#I MIGHT OUT IT THROUGH GOOGLE TRANSLATE OR SOMETHING TO GET A ROUGH TRANSLATION LATER

[caffeiiine]

@xansnacks I FOUND THE ANTHOLOGY RAWS THROUGH REDDIT

[buckyalpine]

Hey honey ! It’s 🐚 !! I have a request for you 🙈🥰 I love tough men that are assholes but turn soft for this one sweet girl ! And I was thinking Mafia Bucky and his rival’s daughter . He starts hooking up with her with every intention of her father finding out and being furious . But she’s none the wiser . She’s sweet and gentle with him even when he’s rough and rude . He always leaves the minute they’re done ,leaving her all alone and naked in her bed but she’s never bitter about it. After one particular night though , where they had sex in his place , she fell asleep , too worn out from Bucky being particularly rough . He took a moment to see her as something more than his nemesis daughter and he had to admit she was ethereal. Always sweet and kind . So much different than him and Bucky realized he might be falling for her . Especially with the way she was clinging to him in her sleep and how she never treated him like he was the bad guy . When he woke up she wasn’t there but everything changed after that night . The sex was gentler and so were his touches and kisses . He wasn’t just hooking up with her . He was making love to her without a word about this new change in their situationship . Until one night he had her in his arms , unafraid to cradle her cheek and kiss her forehead , telling her how he is in love with her and asking her to forgive him for the way he treated her

18+

Okay I’m dropping a bunch of WIPS for this. Bruh the request alone gave me butterflies I love this trope so much. Goddamnn. 

This starts with very fuck boy asshole type Bucky. I made him a dick in this, deal with it, don’t cry about it, he redeems himself. See how the request says men that are assholes. I live for it. Bucky. Is. An. Ass. Hole. And a sweet baby by the end. 

Also I don’t trust google translate but that’s what we have to work with, I am so sorry. 

“You’re making this harder than it has to be Stark” Bucky sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair while Tony’s jaw clenched, wishing he could just put a bullet in between his rivals eyebrows. Bucky swirled the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking against each other while Tony rejected his proposal again, tensions growing higher with each passing minute. 

“You’re not getting control over the South” He gritted through his teeth, ready to end the meeting one way or another until the door clicked open. You poked your head into his office, quickly padding over to his side, ignoring the broody men that surrounded the office. 

“Dad, I’m going out with Wanda, we’ll be back late, is that okay?” You never left the house without telling him where you were going first, it was a rule he made for you when you were younger but you stuck to it even years later. You knew he always worried about you. 

Tony frowned at your presence, not because he didn’t want you there but because he could see the other men stare at you, their eyes raking up and down your body like fresh meat. The dark material of your dress hugged your body perfectly and the thigh high slit wasn’t helping. 

“Be safe” He pecked your forehead before sending one of his men with you, “Barton, drive her there” He shot the men in his office a death glare; he was patient over many things but you were not something they could fuck with. Ever. Bucky cocked an eyebrow noticing Tony’s shift in demeanor, he was protective over his little princess. He smiled to himself with this new information, why fight for the south side when he could he could ruin something more precious. 

“This meeting is over” Tony stated, nodding to his men to escort Bucky and the others out. He narrowed his eyes at the way Bucky shrugged, casually downing his drink without making a counter argument, leaving a bit to easily for his liking. 

Bucky climbed into his SUV with Steve by his side, his mind going back to you. Tony’s sweet baby. His protected princess. Steve also frowned at the way his friend accepted defeat, but he didn’t ask questions, noticing the way Bucky bit his lip, the wheels in his head clearly turning. The fucker had something in mind.

“You’re thinking something, I can tell” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look while Bucky shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from his best friend. 

“I need a drink” 

The Club

Bucky sat at the private booth of the club, his mind calculating how he could over throw Stark without having to get his hands too dirty. He already had one idea in mind but that was more to satisfy himself. It wouldn’t get him his territory but it would get him something...better...He sipped his drink, sitting up slightly, seeing a familiar figure across the club, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Isn’t that her” Bucky’s eyes landed on you, watching your hips sway on the dance floor, laughing with your friends, completely in your own world. It couldn't have been more perfect, you were right there, practically served to him on a silver platter for him to take. 

“Who” Steve turned around to see who Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide when he realized who his friend was eyeing. “Starks daughter?”

Bucky nodded, setting his glass down, making his way over to you before Steve or Sam could say anything else. 

“Why is he not on a leash”

“I knew I should have gotten him neutered” 

The blonde shook his head, running a hand over his face while Sam snorted, both men watching him make his way over to you. You were now seated at the bar, sipping on some water to cool down while your friends stayed on the dancefloor. 

“Hey doll” Bucky sat on the stool beside you, both of you tucked away in the quieter corner of the bar area. He could tell by the way you smiled shyly, you’d be easy, a few flirty words and he’d get what he wanted. 

“Hi” You blushed at the handsome mob boss, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at you. He bought you a drink, luring you into him like a siren. You found yourself getting lost in his charm, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Truthfully it was nice to talk to someone for once. Most guys avoided you, knowing you were the daughter of Tony Stark. 

It was easy for him. His eyes flicked to the way you looked at his lips, inching closer towards him, your sweet innocent face gazing at him. He didn’t have to do much are you were already preening like a kitten. He had you exactly where he wanted. The air shifted when his hand grazed you thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. You didn’t pull back, letting his hand climb higher, leaning into his touch, your heart racing, craving more of him. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop” His voice was low, his lips brushing by your ear. Your breath hitched when his hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes again, nearly whimpering when his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh. 

“So needy” He smirked while you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, letting him take you by the hand to the private bathroom of the club. As soon as he locked the door, his previous charm dropped. His eyes darkened, his hands immediately all over you, pushing you against the marble counter of the sink. His lips smashed onto yours, tongue and teeth, not giving you a chance to breathe.

He sucked dark bruises on your neck, trailing the across your collar bone, pulling the front of your dress down to free your breasts. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, latching onto your nipple, tugging it between his teeth, smirking at the way you cried out. 

He parted your legs, ripping your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket. Your pussy dripped, clenching around nothing at the sound of his belt buckle and pants unzipping, moaning when he pulled your thighs to wrap around him, his cockhead prodding your entrance. He didn't bother prepping you, his mind focused on stuffing his cock into you and fucking you senseless. 

“Shh, better keep quiet unless you want others to hear how I’m about to fuck you” He growled against your skin, shoving his cock into you with one stroke. He gave you no time to adjust, snapping his hips against you, his hands gripping your ass while your hands flew to clutch around him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep your screams down. He slammed against your g-spot, your arousal squirting out of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly building higher and higher as he fucked you harder. 

