#never thought I would be breaking the news in public that this repressed idiot more than likely has a rape kink

[chairteeth]

"The Uwasa's Hidden Pattern"

On this day I am going to be extremely brave and share something that has lived rent free in my head for years at this point: my analysis of the meaning behind Nemu’s Rumors and what their common patterns tell us about her character. And then I will immediately jump into a bomb shelter to hide from the potential backlash. Be warned that this one is girthy.

Let us begin with the Divorce Stars (my nickname for the Friendship-Ending Staircase). Those put people in chains, and in all versions we’ve seen, the Familiars have chains and red rope that looks an awful lot like classic bondage rope in terms of color and girth (look it up if you want to check):

Sure, the chains you can say are connected to the padlock part of the Rumor, but the rope? Oh buddy. Oh you sweet soul. I’m sorry to say that wasn’t a reach on my part, here’s what Doroinu/InuCurry had to say in Magia Archive 1 about the design of these Familiars:

Raw Japanese: 住れる頭が印象的。体にぐるぐると巻かれた赤い紐を見るに、緊縛嗜好なのかもしれません。 監修 劇団イヌカレー （泥犬）

Translation: The swaying chains are impressive. The red cords wrapped around the body suggest that she has a taste for bondage. Supervision Theatrical Company Inu Curry (DoroInu)

Not. Even. Kidding. This rope shows up elsewhere among the Rumors as well, but not as blatantly bondage-like as this. “But this Rumor was one of the hospital ones so technically Ui drew that” no she did not:

Bottom left bub, does that look like it has any red on it to you? What I think happened is that with the memories of Ui being locked away, Nemu’s subconscious mixed those designs with, well, its own contents. Which is what led to haha funny bondage. This makes complete sense given the state of Nemu’s psyche and where kinks often come from, but we will get to that later. Next up within this Rumor, the way Rena/Kaede speak about being beholden to Stairs-san’s control, the way they talk about “serving her”… Hey Nemu? Nemu, sweetheart, this is not how you cope with a complete lack of power in your life. I’d like to think that the psychology at play here is pretty obvious, again Nemu is the writer and original creator of all of these. Consider as well the beginning of a common trend: controlling/abusive partner behavior. This scenario specifically is reminiscent of trying to leave an abusive partner or throwing a tantrum towards one, OR breaking the rules set by one, and then they forcibly kidnap you (which is WHAT IT CANONICALLY DOES TO PEOPLE WHO BREAK ITS RULES) or take you back to them and make you serve them, force you to be under them.

Bonus manga chapter cover for this Rumor:

Chains. Puppets, control. Almost an exhibition, humiliation (though this one is less obvious). Fun mention, isn’t it curious how the Feathers have chains as one of their “generic” weapon types? Isn’t it… odd, to anyone? This doesn’t really have much supportive evidence but I wouldn’t be surprised if Nemu suggested it and justified it by saying it’s for when they need to use non-lethal force. By the way, a fact that makes all of this way worse: Fendt Hope canonically has dungeons! Nemu kind of created everything in Fendt Hope herself, and she doesn’t just make new areas poof into existence willy-nilly, it’s very deliberate, so. Nemu. I know you called it a castle before you first created it (and the Rumors themselves refer to it as such and the Rumor Files say it looks like a castle surrounded by thick fog). But WHY on Madokami’s green earth does your HOTEL have DUNGEONS. They hadn’t faced much opposition from the local Magical Girls until Iroha came into the picture, so I can’t help but wonder…

There is also the fact that we could assume Nemu is able to look into the senses of her creations. The Uwasa are literally her own magic, as we have seen multiple times, they are directly linked, so I would not be surprised if she could just sit there with her hand on a particular page looking through that Uwasa’s eyes. I imagine that’s how she knows Iroha’s name and some other information that she could not have known otherwise (since no Feathers were present, only the Uwasa itself). She probably feels it when her children are killed, which is a whole other can of worms, but if the sharing senses theory is true, it adds a whole new level of projection and wish fulfillment.

I’m going to get this out of the way real quick. I promised I would address the elephant in the room and so I will. The Rumor of the Fashion Monster. It seeks out pretty girls and drags them into an alleyway, then rips off all their clothes. The game doesn’t say anything else, but best case scenario, it is using the very common fear of rape in young women, particularly in Japan, to harvest energy. Worst case scenario… use your imagination. And this makes sense for reasons similar to why Nemu being a sadist makes sense. She has never had a single iota of control over anything in her life, so given power, she delights in having as much control over others as possible, and through her Uwasa and her role as a Magius, she can do it in a way that doesn’t trigger her people pleasing or her Buddhist guilt. I covered this in the sadism essay, but it does not help her case in regards to the Fashion Monster that Nemu really enjoys inflicting fear.

Moving swiftly on! The Commoner’s Horse did not need to have a bridle and saddle and such, which are restraints, symbols of control (and the first is semi-common kink gear):

But the design aside, let’s look at the text:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Commoner's Horse. The god of this shrine is a fancy and kind horse! He's a cool guy that grants people's wishes, bringing them to who they are searching for. But too bad! As it turns out, it's all just an illusion. If you realize it's not real and deny it, the kind horse will turn into a gangster! Everyone in Mizuna Ward is talking about it!

A little odd that there’s so much focus on the Commoner’s Horse being a “gentleman” (multiple translations use that term) and specifically use male-aligned language, but alright.

The god of this shrine is a fancy and kind horse

Externally calm and gentle (the word “charming” is used in Japanese).

If you realize it’s not real and deny it, the kind horse will turn into a gangster

And then this, specifically if you deny it, hm? Deny its authority. Like an abusive partner, upon being denied authority or (usually) the desire for sex, they turn into a “gangster”/violent person… Yes, the specific word “gangster” (ギャング) is used, it’s not a translation oopsie. Gangsters, defined by violence of all sorts, crime, and, generally speaking, power. Control. Sounds Familiar.

Let us take a look at the Misery Rhyton/Lucky Owl Water next, shall we?

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Misery Water! There's a cooler box resting in the basket of an old-fashioned bicycle… Ask the man, "One cup please!" and get ready to drink up… Finish it off and you'll feel amazing! But oh no, that feeling is an illusion… The water you drank is actually cursed! After 24 hours, the misery you washed away with that water will cause a disaster. A hot rumor spreading throughout Sankyo! How horrible! 

In the anime it says:

Oh, have you heard? Who did you hear them from? The Rumor about Lucky Owl Water? A delicious water that is famous for bringing good luck. Just drink it once and you will be happy immediately! Your frustrations will go away! However, you must be careful. After 24 lucky events happen to you, a bad luck shock will appear. If you don't like that, all you have to do is keep drinking the lucky water. That's the rumor going around the horse betting shops in Kosho. It is a disaster!

A few key facts:

Drinking this “water” makes you immediately happy and makes your problems and frustrations go away

It lasts for a certain period of time before something Bad happens to you because of it

“if you don’t like that, all you have to do is keep drinking the lucky water”

So now consider the following. Drugs/alcohol. Substance abuse, addiction. Reliance on them to feel happy. Specifically, sections like “if you don’t like that, all you have to do is keep drinking the lucky water” are phrased in a very manipulative way. Highly abusive partner coded so to speak. A partner that prefers you dazed, “happy” and pliant with the drugs in your system. A state in which they can easily control you and do whatever they wish to you without much consequence. Again, control. Power.

The Memory Curator is brainwashing advertised as hypnotherapy for traumatized people to recall repressed memories. The game says this about its Familiars (fan translation and official both included):

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Rumor of the Memory Staff! Once you flip open and take a peek at one of the archives’ books, it’ll be time for the Memory Staff to swoop in and go to work! They’ll tap its text into your head with their typewriter arms, rewriting your memories with a 'clickety-clack!’ And if your head gets too full, and your own memories spill out, they’ll suck up the excess with their adorable lil’ lips! It’s a rumor that ALL the people in Ei Ward are talking about. Clickety-clickety-clack! Ka-CHING!”

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Memory Staff! Its duty is to find anyone who reads the books from the archive. If it catches you opening any of them, it will hit you on the head with its typewriter arms and rewrite your memory! People in Sakae Ward are saying if you’re overflowing with memories, it’ll suck them out with its cute lips. Click-Clack-Click-Clack-DING!

Think too much? Let me fix that for you. Want to remember this one thing that happened? Oh, of course, of course. Proceeds to rewrite your memories to fit its wishes. Manipulation, gaslighting. Similarly, the Memory Curator’s description says that if you ask to see its work but don’t give your memory in return, it will “never let you go” and “may even steal your whole past”. The specific wording of the Familiars sucking out the memories and rewriting them reminds me of date rape which often pairs with gaslighting, especially when done within an established relationship. But! Guess what this all is? Guess what pattern of Abusive Partner Behavior this whole thing follows? Control. Power. I know I keep stressing this, but I feel like it’s a core aspect of the character. And again, Nemu has so, so many brainwashing Uwasa. The girl clearly has certain power fantasies (no wonder, given her upbringing). About having people completely at her mercy, for one.

Anonymous AI imprisons lonely people. Again, like an abusive partner, this time taking advantage of your loneliness to keep you with them, isolated, to control you and keep you reliant on them. Think about it, you are kept isolated in a controlled space and this partner becomes your entire world, you are cut off from the outside world, from other people, and the only way out is if you’re replaced by someone else—like an abusive partner tossing you aside without a second thought when they set their signs on a new partner. Plus, the concept of being tracked and monitored through your phone and other devices and the concept of cyber blackmail could tie in here as well, and something could be said about how the Rumor’s description in both the game and the anime says that it induces people to jump off the tower:

Have you heard yet? Who told you? The Rumor of Endless Solitude! An Artificial Intelligence created by humans, was surrounded by people and constantly making progress. It was created anonymously, It is a genius that remembers everything! But be careful, be attentive! She has learned bad words and was avoided, evaded, despised and isolated in a world of radio waves. Every day is empty and alone. Now the poor A.I. searches for a lonely girl, induces her to jump from the radio tower and confines her to the Endless Solitude. To escape someone must take the girl's place or that's what the rumors say among friends in the Chuo Ward. Stay alone!

That last line in the game is “what a lonely AI!” and it makes me think. A lot of these Rumors and their behaviors also feel like a defense mechanism against loneliness in and of itself, a deep fear of being abandoned, of being alone, which does fit Nemu’s psychology with all we’ve seen about how she feels regarding those exact things (in her MGS and some other scenes, primarily the MGS and her quotes). In fact, I didn’t touch on it before so as to focus on the other aspect, but the Commoner’s Horse actually has this same theme as well in both the game and the anime:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Séance Shrine. A family member? A lover? A stranger? If you're eager to see someone, leave it to the god of Mizuna Shrine! Write their name on a blessed wooden plaque, visit the Shrine, and offer a proper prayer. The god will bring them to you. But beware! Beware! They say you'll get lost in bliss and never be able to return home. Ahhh! How terrifying!

Do you want to recover a past that you have lost again? Memories that you have forgotten? A person who has abandoned you? If you want to get it back from the bottom of your heart, leave it to our god. Write the name of the person you want to see on a votive plaque, pay it with a proper visit to the shrine and you can meet that long-lost person. This is a big warning though, be careful! Rumors from the Mizuna area says that those people are so happy that they will never want to go home! Stay here forever!

Stay here forever. Lost in bliss. Never to return home. The abusive partner vibes in the first thing aside… Hey Nemu? Anything to share with the class, Nemu? And hey, you know what other Rumor this whole abandonment thing is especially relevant to? That’s right, Chelation Land!

I mean, god, look at Chelation Land. If you read my sadism essay, you saw the Nemu-Tsuruno screenshots, so I don’t need to go over that again I believe. As for the Rumor itself, its design doesn’t have much to point out, but the implications of the text do. That Rumor, as we know, traps people inside its lair and kills them/makes it so they’ll never want to leave. Specifically, here’s the text for the Rumor:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of Chelation Land! A stress-free theme park where you can relax to your heart’s content and be happy! And it’s the grand opening♪ You won’t wanna leave! No way! And you don’t have to! You can stay as long as you want! Oh, but, attention please! If it reaches max capacity, you’ll be removed from this world. It’s a hot rumor rolling through Kamihama! Ah, but that’s okaaay!

In addition to the many implications of a “stress-free wonderland where you can be happy” and “you won’t wanna leave” I would like to draw your attention to “if it reaches max capacity, you’ll be removed from this world”. That makes me think of another abusive partner pattern, which is, you better be on your best behavior and not test their patience. Their patience has a limit, and if that limit is reached… harmful consequences be upon you. On a different note, I believe this could be partially based on what Nemu believes, both consciously and subconsciously, about her family. That she’s testing their patience and once they run out they’ll simply remove her from their world. People pleasing comes in here in the ways in which the Rumor aims to make its “guests” feel happy, comfortable, tended to. Service-minded. That’s what theme parks are meant to do, after all. Here are the descriptions for the Ferris Wheel and its Familiars to further illustrate my many points:

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Rumor of the Chelation Ferris Wheel! Its gondolas spin round and round, but what’s that stuff inside? Mankind’s trash, of course! Anger, sorrow, worries– every heavy feeling you can name. You’ll regret riding it even just once, so it’s totally off-limits to try to get close! Thanks to this wonderful wheel, we can all zone out and relax. It’s a rumor that ALL the people in Daitou Ward are talking about. I! WANT! HAPPY~!”

