blog description and I am a benbaro shipper who would like to interact with you please! My benbaro obsession has gotten well fed by wonderful artworks and correct thoughts such as yours (thank you!!) recently but I fear my obsession can never be completely sated...

So if you like, feel free to use this ask to express whatever is currently on your mind! Just ramblings or a headcanon or something about benbaro or Barok or Albert separately or TGAA in general that you have thoughts about; this is a free pass to let it out! I'm always curious about how my blorbos look in other people's eyes

OMG HI I have read all of your benbaro fics and they make me fucking AJDJFHWIJFKTOEMTK (a good thing) . I need to get hit by a car. I love them so much

prepare for a whole lot of fucking yap because I am insane about them so much. and I have no job so I kinda just stew them in my brain all day at the moment, among other tgaa pairings and characters

(i honestly very rarely fixate on ships within fandoms. but tgaa gave me 3 pairings I would die for. asoryuu, homumiko, and benbaro. they all make me insane I'm going to eat drywall)

I think about them a lot. I don't even know where to start.

so I'll go w some dumb headcanons. sprinkling in some pretty bad drawings.tbh (please ignore how inconsistent my art style is)

I think some time after tgaa2 he moves back to England and lives with barok, who obviously has more than enough money to spend on him, so Albert grows his hair out again (he has a very stupid hat/helmet thing he wears to protect his hair if he's working on something potentially dangerous)

First off I think Albert had long hair in university. most of the time when people draw him in uni he looks almost identical to his 2-3 design WHICH IS FAIR AND NOT BAD! but I have some thoughts of my own

pray forgive the discourtesy of this looking shit I drew it quite quickly. but. I think he had long hair in university and was a little more particular about his appearance. however i do think he had pretty bad acne in his late teens. the acne was just a hormonal teenager thing and cleared up by his 20s.

After moving abroad I think he cut his hair short because he had less time to look after it, and wanted to put any money he had towards funding his inventions, so he did pretty much the bare minimum when it came to looking after himself (I must clarify I do think that Albert is attractive, this is not me trying to "yassify" him. I have a soft spot for cute nerdy guys I'm dating one but he likes Elden ring instead of science)

because he's pretty much been alone for like. a decade. and basically just spoke in Law Words for half of that. I think barok is very direct and literal with how he speaks so he worries about not seeming "romantic" enough, so to compensate he's very physically affectionate and likes spoiling albert with nice food, gadgets and supplies for his inventions, and new clothes.

I think barok is extremely clingy once he gets used to having Albert around again. he's like a cat he'll just kind of bonk his head into him sometimes and sadly gaze at him until he gets attention. very cuddly and a bit melodramatic. I love characterisations of barok where he's really pathetic tbh. also him being shy is fun I enjoy it greatly

albert on the other hand I actually think he's the more bold/confident one (I hate when barok is portrayed as a dominant bad boy or whatever its so stupid he literally gets shy when his 10 year old niece invites him to dinner). albert talks baroks ear off about anything and everything, humours his clingyness, and drags him outside to have a life beyond his job and engage in whimsy and fun . he's also very verbally affectionate I think. he makes sure to try and help barok feel less alone, because I think he has lingering guilt for not being there during the professor bullshit and klints death. it may have been after he left England for Germany, and he didn't even know when it was happening, but i think he has a lingering, irrational guilt for not being there for barok at his worst hour

ALSO a lot of the time I see people drawing Albert talking a lot about science shit w barok listening happily, but I also think it goes the other way too! I think barok will rant about wine pairings and different types of grapes n shit. Albert stares at him lovestruck and adoringly the whole time. he has no idea what a pinot noir is (neither do I, I don't drink)

final thing or I will be here all fucking day: my boyfriend and I came up with a headcanon that barok has a really pathetic looking Italian greyhound named petunia, he likes dressing her up in little outfits. I think when albert starts living with him he starts calling petunia their daughter, and has the ability to make the exact same sad and pathetic expression as the dog

jk tiny bonus: I have a very dumb "100 years on" au stewing in my brain where everything is set in the 1980s and 1990s instead of 1880s and 1890s. in the 80s section, when barok and Albert are in university together, barok is a sulky and mopey trad goth and they listen to The Cure together. albert dresses normal and listens to talking heads i think. this is stupidly self indulgent because I like 80s fashion and clothing. I have not even thought about the 90s section because I don't want to 😊 (I HATE 90S FASHION.)

[thatswhatsushesaid]

6, 28 and 31 for the fun ask!

6. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator? is... is that what i am? surprisedpikachu.jpeg

best part: aside from having a dedicated space to extrude all of the jgy-related nonsense kicking around in my brain, i love getting to chat with other jgy fans and share ideas that help me better understand the book, as well as vent my spleen to people who also share my similar frustrations with the fandom. which isn't to say that my husband doesn't listen when i need to whine about people being wrong on the internet about my special guy, but the most he can do is sadly pet my shoulder and be like "i don't understand any of this but i'm sad you're sad :c"

also my favourite thing in the world is making other people laugh, and seeing people keymashing their laughter in the notes of my memes and shitposts every day is the ultimate dopamine hit. ���

worst part: probably the knowledge that there are many people in this fandom who have a very unflattering idea of who i am and what i'm about, and who either send me anon hate over it or, as i discovered last month, try to drag me on anon comms. it sucks, but i will say that running this blog has forced me to make peace with the fact that none of us can ever control how we are seen by others. my options are either shut up and never share my thoughts here again--which is what the people who really hate my presence in the fandom want--or just keep on doing my thing, and hope that my actions speak for themselves. so that's what i'm doing.

28. do you collect anything? ceramic cat figurines! the tackier the better tbh.

31. are you messy or organised? ....yes. and no. i spend all of my organization points on my day job, which is very case-file oriented, and on trying to impose some kind of order onto my blog here. my living space looks like a clutter bomb went off and exploded paperwork and post-it notes and random animal care stuff everywhere. one time i asked my husband to grab something from my office/fish room/reptile room for me, and basically the second he opened the door and stepped inside i just heard him sigh and go "oh no kitty cat 😬" which is. never encouraging. lmao.

[mixed-kester]

hello ms. esther! sorry for suddenly intruding, but i've seen you a lot on my dash n just wanted to say hi! and, well, to also give this tiny brainrot about u and wanderer in offering haha:

i don't know much about your personal lore, but seeing your art for throwaway-yandere's wood vs salt fic had me Thinking Thoughts. do you remember how in the beginning of wanderer-era, before he got his memories as scaramouche back, wanderer was pretty calm and nice? a little ditzy or, well, easily distracted sometimes, yes, but generally, he seemed like someone safe (or at the very least, like he wouldn't suddenly stab you in the back).

what if he met you while in this state? before the traveler found him and brought him back to the sanctuary of surasthana? what if he saw you and felt some dim, compelling force in the hollow of his chest where his heart should be (the lingering influence of irminsul, the all-encompassing obsessive love that scaramouche had for you you you—) when he sees you, a passing visitor in the grand bazaar, and quietly wonders if he's met you before.

now, this could go in many different ways depending on whether or not you remember him (even with irminsul's deletion of scaramouche's existence) and if he decides to do anything about that. one such timeline, like the wood vs salt-esque au, would be so interesting because, well, he doesn't remember pantalone ever being that close to you before. he doesn't remember you working for alhaitham either.

but you still look the same. still smile the same. still blush, huff, and laugh the same and wanderer can't help but cling to that (can't help but listen to the snake-like whispers just behind his ear to hold onto you, tighter this time, and make sure you'll never leave again).

some things are different. some things are the same. and all these unwanted anomalies are easy enough to correct, with or without his vision.

he's learned from the best, after all.

aaa this is very messy n all but i hope i got the idea across! if this isnt ur cup of tea that is very fine wdyhdbd but if nothing else, i would like to say ur art is very cool n ur ebg lore (at least the little i saw of it bc i had pre-mids that week) is very :eyes:

the object of my thoughts.

tags: wanderer, self-insert, situated inside @throwaway-yandere's Apotheosis on Your First Feast...kind of??? maybe??? an AU of sorts.

a/n: omg brain go brrrrr? welcome to my humble blog ajnsbvkjbhlka don't be shy to interact i don't bite- btw this fic is probably nothing like the ask aaaaaaa words: 1,072

The Grand Bazaar is as bustling as ever. Her nose gets hit with the damp, yet fresh air of the hidden city nestled underneath Sumeru's Great Tree.

At once, Esther hears the quiet, lively atmosphere of the merchants, the lingering tune of a song in Zubayr Theater (Sadly, Nilou will not be dancing today.), and the smell of freshly-made street food, minus the bugs that so happens to linger on the stalls.

This place almost ticks all her checkboxes of a "safe space".

almost.

She found herself sitting beside a food stall, waiting for her order to arrive. In Esther's defense, the food was quite tempting. Scented Meat Balls always have a thing going for her mouth. One moment it's there, the next…an empty platter and greasy hands.

A very pleasant experience, 10/10.

With nothing better to do, she rummaged for her shoulder bag and pulled out a small notepad. Some of the signatures are falling off, the purple yarn barely holding it together, and the handmade cover is dirtied with charcoal stains.

Carefully tightening the seams with a sigh, she then looked around, looking for someone to draw. She wouldn't want to ask someone for permission, no. She has to be discreet; quick, yet accurate.

The last time she got "caught", Esther was quite embarrassed, although her subject at the time was quite flattered and even offered some good critiques at her pose anatomy before being dragged off by Alhaitham, of all people.

Alhaitham, your current boss, and the current Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru. Who assigned you to Varanara, just six hours ago.

Vanarana, the supposed home of the Aranara, the children of the Lord of Verdure.

…the Lord of Verdure, and the successful rescuing of Sumeru's future.

A rescue that I refused to join in.

Esther shook her head in an attempt to dispel the frankly annoying and intrusive thoughts in her head. Quickly putting her notepad, aside, she thanked the waitress and tested the waters on the meat balls, still smoking.

Ow. Too hot.

Her eyes roamed around the bazaar like a camera, looking for interesting people to draw. Interesting poses to draw. A merchant selling fruits, a vendor calling for customers. Quite banal.

I spy, with my eyes…

I spy, with my eyes…

there!

Her hands fly towards the notepad, leaves ruffling as she attempts to find an empty page.

The slight off-colored white invites her in to draw the first line, to fill it up with her lines, to see the figure of a person, the someone she chose to draw.

Reaching out again, she tests if the balls are too hot. Feeling the warm, crumbly texture of the finger food, she eats one whole and quickly focuses on the task at hand.

She looks quickly.

He's not looking at her. Perfect.

She quickly dismissed the hat in her drawing. That thing is a pain to draw quickly, she thinks, instead opting for just an ellipse with shaded points.

She quickly deconstructs his relaxed figure, filling it up with more details as the platter beside her grows more and more empty with each passing hour

He doesn't look like he's from here, Esther figures as she draws the man's robes- kimono, she corrects herself- hanging loosely on his figure, making for quite the focus on his high-collared undershirt-

Esther chokes on a crumb. Coughing, she hides her face on her arm and shakes her head again. Taking a bite out of the meatballs, carefully this time, she erases the quite scandalizing abs on her drawing, scolding herself for the…distraction.

She tries to finish the figure without looking this time. A large gold ornament on his left chest… hair shaped like a weird bowl cut…red eyeliner…

hang on.

She glances again. He did not seem to notice, and was still facing away from her, talking to what she presumes is his boss. how did i know his eyeliner is red?

Her gaze lingers on the drawing, slightly smudging the freshly-drawn face as she traces its jaw. She thinks hard, her eyebrows furrowing, the tapping of her pencil serving as a pendulum for her thoughts.

think, think, think.

She tries to chase the thought, but it slips away from her grasp like a falling leaf amid a strong breeze. Whatever the thought is... she deems it not important.

Esther looks at her drawing again, and her grip makes a dent in the notepad. This drawing, this pathetic croquis of a figure...it's too ugly. It doesn't even shine a light on the guy. This drawing of hers is too disgusting to see the light of day.

The left arm is too long, the face is off, the torso is contorted unnaturally, the fingers are unproportioned, the face is off, the eyes are off, the eyes are off, the eyes are off-

…

She tears off the page, throws it on a random garbage bag, and leaves the bazaar in lower spirits than when she came. so much for relaxation.

If she dared to look back, the subject of her interest has filched the torn paper.

Behind the tree, his errand remained forgotten, the fruits on the forest floor as he traced every uneven line that captured his inhuman self, marvelling at the seemingly glorious art in his hands.

Why did she discard it? he can only wonder as he gingerly holds the paper like it's a treasured possession of his. He does not understand. Why did she throw it away?

Should he find her? He thinks about it, but then considers his chances. An unknown person asks for her, saying something about knowing her vaguely and asking to come with him? He might as well parade around Sumeru City with the biggest hat he could find, yelling loudly.

What name would he give her when she asks for it?

He is a shugenja; a wanderer, as he calls himself. A tree with no roots. Somebody with no home, no kin, no destination. Someone with no name, no identity to hang on with. Trekking across Teyvat to train himself...it's just an excuse.

That's how absurd this is.

So why is he so hung up on this one person who drew him in such a human fashion? What is there to her that piqued him?

Have we met before?

He sighs, and folds the paper, tucking it in his hat. He picks up the sunsettias on the ground, and makes way to the nearby river to wash it.

[bonefall]

I am once more thinking of dyspraxia cats

maybe mumblefoot? He’s a pretty nothing background cat who was deputy before sunfall and gave bluestar a life for endurance which is something you need if you’re constantly falling behind and getting hurt by falling or tripping for seemingly no reason. Maybe he was named for struggling to speak clearly and well as a kit but as he got older it was noticeable about how uncoordinated he was to the point it impaired his warrior training, with help from his mentor he was able to get better (though still not perfect ofc) pinestar made him deputy for his wisdom and endurance.

It’s not perfect but having a cat who managed to become a deputy even as someone who would have a disorder that would impact his abilities would make my dyspeptic heart happy

Sounds cute to me! I don't see any reason why not, Mumblefoot could display just how respected Kitchen Patrol heads are. That was probably his specialty and why he became Pinestar’s Deputy.

I do plan to have more main dyspraxic cats though, it'll come when I make more autistic cats. I just keep getting sidetracked lmao

[nev3rfound]

someone i once knew : b.b - p.3

tony has questions, but he isn’t the only one wanting an explanation (2.6k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

(also thank you for the insane amount of support for this series! you guys have taken me by such surprise and i am so grateful you’re all invested :) ) 

Tony steps into your suite, trying to subtly notice the changes you’ve made whilst he was gone.

“Look, Tony, if this is about the files I’m really sorry,” You sigh apologetically, catching Tony’s attention as he turns to face you. “sometimes my R’s end up looking like N’s and I didn’t mean for it to look like I’d written Tony Stan-”

Holding his hand up, you stop your rambles as Tony raises a brow. “Y/n, that’s not why I’m here.” Tony interrupts you. “Wait, it said that?” He questions and you weakly nod, but quickly he returns to his original thought process; why he is here in the first place.

“Then, why are you here?” You ask nervously, feeling a pit begin to form in your stomach.

“Nat passed on a message, that you didn’t seem very well.” Tony explains, now pacing around the entrance of your suite whilst you remained still, too still for his liking. “And I overheard a conversation from two super soldiers discussing you.” Tony motions to you, catching sight of your eyes widening.

“I, why would they talk about me?” You question in disbelief, hearing multiple voices run through your mind, some yelling over Tony as he continues to talk to you, but you can only see his lips moving.

“-and that you know them somehow, funny really.” Tony huffs to himself as he walks in the direction of the small kitchen you have, noticing a glass half-filled with a single flower, dried out, dead. “Don’t you think, Y/n?”

The prolonged silence from you catches Tony out as he glances over his shoulder, seeing you stood calmly, tears streaming down your face.

“Y/n?” Tony calls out, carefully nearing you as he waves his hand in front of your eyes, but there’s no response. “FRIDAY? Get Banner for me.”