“I-I’m gonna-” You couldn’t formulate a sentence, clawing at his blazer, his cock filling and stretching you, ruining you for anyone else. “Please-

“Don’t-don’t talk, just take it” His voice was low, teeth gritted as he focused on ruining your pussy. You felt flustered, your body on fire each time he touched you. You felt yourself melt into him, letting him toy with your body. His fingers gripped onto your ass, slamming you into him to meet his strokes. He wanted to fill  you up till you were so full of cum, it’d drip and stain onto your bed sheets. All of his fucking cum painted on your pussy while you went to sleep, pretending to be an innocent little princess like you didn’t just take your dad’s rivals cock in the bathroom of the club. 

Your eyes rolled back feeling his cock stroke your g-spot, the roughness of his hands on your body making you climb higher, you clung onto him, your body pulled taut, a sob escaping your lips before muffling your cries by biting down onto his neck as you came. Bucky smirked to himself, pounding you harder, chasing his release. He didn’t even have to touch you and you were coming undone for him, wrapped tightly around his body, your pussy sucking him back in. 

He could feel pleasure crawl down his spine, his cock growing harder, something about getting to fuck his enemies daughter made him more feral than ever, his cock bursting with cum, endless thick streams shooting out of his sensitive tip.

“Fuck” he hissed, pumping his load into you, groaning as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of you, spilling onto the sides of your thighs. You looked dazed, lipstick smeared, panting, your body limp against him. He tucked his cock back in, not looking back twice, leaving you a panting mess as he exited the bathroom. You stood on shaky legs, trying to steady yourself before grabbing a damp tissue to clean yourself up.

You splashed some water onto your face, your mind reeling over the way his touches made you feel, touching up your makeup before going back down to find your friends, his handsome face flashing in your mind throughout the night. 

***

“Can you explain what it is you’re doing here” Steve watched his friend carefully, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt when he joined them again, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“She’s probably a spoiled brat anyway” Bucky shrugged, unbothered about the type of person you were or how you felt about any of this. He wanted to see Tony’s face if he knew he had fucked his daughter, balls deep till she was walking around with sticky thighs, her soaked little cunt dripping all over her bed with his cum. He smirked to himself over the way you moaned for him, biting him to keep yourself quiet, the way your body responded to him, so needy and desperate. You were the opposite of your father; easy and none the wiser. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from Tony, he’d take the next best thing. It’s not like he wanted you. He just had to use you. 

The club wasn’t enough. Now he had you in his hands, he wasn’t going to let you go until he you were ruined. He used the meetings that took place in your house to his advantage, quietly sneaking off down the hall way to find you. Your heart jumped seeing him leaning against wall as you made your way to your room after eating breakfast. 

“Haven’t stopped thinking about me, have you” He smirked, cornering you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours. His hands came up to grasp your face, eyes locked with yours “You gonna let me cum in you?” 

You let out a shuddered breath, and that was all he needed, dragging you over to your room and tossing you onto your bed. 

“Take your clothes off” His cold blue eyes bore into you as you timidly unbuttoned your blouse, your hands shaking, already feeling exposed at the way he watched you. He wasn’t going to wait for you, striding over to the bed, his hands firmly gripping the material of your silky blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons flying onto the floor. His hands grabbed at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down before quickly tossed your bra and panties aside. 

Your face heated up at the way he slowly crawled on top of you, the scent of his cologne throwing you back to the way he fucked you at the club, pulling pleasure from your body so easily. 

“Please” Your soft eyes pleaded with his and his ego shot through the roof, getting to fuck you right on your bed. He nudged your thighs apart while marking you with his mouth. 

“Always ready for my cock” He hummed, smearing your slick around, shoving two thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them till you were withering and nearly screaming, your arousal leaving your sheets wet. 

“James please” You looked at him with glassy eyes while he sat back, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock just enough so he could fuck you. He rubbed his cock onto your clit before shoving it into you, pounding you relentlessly as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you. 

Your body moved to wrap around him, your legs tight around his waist and arms clinging onto his shoulders. All you could do was moan and chant his name, his cock was practically in your throat, thrusting into you till your bed scrapped against the floor. His chest swelled with pride as soon as he felt your walls start to convulse and flutter, you were so responsive to him. 

“Cum, fucking cum on my cock” His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, your pussy immediately clenching and throbbing around him, silent screams leaving through your slack jaw. His grunts grew louder, thrusting harder into you until he couldn’t hold back, determined to make a bigger mess than before. 

“Take it, fucking-take it, take my cum” He grunted, groaning as his hips stilled, staying as deep as he possibly could while he poured his load into you. His cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets, your greedy sopping hole, still fluttering even after he pulled out. 

Perfect. 

You were still hazy, blinking when you felt his body weight off the bed, sitting up slightly to see him already making his way towards your door. 

“Oh-bye!”

Bucky clicked the door shut before you could even finish, leaving you bare and alone in your bed. You fell back against the sheets, your body worn and exhausted. You didn’t mind the soreness that you felt all over, sleep washing over you as you thought about his honeyed voice, those blue eyes, rough exterior. There was more to him even if he didn’t show it. 

It went on for weeks. You were his perfect little cum dump, taking load after load, whenever he wanted. Your room. The kitchen. On the floor. He almost found it pathetic, how easily you let him back into your warmth when he never looked back at your twice after. It didn’t matter though. He got what he wanted. 

Gala night 

You sighed, sitting by yourself while everyone else mingled with their respective groups, you’d never been a fan of parties but you didn’t have much of a choice. You had to make an appearance at the gathering hosted by one of your families allies though you didn’t understand why. No one had even noticed you. 

Well not exactly no one. 

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as he watched you across the room from his table. You hadn’t spoken to a soul all night, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, sipping on you glass of wine, the red liquid staining your lips. You wore a dark green dress, your legs on display with the thigh high slit and the sweet heart neckline showing off your perfect cleavage. 

“Y/n” A son of your fathers friend wandered over, his hungry eyes flicking from your lips to your chest and up and down your legs. He noticed that you were alone, deciding to use the chance to get what he had been craving. He pulled up a seat beside you, sitting close enough so his legs brushed against yours. 

 “John” You smiled softly, internally wishing you had just stayed home. He had asked you out a number of times before and you always politely turned him down. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the blond who kept inching closer and closer to you, his hands trying to linger on your skin, lips whispering in your ear. 

“You look beautiful. Did anyone accompany you?” He knew the answer but that didn’t matter. You shook your head and he grinned “You know you could have asked me sweets, I would have been happy to” He moved his hands to rest on your knee, slowly moving up to your thigh. 

Your body jerked back, pulling away as if his touch burned your skin. His touch didn’t feel like Bucky’s. His eyes grew cold, it irritated him that you were so sweet and pathetically innocent yet unfazed by his attempts to seduce you; you’d never given into him.

“I-I appreciate that but I wanted to come alone” You didn’t want to upset him though you were very close to dumping a glass of wine on his head. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the way your body froze, discomfort evident on your face as he continued to try and paw at you. 

Bucky didn’t like you.

Or care for you.

But you were still his to ruin and he wasn’t going to let someone stop that. 

Is what he told himself as he shot out of his seat making his way to your table while Steve and Sam gave each other amused glances. Your eyes lit up as you saw Bucky taking long strides towards you, pulling you out of your seat and wrapping his arm around your waist without looking at you once. His eyes were trained on the blond that wordlessly glared back at him, not willing to argue with the mob moss as he walked away with you. 