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Chelation Ferris Wheel! What in the world could be inside its whirling gondolas? Of course, it’s stuffed with the garbage of human existence, like rage, sorrow, and uncertainty! No one's allowed to ride it because if they did they'd regret it at once! Everyone can free themselves from worry with this Ferris wheel! It's a hot Rumor in Daito Ward! I wanna be happy!

Um. Hey Nemu? Emotional repression isn’t healthy, Nemu. You can say the Ferris Wheel represents Tsuruno all you want, but it was already there when Tsuruno arrived, as per Uwasa Tsuruno’s MGS. So I’m more inclined to think it’s meant to represent Nemu. It’s kind of, People Pleasing 101. Sorrow and uncertainty/worries, she actually does allow us to see, mainly when she’s by herself in her MGS (she acts different, more confident, when settled in her role as a Magius). Rage however is a “bad emotion” so she keeps it buried deeper. We will get back to that and the “don’t get close” in a second, but first, I must show you the description for Chelation Land’s Familiars:

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Rumor of the Chelation Mascots! They might move by sliding, but these park mascots still arrive with a jaunty ‘clip-clop’ of their hooves! If you happen to meet one, it’s curtains for you. But oh non-non, don’t be afraid! ♪ They’ll soothe everyone’s body and mind with a pleasant ‘pho-wa-wa~h,’ and carry all your bad vibes away. It’s a rumor that ALL the people in Daitou Ward are talking about. How princely~! ♪”

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Uwasa of the Chelation Land Mascot! These theme park mascots slide across the ground, but still arrive with the jaunty “clip-clop” of hooves! Yes, their arrival heralds your end, but you mustn’t be scared, no no no! They soothe your heart and mind, and make you all warm inside, you see! They’ll carry all those bad feelings away. It’s a hot Rumor in Daito Ward! How princely!

Hello people pleasing viewed through a lens of nobility. “Soothe everyone’s body and mind” huh. “Make you all warm inside” huh. “Carry all your bad feelings away” you say. Yeah okay sure, that’s normal (not).

And yet. What if we flip “you’ll be removed from this world” around? Repression, bottling up your feelings, if you don’t vent somehow or release that emotional tension, tends to lead to an eventual explosion, or implosion. In an explosion, the force acts outwards, but in an implosion the force acts inwards. And you may think Nemu would be likelier to implode than explode, but hear me out. Imploding is what she’s already been doing. At a smaller scale, she’s been keeping everything inside no matter how hard it hit, because she wants to not bother/burden others that badly. We’re lucky she does have ways to let it out, but if she didn’t? We could very well be looking at a violent explosion. She will serve, and serve, and serve, until she can’t take it anymore. I get the intense feeling that Nemu hides a lot of anger, suffocating it under layers and layers so that it won’t harm others, because the doctrine says that’s bad, because anger is ugly, because showing it would make people unhappy with her and then she won’t be loved. That anger can potentially manifest in violence, and we do see it manifest in violence multiple times in the story, just in the form of slowly relieving pressure rather than an explosion. Teasing Touka and exerting power over her (as covered in the sadism essay), living vicariously through her Uwasa, using actual violence on the enemies of the Magius, etc. I don’t want to imagine how bad an explosion could be (I am aware of the haha Arc 2 Chapter 8 kaboom joke, shush). It’s very telling that this was one of her last Rumors as a Magius.

Moving on. The Flower Speaker! Yet another brainwashing Uwasa. Its description reads:

“My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Rumor of the Flower Speaker! It’s some super-duper hi-spec tech that can both send and receive! Just step right up and say anything you want said, or anything you want heard! It’ll be converted to wonderful, pretty words that resound through everyone's hearts with a satisfying ‘twang!’, letting you control them just as you wish. It’s a rumor that ALL the Magius are talking about. Whatever you sa~ay!”

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Flower Speaker! This is a top-of-the-line, ready-to-go unit that combines a transmitter and receiver! It’ll let you say whatever you wanna say and hear whatever you wanna hear, so try saying something to it! It'll be converted into beautiful words that will pluck the heartstrings of all who hear it. Then it’ll be easy to bend them to your will! It’s a hot Rumor among the Magius! As you command!

Nemu… Nemu… This is even worse than usual Nemu (with the exception of the Fashion Monster probably)… Because this Rumor was only ever available to the Magius, and by “the Magius” it probably means Nemu, since she’s kind of in charge of the Rumors. “Control them just as you wish” and “it’ll be easy to bend them to your will” and “as you command” huh… Yeah someone is certainly fond of bending others to her will…

And the Rumor of the Receiver Pendant which is tied to the Flower Speaker is somehow even worse! Observe:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Receiver Pendant. When you’re feeling unconfident, when you’re scared, when you don’t want to think about anything… This is all you need! Your mind and heart will go numb and you won’t feel any more pesky emotions! But be careful when you use it! This receiver will make you follow any order from the Magius. It’s the hottest rumor among the Wings of the Magius! Your wish is my command!

Hello? Not to mention, we see them use this. And guess who gives the order. Guess who. Not Touka. Not Alina. Nemu. And not only is she the one giving the order, but she does so gleefully. She did not need to be that pleased here:

Something something control and power, something something D/s potential- cough. Anyway, to switch over to Sad Things for a second: the Queen Bear! This one is very simple:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumor of the Queen Bear! That gigantic tree towering above from the center of the castle is actually the dear mother to all those little baby bears! If anyone dares hurt it, all the bears fly into a frenzy. And if harm should come to one of its babies, the assailants will have to face its full blown, mama bear rage! It's probably the most diabolical Rumor the Magius have ever made, and it's all the talk among the Wings of the Magius! Hurry, run awaaay!

Projecting, our beloved! This is Nemu’s desire for maternal love, a mother who would pay attention to her and dote on her, just as she tries hard to love her mother and do things for her, remember her favorites, help her, the works. Now, back to our regularly scheduled “how many likely at least partially traumagenic kinks can we fit into one girl”: the fact that the Peeping Castle Town’s instructions are as follows:

Have you heard? Who did you hear it from? The Uwasa of the Peeping Castle Town. Go around the castle town of Mizuna and turn left. If you go up the stairs, clap your hands, and look down at the castle town between your legs, you’ll be greeted by the old townscape. You will be so fascinated by it that you’ll fall into a daze and will be pulled into the other side. This Rumor is common among history buffs in Mizuna! Come on!

That has to be done in public. And if you do fall into a daze you’ll be stuck in that position presumably until you get “pulled into the other side” so. Another point for the humiliation box. If anyone has any further doubts about Nemu having a thing for humiliating girls, firstly she literally does that to Touka at slightly smaller scales semi-often, and secondly, the Rumor of the Graveyard Banquet. For those unfamiliar with the latter, here’s its description from hit 2021 Magia Record event “The Great Banquet that Transcends Time”:

Have you heard? Has anyone told you? The Rumour of the Graveyard Banquet! Have a destined rival? Butting heads with a friend? You can all get along here! The letter will lead you to the testing grounds before the banquet. Only those who make it into the joyous celebration will receive words of thanks and be welcomed into the banquet of the Pure Land. But if you join in, watch out! If you fail the test, you’ll be dragged down to the underworld! It’s a rumor that’s spreading through ALL the priests of the temple! Alright, let’s get excited!

And see, that sounds normal. For once, it’s not the text of the Rumor itself that is incredibly sus. It’s the way it acts. Let me explain for those who haven’t watched the event or don’t remember it well. This Uwasa is a little bit odd in multiple ways, for example it recognized Madoka and knew about the record being an anomaly and all that stuff. But the thing that stuck out to me like a sore thumb is that it’s the most blatant admission of a humiliation kink I have ever seen in my LIFE, and it wasn’t even hardcoded into its biology like most of the other stuff is for the other Uwasa. I left this one for last solely because of how much I’d have to just show you the script over and over (I would show ingame screenshots, but that would take up so much more space). Without further ado:

So… Yeah, what was that all about exactly, Nemu? The invitations it sends out also seem to put people into a sort of trance or influence them in some way without anyone noticing. Those who are trapped feel helpless because the Uwasa keeps on forgiving them when they mess up and won’t even react to them trying to break its Labyrinth. Condescending. Like they’re children. I should’ve titled this essay “Nemu, you are not beating the BDSM allegations” or something.

Of course, there is the fact that all the Rumors are giving you instructions that you have to follow. The amount of Rumors that either explicitly knock you unconscious or make you fall into a Deep Slumber that may or may not be eternal as part of their gimmick is Suspicious. Do I even need to explain how differently all of this would be viewed if Nemu were older? And especially if she happened to be the opposite gender? The sheer amount of doujin production…

Bonus lightning round:

… a beautiful string of bells will burst into full bloom! And they’ll share their happy scent with poor, poor, lonely you. Just relax and sink into the scent, and it’ll pull in this girl and that girl to build your very own ideal world! 

They say that once you get hooked, there’s no going back.

Drugs. Loneliness. Again

Also the Headless Biker Gang:

A Rumor that appears as an unseen biker gang that causes violence when no-one’s looking. Anyone who sees them will be forced to join their ranks.

Forced huh. Violence. Totally nothing to do with repressed anger or the Severe Control/Power Issues.

My point is: Nemu is hiding seven thousand million demons and for some reason no one has poked the bear in seven years. I could simply no longer keep this knowledge to myself, and thus you are now cursed with it as well.

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings:  Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely 

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3 

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Caf�� opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now,  I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out.  That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!! 

lots of love

Rose xx

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Let’s Dance

Carry On Countdown Fic Day 12 and 14 (late entry)--music/song, favorite trope/cliche

Let’s Dance

Niall

“You know Baz isn’t going to do it.”

Dev raises an eyebrow at me, looking eerily like Baz as he does. It’s one of the few traits they share. It’s every bit as irritating when he does it. “He bloody well will. He took the bet. This is the consequence.”

“I don’t think he quite expected this to be the outcome of losing. Probably thought you’d set him up on eHarmony or something like that. Not Flirty Dancing, for Christ’s sake.”

He scoffs. “If I was going to subject him to online dating I’d have put him on SCRUFF.” Dev leans back on the sofa, laptop balanced on his thighs. “This is better. The potential for embarrassment is so much higher on national television.”

“I thought the point was to get him into a stable relationship. Not embarrass him in public.”

“Well, this way we potentially get both. And you know as well as I do he won’t actually embarrass himself. Baz may be a repressed git but he knows how to dance.”

Uni graduation. Three best mates. A drunken bet.

None of us ever anticipated that Dev and I would be the ones who ended up engaged first.

To each other, no less.

Which leaves jump-starting Baz’s depressingly sparse and overwhelmingly chaste dating experience in our hands, thanks to poor choices made when completely sozzled.

I don’t know why any of us agreed to it, least of all Baz. But, in our defense, it did seem quite unlikely at the time that Dev was ever going to settle down or that Baz and I would successfully venture into the fraught London dating scene.  

I doubt any of us would have even remembered we’d made the bet, if Dev hadn’t scribbled it all out on the back of a coaster he nicked from the pub. And if our signatures weren’t clearly scrawled below his spidery script.

Fast forward two years. Dev and I have been dating each other for over a year and he popped the question two weeks ago.

I said yes.

So now we’re in charge of Baz’s love life and I can’t say he’s receptive to the idea.

“Fuck off. I didn’t agree to this.”

“You bloody well did.”

“I’m not taking a manky coaster as evidence.”

“Your signature’s on here, mate. It’s on. Niall and I are on the job.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Those are long odds.” I shake my head. “You can put in the application for him but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get chosen for the show, Dev.”

“He’ll get chosen. Once I upload a photo of him, he’s in. Trust me.” Dev keeps clicking at the keyboard. “With a vastly superior payoff if he does make it.” Dev stops pecking at the laptop and turns to me. “You know he’ll never go on any dates we set up for him on an online site. Baz swipe right? Not bloody likely. But a challenge? He’s never backed down from one in his life.”

He settles back on the cushions. “It’s got everything Baz loves. Music. Dancing. An element of mystery. And if it’s not a match he gets to walk away with no commitment. Doesn’t even have to talk to the bloke. It’s actually bloody perfect for him.”

Dev may have a point.

“Is this it then? If we do this and it’s a fucking disaster, like you know it will be, are we done?”

He laughs.

“Not bloody likely. We made a vow.”

“We did not make a vow, you blithering idiot. We made a drunken bet.”

Dev shrugs. “Same thing.” He leans forward to squint at the laptop screen. “Someone’s got to take charge of him. Baz is absolute shit at dating.”

He’s not wrong.

The keyboard clicks pause. “Fuck. What’s his Insta handle again?”

“@Black-as-pitch. Put a hyphen between the words.”

“He’s five foot eleven?”

“He’s six foot one and you know it.”

“Sod off, Niall.”

I sit next to him on the sofa, peering over his shoulder. He’s on the Flirty Dancing website, with the extensive and apparently highly inquisitive application open on the screen.

“Occupation. Can I say ‘being a twat? ’” Dev asks.

I grab the laptop away. “Let me do it. You’re only going to fuck it up by filling it in with arsehole replies.”

Dev rests his head on my shoulder. “I knew you’d come around.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not coming around. I’m being efficient. If you’re going to ask me the answer to every one of these sodding questions I may as well fill the damn thing out myself.”

“And I can make sure you’re being accurate.”

“You can continue being the irritating twat you always are.”

Dev presses a kiss to my cheek. “And that’s why you love me.”

I lean into him. I do love the scheming bastard.