With a deep exhale, you collapse down to the ground. “I, I, I’m sorry,” You breathe out, coughing loudly on a sob that chokes your throat.

Kneeling down in front of you, Tony eyes your movements carefully. “What’s going on with you, Y/n?” He thinks aloud as you manage to sit upright, clutching your legs to your chest as a look of horror solidifies across your expression.

Bruce opens the door to your suite, looking alert as he notices both you and Tony on the ground.

“Everything okay, Tony?” Bruce asks hesitantly, seeing a level of concern cross Tony’s frown.

“Just, sit still, okay.” Tony instructs you, but you’re barely responsive as Tony walks away, taking Bruce outside of your suite as the door remains slightly ajar.

Rubbing his temples, Tony sighs. “What’s going on with her? Bad day or something?” Bruce jokes, but Tony shakes his head.

“I think she might be a plant.” The tone leaving his voice is enough to remove any humour from Bruce as he straightens up. “Somehow, Steve and Bucky know her, or at least knew her.” Tony explains. “But she seems oblivious, and I’m just wondering if she’s just like Barnes, waiting to be activated.”

Bruce hums in response. “What’re we supposed to do with her then if she’s potentially some killing machine?” The words feel sour leaving his lips, but Bruce has read the files on HYDRA.

Over Tony’s shoulder, Bruce watches as a small hand reaches out to the door and pulls it open.

Tony can’t help but tense as you stand against the door frame, a weak smile forming on your lips despite the dried tears lining your cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me, Tony.” You sadly admit. “Do, do you think you can help me, please?”

“Come with us, Y/n.” Bruce forces a grin as he walks toward the elevator, Tony hanging back as you slowly walk out and stand beside Tony.

“Can you help make it stop, Tony?” You plead to your employer who seems conflicted.

“We’ll do what we can.” Tony coldly states, walking behind you to the elevator, ensuring you stand between him and Bruce, just in case anything happens.

*

Your footsteps can be heard throughout the base as you follow behind the woman in charge. Heads turned as she walks with confidence, no one taking notice of who you are in her presence.

Pushing the door open to her office, you follow in and hover by the chair. “Please, Y/n,” Peggy motions to the chair as she closes the door, lowering the blinds too to ensure privacy.

“Thank you for meeting me, Ms Carter.” You speak politely, trying to keep a facade up that everything will be alright, but if there’s anyone who can see right through it, it’s Peggy Carter.

Rifling through the files on her desk, Peggy opens up a series of them as the papers cover the space in front of her. “Oh Y/n, call me Peggy.” Her red lips rise to a sincere smile, hoping you’d ease the tension you’re holding. “Well, the good news is I’ve had the report in from the Doctor, and you’re fit and healthy all around.”

You can’t stop the giggle of excitement escape you. “Sorry,” You mutter, but Peggy doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest; it’s the most positive you’ve sounded in the past two years you’ve known her.

“No need to be, there are still a few more tests we have to run on both you and the machinery. However, if all still stands, we should be able to do our first test run within the year.” Peggy explains, catching sight of the frown on your lips deepening. “I know this isn’t the news you hoped for today, but trust me, this is progress.”

Peggy reaches out, placing her hand on the desk. Slowly, you extend your arm, allowing her to take your hand in hers.

“We both lost, Y/n. But we can move forward.” She assures you once more, hoping someday you’ll believe it yourself.

“It happened again,” You explain, looking up directly to the clock, noticing five minutes have passed since you focused on it. “it keeps happening, more frequently than before and I can’t control it.” Panic rises in your voice as you perch on the lab bench, studying Tony and Bruce's reactions as they monitor you closely.

“So these, ‘memories’ aren’t your own?” Tony asks uncertainly.

Rubbing your eyes as they continue to pound, you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, they’re in my head, and I can remember aspects of them, certain noises, settings and sometimes people. I, I was with a Carter,” You squint, trying to remember her name, but you sigh heavily. “I can’t remember, sorry.”

“Carter?” Tony repeats, and you nod. “Interesting.” He mumbles as he helps Bruce hook you up to the systems, hoping to catch your next ‘memory’ and see your brain activity whilst monitoring your heart. “I, I’ve gotta make a call.” Tony excuses himself, nodding to Bruce before exiting the lab.

“If you can just lie down, Y/n.” Bruce asks you gently, seeing the fear in your eyes as you lie back. “I’m just going to place these on your head and chest.”

Closing your eyes, you try your best to relax whilst images of a brunette with red lipstick form in your mind. You can hear her faintly saying two names, but your ability to focus is gone once again.

Across the compound, Bucky is barely able to focus as he slams his fists against the torn punching bag whilst Steve stands on the other side, keeping it in place after Bucky nearly threw Sam across the room.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Bucky shifts his attention across the gym to Natasha and Wanda’s conversation.

Natasha shrugs her shoulders as she stretches out. “I don’t know, she went dead behind the eyes and as I left her, Tony was heading her way.” Natasha explains, and Bucky looks over to Steve.

“Buck, I’m sure it’s fine.” Steve tries to help, but Bucky shakes his head.

“I can feel it, Steve,” Bucky mutters. “somethings wrong, I, I can’t just leave it.” He explains, swiftly walking off out of the gym as eyes turn to Steve holding the rocking bag.

Scoffing under his breath, Steve pushes the bag away from him. “Bad day.” Steve comments before running after Bucky before he can do any potential damage.

Sitting with his fellow soldiers, Bucky tries to disguise his rising fears, but his foot continues to tap against the ground. “You got a dame back home, Barnes?” One of the soldiers, Johnson asks and light laughter echoes through the cells as they all wait for some movement to be heard.

Lifting his head up, Bucky focuses on each of those he can see from his regiment, those who are left at least. No one is sure who captured them, but Bucky knows they aren't likely to get out of this scot free, or alive for that matter.

“I do,” Bucky admits quietly. “and she’s the most wonderful gal I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

“That’s sweet,” Johnson comments, sitting opposite Bucky as he wipes his bloodied nose with his palm. “just, just keep thinkin’ about her, alright? That sorta thought helps.” He nods to Bucky before resting his head back against the metal bars.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers as footsteps can be heard, heading directly towards his cell. “if I don’t make it out, can you tell her I,”

Before Bucky can finish his sentence, two large men unlock his cell and grab him. He manages to catch a glimpse at the red band on their arms, noticing a different symbol than the Nazi one branded in his mind.

“Please, just tell her!” Bucky yells as he’s dragged out of sight, unaware of the horrors he’s about to face.

Focusing on Bruce, you tense as the stickers are placed on your forehead. “Sorry, did that hurt?” Bruce asks timidly, but you shake your head.

“Just kinda cold,” You nervously remark as the rest are slowly placed. “where did Tony go?”

Bruce looks past you at the glass walls, seeing Tony walk out of sight with his phone against his ear. “He, er, had to make a quick phone call. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.” Bruce reasons as he attaches the last sticker to your chest before averting his attention to the computer systems.

Closing your eyes, you listen to the methodical tapping of keys and the sudden sound of your heart rate beside you flashing up on a monitor.

“Okay, all systems in place. Now it’s down to you to induce a ‘memory.’“ Bruce forces an anxious laugh as you simply look at him before tilting your head back to focus on the blank ceiling, a shame they couldn't cover it in stickers like the dentist used to, you think.

“Do you think I’m evil?” You ask, not daring to move your vision from the ceiling, unaware of Bruce stepping back.

“No.” He responds quickly. “I think you’ve been manipulated with, but I don’t think you’re evil.” Bruce justifies, checking the brain activity to see any spikes, but it remains standard.

“You’re acting like I’m made of glass.” You comment, now moving your head to see Bruce rubbing his hands together as he watches the monitors. “But I’m not, I, I know my parents, my childhood home and school." Your voice begins to waver, but you carry on regardless.  "I can tell you the classes I took in college, my first boyfriend and my first time drinking.” You ramble, but Bruce is trying to ignore you. “Please, I, I know who I am.” You whimper, slamming your head back as you stare at the bare white walls above you.

Outside, Tony listens as the line ends up with him left answering a voicemail for the third time.

“Fury, it’s Stark, listen, I need to speak with you urgently. There’s something going on with my new assistant, Y/n Y/l/n. She, she knows Peggy Carter and, just call me back, ASAP.” Huffing, Tony leans against the wall, wondering how he got himself into this mess.

Yet, his moment of contemplation is short-lived as yells from Steve can be heard up ahead.

“Buck, just stop!” Steve shouts as Bucky comes into view, eyes dark and fists clenched as he marches down the corridor.

“Woah, woah, where do you think you’re going?” Tony asks, standing in front of Bucky as Steve catches up in time before Bucky raises his fists.

Holding Bucky back, Steve grunts as Bucky fights against his hold.

“Where is she?” Bucky can feel the anger rising through his veins as Tony buries his hands in his pockets, remaining perfectly calm.

“Where’s who?” Tony asks, looking up to Steve who shakes his head, still struggling to hold Bucky back.

“Come on, Tony. We know you have Y/n down here,” Steve sighs, a brief moment of weakness that Bucky detects as he slams his elbow into Steve’s stomach, causing him to recoil and release Bucky.

Without a moment to lose, Bucky rushes forward to the lab and before he’s stunned by Tony, he catches sight of you on a metal slab, hooked up to machinery with tears streaming down your face.

“No, Y/n!” Bucky screams, pausing by the glass wall, his metal hand resting against it as you begin to turn your head, a second too late as Tony fires a stun at him, forcing Bucky to the ground.

Your breathing increases, causing your heart rate to spike and Bruce rushes over. “Hey, Y/n, it’s fine. Tony has just er, stunned him.” Bruce explains, but your eyes widen.

“Bruce, I, I need to see him, please, let me see Bucky.” You practically beg, trying to pull the wires from yourself but Bruce manages to hold you down before you notice a needle piercing your arm.

With heavy eyes, your focus on Bruce begins to fade. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We’ve gotta keep you here.” His voice sounds too far away as your vision darkens, the last of the ceiling disappearing as your eyes close.

Bucky grunts as he remains on the ground, but turns his head to see Tony stood with his hand covered by his Iron Man tech, a glow of pale blue emitting from his palm, yet to be fired.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve calls out from beside Tony.

Not responding verbally, Bucky nods as he uneasily stands, holding his hands up and remains on the spot where he fell, out of sight from you.

“Tony, lower your hand.” Steve scoffs, and Tony hesitantly obliges, powering his charge down. “I told you not to come here, Bucky,” Steve comments like a disappointed parent, but Bucky’s jaw clenches as he looks at the floor beneath him, the scuff marks from where he fell moments prior.

“Are one of you planning on telling me what the hell is going on here? Because I’ve got a delusional assistant having a brain scan in there who might be a potential HYDRA plant and I want answers.” Tony steps forward, looking between the two super soldiers. “No, you don’t wanna tell me?” Tony raises his arms in defeat and begins to walk away, back to the lab.

“Bucky,” Steve mutters to his friend who eases his jaw and finally looks up.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” Bucky speaks up, and Tony spins on his heels, facing Bucky. “she was my fiance.”

Tony stares at Bucky in disbelief before whistling loudly. "Well, I didn't expect that."

P A R T  F O U R 

(thank you to the following for all the love in the first two parts! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know) (tagging those who wished to be tagged from p2!) 

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler  @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart​

[kiingocreative]

Ready to edit, format, or publish your book? We offer editing and coaching services! Send a DM or go to https://kiingo.co/services

.

.

.

I’ve always been fascinated by the creative process, and more specifically the relationship writers have with their craft. In fact, a while back I wrote about writing and desire, and explored the idea of writing as a relationship with ourselves as human beings.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how my relationship with writing has its ebbs and flows. There are moments when everything simply works out and others where no one’s speaking the same language.

As with any relationship, it’s like a dance, where each partner has to follow the right tempo at the right time. Sometimes magic happens, and the audience stands by in a large circle, watching, mesmerised, and sometimes, it’s such a dramatic fiasco one of you might well trip and end up with their face smashed into one of the cream-covered cakes on the nearby buffet.

When You’re Stepping on Each Other’s Toes.

Sometimes, when I sit down with a piece of writing, be it my WIP, a blog article or a series of Instagram posts, things aren’t flowing. You might know the feeling, the one that’s a little like every word you chose is wrong, like none of the sentences really flow, like the tone isn’t right, the story doesn’t add up and your mind starts bringing up the hundred and ten other things you could be doing instead of trying to write this piece that just doesn’t want to be written.

It’s like standing on the dance floor with your writing, and neither of you really knows the same steps, and all that ends up happening is one (or both) of you ends up stepping on the other’s toes, and everyone’s getting frustrated. At that point, the temptation to just give up is high, and the appeal of the other side of the room, where both of you can get a refill on your drinks and forget about this dancing business is great.

I used to be a master at giving up on a piece whenever I felt out of sync with it. I’d be quick to make an excuse and disappear off to do something else. The longer I’ve been writing, however, the less I’m tempted to run away at the first signs of trouble.

Just like with dancing, where both partners need to learn about each other’s styles and abilities before they can figure out the right steps, some pieces need time to find their bearings, their pace, their voice. Few people master the perfect tango on their very first go, especially if they’ve just met their partner. There may be compromises to be made, and adjustments, and depending on how flexible each partner is, it may end up working well or not at all.

My go-to now? When I feel my writing and I stepping on each other’s toes and dancing to different tunes, I set a timer for thirty minutes and I keep writing anyways with the best of intentions. It may be rubbish, it may be very little, but pushing past that initial hurdle has always served me right. A lot of the time, I find that there is some use to whatever I’ve written, and I’m tempted to keep writing when the timer’s up. But even at times when I have to throw away every single word I’ve written in that half-hour, I’ve trained my brain to persevere, rather than cower in the face of difficulty.

When You’re the Only One on the Dance Floor.

That said, there are times where writing simply isn’t happening. Where I’m facing a wall so high there’s just no way around it, no matter how many thirty-minute timers I set for myself. Times when I’m trying to drag my writing, kicking and screaming, onto the dance floor, to no avail. Times where I can see my writing sitting cross-armed and cross-legged on a chair at the other end of the room, refusing the budge, and I find myself swaying sadly on my own in the middle of the dance floor.

I’ve found myself in such situations before where, no matter how much coaxing and pleading and begging I resorted to, my writing simply wouldn’t oblige me. There were occasions where stepping away from the ballroom for a while was sufficient and, by the time I got back, I’d find my writing more inclined to shimmy with me.

Similarly, there were occasions where I’d leave and come back, many times over, and I’d still be standing by myself, like a fool, in tears, under the disco ball. I’ve often wondered about what to do in these situations. If I’m working on a piece that is just not happening, what should I do?

I recently came across a great and truly refreshing article by the fantastic Elizabeth Day titled ‘I’ve Finally Learned to Quit’ where she talks about ‘the simple pleasure of giving up’. In our modern society of high achievers, there’s a stigma around quitting. Somehow it’s not acceptable to chose to cut your losses when something just isn’t working. It happens with relationships, jobs, friendships, or any other form of commitment, big or small. ‘Fake it till you make it’, the saying goes, and ‘don’t stop till you reach the top’.

But is that really all worth it if you have to fight the odds every step of the way? That sounds exhausting, and rather unfulfilling. As a writer, wouldn’t it be kinder both to yourself and your craft to let an idea go, if you genuinely feel it’s not the one for you?

Only you can answer that. As for me, I think life is too short to force writing that doesn’t want to be written by you. I’ve learnt to thank the idea in question for presenting itself to me, but acknowledge that we’re probably not right for each other, suggesting, as kindly as I possibly can, that we part ways and search for partners that are better suited to each of us.

When Everything’s in Sync.

And then… And then…

Then there are the perfect moments of alchemy where everything just works. Where the words are flowing out of me almost faster than I can write them. Where the ideas are popping around in my head like the fireworks of ecstasy in Ratatouille. Ideas that are so happy to be collaborating with me they keep me awake at night, distracted in every moment of every day, desperate to go back to my WIP the instant I have a spare minute or two.