“I want to leave” You whispered up at him, craving to be touched by him, and forget the feeling of Walkers hands on you. 

“Let’s get out of here” He tugged your wrist, dragging you into his SUV, tossing you in the back. You waited for him to get in, snuggling into his side when he slid in beside you, gasping when he gripped your cheeks, smashing his lips onto yours. There was nothing but tongue and teeth as he claimed you, biting and nipping at your lips, his hands grasping your waist to pull you closer. 

“Home” He nodded to his driver before practically pulling you onto his lap, closing the divider as he sucked on your pulse point. He never brought women over to his place, given his line of work, he didn’t take the risk. But right now, his needs over threw that logic as he told the driver to take him home, ready to take you apart on his bed.

He hardly let you breathe the entire car ride, his tongue laced with yours, fingers tugging your hair, while your hands came down to grasp at his shirt. He broke away when the car stopped in front on the driveway, his hunger to have you wrapped around him growing stronger. 

“Come here” He pulled you out of the car, carrying you in with your legs wrapped around his waist. He took you straight to his room, kicking the door closed, holding you up with one arm before locking it and setting you down. He threw his suit jacket off before turning you around and unzipping your dress, letting it fall and pool around you feet, leaving you in your underwear. 

He groaned at the dark sheer lace that hugged your body, cupping your perfect breasts, your sweet pussy hardly covered by the tiny material of your panties. 

“On your knees” He commanded, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his cock out, rubbing the tip onto your lips, making them glossy. You licked off his precum, moaning up at him while he gripped your hair back, the other hand holding onto your jaw. “Open” 

He shoved his cock down your throat, guiding your face up and down his length,  throbbing as you gagged and choked on him. His thumbs swiped over the tears that spilled down your cheeks, moaning at how wrecked you looked. 

“So fucking perfect, sucking my cock like a the little slut you are” He groaned, “otsosi mne, printsessa”

Every whine and moan that you made went straight to his cock, twitching, dribbling arousal down your throat. He pulled you off, not willing to just cum in your mouth, not when his balls felt heavy, his cock desperate to be inside you. He carried you over to the bed, dropping you and ripping your lingerie off before stripping all his clothes off and crawling on top of you. 

You let out a soft gasp at his complete bare form. He had never taken all his clothes off before, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his thick muscular thighs, dripping cock, perfect chest and handsome face, he was beautiful all over. 

“James?”  You blinked as he paused between your legs, the greedy side of him desperate to taste you, something he had denied himself thus far. Until tonight. You always smelled so sweet. He was going to make sure he touched and claimed every part of your body. “James, what are you-ohmygod!” 

You gasped as he dove into your folds, his mouth unrelenting, sucking and swirling his tongue while he shoved two fingers into you, pumping them in and out, making your moans grow louder. He looked up at your squirming form, your head thrown back, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head. 

“I-I’m gonna-fuckfuck-please-P-PLEASE”

He smirked against your clit, slapping the side of your thigh before sucking with more pressure and shoving a third finger in you, throwing you over the edge. Your juices spilled out of you, soaking his face, your scent and arousal covering his beard. 

He didn’t give you any time to recover from you high, grasping your ankles and flipping you over, shoving your face down and bringing your ass up, his cock rubbing up and down your cunt. 

“moya malen'kaya shlyushka“ He mumbled to himself, spanking your ass making you cry out. “Take it princess” He spanked you again, rubbing the sting away before grasping the soft flesh, squeezing it in his hands. 

“Bet he would have loved to have you like this, hm?” 

“Who?” Your brain couldn’t function, focused on his length pressed against you, 

“Your little boy toy who wanted you attention so badly, ty shlyukha“ His fingers gripped tightly, humping and rutting his cock against you while you mewled, desperate for him to do something, “You ever let him put his cock in you?”

“N-no” You whined, as his hand gripping your ass further, guiding his cock to your fluttering entrance. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he slammed into you, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, groaning at the way you cried out at the stretch. The sounds of his skin slapping on yours echoed through the room, nearly drowning out your muffled cries. 

“Yeah, you know why baby? Cause your my little slut, my fucking cum dump” He wanted to ruin you so fucking badly, your pussy would never be the same, his hand snaking down to tug your hair for leverage to fuck you harder. “That’s all your fucking good for, to take my loads, give me something warm, tight and wet to cum in”

“F-uck! JAMES” He fucked you at an animalistic pace, moving to grip onto the headboard, his brows furrowed, keeping your face buried against the mattress. 

“Such a well fucked hole, look-look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my cock” 

“P-PLEASE JAMES!” You had tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure, the overstimulation consuming your body. You could hardly focus on anything, your hands blindly searching for something to hold on to. You could tell if you wanted more or less, your belly tightening again, ready to cum for a second time. 

“Shut up and take it” He growled, his hips snapping wildly, the headboard cracking under his grip. Your tears spurred him on, his cock growing harder, ruined on his bed, crying out for him. He moved one hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning when he felt your pussy clench, shoving them deeper.

Your body always responded to him perfectly, he couldn’t hold on any longer, his balls heavy and tight, ready to fill you with his cum. 

“Ready for my cum, princess? Open that little pussy up for me, m’gonna fill you so much, it’ll squirt out of you, make my cock creamy princess, dirty messy slut” You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your sensitive walls, your arousal making his balls wet eat time they slapped your clit. “Say it, say you want my fucking cum”

“I want your cum!”  You slurred out, waiting for his warmth to flood you. 

“Who, whose cum do you fucking want” His head was thrown back, cock starting to twitch, the tip swollen and sensitive. 

“Yours daddy” 

That did it, you were too fucked out to even register what you had just called him but Bucky hear it loud and clear. It unleashed something in him, giving you 3 harsh sloppy thrusts before he couldn’t hold off any longer. 

“Shit-FUCK-hng fuuuckkkk” His movements stilled, his cock throbbing, spilling his cum into you. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, emptying himself before pulling out and pushing his sensitive cock into you again, rolling you over so he could see your fucked out face. He had to stop himself from lapping up your soaked pussy with his mixed arousal, his cock ready to fuck his cum back into you as it dripped out. 

“I’m not done with you”

****

Your body was limp on the bed, panting, soreness and bruises littering your skin. He had thrown you around in every position, pulling pleasure from your body as if it satiated his hunger. He pumped you full of his loads, not leaving one part of you untouched, his hands, tongue and cock caressing your body. 

After the last round, he had gotten up to splash some water on his face, his body covered in sweat, his spent cock soaked in your mixed arousal. He wasn’t a stranger to rough sex but even he felt worn out, having thrown you around like a ragdoll to his content, cumming in you until he couldn't anymore. 

As he walked back, Bucky blinked, seeing your curled up form on his bed, snuggled in his sheets. 

That wasn’t part of his plan.

He didn’t intend on letting you fall asleep. 