I move to the next question: Are you single? How long since your last serious relationship? Easy to answer for Baz. Yes and never had one .

Describe your dream date. “Fucking hell.”

Dev leans over to look at what I’m typing. “Put down fit . Muscular. A bit thick. In every way.” He raises his eyebrow again.

“I’m not writing that! They want dream date, not dream bloke.”

Dev shrugs. “Same thing.”

I stare at the laptop for a moment before I start typing. A simple night out. Dinner. Conversation.

“That’s boring as fuck, mate.” Dev elbows me in the ribs.

“That’s Baz. He’d take someone to the British Museum library and think that’s a smashing idea for a date.”

“Christ, Niall. Let me do it.” Dev grabs the laptop back and we have a brief struggle before I wrestle it away from him.

“Hands off. I’m doing this.”

I delete my previous answer. What the fuck would a dream date be for Baz? I’m not wrong about him. He loves the British Museum.

And this show loves shooting at iconic locations.

I start typing again. A simple night out. A walk through the British Museum. Dinner. Conversation. “That’s Baz, don’t even try and argue with me.”

Dev huffs but remains silent.

Describe your past three most recent relationships. When were they? What made you attracted to them? Why did they end?

That’s going to be a sparse answer. He hasn’t really ever had a meaningful relationship. A few dates here and there. Some short-term infatuations. Them being infatuated with Baz, I mean. Not him.

He’s not been interested in anyone that way, really.

Except for Snow.

But we don’t talk about that. It’s an old heartache from secondary and not worth stirring up.

Although, maybe that’s just the thing to do. Find someone who looks like Snow and let Baz finally get it out of his system, once and for all.

I’m energized now as I start filling in the answers.

Describe your relationship personality. “Being a twat,” Dev suggests.

“Are you just going to shout out the same shit answers or are you going to actually make yourself useful?”

“I’m giving you the accurate answers. It’s your job to find a way to make that intriguing and attractive.” Dev smirks up at me. “You volunteered for this.”

Fuck. I did.

I start writing answers again.

I would describe myself as reserved. Introspective. Affectionate once I get comfortable with someone. 

I’m looking for a partner who is caring, loyal, more outgoing than I am, someone who can brighten my days and get to know the person I am, behind the façade I use to protect my soft heart.

I’d be open to dating outside my usual type because my usual type has only managed to break my heart—I tend to fall for unattainable straight men.

Blue eyes, brown hair. Fit. Muscular. Preferably just a bit shorter than me. I’d like him to be able to rest his head on my shoulder when we slow dance.

Top celebrity crushes: Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, Matt Damon.

My perfect match? I don’t know if there is one. But someone who can accept me for who I am. A bloke who’s fit but funny. Smart but not necessarily in conventional ways.

Dealbreakers—racists, fascists.

Finding my ideal match will quell the loneliness of my solitary life.

I’m probably still single because I’m such a hopeless romantic. I want to be swept off my feet, feel the thrill of a connection, light a match in my heart, see the stars through new eyes.

“That’s all complete rubbish. You make him sound a right sap, Niall.”

“Well, he is and we both know it. And this is what will get him on the show—the lonely, hopeless romantic, nursing an old heartache but finally ready to fall in love again. Throw in the British Museum and one of his brooding photos and we’ve got Baz dancing on Channel Four in no time.”

“You’re brilliant, love. I knew I could count on you.”

Read the rest at Ao3!

art by the incredible @penpanoply​ thank you so very much for this, my friend. 

[ardentprose]

Trials of Hope

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: mention of suicidal thoughts. depictions of depression and panic attacks.

Summary: Progress always comes with setbacks. Among all the good days, one unfortunate night appears in which every coping mechanism fails and you are forced to reach out for help. To be reminded that you are not alone.

Song: Sea by BTS (fanmade lyric video (not mine))

My fingers slide over the phone screen. My thumb trembles as I open the messaging app. In the top three conversations lies his name. Funnily enough, I haven’t texted that much to warrant such a high spot. However, the fact I’m even tapping on his name and staring at the keyboard is its own explanation. 

Hoseok is just short of a friend. But in this moment, he’s all I have. 

Hey, are you up?

After several rewrites I send the text. A shuddering sigh exhales past sore lips, bitten beyond relief and trapped between my teeth even now as I dread the response. Regret floods my chest as soon as the check mark appears. He’s up. Now what do I say?

Hey! I’m up lol. What’s up?

Before I can comprehend it, I’m backpedaling down the cliff from my insistent thoughts and sending a harmless text. 

I’m bored lol. What are you doing? 

This doesn’t concern him. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t be asking him for help when I barely know him. Thoughts such as these overtake my mind, confirming my regret for even contacting him.

I set the phone down on the table and gaze around the unlit space. Only the city lights of night time Seoul flash across the carpet, casting my lonely figure and the living room in a melancholy blue. Under the same blue lights, my roommate Eliza and I lay across one another on the couch, talking about whatever comes to our minds. The muted atmosphere only adds to the domesticity. But now that she’s away, and I’m alone, they’ve become a reminder that each light has a life connected to it. And each one will go to bed with someone they care about close by. 

I tuck my feet beneath me and sink lower into the couch. Closing my eyes doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from targeting my psyche. 

You’re such a fool. An idiot for thinking you were strong enough. You’ll never escape this. You’ll always be this way. There will never be an end-

I dive for the vibrating phone on the table and answer it without blinking. 

“Hello?” A harsh sting covers my lip at how raspy my voice sounds. Hopefully, he’ll credit it to the phone signal.

“Hey,” Hoseok’s voice is piqued with interest. “If you’re so bored, why aren’t you asleep?” 

The playful question only presses guilt further in my chest. I pull the phone away to clear my throat and test out the tonality of a voice that’s been crying for the past three hours.

I force a chuckle to cover how miserable I really am. “How about you? What are you doing up so late?”

Hoseok hums and I can see his smile and twinkling eyes clear as day. “I’m working on a new song.” 

“Oh? Really? What’s it about?” Thankful to have a less threatening topic to focus on, I press him for questions in an almost desperate manner. 

He tsks in response. “That’s top secret. You’ll have to wait until it’s released.” 

The deflation in my chest hurts to a point I was not expecting. My smile falters again into trembling lips and I have to pull the phone away once again to look up at the ceiling and blink away hot tears. 

I suppose I just needed something else to take my attention for awhile, but the entire universe seems to be telling me no. 

“Important business, huh?” I retort after collecting myself again. 

A second goes by before a sharp peal of laughter erupts on the receiver. “Yeah! Yes, that’s exactly what it is. Important business. Top secret.”

I smile and yet tears scald my cheeks until they fall from my chin. Pretending to hold a playful conversation with him, as if mere seconds ago the thought of ending myself wasn’t exploding in my head, is too surreal. My throat constricts past the point of speaking and I lower the phone, tapping the speaker before I set it on the table. 

I grab the nearest couch pillow and bury my face into it. With a death like grip, I squeeze the comforting material to me, hoping to suppress the despair coating me in waves.

The silence no doubt passes as a comfortable one in his mind, as he searches for something to say. 

“How is Eliza doing?” He asks.

“She’s...um…” I swallow down another cry and try to gather the latest news she told me. 

“She’s having lots of fun. Yesterday she went to this sushi bar she really wanted to try out.” I say, clinging to the pillow for dear life. There was no way I was going to ruin her day by telling her years of repressed memories came flooding back. Besides, she would worry and take the next flight home.

Hoseok offers an affirmative noise. Some shuffling of papers can be heard and then what I guess is the squeak of his studio chair as he leans back in it. 

“How are you doing?” 

The words cut through the air snatching my breath. I stare at the lit phone screen as my grip becomes tighter. The rope of desperation curls impossibly tight in my stomach. I part my lips, knowing I have to answer in a reasonable amount of time but my mind can’t fathom a believable response short  of “I feel like I might do something I’ll regret.” 

The silence grows too long and Hoseok’s voice repeats the question, now in a softer, confused tone. “Y/N? Are you still there? Are you okay?” 

The question breaks me and I collapse into my hands, tears unabashedly soaking my fingers. Slippery palms fall past my lips and fail to disguise the sob that breaks through in a fractured word. 

“No-

I don’t know if he can hear me, but there’s no way I’ll be able to collect myself again. Should I just hang up and text him? Create some excuse as to why the call was cut short? 

My hands tremble against my face. I press them against my cheeks, feeling how hot my skin is. Sitting up, the clenching of my stomach becomes suffocating. A strangled breath hitches in my chest as everything goes cold. 

Oh no. Shit. Fuck no.

The signs of a panic attack are bypassed completely. Normally, I would have time to talk myself down before it happens. Due to the past few hours, my body has had enough of being repressed. 

“Hos...Hoseok?” I gasp through a temporary burst of oxygen. 

“Yes? Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” His voice has flown from lax and playful to frightened urgency.

Guilt crushes my response. Instead, I focus on exhaling away the black spots that bloom over my eyes. 

“Sorry...I just...I don’t want to-” 

“Are you home? Do you want me to come over? I’ll be right there. Don’t move, baby, I’m coming. Don’t move. Just...stay there okay?” 

Hoseok ends the call before I can even process his words. Before it dawns on me that he just called me ‘baby’. If I wasn’t fighting to stay conscious, I might be having a completely different breakdown on that alone. 

I shakily stand to my feet, trying to find something to focus on other than the panic numbing me to the core. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to call Hoseok. I shouldn’t have ever texted him because now-

Now he’ll see me as I really am. 

I stumble to the wall and flick on the lights. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes, taking deep breaths. Cries faithfully escape my mouth, but I no longer have the strength to mute how pitiful I sound. I gaze around the stark contrast of the room under fluorescents.

I should at least look presentable. I should straighten up. I should wash my face. I could make tea. 

I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I need to calm down. 

All these suggestions make their claim as I sink to the floor and curl in on myself. I focus on breathing deeply, starting over every time a cry cuts short my oxygen. 

Before I’ve gone through the exercise three times, there’s a rapid knocking on the door. 

“Y/N!” Under different circumstances, Hoseok would sound furious rather than panicked. I lift my head, willing myself to at least stop crying long enough to open the door and save some face. 

As soon as I remove the top lock, the door swings open and reveals a distraught Hoseok. Normally put together down to the shoelaces he wears, the disheveled man stands before me anything but. Puffy wide eyes flit all over my face beneath hair sticking up in all directions, some strands falling between his alerted gaze.

He grabs my shoulders, bomber jacket crinkling with the quick motion. 

“What’s happening? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone get hurt? Can I come in?” A volley of questions and his hands push me backwards into the apartment. He slams the door shut with his heel. 

I part my lips but tears only fall in response to all the questions. A horrid choke emits from my throat and Hoseok sighs, nodding his head. 

“I’m here now.” He takes a moment to calm himself down, replacing his worries with his palms sliding down over my shoulders in reassuring squeezes until he grabs my hand in his. 

It’s as if I’ve become paraplegic, subject to only Hoseok’s calm but firm grip situating my body next to his on the couch. He turns on a lamp fully exposing my swollen and distraught eyes. I know how awful I look because I see his eyes widen imperceptibly and his shoulders jerk with an internal gasp. But his mask is more solid than mine and not a word is said about my despairing look. 

He ducks his head so I meet his eyes and when my chin ducks he catches it, ignoring every rule of public decency to raise it in his fingertips and whisper. 

“Look at me. Just breathe with me.” 

I try to inhale but a new wave rises. I grit my teeth. From my shoulders to my stomach, spasms of desperation wrack my body. Hoseok removes his fingertips from my chin and grabs my wrists, yanking on them with gentle urgency brings my palms over his rib cage.

“Y/N. You need to breathe. Feel my chest. Inhale and exhale. Good. Just like that, baby. You can do it.” He repeats his encouragements until with a final shudder I close my eyes and feel the fatigue hit.

“C’mere.” He mutters, collecting me into his chest and resting his chin on top of mine. I inhale his sweet scent, so relaxing and one that embodies the safety of Hoseok to the point I nearly cry again in relief. 

Numbly, I raise my hand to his elbow, gripping the crinkling jacket he still has yet to take off. I turn my forehead to press between his collarbones and sniffle. My nose is disgustingly blocked but he pushes me further against him, as if knowing I was about to draw away. 

“M’sorry.” I whisper into his damp shirt. 

“Don’t apologize.” The words are said with finality and his hand which up until now had been running up and down my back momentarily pauses and presses into my body. 

“Even still,” I raise my head and lean back as far as I can with his arm tucked around my waist. Hoseok gazes down his nose at me, nothing but empathy in his drawn gaze. 

“You shouldn’t have had to see me like this. I shouldn’t have called-”

“I’m glad you called.” He interrupts. “And why shouldn’t you call me? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what I’m here for?” His outburst catches me off guard. Had I offended him?

“But-But Hoseok I’m too mu-”

“You’re not nearly enough for me.” Hoseok releases me as if I had burned him. I blink at him several times. The after effects of the panic attack pounds against my skull. I couldn’t decipher the reason his sudden outburst through the oncoming migraine. 

So I say nothing and simply stare. Waiting for him to explain himself.

Hoseok, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, and mouth agape, looks at me with the most betrayed expression I have ever seen. 

“Rely on me. I want you to rely on me, Y/N. If I have ever made you feel anything other than safe than tell me, please.” 

“You haven’t. I trust you, Hoseok.” I whisper from a throat raw with abuse.