These are the times where the ballroom’s bathed in a warm, magical glow. Where my writing and I are waltzing, tango-ing and salsa dancing to perfection. Where there’s not even one step out of line. Where the sensuality of our moving bodies is such that every person in the room has stopped to watch us, hypnotised by our synchronicity. If it were a movie, everything around us would fade away and slowly disappear, and we’d keep swirling in slow motion, never breaking eye contact.

I’ve had the incredible good fortune of experiencing that perfect sync on several occasions throughout my writing career and, every single time, it’s blown my mind. I know these immaculate moments don’t last forever, so I’ve learnt to enjoy them whilst they’re happening, and to be grateful for them.

The Master of Your Own Rhythm.

More importantly, I’ve learnt not to beat myself up over the fact that my writer’s life isn’t always a perfect sync—and God knows there’s enough pretence on Social Media to make one think it should be otherwise.

Ultimately, my relationship with my writing has proven to be as ever-changing as the one I have with any living, breathing human being. Your writing won’t always want to dance. Somedays it’ll be temperamental. Someday’s it’ll be in a fabulous party mood. Someday’s it’ll be impossible to get it out of bed. A bit like us writers, in fact. And when you do both make it onto the dance floor, there’s no telling what sort of a wriggle each of you is going to be in the mood for.

There’s a lot out there around what things should or shouldn’t be like, what makes you a success or a failure. My two cents? Screw that. Screw what anyone else has to say. Screw the shoulda, woulda, coulda. No one’s to say what pace is best for you, but you. No one’s better placed to know what dance and what tempo works for you and your writing better than you can. I say make your own rules. Pick your own rhythm. You can build the relationship you want with your writing, one that works for you, and no one else can have a say in it.

[tinyboxxtink]

"...So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 7*

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Yeah I know, that last chapter was....brutal.

And I have some bad news my babies....I work non-stop the next three days, so maybe no new chapter until Monday.

But I gave you this one with a little floof, to make up for that horrible angsty chapter. But also, it's kind of short.

Worse news....it ends on a cliffhanger.

I LOVE YOU ALL DON'T LEAVE ME PLEASE.

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

----------------------

Back At Your House

You woke up in your bed, covered in towels and one of Kylie’s pull ups taped under your underwear, along with a million other different cloths/toilet paper.

“What the fuck��?” You tried to move but realized the towels you were surrounded with were mostly covered in blood. You quickly began to panic as the more you woke up the more the pain was coming back. You tried to think of the last thing you remembered before blacking out. Billy had been pumping in and out of your ass, you were in torturous pain, and then he called-- Oh god.

You began scrambling around the bed with your arms under the sheets and comforter, looking for your phone. You could hear the shower running and Billy humming from the bathroom. He was getting off on this, the sick fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so blind to his psychosis before this. Love is blind sure, but what the fuck?!

Finally you found your phone on the charger, but it was on your vanity across the room. You dragged yourself across the bed and leaned over the bed as far as you could, reaching for the vanity desperately.

You fell helplessly off the foot of the bed, whimpering and crying from the pain in your rectum. You were pretty sure you were still bleeding, but Billy had shoved so much toilet paper and towels up there you probably couldn’t even shit right now. Maybe for a long time.

You weakly pulled on the cord so it made the phone fall off the vanity and land in your hands. You saw you had 30 missed calls, all from Rafael. Oh thank god, he still cared about you. Worried about you.

You hit REDIAL and waited for him to answer. You looked up to the sky and started praying for him to answer before Billy got out of the shower. Finally after what felt like hours, you heard his voice. It was frantic and terrifying, he sounded like he had been crying for a long while.

“What now, Lewis? I swear to God if you FUCKING--”

“R-Rafa?” Your small, weak voice in response made him almost drop the phone in relief.

“Y/N?” He almost choked.

“Mi amor? Are you okay? Where are you? Where’s Lewis?” He rattled off the millions of questions that had ran through his mind since Billy had hung up on him. Hearing him call you amor made your whole world brighten, you wanted to weep in happiness.

“I’m--” You looked down at yourself. You were literally wearing a diaper.

“I’m outside,” He responded before you could say anything else.

“What?” You breathed deeply, pulling yourself up and limping towards your bedroom window. You could see Rafael’s car a few houses down, with the lights off.

“What are you doing?!” You hissed into the phone, glancing fearfully at the bathroom door. “You can’t be here!”

“You can’t stay here baby, you need medical help,” He said into the phone, staring at your silhouette through your window now.

“I-I can’t leave the girls,” You twirled your hair nervously.

“Baby if you’re dead you can’t help them at all!” Rafael reasoned.

Well, he did have a point. You checked the phone for the time: 11:30 pm. You had been out for hours. The girls were probably asleep, you didn’t know how much longer Billy would be in the shower.

“Look he won’t hurt them, right? You said that?” Rafael asked, knocking you back to reality.

“Raff after tonight I don’t know what he’s capable of,” You tried not to start crying again. You knew how upset he already was, if he heard you cry you knew it would send him off the edge again.

“God dammit!” You could hear him pull the phone away and violently hit the passenger's seat several times as the image of your bloody body being rammed by Lewis reverberated in his brain images.

“Rafael, calm down. Please,” You pleaded with him. “I-I don’t even know if I can make it outside,”

“Fuck,” You heard him mutter. “Then I’m coming in,”

“Rafael, don’t. Please--” But it was too late, he had already hung up. You closed your eyes and waited for the boom. You listened intently as the shower continued to run, then you heard your door open, footsteps come running down the hall.

Finally you saw him, Rafael. He scooped you up before you could say anything, grabbed some of your clean clothes out of your drawers and before you knew it you were sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, and he was speeding away from your house.

“Carino…” You felt his hand on the back of your head, rubbing your hair lovingly. “God I’m so so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” You shook your head weakly, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of his skin on yours again. Even if it was just your hair.

You could smell his cologne wafting from his wrist and you placed a hand on his knee, turning your head to face him. He glanced over at you, giving you a sad smile. He put his free hand on your hand that was on his knee, then when he thought you were far enough away he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Wha---?” You looked around confused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He unbuckled yours and then pulled you from your seat, over the gear stick into his lap.

“Rafa, what are you doing?” You cocked your head to the side like a confused puppy dog as he stroked your hair. Instead of answering your question, he pulled you into a deep, slow kiss. The complete opposite of what you had been through tonight.

“I just...I’ve wanted to do this since you left my office. Since I saw you with that gun pushed into your back. Since I saw you…” He started to cry so he looked down in shame.

You put one hand on his cheek and wiped the tears with your thumb. He put his hand over the hand on his cheek and kissed in between your thumb and first finger. You pressed your forehead against his while he tried to compose himself, then you just laid your head on his shoulder. He started to stroke your hair once more and just held you like that, basking in each other’s safeness and warmth.

“I love you,” He whispered while still holding onto you, tears still apparent in his voice. “I love you so much Y/N, I’m sorry. I will never let you out of my sight ever again,”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered into his shoulder. “I should’ve listened to you,”

“Hey,” He picked your head up and made you face him. “No, you do not apologize for ANYTHING, okay? This isn’t your fault,”

“Isn’t it?” You bit your lip while trying not to cry yourself. “I married the man, Rafael! I had kids with him, I--I would have stayed married to him if he hadn’t left!”

“But you didn’t know....” He comforted you.

“No but I should have,” You shook your head in shame at yourself.

“How could you have known that he--”

“Because my dad was like him, Rafael,” You finally admitted. You hadn’t told anyone that, not even Billy.

“....What?” You looked at him in shock, trying to make sure you heard him correctly.

“My dad, he--” You looked down at your lap in shame. “He used to beat the shit out of me and my mom,”

“....Me too,” Rafael finally admitted his own shame after a long pause.

“What?” You blinked several times. “Seriously?”

“Mmmhmm,” He nodded sadly. “Well you know when he was sober enough to hit. Sometimes he just wouldn’t come home at all. For hours, days. Finally never,”

“Oh, Raffi….” You gave a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad drank himself to death,”

“How would that make me feel better?” Rafael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, I was trying to say something comforting. I suck at it. I shouldn’t be a mother,” You shook your head.

“Hey now,” He put a hand to your cheek again. “You seem like a great mother,”

“Oh yeah, mom of the year,” You rolled your eyes. “I just left my kids with their psychopath father,”

“Hey, I kidnapped you,” He teased.

“Yeah you did--” You stopped smiling when the thought hit you like a train. “Oh fuck,”

“What?” Rafael furrowed his eyebrows.

“If I know Billy, once he realizes I’m gone and who I’m with, he’s going to claim you kidnapped me or something,” Your own eyebrows furrowed as you started going over worst case scenarios.

“But that’s absurd,” He shook his head. “Clearly I didn’t…”

“I mean you kind of did,” You shrugged.

“But you wanted to come!” He defended.

“You think he’s gonna word it that way?” You gave him a look.

“Well if they come after us then I’ll just clarify that--” Rafael kept reasoning with you.

“Then he’ll say that I just abandoned them,” You made another excuse.

“You left them with their dad--” Rafael was determined to make you see logic.

“He’s going to come after us Rafael!!”

“Okay, baby-- you’re spiraling,” He took both of your hands. “Inhalar, exhalar,” [pronounced

In-hall-ay, ex-hall-ay]

You took several inhales and exhales, long and deep.

“I just--” You breathed again. “I know this is going to end badly,”

“Not as badly as it could have,” Rafael pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or something?”

“...I...I don’t know,” You sheepishly admitted. “I haven’t had the courage to check,”

“What?!” Rafael cried, picking you up and standing up out of the car and opening the back door, laying you across the backseat.

“Baby these are fine leather seats! You’ll never get the blood out if you--” You tried to object but Rafael was already peeling off your “diaper”. He became more and more angry at the haphazard way Lewis had just patched you up so that he could shower. When he unraveled the mountains of toilet paper wrapped around your waist, he could see you were “Stopped up” by a bunch of cotton balls and tampons. And you were very clearly still bleeding. The sight made him sick.

“Fuck…” He whispered as he threw the “bandages” back on you, then went to get something from his trunk. He came back with an old t-shirt and wrapped it around your waist and butt area tightly.

“We have to stop this bleeding baby,��� he began to panic again. “I-I don’t even know how you’re conscious right now, you must have lost a lot of--” He stopped talking when he realized you were in fact, unconscious now. All of those shitty bandages as shitty as they were, had been keeping your blood and and now it was freely pouring out of you and out of the car.

“Fuck…” He muttered as he slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat, starting his car again and speeding towards the hospital. Well, it would sure be a hell of a lot harder to explain he DIDN’T kidnap you now, if you weren’t awake to verify it.

He sped as fast as he could to the hospital, dialing Liv’s number as he drove. “Liv, get the squad to the hospital,” He instructed her.

“And we need a police detail at this address, but you have got to be discreet, I don’t want him going off the rails,”

As soon as they got to the hospital, Rafael jumped out and started yelling to EMT’s and nurses standing outside the emergency room to help him with you. They grabbed a gurney and helped Rafael put you on it, rolling you inside as you were immediately hooked up to things and had a team swarming you.

“How much blood has she lost?” A nurse asked him as she pushed him back away from you so the doctors could work.

“I...I don’t know,” He answered warily as he tried looking over her to see how you were.

“What blood type is she?” She moved him to face her.

“I don’t know…” He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, but it was covered in your blood. It made him panic more.

“Do you know anything, sir?” The nursed asked in an annoyed tone.

“Yes,” He was now glaring angrily. “I know she was brutally raped, and I’m pretty sure he tore her,”

“....He?” She eyed him up and down, seeing him covered in your blood.

“Oh come on,” Rafael exhaled with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t think if I did this to her I would bring her in myself?”

“I don’t know you sir, I don’t know what you would or would not do--”

“No I did NOT do this to her--” He started to tell her she was nuts, when he heard the last voice in the world he wanted to hear.

“THERE HE IS!!!!” He turned to see Lewis walking in with Jersey PD, pointing directly at him.

“THAT’S THE MAN WHO RAPED AND KIDNAPPED MY WIFE!!!!!!!!”

….Well, fuck.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 15)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Big White Lies

Next Chapter: 土御門天皇 (Tsuchimikado)

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Chapter 15: Shadows Fall

You numbly sat down on your bed. The room was dark. Your Phoenix brand, silent, a dull sepia stain on your inner wrist.

It hurts a lot.

“He’s no different to the power hungry elders of this corrupt society after all huh.” You were disappointed. It was dumb of you to give your heart away to him. Especially to a man who was already planning on taking in concubines, this early into your “relationship”.

You checked your phone to see the notifications. Mai and Miwa were looking for you, saying that you have dinner out with them in a few minutes.

'Ah, that was supposed to be for tonight' you thought.

"Sorry can't go, feeling unwell. You guys go ahead." You texted back to them as you slumped on your bed.

After a few minutes your door slammed open. "Where have you been?!" Mai asked, but stopped talking upon seeing your red rimmed eyes. Miwa peeked out behind her. "Are you okay y/n?" She asked.

That question absolutely crushed you. You started sobbing again, not being able to hide your shaking shoulders. The two girls filed in and closed your door.

"We are ordering take out. Miwa go ahead and cancel that reservation. We will stay in tonight." Mai said. "Right!" Miwa worriedly replied as she pulled out her phone and made the call.

"I'm not here to baby you. You will tell me what happened, okay?" Mai demanded.

"I need a few minutes" everything looked so blurry through your tears, Mai and Miwa only looked like unfocused blobs of dark green and bright blue. Literally, the only way you could distinguish the two girls at this point was by their hair color.

They couldn't get much out of you other than you talking about how Kamo-san never liked you in the first place and how you pushed yourself onto him.

The girls held you as you cried. They couldn't believe what they were hearing. "But both of you looked great. I'm sure Kamo senpai really liked you though?" Miwa questioned out loud.

Mai just nodded her head. "I said it before already. Both of you act like you're so oblivious to each other's affections. But I do agree that you put more effort into the relationship. He always turns down your request for dates off campus. Even an outsider could see that."

"No, no it’s not that. You guys know how the big 3 clans operate. He just felt that I was a suitable wife to bear his heirs. They're jumping at the chance to use me to get a blood-manipulator jujutsu shi who may also possibly inherit my psychokinesis technique. I don't want to stay in a relationship without any love in it." You whispered.

Your voice was all gone after you sobbed for hours. The fight and energy just drained out of your body.

They couldn't say anything to that as it was your relationship with Kamo and not theirs. That night, they slept over in your room, the three of you squishing into your queen sized bed and plushies.

◇◇◇

On the other hand, Noritoshi had woken up from his nap, bedhead and red rimmed eyes and all. Clearly remembering all your painful words. He looked over to the side, staring at the Jade dragon pendant atop his bedside table. A small pink letter resting beside it, one that you had given him days prior.

‘Dearest Toshi,

You must be exhausted from all of your extra tasks given to you by your clan as of the late. I hope that it gets better soon, I’m here if ever you want to talk about it or if you need any help with that. My family and I are open to supporting you in your endeavors, though you haven't met them yet. Hiroki nii is especially excited to meet you, I can already see the both of you getting along quite well. Whenever you’re ready <3

Have a good evening.

Love, Y/N.’

He felt tears burn behind his eyelids.

“It was too sudden, I couldn’t even understand half the things she said to me earlier,” he murmured to himself. He racked his brain, trying to recall the things you said. It was mostly a blur to him.

Something about what he and his father talked about yesterday. That wasn’t an issue, it was mostly clan duties as per usual.

Also, how he never liked you. Well, he hasn’t confessed yet, but he couldn’t see why you’d bring that up out of nowhere when everything was still fine 2 days ago.

Concubines. The talk on concubines. Why did you- Oh. “... from yesterday” Noritoshi’s head was getting clearer and clearer. You must have misunderstood the conversation he had with his father, and left before it finished. It didn’t sound pretty now that he thought of it.