He couldn’t help but slip under the covers, too exhausted to think about if this was appropriate or not, waves of sleep crashing over him. He swallowed thickly when you shifted in your sleep, snuggling into his side, seeking his warmth, your arm hugging his waist, head resting on his chest. He tried to shuffle over but you clung onto him in your sleep, tucking yourself against him as much as you could, letting out a small whine whenever he moved. 

Your body felt to soft and warm on him. He had never taken the time to really look at you, but as you laid on his chest, his eyes flicked across your face, taking in your features. 

Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The pout of your lips. The soft curve of your jaw. There was no doubt you were beautiful but there was also something ethereal. Angelic. 

Almost...precious.

It almost felt wrong for him to touch something so sweet and delicate. 

He could smell the soft scent of your shampoo. 

His eyes drifted to the bruises that covered your body. 

The ones he marked you with. 

The ones he never paid attention to before. 

The ones he should have kissed and massaged- no. No...No?

You were nothing more than a means to an end...but he couldn't stop himself from stroking your skin, while holding you close. His hand trailed down softly to trace down your spine, making you shiver, nuzzling against him further. He couldn’t understand how even in your sleep, you were sweet. Trusting. You wanted to be wrapped in his warmth. He thought about the way you looked up at him when he tugged you from the party. The way you stayed on his lap the entire care ride home. 

He thought about how he left without looking back each time but you were always so warm whenever he came back. Soft. His body moved on its own, pulling the sheets up to cover you, pressing a delicate kiss onto your head. 

What was going on with him. 

The next morning

He blinked awake, frowning at the coldness of the bed. You had left at some point during the night, so quietly he didn’t even notice. He felt....disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why. He missed the way you fit in his arms. The way you slept so soundly while cuddled up with him. 

Something changed after that night. He sought your warmth, not just your body. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him, your arms clinging to be closer, your adorable little disgruntled sounds whenever he shifted while you slept on his chest. The way your voice soothed him. It wasn’t hooking up or just fucking anymore. It was softer each time. More sweet words. Lingering touches. He’d stay longer just to hear your honeyed voice, talking about anything, it didn’t matter. He knew this was no longer just him trying to get back at your father. 

He had fallen for you. 

He never thought he’d be capable of that type of affection, yet with you he had his first taste of sweetness and he didn’t want to let go.

A few weeks later - His room 

“Come here” He pulled you close to him, his hands softly caressing your body feeling every bit of you as he laid with you on his bed. He peppered soft kisses onto your face, making up for all the times he should have kissed you before, your skin felt like soft silk on his lips. 

He pushed himself into you slowly, for the first time, feeling all of you wrapping him in your warmth. He’d been inside you so many times before but now he actually felt you. Your sweet body under his, trusting him to take care of you. 

He couldn’t hurt you, you were so precious. 

His hands gently held onto you, rocking his hips slowly, savoring every second. 

You knew something was different. He knew something was different. 

“James, don’t stop, p-pleaase”

“I won’t stop baby, I won’t”

“Don’t let go”

“I’ll never let go malyshka, prekrasnaya printsessa” 

He was making the softest sweetest love to you and you clung onto his body never wanting it to end. He held you gently as you came undone for him, slowly thrusting into you as he reached his high. His touch was so delicate, you would have almost missed it. 

He didn’t say a word about what had just happened. 

He thought he could ignore it, go back to how things were but when he was still throbbing in you, unable to stop how much he was cumming for you, it was impossible. His body weight fell on you, still grinding and rutting his cock, moaning into your neck. He nearly sounded like he was in pain, overstimulating himself with your sweetness. 

“James?” You cupped his face, making him look at you, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek. “Is everything okay?” 

“You feel good baby” he whispered, resting his forehead onto yours. “You feel go so good” 

“James what’s wrong” Your voice was more firm this time, cocking your head, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. His eyes were glassy, pushing some of your hair back, his thumb stroking your forehead. 

“You’re an angel” He gazed down at you, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, how did he ever think about using you. 

“Baby, where’s this coming from?” 

He stroked your hair, his heart sinking at your confused expression. He didn’t even know where to start.  “I- he huffed in frustration, how could he look you in the eye and tell you what his intentions were. “I-I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, biting his lip, unable to meet your eyes. He rolled you both over so you rested on his chest, your doe eyes waiting for him to continue. 

“Why?” The flash of hurt that crossed your face made his heart jump, he never wanted to be the cause of your pain. 

“Because angel, you’ve always been sweet. Kind. Affectionate. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I left you on your on every night when I should have held you. Made love to you, not bruised you skin” 

His voice had slowly dropped to a whisper, his heart racing. You could see tears well in his eyes, his hands trembling on your skin while he rubbed your back. 

“You’re precious angel, I can’t believe I ever treated you otherwise. You deserved love from the start” He let the tears roll down his cheeks, full prepared for you to up and leave, he knew he wasn’t worthy of you at all. And yet...he couldn’t stop the next words that slipped past his lips. 

“YA tebya lyublyu” You blinked up at him while he smiled softly, sniffling, cupping your cheek, brining you closer to him “I love you”

“You love me?” You could fee your heart hammer in your chest, as you inched closer, your nose bumping against his, your thumb wiping his tears.

“I do moya sladkaya malyshka” He kissed your forehead, then nose, and the softest kiss to your lips. “Please forgive me babygirl, please” His eyes were pleading with you, ready to give you the world in your hands if that’s what you wanted. You nodded, snuggling into his hold while he wrapped you tight, hoping he’d be able to have you just like this for the rest of his life. His sweet girl. 

“I love you James”

“Say it again baby” He whispered, wanting to hear those words from you over and over again. 

“I love you” you smiled against his skin, while he kissed your head. 

“My sweet doll” He adored you so much. “Say it again”

After secret dating and sneaking around for as long as you could

Now given that Bucky is your fathers rival, you can imagine it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up. Tony is not immediately on board. At all. 

Until he sees you both one day when you both think no one’s looking. He’s a little taken aback at how soft Bucky is for you. Who knew such a jackass could also be such a gentleman. 

Your both outside in your garden; you thought your dad had gone out for meetings for the day. Bucky has you on his lap, feeding you berries with kisses in between each bite. He can’t take his eyes off you, nose nuzzled against your cheek, cuddling you under the warm sun. He can’t stop smiling and looking at you with heart eyes, his hands playing with your hair. 

Clint snorts, watching Tony narrow his eyes at you both while watching you from his office. He so badly wants to shoot Bucky because again, how dare this cocky jack ass come to his house and woo his babygirl, fuck no. 

But also...

You looked so happy. 

“They’re cute, huh” Clint joined Tony’s side, smirk down at your both. 

“Shut up”

He wants to go down and tell the mob boss to get his hands off his daughter but you laugh and snuggle into Bucky further. 

“It’s been months boss, she’s the only one he’s been with, I hate to say it but it looks like he really loves her. And she loves him” 

“Why do you know this”

“You’re not the only one who keeps tabs on her, she’s everyone little princess” Clint rolled his eyes, knowing the way all of Tony’s men cared for you like their own. Tony grunts, leaving to pour himself a taaaallll glass of whisky. 