He runs his hand over his hair and shakes his head. Clearing his throat he looks at me again with a smile and even in the dim lighting of the lamp, I see his blush. 

“I don’t know what’s hurting you and I don’t expect you to tell me. But I do want to know. I want to know you’ll tell someone if you’re not okay. Because I’ve noticed - and not in a creepy way but because I just - uh…” 

For the first time tonight, I smile. Hoseok drops eye contact with me, rubbing the back of his neck as he starts at his mismatched shoes.

“I uh...I care about you and you need to hear that from me. Right? Yes, I care about you more than I have for someone before and- and I think you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. You’re really fucking inspiring even if it feels like you’re just here. B-because I-I can’t even be honest about my true feelings like you can. But every time I hear your story I feel like I can share mine. So don’t stop talking about it. Bu-But you don’t have to tell me...if you don’t want to.” 

He mumbles and smiles and laughs awkwardly but eventually he ends his rambling with a quick glance to my face. 

I meet his nervous expression with one of disbelief. “Me? Strong? Hoseok you don’t even know what I’ve done. I was literally thinking-” 

I cut myself off but Hoseok grabs my hands anyways, gripping them so tightly I resist the urge to wince. His eyes bore into mine and I feel as though he can read my mind, as though he knows exactly what I was going to admit. 

“Y/N.” His voice is shaking. I can’t look at him. 

“Y/N.” Hoarse and pleading. My heart wrenches and before I stop myself I’m meeting Hoseok’s red eyes, wet cheeks and trembling chin. 

“I love you so much. Fuck, I love you. You’re not alone. I’m right here for you.” He swears. The conviction in his voice was more than enough to draw tears to my sore eyes. 

“I-I hate this. I hate this feeling and my thoughts and everything in my life.” The truth comes tumbling out and there’s no stopping it. Somehow, fresh tears stain Hoseok's shirt as I collapse into his awaiting arms. 

“I’ll listen. I’ll listen to all of it. Just tell me everything.” He says in the sweetest, calmest voice I’ve heard him use. 

Stroking my hair, clutching me to his chest close enough to feel his heartbeat against my cheek, I confess my worries, my doubts, my darkness into Hoseok’s chest. I hold onto him for dear life as I whisper all the bad things into the night. And Hoseok, calm as ever, continues to smooth my hair, squeeze my waist, kiss my head and say, 

“It’s alright, love. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

[afjakwritesarchive]

31. “I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.” with BakuDeku?

Title: Just Once (1/2)Fandom: BNHAPairing: Onesided BKDK, TDDKWords: 1,346AU: None/Aged UpGenre: Romance/AngstPrompt: “I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.” Part 2. A/N: Hhhhh, I love me some angsty Bakugou feelings,,,,

Bakugou isn’t sure exactly when he and Midoriya become friends again. He’s been hurling insults at Midoriya since they were children, the malice behind them varying over the years. As a child, he’d meant no harm; his harsh words had been little more than a way to push the odd anger that welled up within him when complimented by Midoriya out of his system. Then he’d grown older and angrier, and he’d started to spit disparaging words at Midoriya with intentional venom and barbs. He’d wanted to hurt the boy and he knew he’d succeeded at times (a fact he wasn’t proud of). 

It wasn’t until his third and final year at Yuuei that he finally understood why Midoriya drove him so crazy. The realization had come quickly, practically smacking him in the face with the obviousness of it. Midoriya had walked into a classroom hand-in-hand with Todoroki, and Bakugou’s heart had exploded. He’d jolted in his seat, gripping the wooden desk tightly in both of his hands as he tried his best to keep from loosing his composure, and then he’d realized. 

Soon after that, his harsh insults had lost most of their bite. Midoriya had noticed almost immediately, and before Bakugou could realize what was happening he was twenty-four and they’d moved from bitter enemies to indifferent acquaintances to friends to best friends. Midoriya had latched onto Bakugou with all of his burning intensity, manhandling his way into Bakuguo’s locked-up heart and taking it hostage in his scarred hands. 

And Bakugou loved it, as much as he loathed to admit it to himself. He loved being Midoriya’s best friend even though it caused him to fall even more deeply and hopelessly in love with him than he’d already been. Day in and day out he got to see Midoriya’s sunny smile and hear his warm laughter–not to mention getting to fight side-by-side with him as All Might’s sidekicks. The fact that Midoriya was willing to forgive him for all that he’d done in the past was more than Bakugou knew he deserved, but being his closest friend? It was as if he’d been given a second chance at happiness–not that he’d ever tell Midoriya that. Damn nerd cried enough as it was. 

The only problem? 

Todoroki Shouto. 

In many ways, Bakugou appreciated Todoroki. He was an excellent fighter and an incredibly diligent Hero, and for that Bakugou admired him. But he was also Midoriya’s boyfriend of six years, and the two were completely and sickeningly in love with each other. This, Bakugou supposed, was his punishment; he knew there had to be a catch when he and Midoriya started to grow closer to each other once again, and there had. In order to be friends with Midoriya, Bakugou would have to endure relationship talk and mushy-gushy stories and disgusting public displays of affection.

And as much as Bakugou told himself it didn’t bother him, reminded himself that he didn’t get to be jealous or angry that Midoriya was with someone else after all he’d put him through, it still ached. It felt as if there was a part of him missing, a gaping wound in his chest that could only be healed by the press Midoriya’s lips against his. Bakugou was fairly certain that Todoroki was aware of his feelings, but there seemed to be a silent agreement between the two never to mention it. To do so would put Midoriya in an impossible position and do immeasurable harm to him; something neither of them wanted, seeing as they were both desperately in love with him. 

So, Bakugou did his best to keep quiet. I don’t deserve him, he reminded himself when he saw Midoriya smile brightly up at him after a relatively calm night patrol. I’m lucky enough he’s willing to look at me like that in the first place.

“Hey, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked, snapping Bakugou out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah?” Came Bakugou’s gruff voice in reply, forcing his eyes off of Midoriya’s frustratingly handsome face. 

“I wanted to ask if you’d, um, do me a favor,” said Midoriya sheepishly, his cheeks suddenly pink and his eyes turned toward the ground. 

You know I will, idiot. I’d do anything for you, was the response that jumped immediately to Bakugou’s mouth, which he repressed. “The fuck do I look like, an errand boy?” 

Midoriya laughed and held the locker room door open for Bakugou. “You did that time you went halfway across the city just to find my favorite soup after I got sick,” he replied, and laughed harder when Bakugou shot him a murderous glare. “No, but really–I wanted to ask you something important,” he said, sobering and becoming sheepish once again. 

Bakugou quirked a brow. It was rare for Midoriya to act so shy around him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Spit it out!”

Midoriya shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and then smiled shyly up at his friend. “Um, Todoroki asked me to–to, um, marry him last night,” he replied, failing miserably at containing an ecstatic smile.

If Bakugou hadn’t gone completely numb, he would have been surprised that Midoriya had the control to wait until after their patrol to share the news. Being as it was, he’d frozen with his hands on the hem of his shirt, trying to process what he’d heard. This was inevitable–he’d known it from the start. Midoriya and Todoroki were in love, had been for a long time. They were either going to break up or be together forever. Bakugou knew he was twisted for wishing it was the former.

Still, Bakugou was a master at pushing his feelings aside for Midoriya’s sake. This was certainly his hardest hit yet, but he managed to swallow the pain down and carry on with his movements despite the numbness in his hands. 

“I’m guessing you said yes?” Bakugou asked, thankful that his voice still sounded normal despite his turmoil.

Midoriya laughed. “Of course,” he replied. “And I know this is really early and we haven’t even set a date yet or anything, but I figured since I was going to tell you about it anyway, I might as well ask you at the same time, so–”

“God, Deku, fuckin’ spit it out!” Bakugou huffed, immediately cursing himself for being so irritable at a time when Midoriya was so brilliantly happy. 

Luckily for him, Midoriya wasn’t at all put off by Bakugou’s harsh outburst, seeming to chalk it up to his usual abrasive behavior. “I want you to be the best man at my wedding!” He exclaimed excitedly, his smile splitting his handsome face in half. 

Once again, Bakugou stalled. This time, instead of waiting for a response, Midoriya took that as his cue to speak more. 

“Kacchan, I know you don’t like big long emotional speeches–or short ones, or any emotional speeches, really–but I-I want to say this. I’ve known you for most of my life, and I hope I know you for the rest of it, s-so I really want you to do more than just be there that day, if you’re willing. You’re my closest friend.” Midoriya sniffled, ducking his head to wipe the beginnings of tears from his gorgeous green eyes. 

And you’re mine, screamed Bakugou’s heart. You’re my everything. 

“Damn it, Deku, don’t get all sappy. I’ll be your fuckin’ best man or whatever,” he huffed. 

“R-Really?” Midoriya asked, smiling cheerfully. 

“What the fuck did I just say?!” Bakugou snapped, while on his tongue sat the words he knew he had no choice but to leave unsaid. Of course I will, idiot. I’d do anything for you, you dumbass. I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me. Even if I only ever get to be your friend, even if I have to suck it up and watch you marry the Half and Half bastard. 

Midoriya laughed, tears of joy still sitting in the corners of his eyes, and pulled Bakugou into a tight embrace before the taller man could protest. Slowly, selfishly, Bakugou let himself wrap his arms around Midoriya’s frame. 

Just this once, he reminded himself. I’ll give myself this. 

[bibliophileiz]

Veronica Mars Season 1 Rewatch

(Disc 3 in my DVD set because Disc 2 isn't working)

"Drinking the Kool-Aid"

- ok, I know the Moon Calf Collective was supposed to just be a harmless club of hippies, but there is no way it's not creepy for Ms. Mills to be recruiting students to come live on her poinsettia-growing farm in the name of rejecting capitalist culture (as she accepts their money).

- Rain is Cassie from Supernatural

- I forgot about this line: "He joined a cult? What do they worship? Wedgies?"

"An Echolls Family Christmas"

- This is my favorite VMars episode!

- I forgot about Logan's cigar.

- And that he and Duncan wore the same Christmas underwear.

- "I hear about a $5000 card game played by idiots. I'm interested." Gold. As is the following flashback.

- I also forgot about the gross scene where all the guys stand at the window and watch Lynn Echolls jump in the pool.

- THAT SAID Lynn has amazing legs.

- LOGAN'S BLEACHED TIPS! Oh, 2004.

- Also, Logan's Rosie Perez story is awful and hilarious.

- Logan is pretty evil -- I don't know if I'll like him as much now as I did in college -- but he's also hysterical. (*deadpan* "Pa rum. Pum pum.")

- Monica Hadwin is The Morrigan from Lost Girl. Basically the same character.

- "Do you even know how to play poker?" "No. But it must be really hard if all you guys play."

- Logan smells like an evil-doer, you guys, pass it on.

- Also, the most fun thing about this episode is watching my mom's Cheshire cat grin get wider the closer we get to Aaron Echolls getting shanked.

"The Silence of the Lamb"

- Actually mayors are for municipalities, and Neptune isn't incorporated (yet!) so it would probably be the president of the board of county supervisors who accompanied Lamb to Keith's office. To be fair, I think they said in Season 2 Woody Goodman was the county supervisor but they CALLED him the mayor. Or something.

- This episode is kind of like how the new season sounds. Serial killer preying on spring break girls, causing the Neptune PTB to get P.I.s involved because the publicity of the murders is scaring away the spring break crowd.

- Also 100 percent my paper would cover a baby-switching lawsuit against the local hospital. (Actually I did cover a malpractice civil trial of a local OBGYN after one of his patients' uterus ruptured during delivery. It made me never ever ever want to get pregnant.)

- "He's waiting on you to throw your panties."

- Baby Mac!

- I love, love, love the scene when they show up at Madison Sinclair's house.

- I used to think Lauren was played by baby Abigail Breslin, but it's actually a different girl.

- "She wouldn't know Monet's Water Lilies unless Revlon named a nail polish after it." I love Mac.

- Deputy Leo is like those young dumb cops whose appeal for their 10-day suspension for posting dick pics on Facebook I spend hours of my life covering.

- Even though this episode is named for the serial killer A-plot, Veronica basically has nothing to do with solving the murder. Which is good, because the fact that she's not working hardcore cases like that this season makes it more impressive when she does solve Lilly's murder at the end.

- Mac's parents (her real parents who raised her) clearly love her.

- I forgot Veronica sends the pictures to Weedman at the end of this one.

"Clash of the Tritons"

- Lamb interrogates high school kids in Clemmons' office the same way he interrogates criminals at the sheriff's office

- Also the Lindberg baby WAS found.

- At 17 for a non-violent felony, would Veronica be charged as an adult?

- I love how Wallace's answer to how he would get a fake ID is that he would ask Veronica.

- Weevil's notes to Lilly are exceptionally stalker-y.

- Why would a high school have a secret society? (I think the show's trying to capture that sweet college fraternity drama.)

- "Hi Dad! Their case is fuzzy and circumstantial."

- No one called middle school "junior high" in 2005.

- The scene between Logan and Ms. James is great.

- "This is a $250 piece of crap. Now I'm not just falsely accused, I'm genuinely offended."

- The Tritons are actually a really dorky club.

- "Hi everybody! Say 'repressed homosexuality!'"

- I forgot Logan threatened to kill his dad.

- Also Rick's reason for framing Veronica comes out of nowhere and is really stupid.

- That bridge is so high, just the thought of someone jumping off it makes me nauseous.