He had that single-minded goal of pleasing his father and the elders, but somehow you got tangled in the mess.

He sighed frustratedly. It always seemed to be the case with you jumping conclusions about him, didn’t it? Now he has to clear it up with you before it gets too bad.

◇◇◇

You woke up the next morning feeling and looking like utter shit. Mai and Miwa had to dress you up and drag you out of bed.

“There’s only one thing you can do now Y/N.” Mai said as she straightened out your collar. “Get over him.”

Huh. Easier said than done.

◇◇◇

There was a drastic change in your behaviour towards Noritoshi. The name "Noritoshi-senpai", that you had always cheerily called out, was replaced by a short and curt "Kamo-san" whenever conversation was necessary. Also, you don’t look into his eyes anymore.

You avoided him as much as you can, thanking yourself for knowing his schedule so well. Not hesitating to turn and go around in another direction if you ever saw him approaching from a distance. Because of this he rarely sees you on campus.

It hurt Noritoshi badly to see you act this way. He never realized just how warm you were with him until now that it was all gone. He tried to catch you during your breaks, calling out your name with the same tenderness he always had. But it was in vain as you ran away from him.

Todo and Momo wisely chose not to make any snide comments, upon seeing how downhearted Noritoshi was in the following days.

Everybody avoided eye contact with both of you if and when you had to interact. It couldn't be helped. The tension was like a fine piece of glass waiting to shatter.

The pain in your heart didn't subside at all. You've taken to staring at the mark on your wrist.

'Did I successfully reject our bond?' You wondered hollowly.

Sometimes you half expect your mark to start flashing wildly, like whenever you and Noritoshi have off days with each other. But this is the first time you've seen it so… silent.

You wrapped it up with more darker velvet strips and ignored it.

It was the opposite on Noritoshi’s end. He would lie in bed and stare at the mark that is dangerously bright red and hot. It almost felt painful, like someone was searing a brand onto his skin.

He wrapped it up in gauze bandages and put salves to soothe the mark. But it was never enough. He needed you back.

◇◇◇

During one afternoon, you just finished an English lesson with one of the windows who teaches at Jujutsu High. You stood up from your desk and turned to see the man outside of your classroom.

"Y/n, are you free for lunch?" Noritoshi had obviously sprinted as soon as his lessons had ended. “We need to talk.” All 4 of you looked up to see him outside the classroom, as composed as ever. But he looked terrible.

There were shadows under his eyes, and he seemed to have gotten thinner. The shitty side of you was cruelly happy. Good that he’s like this, because he lost his toy. Good on him. But your heart was sad, yelling at you to go back and take care of him already.

"Ah I'm sorry, but I've got lunch with the rest of the 1st year's here." You politely declined. Trying to school your face into a neutral expression.

"I insist." He firmly stated. He looked over to the other students. "You don't mind if I borrow her do you?"

You inwardly scoffed at his poor choice of words. The stupid arse still thinks I'm his belonging apparently. Something to be borrowed and used.

But Mai stepped up. "If she doesn't want to hang out with you then she doesn't." Miwa was fidgeting worriedly. "Now now." She started.

"I really wanted to have lunch with my fellow 1st years, if you could please excuse us Kamo San." You hastily uttered, pulling Mai's arms towards you while turning away. The other first years followed your lead.

But Noritoshi was determined. He quickly put his hand on your shoulder, only for you to slap it away and flinch from him. Everybody froze.

You were clearly trembling, which made Noritoshi lower his hand and step back. "I'm sorry y/n." Whether the apology was for holding you without your consent or for everything that happened, you painfully let it slide. Silently bowing to him, then quickly walking away with the others.

Noritoshi could only watch wistfully as your figure disappeared from his view.

◇◇◇

"The nerve of shitty men," Mai angrily stuffed her mouth with eggs from her bento. "Thinking they own women, that they're better than us. It was like this with the men in my family as well. Bullying and kicking aside the weaker women."

You sadly poked at your food. It was katsudon. You ordered it ahead of time from the cafeteria, wanting to perk up with a favorite dish. But today it tastes so bland. It wasn't the cooking that was off. Just that you had no appetite.

"Wouldn't you want to talk it out with Kamo senpai, y/n?" Miwa asked. Truth be told you were adding fire to the problem. You just dumped your anger on Noritoshi and kept rudely cutting him off before leaving him.

But your pride and broken heart didn't allow you to go back to him. "I don't think there's anything left for me to say or do to be honest. I'm not in the mood to face him. At all." You lied.

Mechamaru surprisingly spoke out, "Love is a fickle thing. And it's a fact that women are more in tune with their emotions than men are. But I think you won't regret it if you give him a chance. Kamo Noritoshi isn't a bad man."

Mai huffed. "Whose side are you even on?"

"There are no sides. Just two idiots who are madly in love with each other." Mechamaru dryly replied.

Your heart clenched, but you stayed silent, not denying the fact that even after you pushed him away, you still loved him.

"Let's talk about something else shall we?" Miwa hurriedly changed the topic and started discussing the homework to be done.

◇◇◇

Hiroki was both the best and the worst brother you could ask for. Because he chose this time to surprise you with a visit at Kyoto High, claiming he wanted to see how you were doing with classes and that he would stay for a while.

Secretly, he wanted to meet and gauge Noritoshi, only to find out that the both of you have just broken up. You brought him into your dorm room to have a chat and some snacks.

“WHA?! YOU- You ended things with your soulmate?! You were together for like what?! 4 Months?” His jaw dropped as you told him the entire story.

You gave a drawn out sigh. “Hiro nii, I’m done. Like… He… I dunno anymore. To be honest I broke up with him in the heat of the moment.”

“Tsk, you’ve always been led by your emotions. That’s why you’re so reckless half the time sis. You didn’t even try to talk it out with him.” He asked as he opened a bag of chips.

You stayed silent and reached for chips. Chewing and ignoring him.

“What’s with you and bottling all your pent up anger only to toss it onto the poor guy? Didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself.” he tutted.

You whirled on him angrily. “They just want me for my power. Then they’ll let him off with like a dozen women around him. What the fuck is there for him to explain?!”

Hiroki looked way too calm. “Who are 'they'?”

You paused. “The Kamo family.”

“Are you 100% sure Noritoshi was in this only to use you?”

“Like 99.99%...” you trailed off. Hiroki eyed you knowingly. “That 0.01 percent chance of him loving you. You considered it, even though that’s a small ass probability sis. But hey, that’s your man. If you want him out, our family’s got your back. I’ll beat him up for you if you need me to”

You shook your head at him.

Hiroki sighed, “Though with that concubine thing, I can see it happenin’. Clan heads are desperate to have a son with the inherited technique. The Gojo clan just got lucky with Satoru. We dunno if it’s normal in the Kamo clan though. But with you as his soulmate, he shouldn’t need any. Somethin ain’t addin up…” He got lost in thought.

“You won’t know until you talk with Kamo himself.”

You sadly continued eating your chips. “I hate it when you’re right.”

◇◇◇

The next morning Utahime urgently called for a full student body plus all available jujutsu sorcerers on site for a meeting.

You and Hiroki stumbled into the room, almost late, pushing against each other. The other students looked curiously at the man who was fighting you for space on the couch.

You jabbed him in the gut and put a leg over his. “Uhhhh y/n who is that?” Mai asked.

Your cousin shrugged your leg off of his, stood up and said his greetings, “Hello, I am Tsuchimikado Hiroki. Alumni here at Kyoto Jujutsu High. Semi-grade 1 sorcerer. Pleased to meet you all and thanks for taking care of my lil sis- ah I mean cousin.”

“Ohhhh” Miwa took a closer look. You noticed Noritoshi glancing over at you. Todo walked up to him and pointed a finger, “Tsuchi’s relative? Then what woman is your idea-”

You used your technique to immobilise Todo and forced him to sit down in a daze. “Sorry for my rudeness, senpai. You can have that convo later.” You knew it would take too long if this starts again.

Hiroki looked affronted, “It’s rude to point bruh.”

Utahime clapped her hands to gather your attention as Principal Gakuganji appeared on the podium.

“Thank you so much all for coming into this meeting on such short notice. Especially to the alumni and other available Jujutsu sorcerers. Let's get straight to the point: I am here to announce that War is coming.”

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[msawesomehalffinishedfics]

Would you stop bleeding on my couch? Sean Wallace imagine

A/N: I’m sorry, this took me forever to get to writing, mostly because I haven’t gotten around to watching Gangs of London to the end, and I just had exams and have been overwhelmed by life. But I am actually proud of this very finished imagine (Which is ironic for a blog called half-finished-fics, but what can I say? ALSO I kinda played fast and loose with the timeline/storyline. Please request different characters if you'd like, and thank you to @screechingdreamercollectorsblog​ for requesting, and to the anon who was pushing me to write it. I’m slow okay? But worth it? Hopefully? I hope you enjoy, do tell me if you do, or don’t. :) - Em

Sean woke up uncomfortable feeling first the burning pain on his shoulder. Everything came back to him, the ambush, him getting dragged off to a random car. He remembered fading in and out of consciousness, drinking some whiskey to dull the pain. Getting sown together in a dingy bathroom. He opened his eyes and looked around, not remembering where he was, and how long he had been there. He knew his family was probably freaking out. He was a little freaked as well. He looked around the small apartment and did not recognise any of it which made him nervous. He made an attempt to sit up, but groaned in pain as he did so. He heard something from the other room and tried to fumble around for his gun but found nothing. He raised his fists as best he could as the other person walked to the living room. He furrowed his eyebrows when he found a woman standing there, she looked vaguely familiar but not really. She looked at him annoyed which made him keep his guard up.

“Would you relax, so you can stop bleeding on my couch. Which you are replacing by the way.” She said annoyed crossing her arms, he looked at her even more confused feeling weird about being scolded by this woman he did not know. She had saved his life but he knew that was not a guarantee that she was on his side. He was not sure anyone was anymore. 

“Who, the fuck are you?” He spat in his normal demanding voice, if she was going to be rude he could be too, and he needed to know who she was, and where she had put his phone so he could at least tell his family that he was okay. She rolled her eyes at him but walked closer to him, clearly inspecting his wounds while doing so.

“Relax. I worked for your dad, and you. Not usually a nurse, but strange times.” She said sarcastically, he was still unsure about her, but saw no reason for her to lie right away, at least if he could get home to his family soon, he would be sure to pay her off and that would be the end of it. As long as she did not torture him and he did not tell her too much he should be good. Well, more so when he found the motherfucker who had shot him. 

“You ripped your stitches, dickhead.” She said annoyed lifting up his bandage and he hissed a little in pain but looked at her annoyed.

“Well, sorry for sitting up and being defensive, seeing as I woke up somewhere I don’t know without my phone, with a stranger.” He said sarcastically and she scoffed at him which he took a little offence too, no one dared to speak and behave like this around him, yet if she worked for them, she must know who he was and what he was. Meaning she was either bold or just daft, he was betting the ladder. She sighed and got up, reaching her hand out to him.

“Come on. Let’s get you stitched up before you bleed out on my couch.” She said and he looked at her and before she nodded and got down so he could put his arm around her, and she help carry him to the bathroom. She stitched him up in silence after cleaning the wound once again. He recognised the bathroom from the haze and was fed some more whiskey. She started talking again when she was putting the wrapping on it.

“Your phone’s in the kitchen. Took us a little time to crack the code, but I got your mums number and called her, she knows you’re here and alive, for now, told your brother too.” She said calmly now, and he looked at her as she was gently putting the bandage on his wound, if it did not hurt so much he would have thought it would be nice to be treated like this.

“Come on, back on couch, and if you bleed on it one more time. I’m ripping your stitches. K?” She said annoyed he chuckled a little at how she was treating him. He was used to getting respect so it was almost amusing seeing her like that. He laid back down on the couch and groaned a little in pain but did quickly get comfortable. She went to the kitchen for a bit and brought them both back a sandwich which he gladly ate. 

“So, you’ve been out for two days. And yeah, your mother and brother knows you’re here. We’ll move you as soon as they know it’s safe and you can move without ripping up your shoulder.” She said and he nodded taking in the information.

“And then, you’re paying for my new couch.” She said with a confident smirk and he chuckled a little amused at her. She raised her eyebrows and looked him her judgingly.

“I’m sorry, am I amusing you. You’re paying for that couch. I liked that couch.” She said sarcastically maybe even defensively he still could not wipe the smirk off his face, it had been years since someone dared talk to him like that. 

“You are amusing. Because either you don’t know who I am and who you’re insulting. Or you do know, and you’re just daft.” He said and she huffed out a breath annoyed and crossed her arms.

“Oh, I know fully well who you are. Sean Wallace, son of Finn Wallace, ceo of the Wallace coperation, and the London underworld.” She said ending in a sarcastic smile. He raised an eyebrow interested in her response.

“Then you know the last person who disrespected me got beat into a pulp before getting a bullet in his brain.” He said ending with a smirk, she leaned closer to him from her seat across from him, like she was gonna tell him a secret, then she smirked.

“I know. But seeing as you ripped your stitches from sitting up a moment ago, I would love to see you try. Besides, it’s clearly been too long since someone verbally wooped your ass.” She said ending with a sarcastic smirk which was getting on his nerves already. He could not wait till he was well enough to get away from this annoying woman.

“Can you at least tell me who you are?” He asked it being clear now that she did know who he was she just did not care, which was not a good sign. If his own employees were disrespecting him like this, he imagined the other gang leaders were following suit. He wanted so badly to not screw up his fathers legacy, and he already felt like a screw up and then all of this added pressure, he did not need this girl he did not know being annoying with him right now. She just scoffed at him and leaned back.

“Yeah, right. So you can know my name and address? No thanks. You’re probably gonna get me murdered or something.” She said crossing her arms defensively saying it in a matter of factly tone. Sean sighed and decided to be a little open with her.

“Look, unless you try and torture me and infiltrate my life to get information, I can’t really justify using the kind of money it would cost to have someone kill you and clean up afterwards. Okay, luv?” He said earnestly, she looked like she was considering it, but she was still clearly on the defence. But she sighed and uncrossed her arms.

“Promise not to murder me?” She said a little defeated Sean almost chuckled a little at that. Contrary to popular belief and his recent interrogations about his fathers killer, he did not just go around killing people left and right.

“Don’t torture me or sell information about me to the police, and then I promise.” He said calmly and she chuckled a little at how absurd she realised this kind of conversation was. 

“Fine. My names Y/N.” She said sounding a little defeated in giving up this information. Sean smiled a little feeling like he had at least won a little bit of their conversation.

“Well, Y/N, could you get me my phone? I need to get some business in order.” He said and she sighed and nodded before getting up. She walked to the kitchen and back about to hand him the phone before she stopped and he looked at her annoyed both of them knowing fully well he could not just reach for it in his current position.

“For the record, I’m not your servant. So, it’s please, and thank you, got it?” She said annoyed and Sean chuckled a little, he kind of like her. She was definitely bold, and she did not give a shit about how she talked to him. She had spunk. It had been a while since he had met someone who had spunk like that. At least in front of him. He nodded and she gave in and handed him the phone.

“Thank you.” He said a little mockingly as she walked away she flipped him off before entering the kitchen not even turning around. He called his mother to asses the situation. Sadly he was told it would probably be a while since he could be moved to the safehouse and even then it would be risky to move him. No one knew about Y/N, she was after all just a nobody who worked for him who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was pretty safe for the time being. Not that he minded having to spend more time with the woman, she was definitely interesting, in a disrespectful kind of way.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Would you quit your whining?” She said annoyed after Sean groaned for the tenth time that day from shifting from his lying position. She was sat at her desk clearly doing something else, but he could not help that he was in pain and her stupid couch was uncomfortable. So he found himself annoyed and glaring at her. 

“I’m sorry, is my pain from my bullet wound annoying you?” He hissed annoyed at her nagging. He sometimes found her sarcasm a little intriguing, but after three days cooped up in her tiny apartment, they were both getting on each other nerves. She smiled at him a little kindly and he sighed a little relieved hoping to finally get an ounce of sympathy from the woman. 