He wasn’t Bucky’s number 1 fan but for his little princess, he will allow it. There’s no doubt that Bucky loves you almost more than him. If you were a princess at home, Bucky treats you like a queen. You’d always be protected. Cared for. 

Bucky comes directly to Tony all on his own, asking for your hand. Yes, its an outdated practice but he respects Tony and wants him to know his intentions are to love you and take care of you. He knows how much it would mean to you for father to say yes. 

It’s a long discussion. Lots of differences put aside. Alliances formed. 

Tony still thinks Bucky is a jackass but he can’t help but smile at the happy squeals he hears down the hall when Bucky goes straight to you to ask you to marry him.

A sweet intimate wedding. Not exactly small, but only people you both care for are there. Steve and Sam spend the entire time at the altar with shit eating “I told you so” grins. 

(Tony’s wedding present is the south side) 

Your first son, Steve Anthony Barnes is spoiled beyond reason by literally everyone. Steve and Sam compete with Tony and Clint and it’s done nothing but get on your nerves because you’d need a second house with how many presents he gets for no reason at all. 

Your baby girl, Rebecca Samantha Barnes is daddy’s little princess. (Bucky will never, ever in his life admit he now understands how Tony felt over you. He kicks himself every so often and spoils you as much as he can) 

The twins, Clinton and Natalia can only be left together for so long before they get up to mischief. Which is every minute of the day. Steve confirmed that dealing with illegal shipments was less terrorizing. Everyone agreed. 

And of course with each day, Bucky is still head over heals in love with you. 

Tags:

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[nevermindirah]

Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes​ is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

[shotorozu]

Hi! Before anything I wanted to lyk I've read through some of your work and you've easily become one of my favorite writers :) I was wondering if you could do a bit of a comfort post? If not that's totally okay! If so, could it be hcs for Bakugo, Shinso, and maybe Aizawa (but not in like a relationship kinda way for him, like a student opening up to their teacher) telling them about being gender fluid? What would be their reactions? How would they adjust to the name change and using different pronouns? I recently told my bf and he didn't seem too up for it, eventually I told him to use my given name and she/her, kinda bummed lmao. I totally understand if you don't want to write for this, tysm either way! Have a great night/day :) (I'm so sorry this is so lengthy lmaooo)

reader coming out as gender fluid

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, aizawa shouta (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, D/N = deadname] gender neutral, quirk not specific

headcanon type : hurt-comfort, fluff (x reader; platonic)

note(s) : first of all, i’m sorry about what happened with your boyfriend, if he cares about you, then he should’ve been supportive. it’s disheartening knowing that you decided to have him address you by your birth name, and by she/her. it should never be that way, especially when you felt comfortable coming out to HIM as gender fluid.

anon, i really hope this post gives you comfort, and if you want to talk— my dms are open!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

he wasn’t so sure on why you were acting all skittish all of a sudden, and he just wished you told him what was up

as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, katsuki really hates seeing you this down— and if only he could ‘kill those pesky emotions!!’

after a long day at school, katsuki decided to demand an immediate answer, on WHY you were acting like this

you express your concern, and even though katsuki’s rough words say otherwise— he’s willing to help (as much as he could)

but he wasn’t expecting you to come out as genderfluid

the entire pronoun thing had him confused, and it wasn’t in the “huh?? why would you want that?” type of confusion

it was rather like the “i thought they/them were plural pronouns?” confusion, but don’t be misguided! a quick google search fixed it up, and now he gets it.

with the name thing,, it took him two tries for him to get it right— but he’ll treat you like royalty if he accidentally slips up. he doesn’t mean to disrespect you

out of everyone here— he would be the most confused at first, since he hasn’t had anyone come out to him in like,, ever

katsuki feels so honored to have you feel comfortable enough to come out to him.

everyone is so intimidated by his short-tempered demeanor, to the point that no one has shared such an important, and personal detail to him

he’ll pull you in for a hug, large warm hands rubbing your back— and he’s trying to be gentle, okay?

“you really thought i was gonna say some bullshit about this, huh?” was what he first said to break the silence “i could care less about what you fucking identify with, you’re still you.”

and he means it

if anyone disrespects you, he’s blowing them up into space— enraged that anyone would try to disrespect you.

katsuki’s also very quick to correct someone if they ever deadname you “IT’S Y/N, NOT D/N!”

rip to them

shinsou hitoshi

as soon as he notices that something’s wrong, his eyes will be on you— and only you.

he wishes he had some sort of mind reading quirk— he wants to know what’s on your mind, just so he could help you

hitoshi doesn’t want to be pushy, so he can only wait for you to come to him— but he will leave subtle hints that you could tell him anything that was on your mind.

so that’s when you decide to tell him your worries, and everything— feeling that you’re ready to come out to him as gender fluid

a small genuine smile will grace his face, pulling you into a loose embrace— “thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell me.”

the next thing he does is ask you if you want to go by anything else— just in case you do want to be addressed differently.

you’ll still be his kitty anyway, so it’s not like this change would negatively affect him.

you’ll never catch him slipping up

i’m sure he’s probably familiar with different types of identities— so gender fluidity isn’t a stranger topic to him

so because of this, he adapts pretty easily— cooperating with the new revelations with ease

rip to anyone that has the audacity to deadname or misgender you, it’s not something he takes very lightly similar to bakugou and aizawa

he’ll understand if it’s a innocent mistake, but he still won’t be pleased with the offender— that’s strike one for him

i swear— his glare will make anyone shart their pants in a second. it’s ruthless

hitoshi won’t hesitate on using his quirk on anyone that purposely disrespects you— and for once, he doesn’t care about what others will say about him.

they shouldn’t have disrespected you 🤷‍♀️ just saying

if you wanted to buy clothes that were a lot more gender neutral, he’s perfectly fine with that too!

hitoshi doesn’t care if you strip him of every single penny and dime that was in his wallet for hoodies and sweatpants.

he just wants your happiness to be at it’s highest at all times— because a happy Y/N makes a happy hitoshi <3

aizawa shouta

even though he has to take care and supervise 23 growing teenagers, he still manages to notice if something’s wrong with one of them it’s impressive!

of course— aizawa’s a busy man, and he’s constantly tired. but, it would make him feel a lot better if all of his students were content with themselves

so seeing you down was something he noticed since the moment you came in

it’s not like he could FORCE you to tell him what was wrong, that’s not the approach he’s looking for

and besides, if you told him that everything was fine, then he couldn’t really push it. his concern didn’t really die down though

a few days later, aizawa decides to talk to you again— basically consenting you to come talk to him when the time’s right

but he didn’t see this coming

so that’s when you decide to come out to him first, spilling out your concerns, and the worries that plagued your mind— worried that people wouldn’t accept your new identity as a gender fluid person

now, aizawa has met a lot of people in his life. from different ages, people with different quirks, and of course— different identities

he asks you why you decided to tell him first, and you told him that it’s because you felt comfortable knowing he knew first