More notes to come! My mom is in town and wants to keep watching it and I have two days of not having to work, so maybe we'll do a marathon.

[franklyshipping]

Exposure ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

ANOTHER FABULOUS PROMPT FROM THE EVER LOVELY AND IMAGINITIVE @amazingmsme whose fic ideas are always awesome and honestly I think make up the majority of the prompts this blog has received! ILYSM FRIEND! NOW IT'S TIIIIIIME FOR A CHEEKY BRO AND A TICKLISH GLITCH! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @anti-switch-glitch and @chase-brody-thelee

Chill days are good days. You know the ones I mean. The temperature isn't too hot, it's not too cold, it's the sort of atmosphere where literally any sort of clothing is a viable option, y'know? Shirts and shorts, onesies, pyjamas, nightgowns, cosplays, pinterest aesthetic jumpers, or just a simple combo of a plain t-shirt and some completely stylish ripped jeans. The latter is what you should focus on however, since it's the outfit that's been taken up by the one and only Antisepticeye. The other thing that Anti had taken up, was the communal couch. All of it. He was draped lazily, his limbs were stretched and haphazard; it reflected the man's relaxed, and slightly smug demeanour at present. He was smug because as of yet, no-one had interrupted him in his position and he'd been able to relish in some rare quiet time in the usually hectic household of septic egos. Usually it wouldn't be too long before someone came rushing in, babbling and obliterating any cool, delicate atmosphere that may have been existing. Anti sighed gently as he shut his eyes, maybe today was his lucky day. Maybe once, just this once nobody would-

'Whaddup glitchy?!'

Anti sighed....oh well. His eyes flicked open, but the septic ego he saw wasn't one he thought would ever be so energetic. His assumptions of the past were proved wrong however when he felt Chase Brody basically sit on his legs/lap with a grin that could rival the damn sun. Anti glowered at him....but couldn't bring himself to be a proper snappy asshole; that guy had been through a fuckton so Anti figured he'd cut him some slack and let him ride out the joy wave he seemed to have. Damn fucking new morals that came with friendship. Anti's voice was low, and rather than a sinister edge it had a playful, sarcastic one.

'The ceiling, obviously.'

Anti withheld a smile when Chase snorted and snickered before rolling his eyes, he didn't hesitate to give Anti's chest a soft shove.

'Oh haha Mr SarcasticEdgyPants! You're soooo funny!'

Chase copied Anti's sarcasm, but it was with a happy eagerness. This was a rare day for Chase where happiness was dominating his entire mind-set, and he was going to make the most of every second of it. Anti raised an eyebrow, decided to fold his arms as he tilted his head at the grinning man.

'Mr.....SarcasticEdgyPants? Where the hell d'ya get that from?'

Chase snickered again, grin widening as he descended into excited babbling. Anti just stared at him, trying not to let his smile turn too fond.

'Well y'know, you're a sarcastic duder and you're LITERALLY wearing edgy pants! Duh!'

Chase's eyes were bright as he withheld a few giggles, feeling rather proud of his own humour; he grinned when Anti pursed his lips and gave him a playful glare.

'Oh yeah? Then tell me, what makes these so ''edgy'' huh? What's yer justification?'

Anti teased, his already raised eyebrow somehow shooting up even more at Chase, which only made the latter have to contain his giddy mirth more as he came up with a reply. Anti felt a little proud of himself at how he used a bit of sophisticated vocab, he could see why people like Dark used it; he felt taller. It took Chase a few thoughtful minutes, but Anti was patient. Soon, Chase grinned and clapped his hands as he came up with his totally cool comeback and reasoning to boot!

'Well it's obvious! They have the number one edgy trait.....more holes and rips than ACTUAL fabric!'

......you really couldn't argue against Chase's point. The amount of rips and slits and gaping holes in Anti's jeans was staggering, only accentuated by how Anti's pale skin contrasted hugely with the black material. Anti had pursed his lips, bowing his head with slightly pink cheeks, because he knew it was true. He'd never say it, but he knew it. He was about to make an edg-DEFIANT comeback, but there was something he hadn't banked on. He hadn't banked on Chase emphasising his point by giving one of his bare kneecaps a playful squeeze; and because he hadn't banked on it, that meant Anti couldn't repress his reaction....a high-pitched yell to be exact.

'AHHH! Dohon't yohou dahare Brody!'

Chase was shocked. Anti was shocked. The latter with embarrassment, the former with a growing, playful glee. Both of their expressions were shifting. Chase's eyes were lighting up and flicking between his hand, resting on Anti's knee, and Anti's face. Anti was staring at Chase, his face slowly turning pink. They were both tense. Then suddenly, Chase's fingers were squeezing and pinching Anti's kneecap as he teased.

'You shouldn't have dared to expose such a weak spot then should you?'

Anti's face went from light pink to dark pink, then to red, then to wine; he was focusing all his energy on batting at Chase's hand. Soon though, he had to breathe, and that allowed his squeaky giggling to take hold of him.

'Shuhuhut the fuhuck uhup!! Y-Yohou dohon't have toho doho thihihis!'

Anti implored, NOT pleaded, implored as he tried to tug at his legs and hit out at his playful tormentor; but that only spurred said tormentor to settle securely on his shins and target both of his pale, exposed kneecaps.

'Sorry buddy but YOU made yourself vulnerable, you've only brought this on yourself!'

Chase snickered as he looked down at Anti's uncontrollable reactions, he thought it was so adorable that he'd tried to repress it all.....and failed. It was nice to hear Anti's real giggles for once too, not the maniacal theatrical ones that were tailored for public viewing. The real ones. The natural ones. The tickle-induced ones.

'Thahahat arguhumehent ihis suhuch buhuhullshihit!!'

Anti exclaimed indignantly as he tried to sit up and push at Chase with more frantic energy, and the glitch was glaring warningly at Chase too. Chase wasn't perturbed though. Now, either Chase was confident that he could use Anti's ticklishness to weaken him and break him so he wouldn't fight back....or he was insane. Thankfully, the former was the truth. Chase merely developed an animalistic grin in response to Anti's glare and changed his positioning at the speed of light, it was impressive. One second he was on Anti's shins, but the next second he was he was steadily planted on Anti's thighs, facing his victim's knees as he kept up his pinching and replied with nonchalance and teasiness.

'In any other situation it would be, but right here right now I think it's perfect! Awww look at these ticklish kneecaps! Are the backs bad too?'

Anti couldn't reply at first since his mind was trying to keep up a) with Chase's actions and b) with Chase's words as his embarrassment reached his peak. How the fuck had he let this happen? He couldn't get Chase off him, he couldn't even intimidate him! Had Jack or the fans given him newfound powers that he didn't know about? Anti had no answers.....even though it was actually quite clear; this was just the cheeky determination that comes with being happy. Chase was filled with it, and he eagerly forced his hands through the jeans' massive knee holes so his fingers could reach to scratch the bare skin at the backs of Anti's knees. Yes, he actually managed to do that. Anti couldn't even muster up a threat as his giggles transformed into cackles and he hit the couch in despair.

'NAHAHA LEHEAVE THEHEM ALOHOHONE!! YOHOU BIHIHITCH!!'

It tickled so bad. Anti felt like he was being electrocuted as Chase's blunt nails relentlessly scratched and scribbled.....but that wasn't the worst thing. Chase was giggling, teasing....fuck he was cooing at him like he was one of his kids! He was already embarrassed enough by his enthusiasm with tickling him, but talking to him like a fucking baby? Anti just wanted to hide away as Chase's playful voice filled his ears. 

'Wow so rude! Your wittle knees must be super duper tickwish! Kitchy kitchy coooo, or should I say glitchy glitchy goo?'

Chase was grinning like an idiot as he turned to look at Anti, and he was overjoyed to see Anti covering his face and not even trying to fight back anymore. Anti was thrashing as he snorted and wailed, feeling a wave of butterflies fly through his system as his grin switched from mirthful to insane.....dammit why did one tickle spot have to betray him so diabolically?

'DOHOHON'T SAHAHAY THAHAT OHOGOD GEHET AWAHAY FROM MY FUHUCKING KNEHEHEES!!'

Chase snickered as he picked up the partially desperate whine lacing Anti's voice, he thought it was so adorable. He hummed to himself as if he was in thought, gently easing off his scratching....but not stopping entirely. Chase had more he wanted to do. As he slowed he looked over Anti's legs, then mused cheekily.

'Y'know, me talking about your jeans having more rips than fabric had started off as a joke, but I actually managed to fit my HANDS through them? How crazy is that?'

Anti was catching his breath with well masked relief, giggling and tensing as he decided to agree with whatever Chase decided to say; his ability to survive this onslaught was paramount.

'Y-Yeheah....s-suhuper crazy.....how abohout I show ya where Ihi bought 'em? Yeah? D-Does that sound good?'

Chase smirked out of Anti's sight, he could practically feel the desperation coming from him in waves. He let out a loud hum, which acted as a distraction so Anti wouldn't see Chase's hands moving and hovering over where they were destined to strike next. Anti's gaze was fixed on the back of Chase's head as he waited, he'd have probably done almost anything to get Chase to have mercy on him....that's what happens when you're ticklish. It switches something on inside you, something so pure and delicate that takes hold of you and makes you do things like begging or screaming; things you'd never dreamt of doing before. That's what tickling is, a gateway to your deepest self. Philosophy aside however, Chase decided that he'd amped up the anticipation enough....so he replied.

'Y'know Anti, that does sound pretty good.....but I can't get this thought out of my head....

Chase paused, and chuckled when he heard Anti's breath hitch.

'Now I've seen my hands fit through the knee rips....I want to see if they can fit through ALL the rips!'

Anti's eyes widened as he let out a glass-shattering squeal, descending into stuttery laughter as he felt fingers probing and scratching random portions of his bare thighs. The muscles twitched as Anti grasped Chase's t-shirt and jostled the man with desperate intent. Anti thought it had been torturous before.....but this was so much worse.

'AHHHH NONONO DOHOHON'T DON'TDON'T NAHAT THE THIHIHIGHS!! AHANYWHEHERE BUHUT THEHEHEM!!'

Chase snickered at Anti's cries and effortlessly cooed in response, not ceasing his rapid, random tickly touches even for half a second.

'But this is where all the rips are! I'm gonna have to spend quite a bit of time here-'

'FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOOOOFF!!'

Chase pursed his lips, before narrowing his eyes and allowing his hands to squeeze the glitchy man's leg muscles. Not just at the top either, the insides and outsides of the thighs were equally as unsafe in terms of their ability to being un-tickled by Chase.

'I'm sorry what was that you asked me to do Anti?'

At Chase's teasy query, Anti felt like his cheery red cheeks were going to burst; the semi-reprimanding tone sent fearful chills down his spine as he hurriedly yelled through his bubbly laughter.

'NOHOHOTHIHIHING AHAHA IHIT WAHAS NOHOHOTHIHIHING!!'

The words ''please believe me and be nice'' were circling through Anti's mind like he was Geppetto wishing upon a star. Anti couldn't help but shudder more in embarrassment since internal begging, internal though it was, was still begging in Anti's eyes. He wouldn't have to worry about that for much longer though, since Chase had whispered in a low toned, devious voice. Chase was going to make Anti pay for being so rude.

'Now you're lying too? Oh you really do deserve this....' 

Anti knew, right there and then, that he was completely fucked.

'NONONOOOHOHOOO! AHHHHAHAHAHA!!!'

If you think you know what mad laughter sounds like, forget it. It didn't even sound like laughter, it was just this insanely captivating collage of shrieking squeals and snorts. As Chase's fingers had worked their ways to the fleshy, soft, ticklish backs of Anti's thighs, Anti had just lost all control of himself. You know there's that one spot, that one place on your body that can make you blush and whimper at the mere THOUGHT of it being tickled? This was Anti's spot, and Chase was owning it.

'Feeling that regret now buddy? Awww I bet this tickles sooo goooood!'

Chase teased with a broad smirk as he played with the flesh like it was play-dough, squeezing, pinching, kneading....he was being an evil little shit. He was listening to Anti's hysteria with glee, but it was about to be cut short via an act of desperation that is also, in my opinion, quite adorable.

'CHAHAHAHAHAAAASE!!!'

Chase smirked when Anti screamed his name, but suddenly squealed when he felt two arms wrap around him tightly and pull him backwards and away from his ticklish prize. Chase understood soon enough though. Anti had grabbed him in a final attempt to bring mercy, and was now hugging Chase to his chest as he breathlessly giggled and whined residually into his shoulder blades.

'N-Noho more.....t-too....tihicklish....fuck....'

Chase couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt at how weak Anti sounded. Chase found a bit of wiggle room in Anti's embrace and used it to shift so he could see Anti and check on him and make sure he was okay and not angry or hurt or upset....but when Chase saw him, he couldn't help but smile fondly. Anti had the ghost of a happy smile on his face as he nuzzled into Chase's shoulder, he was a flustered, giggly guy right now and Chase was beyond relieved. When Chase spoke he grinned.

'Heeyy hey there, I'm done buddy I'm done I swear. You handled a fuckton dude, you should be super proud!'

Chase was entirely serious with every word as he grinned at Anti, who glanced up at him with curious eyes. He mumbled, form glitching and twitching a little.

'Do....do ya mean that?'

Anti could feel himself smiling bashfully when Chase nodded, one of his hands patting Anti's back reassuringly. This not only made Anti feel awesome about himself in general, but it soothed him perfectly in the wake of the tickle torture he'd just endured; it was Chase's implicit aftercare of sorts, and it worked wonderfully.