“Thank you, it is rather annoying.” She said sarcastically and he groaned in annoyance once again, she glared at him annoyed now. 

“You could be a bit more considerate since it was less than a week ago I had a bullet in my shoulder!” He said annoyed and she just sighed and looked at him annoyed.

“Well, you snore, a lot. So I guess we’re both making sacrifices here.” She said and he groaned once again in annoyance at her. There was no winning with her. He had been there for a few days and they had done nothing but bicker. It was seriously frustrating.

“Could you stop being a bitch for two seconds! I’m sorry I groan every now and then, but I have been on this couch for a few days and I am uncomfortable. It might have something to do, with the fact that I have home made stitches in my shoulder!” He yelled at her his anger reaching its peak. He knew it was wrong after he said it call her a bitch, but it was all too much right now.

“Fuck off. I’m doing you a massive favour hiding you here. If you could stop being a prick for two seconds and actually be a little grateful towards the woman who saved bloody life, and is currently regretting that decision!” She said back through her teeth clearly annoyed as well. He huffed in anger and tired to turn away from her she just groaned in anger and left the apartment to get some fresh air. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Billy came by the apartment and smiled at Sean, bringing some clothes for him. He smiled at his brother and chatted with him for a bit. A little annoyed that he was risking his life to get him a clean pair on knickers. But glad to see him, really glad.

“By the way, Y/N, the girl you’re staying with love her. I was by one of the days you were out. She is the best.” He said and Sean looked at his brother confused, what woman had he met? And had she switched places with the one he was cooped up with.

“Who are you talking about? That girl, hates my guts, and does nothing but bitch about me existing in her space. She is getting on my nerves.” He said honestly and Billy just chuckled a little.

“You’ve just forgotten how real people behave around each other when they’re not scared of disrespecting each other and their territory.” He said and Sean rolled his eyes at him, but still smiled a little.

“You’ll get along. You’re probably gonna have to stay here for a good while anyway.” Billy said and Sean looked at him surprised. 

“What? Why?” He said a little worried and Billy was clearly a little taken back by this.

“Relax. I thought mum told you. She is just worried so says it’ll be a few weeks at least before she’s even thinking about moving you to our safehouse. Guess you’re gonna have to get used to Y/N.” He said with a small smile, and Sean sighed at him a little annoyed at this news. He barely wanted to spend another minute let alone weeks with this girl.

_______________________________________________________________________

He got better within the week, and started getting up and walking around a little. He tried to be nicer to the girl since he was stuck with him for a while. He walked into the kitchen when she was cooking one day and smiled a little leaning against the counter.

“It’s good that you’re up and about.” She said casually, but clearly in a natural, which he found a bit frustrating.

“Look, I am trying to be nice here. I know this situation is not ideal, but could we please just try to get the best out of it?” He pleaded a little, he was at the end of his line with being nice and being met with sarcasm. She sighed still having her back turned away from him, but she took a moment before turning to look at him.

“Yeah. Sorry. I really don’t like people in my space, especially bleeding on my couch and bathroom. And even less in longer periods of time. I have lived alone for a long time, I like my space just so, and you’re kinda, disrupting that.” She said honestly not looking him in the eye. He smiled a little, that was perfectly reasonable. Maybe a little too reasonable, but she had so far given him no reason not to trust her. He even saw her get ready for work in the morning and saw the employee badge. It all seemed real. 

“That’s alright. I know I have a bit of a short fuse too, but you are stuck with me. So just tell me what to do. And maybe disrupting your rutine a bit won’t be too bad.” He said smirking a little and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Too far.” She said and he chuckled a little glad he could still push her buttons. She turned back to cooking their dinner.

“By the way, on top of the couch you are also either giving me a raise, or helping pay for food, you eat so much. And stop touching my maltesers!” She said with a small smirk but clearly meaning the last part. He chuckled a little amused and put up his good hand trying to convey innocence.

“Okay, a raise or reimbursement, got it. But I’m not the one who ate your maltesers.” He said trying to convince her. It was him, but he would not admit that. For some reason he found it a bit emasculating that he liked sweets. He was a big strong, badass, gangster and leader of the London underworld. Sweets did not exactly fit his image. He saw that he had clearly failed to convince her, when she snorted.

“Sure. I mean it’s not like there is only two people in this apartment! How are you a mafia boss? You’re a terrible liar.” She said looking at him almost a little baffled at the end. He looked at her a little amused but did take offence to her last comment.

“Shut up. I’m an excellent liar.” He said daring her to tell him otherwise. He knew fully well he could lie like it was nothing. She scoffed again and crossed her arms at him walking a bit closer.

“Riiiight. And what was I exactly supposed to believe right there? We are the only people in this apartment. I know I didn’t take them. Which leaves one other person. What was I supposed to think, that the tooth fairy took them?” She said sarcastically and he chuckled a little and shrugged.

“Well, maybe it’s because it isn’t about something important.” He said and she raised an eyebrow at him clearly getting an idea.

“Okay, try me then? Lie to me.” She said challenging him, he found it a bit intriguing and amusing but took the challenge and stepped a little closer to her.

“It gotta be a little personal, the best lies are. So for example. I would do this.” He said with a smirk, before using his good hand to trace down from her shoulder to her hand before gently grabbing it and lifting it just a bit. He then looked into her eyes at she looked at him a bit shocked but he just smirked, she had asked him to lie to her.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. And I really wanna kiss you.” He said slowly and not too high of a volume, but still above a whisper. She looked at him a little stunned but then he pulled back and smirked, a little too proud of himself.

“See? I’m an excellent liar.” He said and she just rolled her eyes at him finally being pulled from her little daze. It was a little intriguing to him that he could make her behave that way.

“Whatever. I could totally tell you were lying.” She said clearly just trying to cover up how weird that had made her feel, he chuckled a little.

“Right.” He said dragging the word out laughing a little at her as looked at him annoyed.

______________________________________________________________________

They did start getting along a lot more. He helped out around the house as best as he could with his shoulder. They seemed to naturally develop their own little rutine around each other. She was still sarcastic and annoying and not taking any of his shit. But it was growing on him a little. He found himself liking that he could annoy her so easily, and she could annoy him so easily. It was like she had direct access to his brains annoyance center. But he liked pushing her buttons, and it was becoming more and more in a joking manner. He was not exactly the type to have friends, but after a week and a half with her, he would not mind calling her that. She was funny and threw popcorn in his face if he disagreed with her or talked during a movie. They had also taken to pushing each other lightly when other was being annoying, of course both being conscious of his still healing shoulder. As time passed and they found themselves more and more at ease in each others company. He almost felt a little awkward having to sit shirtless in front her as she rinsed his wound and put a new bandage on it. It felt almost intimate, which they had not been anywhere near since he had lied to her. It was a lie, or at least back then it was. She was funny, annoying but still, and sweet, and playfull almost. He clearly liked her company, and he liked that she was not afraid of him at all. She was pretty too. He found himself more and more admiring her eyes and smile and the way her hair flowed and especially started noticing when she would walk around the apartment in those tight yogapants on the weekends. He tried to shake all of those thoughts from his head. She tried to stop herself from looking at his shirtless body, it was not like she did not notice, she had needs and she was not blind. But he was also annoying as hell, and a rich prick. But he was also annoyingly sweet sometimes, and funny and he was annoying but there was something weirdly and much to her dismay endearing about how he liked pushing her buttons. As they had spent a lot more time together and learned each others rutines and stuff it was obvious whenever he was annoying now that it was on purpose. And there was something a little thrilling about him, she did not know if it was just her old and she hoped dormant attraction to a little bad boys, or if there was just something about how easily it was for her to get under his skin. It was almost in a sadistic way fun for them to get under each others skin just a little. Besides he was great looking which was hard to avoid with a guy you lived with. His stubbles, his clear blue eyes, his dimples, she had seen him at the office and while there was something about seeing him in his tailored suits his much more casual clothes along with his gold watch was still something she found annoyingly attractive. But she tried to push that thought to the back of her head.

After a month living in her apartment, they were sitting on the couch watch telly when the door opened revealing Sean’s mother, she smiled at Y/N and then Sean. Y/N looked to Sean confused, but he just shrugged signally that he did not know his mother was coming by.

“We found out who tried to shoot you. They’re tied up right now. We can go home love.” Marian said relieved and glad to see her other son unharmed and safe. Sean nodded with a smile, a little excited to go home and sleep in his own bed. 

“That’s good mom. I’ll pack and we can go.” He said and she smiled as he got up to pack she turned towards Y/N who stood up feeling a little out of place now, but Marian just smiled at her kindly.

“I cannot thank you enough for keeping Sean safe. I hope he was not too much trouble. I don’t know how we can ever repay you. But know that you are always welcome in our home if you need anything.” She said taking her hands in hers and looking Y/N in the eyes clearly meaning every word. Marian would do anything to keep her sons safe, and this woman had helped with that. Y/N just smiled and nodded.

“Thank you. No worries. He was a little annoying in the beginning but he has grown on me. Besides, he knows what he owes me.” She said a little amused and the last part a little louder making sure Sean heard it. Sean chuckled as he shook his head at her. She had kept reminding him. He packed the last things before meeting his mother and Y/N in the hall.

“Yeah yeah, couch and a raise, I know.” He said feigning annoyance but smiled fondly at her, she just chuckled and Marian looked between then a little confused but said nothing. 

“Because I don’t want to forget it.” She said a little sarcastically, and he chuckled a little once again.

“Oh, I am not gonna miss that.” He said and she rolled her eyes a little but kept her smile on her face. He smiled at her earnestly now and looked her in the eyes.

“But seriously, thank you, for everything. However reluctantly you did safe my life. So thank you.” He said earnestly, she blushed a little not knowing how to handle him serious all of a sudden, she stood there for a moment clearly happy about how grateful they were not used to being thanked like this. She ended up shoving him lightly out of instinct and just not know how to handle this serious side of him.

“You’re welcome. At least now I can have my maltesers in peace.” She said trying to deflect how weird and awkward and like a school girl with a crush he had just made her feel. He chuckled a little and shook his head, before leaving with his mother.

_______________________________________________________________________

They both got back to their normal lives. He started noticing her now that he could go back to the office and they would smile at each other if they did see each other but never talk. It was like an unspoken agreement, that he had his life and she had hers, even if they had both put it on pause for a little month. He somehow missed her couch a little, when he got back to his own bed, it was somehow too soft and he tossed and turned trying to get comfortable in it again. She in turn found herself thinking something sarcastic and turned to say it to him, but stopped herself when she realised it had been a reflex and he was not there anymore. She texted him a picture of her new couch which he had transferred money for. He sent her a smiley back, but they never took it further. He was back in his life. Trying to run a business and a gang while trying to figure out who killed his father. He had too much on his plate, and he definitely did not need anyone knowing there was any more people he cared the slightest about. She hated to admit it, but she was missing him, her small apartment somehow feeling empty without him there. So when she found his shirt with her laundry she first tossed it to a chair nearby thinking she could return it whenever. But that night when she could not fall asleep, missing even his stupid snores, she grabbed the shirt and found herself calmed a little by the familiar scent. He found a black t-shirt that was too small for him, so he figured it was hers he must have grabbed in his haste to pack. He first thought nothing of it but when he could not sleep at night, he found himself reaching for it, it was so familiar now, and somehow calming. He did miss her, and he knew it was stupid and irrational, but he found himself not being able to concentrate and one night he simply had enough. He did not care that it was the middle of the night he got in his car and drove to her apartment, knocking on her door. She opened it and looked at him confused.

“Sean?” She asked and he smiled a little.

“What are you doing here? It’s one in the morning. I have work tomorrow. For your company.” She said sarcastically and he could not help but smile a little more that. He had missed her voice, and her stupid sarcasm. 

“Honestly? I fucking missed you. I just, I have so much to do, between work for the company and the other side of it, on top of trying to find out who killed my dad. And yet, I missed you. So much.” He said earnestly but honestly just a little frustrated with himself. She smiled a little and leaned against her doorframe.

“And who says I missed your ass?” She said challenging him and he smirked a little at her for doing that right now. But he looked her over and grinned a little.

“Well for one, that looks like one of my shirts.” He said and she looked down having not realised that was the t-shirt she had grabbed to sleep in. She looked back at him embarrassed but he was looking at her so annoyingly proud. He did like that she had clearly missed him too, why else would she wear his shirt to bed. He liked it on her. 

“That proves nothing.” She said crossing her arms in protest refusing like always to let him just win. He stepped forward a little confident, so they stood pretty closely. 

“Right. Remember when you told me to lie to you?” He asked and she looked him in the eyes a little shocked. She had tried not to think about that day. She did, but she tried not to. 

“What about it?” She asked clearly some cracks in her sarcastic demeanour which he was proud of that he could do still.

“It’s not a lie anymore.” He said looking at her earnestly. He meant it and he wanted to see if she felt the slightest same way. Her eyes widened a little she was surprised by this but tried to gather herself again.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” She asked not really knowing how to respond and just said the first thing that came to mind. He smirked and got closer to her.

“Well, if you’ll let me. This.” He said before gently putting his hand on her cheek. They looked into each other eyes trying to read the other. Before he finally saw no objection and leaned down letting his lips meet hers. It was gentle at first but soon they both started pulling each other closer wanting more. She walked backwards slowly and he slammed the door behind her, not pulling away from her. He might have been disoriented when he first woke up on her couch, but that was nothing to how she was currently clouding all of his thoughts, but this time, he was not complaining. 

[kanene-yaaay]

Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since  it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you! 

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

 And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

 Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.  

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

 Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

 Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

 Yeah, especially humans.

 Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

 It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

 Right about noooow…

 …

 Now?

 …

 Well, it didn’t work.

 Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

 Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

 That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

 Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

 Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

 And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

 Which was exactly what they were doing!

 Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

 ….But…

 But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

 Not yet, at least.

  [~*~]

  Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

 No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

 And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

 At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

 After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

 Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

 Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

 He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

 “I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

 “What was that?”

 Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

 “What.” He eloquently offered.

 “I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

 Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

 “Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

 “You like tickles.”

 The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

 “What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

 “Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

 Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

 Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

 “Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

 “Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

 “Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

 Hey now, what.

 “What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

 “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

 ‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

 “… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?” 

 ‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

 “Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

 ‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

 “Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes’ expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

 They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

 “I can’t.”

 “Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

 He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

 “Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

 ‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

 “Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

 No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

 ‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

 “It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

 Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

 “Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

 “TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

 Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

 The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

 A devious plan shinned in his head.

 Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

 He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

 “No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

 They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

 The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

 That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

 He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and   d i e.

 And he was loving every single second of this.

 “Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

 The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it  t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

 “Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

 In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

 The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

 His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

 “Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

 “Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

 “Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

 “Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

 “Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

 Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

 It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

 The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

  [~*~]

  Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

[hi-hey-haechan]

hii could you write something about when they are drunk and want to have sex and when they convince the reader and start they end up sleeping, like something funny ?? this was kind of a pointless idea but I thought it was funny, I would be very grateful !! (sorry for english kkk) And I love your blog 💖💖😗😗 (can be one or more groups of your choice)

hii could you write something about when they are drunk and want to have sex and when they convince the reader and start they end up sleeping, like something funny ?? this was kind of a pointless idea but I thought it was funny, I would be very grateful !! (sorry for english kkk) And I love your blog 💖💖😗😗 (can be one or more groups of your choice

We're doing SKZ Minho because he's my bias and because he'd 100% do something like this.

"You're beautiful," Minho slurred. You two were walking out to his car -- or, well, YOU were walking, whereas your boyfriend was stumbling, sometimes tripping and falling against you. Your hand was grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip, doing everything in your power to not let him fall.

"Mhm, and you're drunk," you replied. You couldn't even bring yourself to be exasperated. Drunk Minho was just too hilarious and too adorable to ever irritate you. Besides, he rarely got drunk anyways, much less this drunk. You were at fault for letting him drink so much, but then again, he deserved a drink or two after working so hard that comeback season. However, when the "two drinks" lead to three, and then four, there had to be a line drawn somewhere.