“thank you for telling me, Y/N” he thanks you calmly with a comforting hand on your shoulder “i’m proud of you.”

he asks you if you want to go by a different name, and he’ll make sure to start calling you by that name (even though he calls all of his students by their last name)

oh, and he immediately switches pronouns! i know that should be expected but,, it’s so natural wow

of course, he won’t out you to anyone if you’re not ready to come out to the rest

and because of how natural the pronouns switch is, no one notices it when aizawa started addressing you with they/them

but if you’re ready to come out, he’ll be there— silently making sure that everyone accepts you.

okay but he’ll get so defensive if anyone misgenders you or dead names you— his capture tape will start floating, and his eyes will shine red

which is weird because.. who has the guts to dead name/misgender AIZAWA SHOUTA’s student?? anyone that does that in front of him is INSANE

in short, he’s very supportive— he won’t blow it out of proportion, because he knows how uncomfortable that’d feel if he did

but he’s glad to know that you decided to share such a important detail to him— aizawa might be always tired, but he wouldn’t dare to forget such detail

you’re his student after all, he cares about you lots— if you’re content with yourself, then that’d bring him inner peace

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[acourtofsnakes]

Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters. 

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link)  I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @jackgrzs

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi |

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon. 

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it. 

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone. 

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms. 

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe. 

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit. 

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself. 

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door. 

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.  

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was. 

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster. 

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself. 

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted. 

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps. 

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders. 

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself. 

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left. 

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated. 

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship. 

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons. 

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it. 

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone. 

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world. 

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places. 

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about. 

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night. 

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin. 

Stars above, get a grip, girl. 

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate. 

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?” 

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.” 

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...” 

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?” 

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning. 

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day. 

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair. 

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end. 

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts. 

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest. 

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour. 

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long. 

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest. 

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged. 

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour. 

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him. 

You’d arrived at the planet. 

~

It was hot. 

Beyond hot. 

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm. 

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you. 

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights. 

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open. 

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up. 

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under. 

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist. 

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine. 

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job. 

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle. 

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers. 

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”  

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..” 

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting. 

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t. 

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening. 

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you. 

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them. 

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure. 

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon. 

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?” 

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words. 

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.” 

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still. 

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly. 

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him. 

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment. 

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart. 

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into. 

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you. 

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead. 

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor. 

He had taken off his gloves. 

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare. 

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered. 

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady. 

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them. 

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length. 

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself. 

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.  

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair. 

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks. 

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right. 

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece. 

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees. 

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor. 

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine. 

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest. 

He was touching you. 

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings. 

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot. 

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn. 

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had. 

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again. 

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand. 

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there. 

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something. 

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him. 

Fuck. 

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans. 

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching. 

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation. 

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real. 

This didn’t happen between you both. 

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful. 

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden. 

And it was tearing you apart. 

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head. 

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch. 

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands. 

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life. 

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him. 

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did? 

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did. 

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone. 

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot. 

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders. 

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you. 

Something had changed. 

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower. 

~

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning. 

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made. 

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans. 

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you. 

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name. 

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you. 

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things. 

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway. 

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep. 

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say.  Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine. 

Normal. 

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it. 

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it. 

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?” 

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches. 

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine. 

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant. 

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something. 

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru. 

~

Mando was ignoring you. 

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was. 

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words. 

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise. 

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours. 

Then he’d just gone. 

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry. 

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him. 

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that. 

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness. 

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere. 

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber. 

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters. 

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention. 

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up. 

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point. 

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little. 

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere. 

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him. 

Now or never. 

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls. 

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch. 

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly. 

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist. 

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going. 

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?” 

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?” 

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you. 

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that. 

They already knew? 

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking. 

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this. 

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping. 

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you. 

~

~

~

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long. 

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing. 

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.” 

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here. 

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you. 

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest. 

“Hey… look at me..” 

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality. 

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better. 

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart. 

And his. 

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax. 

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest. 

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside. 

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits. 

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.  

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.  

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was. 

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew. 

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye. 

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes. 

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando. 

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet. 

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it. 

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..” 

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…” 

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand. 

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine. 

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing. 

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round. 

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it. 

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere. 

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town. 

You’d be okay… right?

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[kurokoros]

silver tongue | kuroo (kinktober day 5)

Rated: M

Words: 4.9K

Pairing: villain!kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: A late night at the agency takes a turns when you run into Panther, an S rated villain.

AN: I started working on a bnha x hq crossover a while ago, and decided to base character quirks on the kanji in their names, and, well... Kuroo means “black tail” sooooo I wrote tentacle porn. You’re welcome. 

Note: Jishin is, if google translated it correctly, Japanese for “earthquake”, which has to do with Daichi’s quirk in this au.

Kinktober 2020 Day Four: Public Sex + Day Nine: Tentacles

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving, implied at the end), public sex, manhandling, restraints, quirk play, tentacles, double penetration, teasing, overstimulation, choking, biting, dirty talk (degradation and praise)

X

Leaving Daichi’s new sidekicks squabbling in the corner of the office, you slip out the side door of the Agency, stepping into the quiet alley with a sigh. Your heels click against the ground, and you shiver as the cold night air curls around you. The light breeze tickles your bare legs and arms, your work clothes providing little coverage from the chill, unlike the warmth of the building behind you.

Closing your eyes, you lean back against the brick wall behind you, two fingers rubbing at your temple to chase away an impending headache.

As much as you’ve grown to like the pair of energetic rookies in the short time they’ve been working at the agency, you could do without their constant bickering. Especially this late at night. It was just your luck, really, drawing the short straw tonight. As Daichi’s personal assistants, it was up to either you or Kiyoko to supervise Kageyama and Hinata—fresh out of school and eager to work in the field—as they did their required paperwork. Without someone breathing down their necks, neither boy would get any of it done, and Kiyoko finally cashed in on a favor you owed her to get out of babysitting late into the night.

Not that you can blame her for that. With the amount of petty fights you’ve already had to break up tonight, you would have jumped at the opportunity to leave, too.

A muffled shout comes from the building behind you, but you ignore it. Opting to leave the arguing pair to their own devices for a few minutes. It may not be the best idea, but given the alternative, you’d rather deal with the repercussions later.

Besides, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him.

You drop your hand back to your side, making yourself comfortable against the side of the building despite the rough texture of the bricks and the chilly temperature. Opening your eyes, you turn your gaze to the mouth of the alley, tucked between the agency and a café that closed hours ago. Despite the late hour, the streets are still bathed in light from the moon and the street lights.

A shadow moves in the corner of your eye. Soundless as it slinks across the ground. Graceful. It’s gone as soon as you glance to the right, and you frown, but decide not to dwell on it as you return your gaze to one of the old buildings across the street. A trick of the light, that’s all it was. Or one of the skittish stray cats you’ve caught Asahi feeding on more than one occasion. It’s late, but not late enough for anyone to be causing trouble, especially this close to such a reputable agency.