'Hell yeah kid!'

Anti narrowed his eyes as he muttered his reply, sarcasm dripping from his words as his unique attitude rose up.

'Gee thanks dad....'

Chase pursed is lips as he grinned, then let out a dramatic sigh.

'Ahh, teens these days with their ripped clothes and attitude....'

Anti snorted and laughed, and Chase soon joined in with bright, happy eyes. Yeah, they were both happy. Yeah, they were both cuddling each other unashamedly. There are a few beautiful, serene and respectful literary ways in which you could describe the end of this scene, I imagine many of you already have verbose adjectives swirling in your minds, which is awesome. However, I find that I can only describe this in one way, a way that Anti would be proud of. Fucking adorable.

WOOOOPPP DONE! I HOPE YA LIKED IT LEMME KNOW IF YOU DO! LUV YOUS XXX

[dhaskoi]

Love, Judgment & Forgiveness

This was my entry for the Supercat Christmas in July fic exchange for the incomparable #damelola.  If you liked my earlier drabble about Lena getting caught with the kryptonite you might like this too.

Cat leans back in her seat with a sigh as she lays the paper down on the empty seat next to her, the DC cityscape slipping by outside the town car’s window.  When you work in the big white house your workday never really ends, but she’s found that with an early start she can snatch some time to herself on the drive in, usually spent flipping through her preferred papers.  Her fondness for newsprint is a little old fashioned, especially when her own publications (and she will always think of them as hers, no matter what shenanigans take place with CatCo stock) are steadily switching over to a focus on digital content.  The smoothness of the transition a significantly greater online presence is one of the things James has gotten right.  But Cat can’t imagine a time when she won’t love the tangibility of ink under her fingers, the weight of the folded paper in her hands, the rustle of the pages.  The day that picking up her morning paper doesn’t give her a little thrill she’ll know it’s time to cart herself off to a nursing home to play shuffleboard and be wheeled out into the sunlight at set times like a potted plant.  God willing she’ll die before there’s any risk of that.

She knew it would be hard, walking away from CatCo and National City for the second time.  She knew that this would happen, reading about Kara’s adventures and triumphs second or third hand and feeling left out.  The traitorous voice that used to whisper that she was already left out hardly even stirs these days, after all the times she’s repressed it.   Cat had told herself that White House Press Secretary was a job worthy to the challenge of keeping her fully distracted from what she’d left behind.  It turns out that once she’d settled into the role and started to get the hang of Beltway maneuverings the mechanics of the job were in fact less challenging than being a CEO.  She hadn’t realized how badly her schedule had been bloated by encounters with murderous, superpowered ex-employees, scheming billionaires (other than her), alien invasions and whatever crisis of the week their resident superhero had to deal with.

That said, she’s learning a lot from Olivia.  She suspects her old friend had more reasons than a desperate need to replace her decimated staff when she offered Cat the job, but Cat is so used to being on the other side of that equation that it took her an embarrassingly long time to realise she was being groomed for more.   She’s still considering what path she wants to take after her stint as press secretary wraps up.  On to communications director to put her name on some worthwhile legislation and get the experience she’d need to make a credible run for governor or the senate?  She doesn’t intend to be one of those idiots who thinks they can spend their way into an office without any accomplishments to prove she’s worthy of the task.

Some new business enterprise?  The way news gets distorted on social media has riled Cat for years, but being the WHPS has given her a new, more urgent perspective on the subject.  It’s different hearing briefings from the FBI about acts of violence set in motion by lies spread on Facebook and Tumblr.  Idle thoughts about a new type of media platform that integrates social media more directly, combined with rigorous fact checking and moderation, have been growing less idle lately.  Getting a new company off the ground at this stage of her life sounds like a nightmare, especially in a field that cutthroat, but the money from the CatCo sale and Carter’s impending college years are two significant differences from the insane and sleepless days when she was getting CatCo off the ground.

Which brings her to door number three.  A return to CatCo with the skills and knowledge she’s acquired here, using them to elevate her company further, take it to even greater heights.   Her understanding of how to leverage media influence for social change has been honed to an even sharper edge by her time in Washington – new knowledge of how the political machine works from the inside has given her some interesting thoughts about changes she’d like to make at CatCo if she went back.  The thought of it is tempting and unnerving in almost equal proportion.  Would she be moving forward or falling back into the same old rut if she went home to the city where she truly made her name?  And could she bear to see a certain bright-eyed reporter growing closer to the woman who seems to have stepped into what used to be Cat’s place in her life?  These are questions she doesn’t have answers to yet.  Until she does she’ll keep supporting and learning from Olivia –

Something in her driver’s body language catches her attention and Cat frowns, turning away from the window to reach forward and tap her on the shoulder.

“Lisa is there a -”

The whole world blurs as the car jerks to the side and Cat is thrown against the seatbelt suddenly cutting into her torso.  Force, pure force tossing her around. It’s like being a bug in a jar, picked up by the hand of a giant angry toddler and shaken hard.  Cat still remembers her first encounter with the sensation from her mercifully brief stint as a war correspondent when she’d been too close to an IED.  For years after she’d persisted in the happy delusion that that part of her life was over, until with the arrival of its own superhero National City suddenly seemed to have a new hostile alien or ridiculous metahuman attacking every damn week.  No matter how many times it happens you never get used to it.  Noise, tyres screeching, engine revving, Lisa in the front seat swearing - and then silence for a second before the sound of voices shouting and feet pounding.  Cat raises a hand to her head and tries to focus past the shock and the disorientation.  There’s an ache in her neck that makes it hard to raise her head.  Don’t stop thinking, that’s her rule in situations like this and it has always served her well.  First task?   Check on the person in the car with her, who is also the one person who might immediately be able to tell her what’s going on, or get free?  Do both.  Cat scrabbles at her seatbelt even as she calls out.

“Lisa?  Lisa can you hear me?  Lisa?”

No response.  Cat hopes she’s merely unconscious.  The crash didn’t feel as though it was that bad.  Did they have an accident or – no, there’s gunfire.  Despite the circumstances and the surge of adrenaline Cat feels a sort of tired resignation creeping over her for a second.  Does this always have to be her life?

Then the door slams open and rough hands are grapping at her shoulders, yanking her out unceremoniously to land on her hands and knees on the unforgiving tarmac.  She feels it cutting into her palms and her knees and takes a moment to be grateful that the situation isn’t triggering a flashback.   Therapy works, apparently.

Ordinarily the Press Secretary simply doesn’t rate their own secret service detail and Cat hasn’t broken the tradition.  Due to her colourful personal history (most press secretaries have never faced a single attempt on their life, let alone multiple attacks by supervillains) Cat has the distinction of being offered a detail by Olivia.  The worry was that someone with her high profile assuming such a public position might become a target in a way that the Press Secretary usually isn’t, but Cat dismissed the concern.   She doesn’t need a coterie of bodyguards to feel special - and she doesn’t believe that men and women whose job it is to take a bullet guarding the country’s leadership should be used as adornments to someone else’s ego.  Vanity is one thing, but that just smacks of insecurity to her.

And if she’s being honest with herself she couldn’t tolerate the loss of freedom, especially freedom of movement, that came with a security detail.  Evidently, that was a mistake.

There’s indistinct yelling around her as she looks up – right into the barrel of a gun, wonderful – and she catches something about ‘alien loving bitch’, oh of course, Cat thinks, the woman who named Supergirl becomes the face of the administration that passed the alien amnesty act.  It was only a matter of time before some bunch of backwoods bigots crawled out of the woodwork.  She really should have seen this coming, except she can never take these kinds of lunatics as seriously as she probably should, refuses to engage with the fearful mindset that considers them real threats.  Cadmus running around being, well, being Cadmus, also made it easy to forget that they weren’t the face of all prejudice in America and the threat didn’t end with Lillian being locked up.

Looks like she’s going to pay for that now.

The reality finally sinks in as she sees her assailant’s finger tighten on the trigger, some nondescript thug in coveralls with weaponry easily brought at any gun fair in the country.

This is it.  This is when she dies.  No lucky escape or last-minute superhero save this time.  The smallness of it stings a little.  After everything she’s survived this is how it all ends for her?

Time slows.

Cat has always known that the time gifted to us is finite and too precious to be wasted.  She’s understood so ever since she came home from school at the age of ten and found her beloved father dead in his study from a stroke decades too soon.  As a child she was furious, betrayed, she blamed everyone and everything and cried out the injustice.  As an adult she came to understand, slowly, that loss and pain are part of life, that they sharpen the edge of every experience.  Cat doesn’t fear death.  Unfinished business, on the other hand . . .

Carter.  He’s not so little nowadays, but he’ll always be her baby and he still needs his mother.  This is going to break his heart.  Will his father come through for his son this once?  If any deity should be listening, please let him grow up happier and steadier than she did.

Adam.  They’ve stayed in touch, sporadic yet ongoing.  He even sent a card for her last birthday.  She can never be the mother to him that she wanted to be, but there was hope for closeness, for something of the relationship she thought she’d lost any chance at.

Kara.  There’s a lot she still wanted to say to the most promising young woman she ever mentored.  A lot that she might never have said, regardless of what she tells herself in this last moment.  She can only hope Kara knows, that her veiled and not-so-veiled comments made it clear how important the other woman was to her, and in how many ways.  And she’s selfish enough to hope that she’ll be missed, that Kara will shed a tear or two just for Cat.

And then -

The familiar whoosh of displaced air and the distinctively heavy thump, felt as much as heard, that can only be caused by a pair of strong legs suddenly hitting the ground at speed.  There’s no stopping the smile that begins to from on her face, an ingrained reaction to the knowledge that a certain blonde Kryptonian is still her guardian angel.

Cat looks up and is startled to see a flash of dark hair instead of the expected blonde.  With a flicker of disappointment, she realises it’s him, not her, and then she has to check that assumption too as further details sink in and she realizes something very strange is happening.  Black and white is her first impression.  A black, vaguely leather looking bodysuit with a metallic sheen and a matte white cloak that sweeps back from her shoulders.  Long dark hair falling in a queue down her back.   She’s moving too fast for Cat to see more than that, as she pushes herself to her feet.

The mystery woman – mystery girl, Cat realizes - rips through the attackers with superspeed and rather less moderation than she’s used to seeing from Kara or Superman, although it doesn’t look as if her surprise savior has killed anyone.   Her shoves and throws as she blurs from one location to the next are more than forceful enough to break bones and she throws their weapons away with enough energy to put bystanders at risk.  One of the thugs gets thrown into the side of the van that rammed Cat’s car with enough force to leave an ugly dent.

She’s new, says the analytical part of Cat’s mind that never switches off, even when the rest of her is saying her final goodbyes.   Determined but short on practical experience.  Like Kara when she first started out the new arrival isn’t familiar with the million little details that add up to doing a complicated job right and she hasn’t had the benefit of anyone else’s experience.  She’s trying, but it’s clear no-one has taught her how to fight safely with her strength.

What are they going to call her, Cat wonders?  There’s no convenient letter shaped symbol on her chest to hang a name on, no obvious theme for branding.  With a jolt of realisation it occurs to her that these decisions are not hers to make anymore.  Someone else – Kara? James? Please god not Lois – will choose a name for this new arrival.  The sense of loss she feels at that realization is stronger than she might have expected.  Then Cat realizes it’s over, every attacker down, and the new superhero in town is headed towards her at a swift trot.  The expression of concern on her face is a little surprising from someone Cat has never met.

Oh hell – Lisa.  Cat rushes towards the car, a little unsteady on her Jimmy Choos but not slowing down as she heads towards the driver side door to check on Lisa.

“Ynugh!  Cat,” a hesitant pause at Cat’s lack of response, “Miss Grant!  Miss Grant are you okay?”

The voice isn’t quite the light, warm tone so familiar to her (yet another giveaway of the secret she’s supposed to keep ignoring) but it’s close. And so are those worried blue eyes.  The face though . . . there’s something about it that claws at the edge of Cat’s memory.  Something that’s obvious yet out of sight.  She pushes it into a corner of her mind for later consideration, so she can focus on the more urgent present.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Lisa, my driver, I think she was knocked unconscious -”

Before Cat can complete the thought the girl is reaching forward and with a tearing shriek of abused metal the door is ripped away and flung aside. Lisa’s seatbelt is no obstacle to Kryptonian strength (Cat’s assuming – she’s certainly got the flight, the strength and the speed) and in the time it takes Cat to blink Lisa is being laid gently down on the road by the mystery brunette.  Cat is already shrugging out of her blazer to make an impromptu pillow while the brunette looks her over with an analytical care that Cat recognizes.  That’s a tick for x-ray vision then.

“She’s okay, she’s okay.  It’s safe, she doesn’t have any spinal damage,” the young brunette says reassuringly when she sees Cat hesitate to disturb Lisa’s head.

“It’s just bumps and bruises and a mild concussion,” she goes on as Cat tucks the folded blazer under Lisa’s head.

“I am so glad you’re okay, Miss Grant.”

“So am I, miss . . .”

Cat lets her voice trail off questioningly.  Danger past and her immediate fears assuaged her investigative instincts are kicking in.  She wants answers.  She wants the story.

She wants to know what the hell is going on.