“I may be ‘drunk,’“ he drawled, “but when I wake up with an awful headache, you’ll still be beautiful.”

“Whatever you say,” you said, hardly paying attention to what he was saying. He stumbled to the right, pushing into you while doing so, almost causing you to topple over. You barely managed to keep yourself from falling, and same with Minho.

“I say smart things,” Minho hummed, smiling while closing his eyes contentedly. You had to stifle a laugh. Even when he was sober, your boyfriend still said some words that weren’t exactly intelligent. Minho was intellectually brilliant, yet he often acted as though he was functioning off of a single braincell.

There was a cat walking across the sidewalk approximately ten feet in front of you. “Look at the pretty cat,” you suggested, trying to occupy his brain differently. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to stumble after the cat in a drunken sort of run. With a harsh yowl, the calico kitten scampered off, likely terrified for its life. Minho fell to his knees before yelling desperately, “No, kitty, come back and embrace me as your king!” At the sight of your boyfriend kneeling on the cold sidewalk, hands balled into fists, yelling at a feline that was long-gone, you couldn’t help but double over in laughter.

You ran over to him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to force him to his feet. “You have three cats at home, remember? Let’s go home and see them.”

Minho’s face brightened, and he clapped his hands. He hopped a couple times and then stumbled when he landed, almost falling onto a stranger’s car. You had to grab onto his hand in order to keep him upright. 

You strapped him into the passenger seat of your car. He leaned forward to give you a kiss, but it hit the corner of your mouth only, making you want to laugh again. You felt his warm hand gently caressing the back of your head, and he said, “Your hair feels soft, like Dori is sitting on the back of your head!”

Yes, because your cat can sit on the back of my head, defying gravity. Of course.

With a sigh, you shut the door and got into the driver’s seat, driving a few short miles back to your shared apartment. You dragged him into the apartment, through the door, down the hallway, and you attempted to push him onto the bed.

“Y/n,” he whined, grabbing your waist and pulling you down on top of him. He smelled like alcohol, as you expected. Minho’s face suddenly buried itself into your neck, and his lips planted kisses onto the bare skin. His kisses were messy, slightly drunken, as you expected in this state.

“Minho, baby, let’s go to sleep,” you said, attempting to get out of his grasp. 

Your boyfriend bit lightly on the skin of your neck, sucking harshly for a second, which completely startled you. His arms suddenly became tighter, holding you down on top of him. For someone who was currently drunk, Minho was strong. His mouth on you had the same effect on you as it did when he was sober. You let out a quiet sigh, the feeling quite wonderful.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho slurred for the second time that night. This time, however, his mouth was pressed against your skin.

“Come here,” you whispered, and when his head raised and eyes, glazed over from the alcohol, met yours, you kissed him. It was a light, gentle brush of your lips against his, the feeling warm and soft. You embraced him fully. 

Minho, however, didn’t think that one kiss was enough. His lips met yours again, this time more powerfully. His mouth wasn’t soft or gentle, but rather passionate and fast. Your boyfriend’s mouth moved against your own with fervor and power, saying a million slurred, incoherent words at once, without him even making a sound. His kisses were sloppy, as expected from a more-than-tipsy Minho. He shifted on you ever so slightly, and that was when you felt his erection pressing into your leg.

Your immediate reaction was placing your hands flat against his chest, pushing a bit. That was sort of your way of letting him know that he was making you uncomfortable in some way. He wrenched himself away from you. Even when drunk, he still cared immensely about you. “Did I do something wrong?” His words sounded slightly distressed, and his eyes weren’t staring at you, but rather beyond you. “Why is the left lamp prettier than the right one?” And he was back, a drunken idiot.

“That’s one lamp, dumbass. Focus your vision. Also, you did nothing wrong. But you’re drunk, and I’m not gonna have sex with you while you’re drunk.”

“Why not?” he frowned. It was kind of cute, the way he pouted sadly. 

“Because I want to feel the connection between us, and that’s not there when one of us is drunk. Because that feels like taking advantage of you, in a way, no matter how many times you’ll agree to it. Because I want you to remember everything tomorrow morning, I’d want you to remember the way you felt when you reached your high.”

“But I love you,” he whined. “That’s the connection. I’ll remember this all tomorrow morning. I’m not that drunk!”

“Baby, you told the cat to embrace you as its king.”

Minho rutted his hips against your leg. A low groan sounded in the back of his throat, and he repeated his action. “I want you,” he said, his voice steady and sure.

“Fine.” You didn’t want to argue. Besides, due to his promotions, he’d been busy, meaning that neither of you had been intimate for quite some time. You would force him to lead, for the most part; you refused to do anything to him while he was under the influence. 

He began by eagerly attempting to pull your shirt over your head, but the thread caught in the hook of your bra, somehow. You, while laughing, asked him to stop moving for a second as you attempted to fix your problem. In the end, you pulled it over your head. Minho’s eyes were wide, the humor that was once in them long gone. 

His mouth attached itself to one of your nipples, and the feeling brought a jolt to you, extremely unfamiliar. His tongue swirled around the nub slowly, and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the feeling. He sucked lightly, and the pressure caused a tiny gasp to escape your lips. 

All too quickly, he stopped. Minho flopped onto his back, looking at you with dark eyes. His hair was slightly messy from where you’d grabbed when he sucked your skin, and his member was hard. “Kiss me,” he said, “everywhere.”

The last word was what caught your attention immensely. You removed his shirt, giving yourself the privilege of seeing his gorgeous body. His skin was pale, but he was incredblye strong, stretching over the muscles of his shoulders, arms, and abs. Your fingers grazed over his abs, and you barely felt the slightest shift in him, clearly enjoying this.

You couldn’t stop yourself, and you moved your mouth down to taste him. You traced the line of his collarbone with you lips, appreciating the slightest shudder under you. Confidently, your tongue flicked out, and it repeated the same line as your lips. He wasn’t even shuddering.

You continued lower, lower still, sucking on his nipples and leaving hickies on his chest, where you knew he was sensitive. He wasn’t saying a word, not even making a noise. His nipples tended to be pretty sensitive,, but not this time. He wasn’t feeling them, somehow. 

Growing stubborn and confused, you unbuckled his jeans and slid down his underwear and pants, exposing his hard member. Minho neither said anything or did anything when you licked his length, trying to tease him. Nothing was done when you swirled your tongue around his red tip, his most sensitive part. He was silent and still when you engulfed as much as him in your mouth as you could, trying to get a reaction.

You looked up, trying to find his face. When you saw that his eyes were closed, you were less surprised than you thought you’d be. Classic Minho, passing out hilariously. Yes, he did act like a crackhead behind doors, but him being tired was a different story. He didn’t wake up for anyone or anything when tired. However, he often slept late, which confused you at times. He could be Nocturnal if he wasn’t an idol. You pulled away from him, no longer taking him in your mouth without him being conscious.

“You were so drunk that you fell asleep while I was pleasuring you,” you whispered to him, a hint of a laugh in your voice. “Minho, you’re an idiot. And I love you for it.”

[serifsans]

Vladimir’s bulk is warm and comfortable in a way nothing else is. It’d probably be downright luxurious to curl up on his lap in his true form but if there’s anything Jean-Paul hates, it’s letting their boyfriend (boyfriend, he calls him, as if either of them aren’t anything but too damn old, as if they don’t think of him as their husband, even if they dare not say it lest that change something and ruin everything.) see them when they aren’t wearing human form. It’s embarrassing, like being caught wearing bell-bottoms before they cycle back into fashion. They’ll let Vladimir see them now when they’re skulking around wearing ratty bathrobes so old they’re now antiques but JP draws the line as letting him see that silly pink dog.

(Also, they figure that if the regulators ever decide to mind-wipe him, it’s probably better if he has less memories of an obviously alien form. Maybe it won’t completely fry his brain then. JP’s terrified of that. Of course, JP also knows that if they ever came for him, Vladimir’s taking as many regulators as possible with him before they could even get to his head. They’re terrified of that just as much.)

They see each other so infrequently anyway that there’s no point wasting it looking like anything but a dream: that is, if your idea of a dream is undersized, middle-aged, and dressed entirely in designer brands. Vladimir’s is, which is part of the reason they like him so much. Their volph form is not a dream. It’s silly and little and adorable when it’s not glitching and lagging. JP will take adorable but the silly part, no.

Jean-Paul has his shop and his commissions and a whole part of his life he doesn’t want to drag Vladimir into any more than he already has. Vladimir’s got his work and his family and a whole part of his life he doesn’t want to drag Jean-Paul (or Polly Jean or whatever other name they cycle though) into any more than he already has. They both have businesses that keep them very busy and also side-pieces that also keep them very busy, mostly because neither of them really like to address their emotions and mostly deal with them by throwing themselves at whatever distraction they can find. Always, always, there’s the looming threat that this cannot last, that it’ll end poorly, that they should just end this, but whenever they break up, they can’t stay apart too long until the fear comes for one of them again.

Anyway, the point? Jean-Paul’s living like a fucking king over there because he gets to wallow all over this man. Anyone who doesn’t get to cuddle him is missing out on one of the finer joys of life.

“Paulie, my sweet one, maybe you would like it more if you moved a little, yeah? Just a little. I love you as I love no other, you are my starshine, my heart, but your ass, it’s bony. My legs can only take so much. I am sorry, my love.”

Oh, okay, the man he loves is just cruelly abandoning him like a complete and utter monster. That’s how it is. Being JP is so hard. They make a big show of looking extremely sad as they scoot off his lap and curl up against his side instead, sighing extremely, extremely over-dramatically. Vladimir pets his hair and gives him a little kiss to make up for kicking him off of his lap. JP sighs even more sadly and when that doesn’t elicit the desired response, sighs even louder so Vladimir kisses him again.

Their ass isn’t that bony.

“I guess I might find it within my heart to forgive you for this cruel and utterly cutting insult,” they say. “But only because I am an extremely kind person. The best. I’m completely saintly, darling. That’s the truth of it.”

Vladimir chuckles, a low rumble.

“They will write poems to your kindness and generosity. They will not say that you called what’s-her-name horrible things for hours only because she did not say hello to you while walking down the street. I still think she did not see you. If she knew what you said, she would never talk to you agains even if she did see you.”

JP huffs.

“First of all, it was not for hours. Second of all, I was only being truthful. Third of all, she did it on purpose; don’t argue otherwise. Fourthly, she can snub me all she wants, I really do not give a fuck, the joke’s on her, I made out with her dear old dad in the 70s and he liked it, so hah. I hope no one shows up at her fucking garden party. I hope she gets kicked out of the country club. I hope she buys a pony and it doesn’t love her.”

“Okay, Paulie, you tart,” says Vladimir, laughter still in his voice. “You were very busy in the 70s. You must have never rested.”

“You know it.”

Maybe being kicked off Vladimir’s lap isn’t so bad. It means they can nestle up against him and rest their head on his stomach. He likes to run his fingers through their hair, especially since they decided to start wearing it long in this body. Anyone else doing it makes him feel like anxious lapdog with no control over who does and doesn’t pet him (or pull his tail or mess with his ears or poke him) but Vladimir does it and he feels like a person instead. He closes his eyes and though he never naps, JP really feels so comfortable right now he could doze off. Bears are fantastic. The world needs more of them. Actually, it needs more of them and it needs this one to last forever.

“Mm, completely unrelated to exploits of the past, but I made an account on a website. Thought you should know. Transparency. Communication. That sort of thing. It’s fun.”

God, they’re comfy. This is amazing. Their life really is so blessed. Thank you, universe.

“Paulie,” his boyfriend says with gentle exasperation in his voice. “You join these websites, you find someone that maybe you do not like, you say things that you know to be hurtful, the websites say that you cannot go to them anymore. You can’t keep doing this. There is a reason that I run the boutique’s social media and you, you, my heart, are allowed nowhere near. You are very spiteful and very rude. I know this and I love you.”

JP really can’t argue against this one because they’re running out of websites to be banned from. Even still, they roll their eyes and huff because how dare Vladimir call them out like this.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll behave. I’m really trying to be nicer, you know. It’s all so goddamn weird that I wouldn’t even understand how to insult these people if I tried, anyway. I don’t fucking get memes, darling. It’s all a bunch of bullshit people pretend is funny. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I am sorry you do not understand the Internet. It is a strange place. I will send you Russian memes instead and then maybe you will understand,” Vladimir says. “If you do not like the site, then maybe consider not being on it.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said that it doesn’t make sense. Darling, you know I really do think people should cater to my exact sense of taste at all times but even though they don’t, I still very graciously put up with it,” JP says. “It’s a website for fellow space fans. They’re all bound to be weird."

Vladimir’s hand in his hair stills.

“I do not need to know the details of what you say on your websites, I think maybe I do not even need to know what they are called, but be mindful of what you post. You do not know who could be reading. Do not mention me on it ever, please.  Be careful.”

The ever-present anxiety starts making itself known. It’s not that Vladimir himself makes them anxious because he’s a giant softie underneath the leather and gruff exterior and the fact that he will commit murder in an instant if it means protecting his loved ones. It’s just that sometimes JP very suddenly remembers how much they absolutely have to protect him at all costs and what it will be like to lose him if they can’t devise a way to keep him around forever.

“I’m sorry, Vladimir. I should’ve said something before I made an account. I’ll delete it. I just...you told me I can’t keep running away from others like me. Well, I can’t deal with them in real life. I just can’t. It’s just a website, I didn’t think things through, I don’t want to compromise your safety, I can-”

“Ah, ah, no, I am sorry, I think maybe I said things too harshly, do not worry, my darling. I trust you. Please, maybe it will be a good thing for you and then you will understand their memes. I only want you to be happy and safe. Just be careful, okay? And do not start fights with people.”

JP whines and buries their face against him.

“I really can delete it. I, I don’t always think things through. I wasn’t made for thinking.”

Vladimir decides the best course of action is to pull them back into his lap in hopes it’ll calm the anxious volph, except JP can’t even properly enjoy it because their brain (if they even have a brain because they honestly do not know.) goes from zero to one hundred in half a second and now they’re thinking about everything bad that could possibly happen because they joined a website for aliens.

“Hey, it’s okay, okay? Have fun on your alien dating site. Maybe you will sleep with a Nessie and it will change your life. Do not worry about me. Just be careful with yourself, okay? You do not protect that person enough.”

That’s enough for JP to momentarily break through the anxiety.

“It’s a blogging website, not a hookup website."

“Okay.”

...

“Paulie? Is the Loch Ness Monster real? Do you know her?”

“Darling, you know I never kiss and tell.”

“Is she real?”

“Fuck if I know but I’m certainly not swimming all the way over there to find out.”

[afandomroom]

Warrior Forged

A/N: Whoops, accidentally posted this one to soon! Apologies. Here's the official, official beginning to the story.

Part one (Disruption)- https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/afandomroom/640951819073470464

Warnings: Angst. Injuries mentioned. Implied/mentioned murder. Kidnapping. Brainwashing/mind control. Ask to tag

Tagging: @misfortuneskeep, @ninjagon-spectre

.................................................................................................................................

Nya grimaced, as the painful grating of an iron door opening ground its way into her brain. 

Weakly, she attempted to curl up on instinct, shielding her eyes from the sudden bright lights and guarding her damaged ribs and what remained of her left arm. 

It was unlike the young warrior to appear so weak and defeated, considering how head strong and adamant about escaping she’d been. 

She heard the leader of the skeleton horde scoff at the sight, the rattle of bones and echo of footsteps notifying her of the approaching soldiers. 

Before the first had a chance to grab her, Nya swung out, kicking his feet out from under him. He landed on his back with a crack, one that sounded all too satisfying to his attacker. Working quickly, Nya moved to stand, ramming into the only other soldier with her uninjured shoulder, knocking him into a wall and grabbing his sword. 

Panting, she turned towards the leader, turning the blade in a protective manner, shifting her stance so her injuries were out of reach. Her sides ached, poorly treated injuries burning; yet there was a fierce, vicious determination in her eyes that refused to falter. 