But the shadow moves again, just barely visible in the hazy space where the light from the streetlamp melds back into the darkness. It squirms again, a dark shape against the ground. This time, you’re faster, following the movement with your eyes just in time to catch something black disappearing back into an unlit part of the alley. It flickers at the edge of your vision almost tauntingly, coaxing you to follow, and your brows furrow in confusion.

Peering into the darkness where it vanished, your breath hitches when you make out the silhouette of a tall, suit-clad figure leaning against the alley wall across from you. You tense, eyes widening just the slightest as raw, icy fear grips your chest.

A pair of vibrant eyes meet yours through the shadows, and a lazy grin spreads across a handsome face. “Don’t you know it’s not smart to be at the office alone this late at night, kitten?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice, almost deceptively sweet. He shifts against the wall he’s leaning on, eyes narrowing playfully. “There might be villains around.”

The irony isn’t lost on you.

Across from you, Kuroo’s lips twitch as you stay silent. Irritated, perhaps. Or maybe this is all part of some game to him. He stares at you through the lock of messy hair falling in his face, relaxed despite how close he is to such a well-known Hero Agency. Especially one that’s been tracking him for so long.

His hands casually slip into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. Amusement dances in the depths of his gaze. “Cat got your tongue?”

An indignant scoff leaves the back of your throat. Cat? More like a— “Panther,” you say, purposely using his alias. It’s not a greeting—not quite, anyway. And it sounds strange on your tongue.

Kuroo’s eyes narrow into a glare. He’s always hated how his villain name sounds coming out of your mouth. Almost mockingly. Taunting him. Pressing his buttons in just the right way. You’ve never been truly afraid of him. Despite his reputation. Despite the fact that you’re quirkless. And that’s what makes this so much fun.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, before he can respond with one of the sly remarks nettled on his silver tongue. The question is breathier than you mean for it to be, a result of the intoxicating concoction of emotions swirling inside you. Shock. Confusion. Lingering fear from the split second you didn’t recognize him. And beneath that, something else.

You wet your lips, glancing at the door to your right. You can still hear Kageyama and Hinata inside. Their arguing is louder than before, but still muffled through the wall. They probably haven’t even noticed you slipped outside yet. And you doubt they will. At least, not for a while.

Kuroo follows your gaze, but otherwise doesn’t move. For a moment, he listens as well, finally hearing the tell-tale sounds of arguing from inside. Something in his expression shifts, his grin devilish. You squeeze your thighs together. “I was in the neighborhood,” he tells you nonchalantly, as if he isn’t a wanted criminal lurking outside of a building owned by one of the men intent on arresting him. Those clever eyes shift back to you. “Thought I might check on my favorite assistant.”

His tone is teasing, but you recognize the hint of genuine concern that flickers in the depths of his hazel eyes, and it makes you soften for a split second. You hate when he does that. He’s not supposed to care about you, and you’re sure as hell not supposed to care about him. But then, you aren’t supposed to be fooling around with him either.

This time, you snort, eyes rolling. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” Pausing, you glance at the building behind you again, wondering if you should say anything else. Kuroo must know by now that you aren’t alone. It would be impossible not to hear the amount of shouting going on inside the agency. “Kageyama and Hinata are here. We have them doing paperwork tonight. I’m babysitting.”

Kuroo’s brow furrows as he tries to connect the names to the faces he’s seen. Once he does, he narrows his eyes. “Jishin left his pretty little assistant alone with just some rookies?” he asks, using your boss’s alias mockingly. “What are a couple of kids going to do if some big, bad villain shows up and attacks the place?” Because that’s what he is, right? A big, bad villain.

What does that make you?

You choose not to take the bait. “What are you really doing here, Kuroo?” you ask him, lowering your voice even though there’s no one around to hear you. “Shouldn’t you be lying low? It’s only been a few days since you and Daichi—”

One long, black tendril shoots from his lower back. It lashes out. You cut off with a yelp as it races towards you, wrapping around both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before you can react. Gasping, you tug at the squirming limb, but it only coils around you tighter, squeezing. Like a warning. It’s cool to the touch, smooth against you, and the strange sensation makes you shudder. The tip wriggles against the inside of your arm, almost ticklish.

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name out of your mouth,” he snaps, Daichi’s name setting him off. Just like you knew it would. His eyes narrow again, his jaw clenching. The slim tentacle around your wrists tightens, and you bite your tongue to hold back an embarrassing whimper. Pulse pounding, your heart stutters in your chest when he sends you a look that makes you tremble.

Kuroo slips his hands out of his pockets as he takes a step towards you. Gravel crackles beneath his feet, loud in the otherwise quiet alleyway. Gold eyes glint beneath the dim light of the streetlamps. Predatory. Hungry. His lips curl into a smirk as he stops just in front of you, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

Your breath catches at his proximity, and his grin widens. You swallow down another soft, pitiful sound that bubbles up in your throat, but he’s close enough to notice the way your pupils dilate.

“I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he says, voice a low hiss in your ear. “So, don’t play dumb. You know better than that.”

The shadows around him squirm, something moving behind him, so dark it blends in perfectly with the murky walls of the alley. Another tendril curls out from behind his back, flickering back and forth like the tail of an irritated cat. You shiver again as it reaches for you, lashing out just like the last one. The tip of the tentacle ghosts across your cheek, caressing you. It’s a startling contrast from the rough way your hands are stretched above your head, an ache already forming in your shoulders.

The loving stroke against your cheek isn’t matched by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Didn’t you miss me, kitten?” Though still teasing, there’s a note of blatant affection to the endearment this time. Even his eyes soften just a little, betraying his fondness for you, though it’s hidden away again just as quickly.

“No,” you huff, struggling against the binding around your wrists. It doesn’t budge, only wriggles against you tauntingly. It’s a blatant lie, and Kuroo sees right through it.

His grin twists into an exaggerated pout, but the mocking look in his eyes never dims. “Ouch.” Kuroo presses a hand to his chest, like you’ve wounded him. “You’re going to break my heart.”

You lean into the cool touch of his quirk against the side of your face. “Like you have one.”

While you mean for it to be biting, scathing, the quip comes out breathy, and it only makes him laugh. It’s dry, humorless. “Maybe I don’t,” he agrees. You can’t make out the look in his eyes. “But that’s never stopped you from letting me fuck you before.”

“Fuck you,” you say, embarrassed by the way you arch into his touch instinctively.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re being such a brat tonight. I thought you might’ve learned to behave after last time.”

The tentacle touching your cheek shifts, brushing the corner of your lips before sliding lower. You inhale sharply as it glides down the front of your throat, wriggling. The phantom sensation of those tentacles wrapping around your throat and squeezing has your thighs rubbing together. Heat pools in your lower belly, and your legs start to tremble.