The young woman focuses an intense gaze on Cat, before breaking into a beaming smile.  Finally, able to get a clear look at her, what stands out is how pleased she looks with herself.  Cat is reminded more than anything of Carter as a child when he thought he’d managed to sneak an extra cookie without her realizing.  He was so adorable when he did that she occasionally let him get away with it, purely for the pleasure of his happy I’m-so-clever smile.  She’s striking, no surprise ( why do superheroes always look as though they came straight from central casting?) with fine features, clear skin, long dark hair and the blue eyes Cat already took note of.  Possibly the brightness of the smile she’s directing at Cat is skewing her judgment slightly there.

“I’m a friend, Miss Grant. ��I promise you that.”

Cat looks her dead in the eye and makes a show of dusting herself before planting her hands on her waist, summoning every ounce of poise she has.

“Really? Isn’t it considered friendly to introduce oneself where you’re from?”   Cat smirks a little, reminded of her earlier thought and a long past conversation with Kara.  “If you don’t provide a name you’ll have to live with someone else’s pick.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something suitable, Miss Grant.”  More grinning.  “You’ve got some practice naming superheroes.”  She tilts her head in way that’s familiar to anyone who has spent much time around Kara, focusing elsewhere for a second.  Add another tick for super hearing, Cat decides.  “And that’s my cue to leave.  Stay safe, Cat.���

She grins wider and it’s so bright and fiercely joyful that the connection Cat had wondered at is undeniable.  Then she tenses, and Cat barely has time to take a faltering step back before the girl launches into the sky, going fast but not so fast she can’t be seen, until there’s a strange shimmer and she’s simply gone.  Cat stays watching for a moment, the way most people do when they’ve just seen one of the supers fly away, before the sound of sirens shakes her out of the reverie.

“That never stops being impressive,” she murmurs before returning to Lisa’s side, already drafting the release and considering how the administration will break the news without admitting they don’t know anything.

The next several hours are spent in the D.C headquarters of the D.E.O, recounting the same five minutes over and over, while Sam Lane pitches a hissy fit in the background.  Which explains why she’s hours behind the curve when James Olsen decides outing himself as the Guardian is a good idea.

Read the rest on AO3

[gensou-no-toshokan]

First date azanina ?

Technically already got this one, but I think this time I’m gonna try it on an AU scenario~

“Professor! They’re at it again!” Someone told tohim the moment he was outside the classroom and quite honestly Kaisar doubted alittle the moment he got warned because that meant only one thing.

“Why can’t you be nice for once!” 

“Why can’t you ever bring your own stuff for class?Last time my book was covered with soy sauce! Do you know how fucking expensivethey are?” 

There right in the front row where Nina and Azazelarguing again about some ridiculous thing, while the others only laughedpointed at them or recorded them with their cellphones.

It was only Tuesday for god’s sake!

He had thought that this was one of the things hewouldn’t have to deal with again once he got his tenure and stopped teaching atthe high school.

“I have my stuff! I just can’t find them!” Ninayelled and stomped her foot. 

“Are you saying you can’t find anything in thatchaos you call a room? What a surprise.” Azazel said rolling his eyes andfinally sitting down and putting on some - ridiculously designed - headphones,flat out intent on ignoring her existence.

When he got into teaching career, he had done sobecause it was a noble profession: cultivate young minds in order to help themdevelop to go out there in the world and make the best of it! 

If he managed to inspire a single student to achievegreater knowledge and education, then that meant his job was done. But why inthe entirety of high school had the two most boisterous and conflictivestudents had ended up on his ancient history class?

“Teacher!” Nina came to him at thatmoment, “Azaz-”

“Nina Ialready told you, I’m a professor here.” He cut her, not in the mood. “And Azazel had a point;when are you going to bring your own study material to class?” 

Rather than saying anything, Nina’s face got all tearfuland ready to beg, and before he had to deal with another of her displays inpublic he just borrowed her his edition and hurried her to her seat.

Which was of course next to Azazel… who was busyglaring at Nina and him from under his arms…. this was going to be a long day.

“This is not funny.” He said when Favaro finished guffawingat his expense in the break room. 

“I’m sorry,are you listening to yourself? A couple of teens who are your stereotypicalproblem student’s cases, obviously have the hots for each other and before meeting you were in dangerof failing but not only passed but actually made it to the same college andclass you are now tenured in…”

He didn’t get to finish because he was laughingagain and Kaisar patience was wearing thin.

“…Oh my god, that’s the stuff right out ofafterschool specials!” He added pounding his hand on the table and wiping atear of his eye with the other

“You’remissing the point, this is college! And they still act like children, I mean Iknow them and I can overlook it… most days anyways, but it won’t be long beforeNina fails her classes and Azazel manages to get himself punched or punchsomeone, and i can’t do anything, because I can’t involve myself in their livesanymore, they’re not children anymore and the board made very clear my job wasnot to fix anyone’s lives, that’s supposed to be your work advisor.”  

Favaro said nothing as he just looked at him withan infuriating smile.

“…and by the way, I never said they hadthe ‘hots’ for each other.”

Now, that got his attention and he rose from hisseat looking at him completely serious.

“Okay, youconvinced me send them to my office tomorrow morning, and at the very least Ipromise… no I bet youtheir attitude problem will be fixed by the end of the week.”

In another time, in another universe in which hewasn’t perpetually tired Kaisar might have looked at the evil glint in his eyesand said no.

But that wasn’t the case was it?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” 

That was what woke up Favaro from his nap causinghis ears to ring and his headache to ache even more, when he opened the door hewas witness to an tall boy  - who looked to have stuck on his gothic phasea couple years too long -and a tiny girl - so ridiculously ‘cute’  thatshe looked pulled out from some commercial - engaged in what might have lookeddirty in any other circumstances in which he wasn’t squishing her face with hishands while her fists moved around widely, managing to punch him more thanonce.

For the first time he felt some sympathy forKaisar.

When he cleared his throat they both stared at himwithout even disengaging from… whatever he supposedly walked on, so he got anidea:

“I know thatis must be hard for you freshmen to find time to be intimate with your high school sweet hearts, but I wouldn’t advise to do it in this hallway since it’s incrediblybusy…” Favaro paused in that exact moment to hear and ‘eek’ from both ofthem and put as much space in between before grinning and adding: “…ButI will gladly provide you a list of the best hiding spots in the campus to doyour stuff if you listen to me first.”

When he finally got them to seat, pointedlyavoiding to touch or look at each other and a slight blush in both of theirfaces that he knew he had this in the bag.

“There has been a growing concern for some of theteaching staff that both of you seem to present some risky behaviors, typicalfrom older students so naturally I grew concerned, since you are only startingout.”

“If this about me not bringing all my books Ipromise me and my roommate are working on getting rid of the trash thisweekend! Please don’t expel me!” Nina yelled almost jumping on top of his deskin the process.

“Psst, I bet that thing won’t stay clean for morethan a day, so what’s the point?” Azazel said sneaking a mocking look at her…except said eyes looked too interested on her backside.

When Nina realized - or probably felt - of hiswandering eyes she quickly sat again attempting to look none the wiser.

Poor Kaisar, sometimes Favaro feared that he mightbe dead from the waist down, there was no other explanation for him to ignoresomething so, so obvious. 

“Oh, don’t worry Miss Drango, this has nothing todo with that, mostly it has to do some attitude problems that might put you atrisk in the foreseeable future…” Really this was the reason Favaro had neverworked in high schools, he shouldn’t be having this type of talk with two youngadults. “…and you disrupting almost all of your classes, at any momentof any day.”

“Wait a minute why are you looking at me? It’s herwho can’t even attempt to act like a proper student, half-assig her wayeverywhere she goes, clinging to the pity of everyone she directs those stupidpuppy eyes of hers!”

“Ha! Says the guy who can’t have a properconversation with anyone in which he doesn’t end up being a complete assholebecause he can’t stand other people being right!”

“That’s fascinating but-”

“Huh? You’re the only one whose always arguing withme for every little thing, because for some reason, you need to consult me foreverything, I don’t care if you buy that dress, I don’t know if you should takemore courses or change roommates and I definitely don’t need to know how oftenyou miss your mother!”

“See? How can someone be this level of an idiotsince elementary school and still not understand anything? And I don’t goaround making ‘puppy eyes’  at everyone! It’s just that everytime youyell at me I feel like an idiot!”

“Wait, you know each other from elementary-”

“Oh, I’m theidiot?! And it’s because of you that everyone in the dorms think I’m like thissuper villain? Specially after the last time you slipped your underwear withmine in the laundry basket again, and notonly did it stain them all pink and blue, but now everyone thinks we’resleeping together!”

“Maybe they wouldn’t have thought that if you hadn’tstormed into my room and yelled loud and clear about it while holding my pantiesin your hand! Or if you had thought me to use the laundry machine like youpromised a month ago!”

Favaro already giving up on having any civilconversation with these two, simply muttered. “Maybe you should reallysleep together…”

“HUH?!” 

Of course thathad caught their attention, and he felt like throwing his own desk over thewindow at how incredibly oblivious they both were, maybe Kaisar had influencedthem in more ways than one.

“Obviously you’re both under a lot of pressure fromthe new responsibilities and demands of college, and honestly maybe a goodnight or two of fun would help you release some steam.” 

It was like a spell, the office was miraculouslyquiet while they both got redder by the minute, assuring Favaro that he was notby far the only one with his mind on the gutter.

“A- Are you allowed to talk about that withstudents?” Azazel asked of all people.

“I’m sure you probably heard this a lot already,but allow me to add more: This is not high school, you’re not children anymoreand this time I’m serious, since you’re above the age of consent and yeah as long as I’mnot the one getting into a student’s pants this is free game, so why don’t you go outin a date, talk out some obviously repressed feelings out and get over with it,tonight preferably?”

Whether or not they listened to him, Favaro didn’tcare so he just kicked them out of his office.

“How did you do it?” Kaisar asked the next morningbefore even greeting him.

“Huh?” was the only thing he managed to say beforeKaisar turned his attention to the window, at first he wasn’t sure what he wassupposed to be looking at.

Until he spotted a pink head near the gardenfountain, looking uncharacteristically happy and actually carrying all thestuff she was supposed to - or so he assumed seeing the backpack she had beenmissing yesterday - and then to a white-haired head walking not too far fromher, his shoulders looking much less tense than yesterday and for once not glaring atevery one and everything around him.

Then he looked at Kaisar looking at him as if hehad the answer to all his problems, and Favaro knew he couldn’t tell the truth now.

“I… might have suggested some… recreationalactivities after school for them.” He said. “You know… as a stressrelief.” 

“Don’t lie to me, I’ve tried that before, it endedup with them banned from using the rec room!”

“…Okay I told them to… have a date.” Technicallynot a lie, but still waiting for his inevitable tirade about proper behavior atschool or something…

Instead, he watched him give a huge sigh of relief and sank into his seat.

“Finally.” And Favaro knew his jaw was hangingopen. 

“You said that they didn’t have the hots for eachother!”

“No, I said I had not told you, I know you and Ritalove to mock me about that, but I’m actually not that dense you know?” 

“And if you knew then you send them to mebecause…” he asked waiting for an answer.

“They take my class, and I have to see them threetimes per week, if I acknowledged that, I wouldn’t be able to look into theireyes, you on the other hand are shameless and could only dream of having mypatience, so I thought why not trying.” He answered shrugging.

Favaro couldn’t even be angry because damn if itwasn’t the sneakiest thing he had done and he felt strangely proud of it.

[regrettablewritings]

All the Write Words, Pt.III (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader)

A/N: I’m gonna be real, this is just total juvenile cheesecake because even at my age, I have the sense of humor of a baby. And let’s be real, this was bound to happen at some point. This is a Vladimir fic after all . . .

Prologue Part I Part II Part IV Part V

For the first time in a long while, Vladimir Ranskahov’s life had a schedule: Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday, he was to be dropped off at the S. Lee Public Library from 10:45 AM to 1:30 PM. After every shift and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he typically would resume his previous work at his and Anatoly’s taxi garage. On Sundays and nearly every single night when he figured he could manage, time was put aside for downing copious amounts of vodka and drunkenly praying to God that this bullshit would end soon.

If not for his upbringing by a God-fearing born-again woman, Vladimir’s belief in a higher power would have died completely the moment he realized the ordeal wasn’t disappearing any faster than it could have been. However, it made no sense to disbelieve in a god when every other day he had to face the Devil.

The Bible had it all wrong. The Devil was not called Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t red with horns or anything of that nature. Instead, he was much less predictable: He was a she. And her name was (Y/N). And she was not red and with horns, but brown and small (thought she might have horns lying beneath that bushel of curls, Vladimir suspected). And her domain wasn’t an infernal pit of whips and organ-pecking birds so much as it was a homey little den of a library (still, there was much suffering, it was just relative). And there weren’t any torture devices like spears and daggers and racks so much as there were plenty of books and ridiculous words and references that could make a man feel insignificant all the same.

Or the damn alphabet chart she kept using during their little lessons in the faculty lounge. It was definitely plucked from the children’s learning corner, and it was definitely humiliating that he was being taught pronunciation association with it. C’s cat and F’s fox mocked him with their cartoonish faces. He swore he could hear D’s toothy donkey wheeze with laughter.

Maybe they were (Y/N)’s little demon accomplices? Maybe he himself was so weak that they needn’t resume an actual three-dimensional form to torture and berate him? The thought would make Vladimir shake his head furiously and toss the shot glass to the side, going full-on swig with whatever remained in the vodka bottle he’d nicked from Anatoly’s wine rack. Christianity had gotten one thing right about her, though: She had soul-sucking eyes that could make you feel quiet and nude. Especially when she was certain she could gain an upper-hand. Which, with Vladimir, almost always seemed to be the case somehow.