She’d been planning this since her last escape attempt. 

Without hesitation, Nya stepped forward, holding the confiscated sword threateningly at the skeleton leader. Tone chilled. 

“Step aside or I’ll make you” …..

Nya’s grey eyes narrowed, as the tense silence was broken by the leader’s laughter. Taunting laughter that she’d grown to hate over the past months. 

“You really are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” The leader grinned, “Every escape attempt foiled. Arm torn from the shoulder. Beaten down time and time again.” 

“It’s admirable, really” 

Nya’s face twisted into a snarl, as she rushed him, tired of his raspy voice.  Patience never had been her strong suit.

“But foolish.” 

With a single, fluid moment, the skeleton stepped to the side, grabbing Nya’s wrist as she passed and flipping her onto her back. Despite herself, Nya cried out at the sudden blunt pain, feeling an already weakened rib crack. Her vision blurred momentarily. 

……

She could hear his laughter over the ringing in her ears. Her fists clenched, eyes narrowing to glare up at him as she slowly pushed herself up, grimacing through the pain. 

She wanted to knock that egotistical grin off of his face. Kick him senseless. 

Sadly, the noirette warrior never got a chance, as the Leader’s lackeys finally got to their feet and made their way over to her. Dragging Nya to her feet, they pinned her one arm behind her, grabbing her shoulders to keep her steady. 

The leader stepped forward, hands folded neatly behind his back. 

He leaned in close, staring into her eyes. “I assume you’ll be fighting the whole tri-“

Nya spat at his face before he could finish, her curses bouncing off the walls as the skeletons ignored her, dragging her down the hall without concern for her injuries. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She’d gotten bored of swearing without a reaction, falling silent for the moment. 

A chill ran up Nya’s spine, the further they went down the cavernous halls of the Underworld. She fought back a shiver, wishing not for the first time that her clothes, designed for the heat of Ignacia, were a bit warmer. 

Her eyes darted around, taking in what few details she could make out with the weak torch lights. She didn’t recognize the surroundings. Surprising considering everything in the Underworld looked exactly the same. 

A part of her itched to ask where they were taking her, question everything. 

And she considered it, knowing it’d probably annoy them, again. 

…..

Instead she chose to resume swearing at the leader, choosing whatever creative and new insult came to her mind first. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nya grunted as she was shoved to the ground before a strange throne, gaze forced to the ground by a hand on the back of her head. 

She exhaled a slow breath, trying her best to ignore the new burning stab wound in her good arm, courtesy of a last minute escape attempt. Bracing herself for whoever-

“So, you are the Smith’s youngest, hm?” 

She tensed at the new voice that boomed throughout the cavern, a honeyed voice that bore its way into her ear uncomfortably. Cool and chilled, sending another shiver up her spine. 

She looked up, prepared to stare down whoever this new adversary was. Prepared to fight back once again, to continue her fight to the last, dying breath. 

But instead, she felt herself freeze at the horror before her, the nightmare. The man-no, the monster- upon the throne had sharp, blade-like teeth and glowing red eyes that burned into her’s. Vicious claws grew from his fingers, tearing into the wood of his chair. 

And for the first time since she’d been kidnapped, she felt terrified. And she hated it. She hated feeling small, and insignificant, and alone. She hated being mocked and tossed around. 

He chuckled, genuinely chuckled, as her determined expression turned to one of horror. “Aw, did I scare you? I expected better”

The monster whisked his hand, grabbing a cup of dark venom from thin smoke. He lifted it to his lips, before turning back to Nya. 

She wanted to snap at him, spit out curses. Scream, struggle, fight. 

But instead she found herself frozen under his gaze, jaw clenched shut by an invisible force. Not daring to move.

“I hear from my soldiers, that you have been nothing but trouble these past few months. You certainly have Maya’s spirit.”

“I could use someone like you in my ranks. We’d have to find a way to fix the arm of course, and the rebellious attitude, but you could be useful.” 

…… Crinkling her nose in distaste, narrowing her eyes, Nya spat on the ground before her, swearing, finally finding her voice and her spirit, “Are you really so stupid, to think I’d willingly join you?”

……

His taunting laughter only angered her more. She was so, so sick of the taunting laughter. And it was worse this time, because she knew he knew something she didn’t. And that was why he was laughing. 

The monster’s expression twisted into a snarling grin, as he raised his hand to the smoke once more, “Do you honestly think you have a choice?”

With a snap of his fingers, a dark inky substance encircled her like vines, latching on and digging into her skin. Waves of dark, sickening energy hit her, holding her down as it weaved its way into her brain. 

There was pain, echoing and sharp, twisted through her head. Filling her memories with static and eating them up one by one. She could feel her will being poisoned, her spirit tainted. 

It was agony. Agony she wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. 

She thought she heard herself screaming, before the world went dark. A cry of pain and fear. 

Her last thought was of her brother, whom she’d lost faith in not a month after her capture. Who had been her encouragement to continue trying to leave this awful place. 

If only she had listened when he said “Stay inside” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The soldier stood outside of the sleeping village, slipping a thin piece of dark cloth over her face. 

Behind her, the dark lord watched in a shadowy form, waiting for his warrior to accomplish her first task. 

Rolling her shoulders, getting a final, last minute feel for her new arm, the soldier slipped a pair of wicked blades from their holsters, walking towards the unsuspecting civilization. 

There would be bloodshed, tonight. All in the name of Garmadon’s army. 

The monster grinned, as he watched. “Your move, Wu”

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝔻𝕒𝕪

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Heyo this is my first time writing on the blog so be kind. I just got obsessed with the idea of Aizawa being an elementary school teacher 

>> Admin B̷r̷a̷n̷d̷o̷

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad? 

He put on a fake smile and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were somehow more apparent then usual. His face quickly faded into his trademark apathetic scowl. 

Who am I kidding? This is the worst possible situation. 

Aizawa sneered at the thought of his current situation. Of how his pristine English classroom was being taken from him because they needed “fresh blood”. Of how he was not only being forced into a new school, but also a new grade. He sighed (heavier than usual), leaving his dim apartment early, to beat traffic and give him time to dwell further on his current situation.

As he drove, his brain on went on auto pilot and all his worries and thoughts crossed his mind once again. Aizawa had never taught anything lower than 6th grade, and he never wanted to. It’s not that he didn’t like kids, it’s that he didn’t love kids. High schoolers were almost adults, so he didn’t have to sugar coat anything. No snack time, no name calling, no bullshit. The sudden unemployment was truly a wake-up call (not just because he would fall asleep in class), telling him that he needed to get his shit together. He was thankful that his good friend Nezu happened to have a job opening, he just wished it were at any other school.

Arriving at the school made him sick. The bright colors. The intricately hand painted signs reading “Welcome To The New Year!” and “Start the school year with a smile.” The line of staff waiting outside the school to welcome him. The line of staff? Jesus.

His wish to quietly slip into his new classroom vanished before his eyes. There was no way he could avoid meeting his new colleagues now. Hopefully, he thought, I can get through this without too much headache.

“SHOUTAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

And the headache began.

“Oh my god, Shouta! It’s been so long! And you never returned my texts?? I can’t believe we’re working together again! I thought you didn’t like elementary school?? Anyway, c’mon we need to get you all settled!! I heard you got fired?? What’s up with that? Did you- “

Before he could even fully get out of his car, Hizashi was pulling him toward the crowd of faculty almost against his will. The crowd was full of smiling faces, kind waves, and judging glances.

 Ugh

“Welcome Mr. Aizawa! I am glad that Mr. Yamada was telling the truth that he was a close friend. Well I know that our little pocket of perfect isn’t quite the high school setting you’re used to but believe me that you’ll love it soon enough.” Principal Nezu smiled happily and gestured to the quaint little school.

“Starting in the middle of the school year isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it,” he added with a wink.

Aizawa glanced briefly at the bright marquee reading “U. A. Elementary School”, then back to the group of hopeful faces. He put on his best “I’m totally not wishing I was somewhere else right now” face, and /reluctantly/ expressed his joy to be there. 

With his seemingly pleasant response, the evaluative air cleared somewhat, and the gossipier teachers left the gathering, no longer interested.

Taking Aizawa’s arm, Nemuri pressed her chest against him, “Hate to interrupt but Shouta- Mr. Aizawa, really needs to get to his classroom.” With that, the tall woman, along with Hizashi, practically dragged the poor man away, though he was internally grateful to be away from the crowd.

They arrived at Aizawa’s new classroom, still full of the previous teachers’ belongings. He pulled himself away from the others, brushing himself off.

“Thanks Midnight.”

“Oh, stop with that,” Nemuri responded, fixing her immaculate hair in the reflection from the window, “I haven’t gone by that since college. No one here needs to know the escapades of Ms. Midnight.”

Aizawa chuckled lightly, “At least I have some familiar faces here, aside from Nezu.” He peered over to the other two, seeing their “trying to be respectful but insanely curious” faces. “Fine, I’ll address the elephant in the room. Yes, I was fired. No, it was not for selling drugs to the kids, Hizashi. I just… had trouble staying awake, apparently a few times too many.”

Hizashi sighed in defeat and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, handing it sadly to Nemuri.

“Good thing there was an opening here for you,” Hizashi replied, almost like a whine as he mourned his loss, “Too bad it came at the loss of Yagi. Poor guy having to be stuck at home after that dumb injury.”

Nemuri chuckled, “It’s his own fault for jumping out of the second story window to give one of his students the lunchbox they forgot.”

“He’ll be back next year, and I’ll be long gone. hopefully.” Aizawa interrupted, tying his long hair back. “Now can you two leave? I have kids coming in less than an hour to a teacher that could care less about them right now.”

Nemuri exhaled sharply through her nose, a smirk crossing her face, “You need a better attitude, my friend, or they will eat you alive.” She pushed herself off the desk, pulling Hizashi along.

“Good luck!” He called out, “let me know if I can help! The music room is always open for you!”

As the door slowly closed, Aizawa turned back to his new classroom. The desks were arranged in neat rows and columns, small pieces of tape on the carpeted floor to ensure that they remained in their neat arrangement. He was appalled by the disorganized mess that was Yagi’s previous desk arrangement.

Aizawa sat at his new desk, dropping his head into his hands. He had never taught 2nd grade before. Sure, he was certified to teach it, but that was more of a trophy to him than an actual career choice. Like when someone minors in art history. What made it especially difficult was that he was taking over a class run by the one and only Yagi Toshinori, legendary his teaching. He was the “symbol of peace” for teachers, doing interviews for local news stations and giving presentations for the school district.

The four of them (Yagi, Hizashi, Nemuri, and himself) had gone through college together, but lost touch as they all chose their path. Yagi with younger kids, Aizawa with teens, Hizashi with music, and Nemuri with administration. Aizawa knew that Yagi was a better teacher than him, and that he had big shoes to fill, literally.

Aizawa broke from his lamentation as the morning bell rang. He opened his door to be greeted with the cacophonous sound of 20 children itching the get into their classroom. He was nearly knocked over by the force of almost two dozen children running into inspect what the new teacher had done. Surprisingly, the new layout did not stop the wave of children, they all quickly found their name tags and sat down, most of them loudly complaining.

Aizawa moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. Twenty small faces focused on him. “Good morning students. As you may know, Mr. Toshinori is injured and will not be able to continue teaching this year. My name is Mr. Aizawa and I’m going to be your teacher for the remainder of the school year-” A series of small hands shot up in front of him. He sighed, “Yes, you,” pointing to the small girl sitting politely in the front row.

“Excuse me, but why can’t Mr. Toshinori come back?” she asked, cocking her head.

Before he could answer, another young girl, this one with pink hair, jumped up, “Momo, he broke his butt, that’s why he can’t come back!”

“He didn’t break his butt! He broke his feet, stupid.” A blonde boy in the back stood up and pointed at her.

“Who are you calling stupid? I saw it, you buttface.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Seeing her mocking face, the boy began throwing his pencils at her, to which she started throwing her pencils. Momo began crying at the violence, while the other students began cheering for one of the other two students.

This was going to be a long day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

As Nemuri entered the teacher’s lounge, she was greeted with the sight of Aizawa looking… well, dead. “Well, I was expecting this.” She commented, setting her stack of papers down and sitting on the table in front of him. “Rough day?” Aizawa merely groaned in response. She patted his head lightly, “You know what they say about kids, it’s like wrangling kittens.”

“I’ve never heard that.” He replied, lifting his head up to a more alive position. “I don’t know how he did it. Those kids just don’t listen.”

“How did you deal with your high schoolers?”

“None of us wanted to be there so we respected each other’s time and got shit done.”

Nemuri clicked her tongue, “It’s a wonder why you’re a teacher at all. You used to have passion for teaching, Shouta. Try to tap into some of that.” With that, Nemuri hopped off the desk, scooping up her papers, “If you need advice on how to deal with them, we’re here for you, all three of us.”

The door to the lounge closed softly behind, and he was once again alone. Aizawa hesitated at the thought of asking any of them for help. He had not spoken to any of them for years. While he enjoyed their company, Aizawa knew he did not belong. Nemuri, Hizashi, and of course Yagi, all had this passion and fire for education that Aizawa himself had lost years ago. It felt wrong to him to be there.

The soft chime of the lunch bell reminded Aizawa that he had to return to his classroom. Which he really did not want to do. The kids barely got along with each other, who they have known for months, how were they supposed to cooperate with him, a total stranger? He trudged back to his classroom, just as the students began pouring in. As they took their seats, he stood, and began writing their next lesson on the board. Once all were seated, he turned around to address them.

 “I am very disappointed with how the morning went.” At this remark, half the students rolled their eyes, while the other half looked like they were going to burst into tears. Aizawa stopped and began thinking. What would Yagi do in this situation? He would be cheery and upbeat and overly personal with the students. Well, he thought, nothing would hurt to try at this point.

He sighed, sitting down on his desk, “Listen guys, I know this is hard for you, its hard for me two. The only way we can make this work is if we give each other a chance and get to know each other. So..” he looked at the confused faces of the kids, “Let’s go outside.”

The students all filed outside behind Aizawa, confused yet intrigued. He turned to face them, “Now I have a task for you, we’re going to go on a hike around the school, and you’re going to tell me about everything interesting you see.” The students collectively gasped and nodded excitedly.

As the class walked around the school, Aizawa learned many things about the kids. Like how Tenya liked to walk this path with his brother, or how Shoto would take trips through the woods when he wanted to get away from his family, or how Yuga collect only “the prettiest and shiniest” rocks. Although this was far more effort than he usually put into teaching, Aizawa was having fun.

The week from that point on went… surprisingly well. The students slowly warmed up to Aizawa, and even began enjoying his teaching. They continued setting time aside for a class hike and decided that they would start a nature journal to write about what they saw on their hikes. Aizawa, even though he would never admit it, even started smiling more in class. Before he knew it, the end of the week had already come.

As the students filed out of the room, several waved goodbyes to Aizawa. He smiled and waved back, eyes wandering to the small boy standing shyly next to him. “Hey Midoriya, do you need something? You should be heading home.”

“I am going home! But I made you something to celebrate how much fun we are having! I still like Mr. Toshinori more, but you’re really fun!” The boy shoved a piece of paper into Aizawa’s hands. “Ok my mom is waiting, bye Mr. Aizawa! See you next week!” Before Aizawa could respond, the boy ran out of the room. He looked at the paper. On it was a crudely drawn picture of him and the class on one of their hikes. He chuckled lightly, pinning the picture to the wall. 

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sudden vibrations of his phone. Without checking, he answered, “Aizawa speaking.”

“Um, hey! It’s been a while.”

“…Yagi?”

“Yeah! Hizashi told me you were taking over for me, and I, uh, wanted to say thanks!”

“I should be thanking you,” Aizawa commented, amusement crossing his face upon hearing the familiar voice again, “I needed a job and you had some broken bones.” They both chuckled awkwardly.

After a moment of thick silence, Aizawa sighed, “Its good time hear from you, Yagi. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Yagi chuckled, “We should catch up soon. You know, when I can walk again that is.” he paused, “So I, uh actually called to... uh, How are the kids?”

Aizawa laughed at how the blonde could barely hide his intentions. “They’re doing fine, no need to worry.”

“Are you handling them alright? I know they can be a handful.”

Aizawa looked fondly at the drawing Midoriya had handed him, “It’s an adjustment, but I think we’ll be able to get through the year.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 81

Chapter Summary -   Tom calls Danielle with an emergency with Mac leading to them talking a little again.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Two days, it had been two days since the argument and Danielle leaving, and if he was honest, Tom felt as miserable about it, if not worse since then. She had not made contact with him while he was sitting in the house that did nothing but remind him of her. Her parents' clock ticking in the living room, her books among his own, even her laundry, which he brought to the laundrette as well as his own, he just wanted to know where he stood. He thought a lot about what Ben had said, he was right, he could only accept what Danielle decided, so though he wanted to know, he waited, badgering her would only end in more arguing and perhaps a wrong decision. Parking his car after meeting with the fitters for his Gucci suits and casual wear for the Milan show, he walked back into the house, bird food in hand. He thought with Danielle gone, the birds would need more food, so he had taken a photo of the food she had been using and went and retrieved some more.

When he went into the house, he noticed a large clump of fluff in front of him, grey in colour. Frowning, he looked at it for a moment, then going into the kitchen and putting the birdfeed on the counter before going back into the hall to investigate it further. To his shock, it was one of a few clumps, which seemed to be clinging to anything in their way, one at the living room door telling him that it as more than likely coming from in there. He opened the door and his eyes widened. There were several more clumps, some of grey, some of tan colour, and in the middle of them, a panting Mac Tíre, who seemed very uncomfortable. It was then, as another grey clump stuck up on the dog's back, did Tom realise he was the source of the fluff invasion. Concerned, he tried to think if Mac had ingested something on their walk earlier in the day, but couldn't think of anything. As Mac sat up and scratched, more fur came out in large clumps before he shook himself, his fur flying different directions.

Part of Tom thought to bring him to the vet and say nothing to Danielle, knowing that if there was an issue, she would only be worrying, but he knew the right thing to do, so taking out his phone, he got up her number and pressed dial.

"Hello." he was startled when another voice answered.

"Is Danielle there?"

"Sure, I'll…wait, are you Tom?"

To be honest, Tom was shocked the other girl guessed him. "Yes."

He could hear her purse her lips, "Is it important?"

Tom stared at the phone screen for a second, the girl on the other side clearly knew about Danielle's argument with him and was giving him attitude regarding him contacting her. "It is actually, yes, it is about her dog, so please could you put her on."

He heard a muffling noise on the other end of the phone as well as a voice in the distance. "He's politer than I thought," he heard the mystery girl state. "He said it is to do with the dog."

"Give me that," He heard the phone being moved around. "Tom?"

"Elle," for a moment, relief filled him at even hearing her say his name. "Hi."

"Hey." there was an awkwardness to her voice. "Siobhan said that you said something about Mac."

"Yes," Tom snapped himself out of his daze. "He is…well, I think he is sick."

"Right, what has happened, tell me what he is doing and what he did over the past twenty-four hours." her tone became serious.

"Honestly, I am racking my brain, but I cannot think of anything out of the ordinary, he's only had his usual food, he has not had a chance to eat anything in the park." Tom sounded half frantic.

"Okay," Danielle stated in her best 'paramedic in an emergency' voice, "What exactly is he doing? Throwing up, having seizures?"

"His hair, it is falling out in huge clumps."

"You mean there are bald patches?"

"No, not that I can see," There was silence on the other end of the phone, "Elle?"

"Tom," her tone was far less concerned. "Is it really really soft fur, almost like a cotton texture?"

Tom picked some up and felt it. "Yes." he was unsure what he expected to be Danielle's reply, but her erupting in laughter was not what he expected. "How is this funny?" That seemed to only set her off more.

"I am so sorry Tom." though she still had a laughing tone to her voice, she seemed somewhat remorseful for something. "God, you've been freaking out, I am so sorry."

"It's not a problem?"

"No, Jesus, I am terrible, I forgot to tell you."

"Tell me what?" He asked worriedly.

"German Shepherds shed."

"What?"

"They are nicknamed by owners as German Shedders, they have this weird fluffy undercoat for the winter, every spring it starts to shed in huge fluff balls."

Tom felt sheepish. "Really?"

"Yes, certain breeds do it, Shepherds, Huskies, Malamutes, it's awkward, annoying and hairy, but it is totally normal."

"So I don't need to bring him to the vet?"

"No, I will Google groomers, they will take what is able to be removed from him."

"How long does it take?"

"The shedding? A few weeks."

"He has the place covered." Tom looked around, in one day, the dog had infested the living room with fluffy clumps.

"I am so sorry Tom, if it is too much bother, send him to the kennels if he is wrecking the place."

"No, it's fine, it's not like he does it on purpose, I was just worried."

"You're too good." He could hear Danielle smiling on the other end. "Is he doing okay?"

"Yeah, apart from giving me a carpet I never actually wanted," Danielle laughed at that, "He misses you, obviously, but I got him a toy, a Kong, it's called, he loves it."

"They are great, I can imagine him with it. I miss him too."

"How is Ireland?" Tom asked, noting sadly how she didn't say she missed him. "You told that girl about me."

"Yeah, that's my cousin Siobhan. She asked why I came early and we got talking a bit more."

"She knew my name, does she…?"

"Yes, she knows you are you," Danielle answered.

"When did you…?"

"When I arrived, we got talking in the car, so I told her about you."

"Will she…?"

"No, she won't, she told me something, something that is seriously… God, it is just so stressful…"

"Elle?" Tom asked, hearing the stress in her voice.

"It's fine, just family crap."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just wish I had you…" Tom's heart fluttered for a moment. "I wish I didn't have to deal with it." Though he was saddened with her alteration, he was glad to hear her slight admission, it gave him some hope. "You nearly ready for Milan?"

Shocked that she was asking him such a thing, he smiled. "Yes, yes, we are after getting the final fitting for the suits, they are quite nice, I think you'd like them."

"That's good, are they being done there or…"

"No, the measurements are sent to Milan so I don't have to drag them across."

"Very handy." There was a moment of silence on both ends of the phone. "Thank you for calling Tom."

"I was worried."

"I know, but thank you for thinking to tell me."

"I am glad I did, could you imagine the face of the girl in the vets if I rang or ran in with…" he stopped speaking because Danielle erupted in all-out laughter once more at the other end of the line, causing him to chuckle. "Yeah."

It took a full minute for her to stop. "God, I would have paid to see that."

"Yes, and God forbid if someone realised who I was."

"Yes, that would have been funny to read." Danielle's tone altered slightly. "It's good talking to you again, Tom."

"Likewise." Tom agreed, forcing himself to not say anything for a few moments, knowing what he would say if he did. "I was talking to Ben the day after you left."

"How is Sophie?"

"Ready for the baby to be born."

"I'd bet. I cannot wait for it to get here, I may have gone to the shops again."

"Jesus, you don't even know what they are having."

"I know, I may have bought a bit of both gender stuff, but let's face it, at my age, I know a few people having kids, it'll get used." She dismissed. "My final results may come during the week; if you're home when they do, could you…"

"Of course, I will put them somewhere safe."

"Actually, I was going to ask if you could call me?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I am so anxious about them."

"Why, you worked so hard?"

"Exactly, I am terrified it wasn't enough, I know I won't be able to just wait, I will be restless."

"If I am home, I will ring you," Tom swore.

"Thank you." Danielle's genuine gratitude was obvious. "How are you?"

"Fine, yeah, just busy getting ready."

"Have you attempted the washing machine?" Tom did not respond, causing Danielle to laugh a little. "You're going to have to get used to doing it, you know."

Tom felt his heart sink at that implication. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Thank you for ringing Tom, it was good to hear your voice."

"You sound tired."

"I am, I'm not getting much sleep."

"What…?"

"My aunt, she is making things really difficult here."

"I would have thought, with everything…"

"No, she hasn't focused on anything other than…well, I don't want to annoy or bore you, let's just say it is hard work with her here at the moment, I really…" He heard Danielle inhale deeply. "Your call was actually really well-timed."

"Glad I could be of service," Tom joked slightly.

"I better go here, costing us both a fortune in international calls, thank you for calling Tom, if he has any issue, call me, okay?"

"I promise, if you need to…if you want to check on him, I can send a picture." � "I'd like that, thank you."

"Bye Elle."

"Bye Tom."

Hearing her say his name like that broke Tom's heart, she seemed so upset. He looked around at Mac, "She wants you to go to the groomers hairy boy." Mac's ears went up. "You need it."

*

Danielle looked at the phone in her hand, cursing herself for being so weak, so many times in the phone call she came too close to telling Tom she was sorry and that she wanted him there. It felt so good to hear his voice, to be able to talk to him.

"You are cracking," Siobhan commented.

Danielle looked at her. "No, just rose-tinted glasses."

"He sounds really nice."

"He is." Danielle looked at the picture on her screen, it didn't show Tom's face, but it was his back and Mac as the pair sat on a hill looking over the Welsh countryside from the time he visited her on set in Wales.

"So, why not forgive his 'booboo'?"

"Because I have to have some self-respect."

"You're so fucking stubborn." Siobhan scoffed. "You'll end up alone if you don't cop on." Danielle just looked at the phone for another moment, but before she could do anymore, Siobhan looked out the window. "Mam's back."

"Fuck." Readying herself for another battle, Danielle thought for another second about Tom before putting her phone away.

[snexy-the-snail]

Your stories are soooo good! I know you are super busy, so no worries if not, but have you considered writing a short for the prey to go au? Your artwork for it was adorable :3 have an awesome day!

Awe thank you! And actually I've made a separate blog for the prey to go au! If you have like super specific questions this is the place to go-

prey-to-go.tumblr.com

  ))

Tony had been ordering from Prey to Go for years. All to satisfy the deep urge all demons had. It stopped him from having to eat souls and always left him feeling full days after. He hadn't found his favorite snack quite yet so sadly he had to keep ordering random selections. 

He hums softly as he speed dials the number, grinning widely when he heard the little jingle. He had gone a bit to long this time, the hunger for a soul gnawing at him the whole time.

“Hello, this is Tony Stark, I’d like to place an order.” 

Usually he’d just order online but it took so long and they always asked him to be specific with ages, tallness, size, god the list went on.

“Oh Tony! A randomized order with a 12 inch size presume?” 

Tony hums softly. He was just thankful the place basically knew him at this point. He didn’t have to argue about specifics he could just get his meal and be satisfied with that.

“Yes, as soon as you can. Thank you.” He says before hanging up. Now all that was left was to wait. He could do that, just a few more minutes.

When he heard the elevators door open he was already salivating at the thought of having a soul inside of him. Tony shudders excitedly, looking over to see what his randomized order looked like. He was young, a little pudge which just added to his cuteness. He couldn’t help but grin, his stomach growling anxiously as the kid stepped inside. 

“I-I’m Peter, y-you’re um, prey for to-tonight.” 

Tony’s smile drops instantly when he notices the tears streaking down the kid’s face. Oh no. He could not deal with tears, especially when it came to kids. Despite being a demon he surprisingly had strong parental instinct, which got annoying at times.

He grimaces slightly and kneels next to the kid. Peter was the same height as all his orders, around a foot tall, which just made his heart twist even more. 

“Hey kid, what’s with the tears?” He murmurs softly. He wasn’t surprised when the kid jolted back, things must have been jarring at that height. Peter seemed like a sweet kid, he wasn’t sure why the kid was working with a company that literally gave predators the meals they needed.

“M’ s-sorry. I-I’ve never d-done this before.” Peter managed to hiccup out between quiet sobs. Tony sighs slightly, gently wiping tears from the child's face. Of course the one time he needed a quick meal he wouldn't get it. That's alright. He couldn't get mad at the kid, he was just frightened, no worries.

"Hey, look at me kiddo. We don't have to do this if it's really that scary for you." Tony murmurs softly, offering a warm smile. Besides the kid was a bit on the young side, he could see why this would be frightening to him. 

"M-m' okay now y-you can do..do..it now." Peter whimpers, rubbing his eyes. Tony sighs again shaking his head.

"I'm not going to eat you when you're crying kiddo." He says tiredly. No matter how hungry he was he wasn't just going to ignore the fact that the poor thing was terrified. It honestly killed his appetite. 

"Come on, deep breaths." He says softly. He smiles slightly wiping some tears away as the kid struggled to listen to him. 

After a few minutes of him shushing the kid, and Peter letting soft hiccuping sobs put he managed to calm his little snack down enough so that he wasn't crying. At this point he was sitting on the ground with Peter's face buried in his side like an exhausted child. The moment was almost peaceful, well except for his stomach loudly complaining about its lack of a meal.

"S-sorry I..I should probably do my job- right?" Peter asks hesitantly, glancing up at Tony nervously. This kid was one of the most sensitive prey he'd ever had.

"I don't want to sound pushy but this is it. You can walk out now, but I need to know in the next ten seconds kid." Tony says with a tired sigh. He was starving, ravenous actually, for a decent soul, and if Peter needed to walk out he'd have to place another order as soon as possible.

Peter, bless the kid, shifted slightly before taking a shaky breath in and nodded. Obviously mentally preparing himself for his decision. 

"I..I can do this." 

Well he wasn't expecting that. The kid was really dedicated to his job then. He was so terrified and yet here he was standing determinedly in front of him. 

"Close your eyes, it'll help." Tony murmurs softly gently running a hand through Peter's curls. He smiles a bit when the kid nods and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, the poor things heart rate picked up as he got closer. 

Peter grimaces slightly waiting anxiously with his eyes shut tight. Letting a quiet whimper out when he felt warmth wash over his face. Despite the sharp teeth he knew Mr.Stark had he didn't feel any of them as he was gently eased inside the demon's mouth. 

He trembles he felt the demon's tongue carefully coat him with saliva, the slick muscle twitching firmly against his chest as he was squished down into Mr.Stark's throat. 

It was hot and tight and he had no idea what was happening at this point. He yelps slightly when he jolts forward at a thick and sudden swallow, his heart beating nervously when he was pushed further down. 

Peter felt hands on his legs and waist, his face scrunching up in mild confusion until he felt Mr.Stark tilt his head back, the hands guiding him as he slid easily down the demons throat. It shouldn't have been that easy, a small part of his brain demanded that he fight, scream, put up a fuss or something but he couldn't shake his fear away long enough to react.

Several thick swallows dragged him out of his blind panic, grimacing as his head squished down into a slightly larger chamber. It groaned and gurgled excitedly as he slowly started slipping inside, his face pressing into the soft slick flesh as he tried getting somewhat upright. Thankfully the more Mr.Stark swallowed the more he could somewhat position himself. 

He was completely encased in warmth, and with a few more swallows he felt his feet joining him in the extremely tight area. He wasn't sure how this was comfortable for the pred. 

"Doing alright kid?" 

Peter jolts slightly at how weird the voice sounded. Tony's voice was deeper and came from everywhere which was slightly comforting and freaky at the same time. The muscle groaned around him, following his movements as he tried to right himself.

"Y-yeah I'm alright!" Peter says sheepishly. He didn't mean to move around so much, but this was the first time he had actually gotten eaten. It was a bit weird and he wasn't used to the feeling at all. It was like getting smothered with soft slimy sheets honestly. 

"Mm, good. You got a few more hours, so try to get comfy." 

Peter shudders slightly, but nods instinctively, flushing when he realized that Tony couldn't see him.

"Y-yeah gotcha." He says quietly. He didn't try to move very much considering he still didn't know what was comfortable for the demon and didn't want to test that. 

Peter could do this, it was for May after all. He sighs shakily and shifts slightly flinching at the soft gurgles the muscle around him let out. Yeah this wasn't too bad.