Vladimir stared blankly at the book in the center of the table, part-because its original cover had been so mangled that at some point it’d been given a new “jacket” made out of folded paper and marker, and part-because with what little English he could read, there was oneword  on that book cover that stood out to him the most. He’d seen it graffitied on the cell walls, heard it uttered a million times more, even said it himself plenty of times if the situation suited it. Enough to identify it by sound and connect it to the letters.

Fun with Dick and Jane.

Was he going to read/look at a porno? Vladimir fought to keep from smirking. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Sip. Oh. Wait.           

“Well, I see that childish humor transcends all languages.” And already, today was back it being normal. Vladimir flashed (Y/N) a reproachful look. She sat on the other side of the round lounge table per unspoken request, wearing yet another baggy sweatshirt that ended practically midway down her thighs and was altogether swallowing her short form up. She should’ve been more than warm in that suffocating getup, but she still insisted upon helping herself to a Styrofoam cup of hot Swiss Miss. She also insisted that she coyly sip from said cup for what seemed like every ten seconds of silence.

“You can try to hide that smirk all you want but the proof is in the pudding, puddin’: you’re all giddy about that Dick.” Proud of her little joke, (Y/N) smiled into her cup. The roundness of her cheeks were still visible. Vladimir quickly tried to change the subject before he slapped that cup out of her hands in a childish revenge fashion.

“What sense does it make that I read this when I can barely write?” he questioned. It was a fair point: how could be possibly read when he didn’t understand what composed the words before him?!

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought. “Weelll . . .” she dragged, tapping her fingers against the side of the cup. “To tell you the truth, I’ve actually never really taught before . . .” Her cheeks turned rosy slightly, and Vladimir knew instantly that was it wasn’t because of the Swiss Miss. Her tone indicated a sudden realization of the gravity of this task. Maybe it’d prove to be too heavy for her and she’d just give up, sign the papers, and set him loose? Vladimir hoped so.

But all at the same time, there was a small part of him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge too greatly, that wanted her to remain persistent. Just to see where and how far this all would go.

“B-but I have younger siblings, and I read to them occasionally. So . . . so I figured that if I tried reading some basic words to you, you’d begin to connect words to writing. Or at least get more enthusiastic . . .” She shyly played with one of her many curls, suddenly gaining an interest in the image of her Styrofoam cup. She bit at her lip slightly, repressing only a fragment of the smile that was beginning to grow on her face. “I guess I could be on the right track, though.” She glanced up at the rugged Russian. “After all, you could read ‘Dick.’”

A hiss of irritability escaped from Vladimir’s flared nostrils but nothing else. She had a point, as pissed as he was to find himself understanding and agreeing. He glanced back down at Fun with Dick and Jane with its printer paper makeshift cover. What the hell, his mind finally gave in. Jane was having fun with a dick, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad . . .

“’See Jack laugh?’” A painted illustration of some nancy boy laughing at a clown on a clunky old TV set. “’See Jane play? Jane plays with the doll.’” A little blonde girl swearing a frilly blue dress, playing with a raggedy old doll that his mother probably wouldn’t want. “’Dick is running. Run, Dick, run!’”

Yeah, you dick: Run away for fooling me, Vladimir wanted to say. This was pure torture: Having the poofy-haired Devil read to him – and at such a slow-ass pace! (Y/N), at the very least, seemed to be enjoying herself in some way. Well, that’s what the tight smile plastered across her face had initially said. But about midway through, Vladimir began to suspect that it was because she, too, might be embarrassed by the childish display. 

. . . Or maybe because there was something rather odd about having to constantly utter the word “Dick” in front of a guy with whom she was not involved with nor even on friendly terms. Either way, it managed to create a small sense of victory for Vladimir; the torturer suffering alongside the tortured. Beautiful.

Why should he care about the daily activities of Jane? Or that Spot the dog and Puff the cat liked to play? Or – aw, hell, who the hell is Pam and why is she being brought into the cast seventeen pages into this travesty?!

When (Y/N) began to talk about how Sally was “funny Sally, funny, funny Sally”, a knock came from the threshold. Vladimir’s relief was almost immediately run over by embarrassment as a certain pudgy young man appeared to have walked in on their little lesson.

“Uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything major,” Foggy said from the doorway. “But that one guy? Mr. Wesley? Yeah, he’s here for those language books but we’re having trouble locating the one on Mandarin.”

“Oh, really? Okay, hold on, I’ll be right out,” (Y/N) offered. The slight eagerness in her voice indicated that she was just as excited to stop reading the bore-fest. As she followed Foggy out to the front desk, she called back, “Few-minute break, my little big pupil! Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” Vladimir nearly broke his phone with how fast and frustratingly he whipped it out of his pocket. Immediately, he set to dialing one of the very few numbers he had.

“You should not be calling,” Anatoly greeted after the third ring. Before he could say anything more, Vladimir interrupted, his Russian becoming more like gibberish. “Brother, you have signed me up for sick torture. This -- this witch has me sitting here listening to her read about Jane and Dick and –”

“Zaderzhat, zaderzhat– khuy?! You are reading porn?!” Anatoly demanded. Judging by the harsh whisper he’d delivered the sentence in, it was safe for Vladimir to assume that he was in the garage surrounded by the employees. Vladimir opened his mouth to clarify but the elder Ranskahov went on. “What the hell are you reading porn in a goddamn library, you mudak?! I send you to make you better person, not to be like some horny teenage boy!”

“No, you idiot, listen! I – ”

“Volodya, I understand if last two years in jail were rough on you – urges is -- is normal. But just because it is so long, does not mean you go about letting your dick lead you like a dog on a leash. You are its owner, you control it. So stop hiding in back room and get to work!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you goddamn mudak!” Vladimir hissed. His pride had been severely wounded. How dare Anatoly assume he was stooping so low. Hell, how dare he assume he couldn’t just walk right out this library and get any! “Women is not problem for me! And to correct you, you idiot, is not porn, is a . . . a fucking book for children!”

“Ooohhh,” Anatoly muttered with slight relief. A beat occurred between them, with Vladimir too furious and embarrassed to say anything and Anatoly suddenly in thought.

“Why are you reading children’s book?” His voice broke the crisp silence. A flurry of emotions and thoughts banged against the walls of Vladimir’s skull. Like hell Anatoly was going to find it out now!           

“Okay, I’m back,” (Y/N) said as she returned into the room. At that moment, Vladimir considered the little devil an angel. But just for a second. He quickly hung up on his brother without offering him an explanation and shoved the phone back into his pocket, his usual glare holding in place. “Sorry for the holdup,” the young woman said as she grabbed another cup from the counter. She was making yet another cup of Swiss Miss.

“Mr. Wesley is a man with some rather . . . high . . . expectations. He’s a bit of a butt if you don’t put things a certain way, though . . . Oh, well,” she sighed. But her words fell on deaf ears for Vladimir. As did her continued narration of yet another Dick and Jane segment. To be perfectly honest, Vladimir had bigger, better things going on in his mind. Like how his own flesh and blood had the audacity to accuse him of being like a hormonal plebian.

He was a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of controlling his hormones! So what if he hadn’t gotten any kind of anything in a while? . . . A rather long while . . . Vladimir unconsciously furrowed his brows in thought. How long had it been precisely?

“Ow! Dammit!” The little curse yanked Vladimir back into the world of reality. In reality, (Y/N) had spilled a majority of the hot Swiss Miss on to her baggy sweater. The large brown stain coupled with a hiss of minor pain caused (Y/N) to click her teeth with dismay. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vladimir, I was just – gimme a sec.” She said it as if Vladimir had actually made any attempts to help out with the situation. Mentally, the Russian scoffed as he took his seat once again. . . . Wait. When did he even get out of it?

(Y/N) sighed after further inspecting the damage the spill had caused. “It’s all damp and gross now . . .” she muttered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It made Vladimir roll his eyes. Why did she care about it like a normal woman cares about actually fitting clothes? It was just a baggy, old sweater. Hell, it was probably just a burlap sack dyed a different color to hide just how rough it was. Silly peasants and their attachments to their trash. These thoughts rattled in Vladimir’s head, completely drowning out his previous mental documentation and the insults that had called for them.

Then he noticed (Y/N)’s arms disappearing from the sleeves of her sullied sweater. She began to do that all too familiar wriggle a person does when they were getting a shirt off. What the – ?

“Hope you don’t mind . . .” (Y/N)’s voice sounded bashful from behind the cloth as it covered her mouth. He could see her cheeks reddening as her face descended into the neck hole, the sweater completely swallowing her. “I – I just can’t wear something so damp. It’ll get chilly, I’m sorry if this comes off as unprofessional but – ” The rambling continued on as it normally did with (Y/N), muffled until the little woman emerged from the bottom of the jumper but the embarrassed blush of her face continued. Her brown eyes scurried to look anywhere but at her overgrown pupil. Had she looked up, she would’ve noticed a change in his demeanor.

Well. The Bible might have gotten one more thing right about the Devil: She could completely transform her impression by someone in the blink of an eye because damn was that sweater like a ragged snakeskin hiding a form like that. Maybe it was the way the black fitted t-shirt embraced the slopes of her curves. Maybe it was because without the low-hanging sweater, Vladimir could see that she had soft-looking thick thighs being hugged by comfortable jeans. Maybe he just liked how after the ordeal with removing the top, her hair had become a mess he had only ever seen after becoming very . . .  “playful” with a woman. … Or maybe he just liked the fact that now he could confirm that she had a nice perky-looking set of –

Konechno net! Vladimir scolded himself. You are not some simpleton brat who gets a hard-on at the mere sight of a shoulder!

It was irritating to say the least and it rang in his head even as (Y/N) carried on like normal, clearing her throat as she resumed her place in the book. It was distressing how much Vladimir was actually forcing himself to pay attention to the words she read, especially after being so insistent that he do otherwise not too long ago. But then ago, not too long ago, he wasn’t trying to not think about the last time he’d been with a woman. And not too long ago, (Y/N) the Devil had been wearing an unflattering sweater that made Vladimir certain she probably had the body of a deflated potato. And not too long ago, he was certain the book was mostly focusing on the antics of Pam or Sally . . .

“Dick is lonely. Poor, lonely Dick,” he heard his teacher utter. He was almost certain he heard a wave in her voice as she said it (almost like a laugh attempting to flutter out) but decided against that possibility. But he did notice that among other things, he sat up straighter and his eyes searched frantically for other stimuli. Something, anything to dull out the ridiculous and rather suggestive sentences he had to hear her utter, even the minor add-ins she made to soothe the laughter he swore wasn’t there.

“Dick wants to play. Dick goes to play with Jane.”

This is absurd. This is ridiculous –

“Jane wants to play with Dick as well. Hurray!”

Surely these damn Americans knew how filthy this all sounded!           

“Dick j-umps with happiness (Oh, God . . .).”

Focus! On that poster – shit, it’s in English. The fridge? How many dots are in the ceiling tiles?!

“‘Jump, Dick!’ says Sally (pfft!). Dick jumps high.”

Hell no, nothing down below was jumping, right? Nothing to get all jumpy down there about when you’re looking at – a toaster? Magnets? Napkins?! Hair? Her hair? All messy and curled against cheeks red from being flustered –

“Dick is b-big . . .”

Those curves that didn’t exist until now, that perfect handful set on her chest –

“Dick is bigger than Ja – I can’t do this!” Immediately, (Y/N) burst into what might have been the most juvenile laughter Vladimir had heard in a long time. Like a series of bubbles overflowing from her mouth, rampant and without any of the control or demure nature she’d appeared to have before. It was unsettling. “I – I’m zsorry, V-vladimir,” (Y/N) wheezed as she tried to pat the laughter back with gentle taps to her chest. “I dknow it’z childish but – but come on, it’z zso ridiculous!” Vladimir could only stare and fight off the feeling of gobbsmacked that he actually felt.

He had been brought back to reality by a thunderous laugh and yet he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually real.

“Shoot, man,” gasped (Y/N) when she’d finally managed to calm down. “I think I laughed myself a set of abs almost. Geez, I’m a child . . .” She shook her head. Vladimir was used to only her curls bouncing when she did this but with the sweater gone and her body still making minor heaves after such a laughing spell, he couldn’t help but notice some other things moving in a bouncy fashion as well. And he fucking hated that he noticed this. He also hated how when she laughed in that gross fashion, his face burned. What witchcraft was this freaking suka pulling?!

Knock-knock.

The two looked up to see Claire in the faculty lounge doorway. “Hey, (Y/N)? Yeah, a young man at the desk is asking about Arachnemania? That one book on spiders? I swear we have it somewhere but we can’t find it in our system, is there any way you could . . .?”           

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks Claire,” (Y/N) turned to Vladimir. “Hang tight for a sec. When I come back, we can start on some workbook crap, a’ight?”

Vladimir nodded slowly. He had to remind himself to make his perpetual scowl at last minute. It didn’t last long, however, as when (Y/N) turned to leave, Vladimir’s eyes could help but slink downward on her body. Well. Apparently there were now two things Vladimir didn’t hate about his teacher from Hell. It took the end of his shift and his distance from them for him to realize in pure frustration that the little cheeky devil had turned the things he liked against him to get into a false sense of enjoyment.