You’re not subtle enough to escape his watchful eye, but Kuroo doesn’t lean in. He doesn’t reach for you—doesn’t pry your legs apart the way you want him to—he just watches you with those catlike eyes, drinking in the way you squirm under the familiar touch of his quirk. The tip of the tentacle flicks against your collarbone almost playfully.

It’s his name that falls from your pretty mouth this time—his real name, and pride swells in his chest at the needy tone of your voice. “Tetsurou,” you gasp, and his given name sounds so, so sweet coming from your mouth. Much better than his other name. “We can’t. They’re still inside. If we get caught, you’ll—” You cut off with a yelp as the tentacle slithers beneath the neckline of your shirt and yanks.

The blouse you’re wearing rips down the middle. Buttons snap from your now ruined shirt, scattering across the ground near your feet. Kuroo reaches for your waist as his tentacle traces the soft cup of your bra, starting from the outer edge and following the curve of your breast to the thin band beneath.

Kuroo quiets your half-hearted concerns. His stare follows the path of the extra limb, and you think he’s about to rip your bra as well. Anticipation makes you tremble, your heart beating faster.

The tentacle disappears from your chest, slinking back to Kuroo’s side like a loyal pet. It squirms, wriggling provocatively as it twists and curls through the air, level with his hips. The hands that slide against your waist are a welcome distraction, and the tentacle coiled around your wrists squeezes, as if reminding you that you’re still stuck, pinned against the wall and helpless against his quirk.

“If you really want to stop, just say the word.” He nuzzles against your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he speaks. You arch into him, hips rocking against the thigh that slips between both of yours. He pulls his leg away. “Out loud, kitten. I want to hear you say it.”

You gasp a needy, “Don’t.” Kuroo grins as you whimper and lean into his warm hands when they rub against your sides. “Don’t stop. Please, Tetsu, I—” Two of his fingers slip beneath your bra to pinch your nipple, and you cut off with a squeal.

“Behave and maybe I’ll let you cum.” The words are murmured against your lips. Your back arches off the wall as his lips press against yours. The kiss is harsh, all tongue and teeth, and you moan against his mouth. You struggle against the tentacle around your wrists, but it doesn’t budge. Kuroo’s teeth dig into your bottom lip until it hurts, his tongue soothing the bite when you whimper and rock your hips against his.

It’s been so long since he was able to touch you like this—weeks since he had to go into hiding—and he’s not leaving until he’s had his fun with you. Your fingers twitch, desperate to reach for him, to pull him closer, and your struggling only makes his amusement grow.

A cold touch to your leg makes you flinch, and Kuroo swallows your surprised moan as the tentacle that was idle at his side curls around your thigh. It coils around you like a snake, wrapping around you before tugging, forcing your legs apart. You rock your hips towards his, but Kuroo leans just out of your reach, and the tentacle forcibly pulls your hips back against the wall.

“Tetsu,” you say again, mewling his name this time, the sound muffled against his mouth.

His lips move to your cheek, wandering across your soft skin until he finds that special, sensitive spot just beneath the curve of your jaw. Teeth graze the delicate skin of your throat, right over your racing pulse. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head back against the alley wall, letting him angle your head how he wants it.

An approving hum vibrates against you before Kuroo bites down, teeth digging in hard enough to make you wince. He soothes away the pain with a soft kiss, only to bite you again as soon as you relax, a little lower than the last. Sharp canines prick at your skin; your pulse jumps.

Your squirming and whimpering only makes him chuckle. The rough sound vibrates against the side of your throat, and he presses one last kiss to your delicate skin before pulling away.

The dark tendril wrapped around your leg sweeps back and forth lazily, the tip teasing your inner thigh with slow circles and nonsensical shapes, mimicking the movement of his fingers. It strokes you from your knee to where your skirt is bunched halfway up your thigh, flirting with the hem before dancing away.

He’s playing with you. Taunting you. Trying to get you to beg. Each fleeting touch causes the dull ache between your legs to intensify, and the way you’re pinned down and put on display for him only makes you wetter. And he knows it, too. The bastard.

Kuroo leans back suddenly, whistling as he takes in the sight of you. Chest heaving. Shirt ripped open. Bound by shadowy black tendrils that writhe against you. “Look at you,” he coos, lazy fingers wandering over your soft skin, drinking you in. Kuroo follows the line of your collarbone with the pad of his thumb.

His head cocks to the side. There’s an absolutely wicked look in his eyes when they meet yours. “What do you think that boss of yours would say if he could see you like this?” He hums, and his fingers move higher, ghosting against the front of your throat. It would be so easy for his hand to wrap around your neck and choke you, but he just strokes his thumb over the faint indents left by his teeth. He presses his thumb into your neck a little harder. Just enough to make you gasp. “Spreading your legs for a villain in some dirty, back alley. Moaning like a whore.” He chuckles when you whimper, leaning in so that his lips brush against yours when he says, “Such a naughty girl.”

The tentacle around your leg wriggles suddenly. The tip disappears under your skirt, trailing up the inside of your thigh. “But you’re going to be good for me, yeah?” he asks you, grinning at the way your head falls back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss as the tentacle strokes you through your panties, tracing your dripping slit. It’s cold. Slick. Wrong. And you shudder as it flicks over your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You try to swallow down the moan building in your throat, but it comes out as a high-pitched whine instead. “Tetsu,” you gasp, arching into him as the tentacle continues to play with you. His smirk widens as you try to roll your hips against the slick movement between your legs, only for his tentacles to hold you down harder.

Your fingers dig into your palms, nails biting at your skin as the stroking between your legs becomes more teasing, the tentacle lazily flicking against you. It isn’t enough to do more than tease you. Frustrated tears well in your eyes, but there’s nothing you can do but let him play his game.

He’s waiting, watching you. And you know exactly what he wants.

“Fuck, I bet you just love this, hmm?” His hand moves from your throat to your jaw. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin. “You’re so wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His thumb brushes against your bottom lip. Mock sympathy drips from his tongue. “Oh, but I bet I know why.”

Heat pools in your lower belly as Kuroo’s head tilts to the side. A dark, twisting mass rises from behind him, and the large tentacle splits in two before your eyes, branching off as it reaches for you. One moves low, wrapping around your neglected leg. It doesn’t move to stroke you like the other, but the tip draws circles against your inner thigh. So, so gentle. The motion would be soothing, if you didn’t know exactly how dangerous they can be. Tearing through skin and bone when he wants them to.

“Could it be this?” he asks, watching as the other tendril snakes across your torso, barely brushing against you. It follows the curve of one of your breasts all the way to your neck, and the sound that falls out of your mouth when it wraps around your delicate throat is absolutely lewd. He chuckles. You recognize the look in his eyes, and it only makes you shudder harder.

The pathetic little mewling sound that falls from your mouth is all the answer he needs.

The tentacle around your neck teases one of the spots where he bit you, and the one between your legs strokes just a little bit harder. “Are you really that fucking depraved?” Kuroo asks you, sneering. “Fuck, kitten, you’re practically dripping,” the tentacle between your legs slips beneath your damp panties, “and all because you just can’t wait for me to fuck that cute cunt of yours with my quirk. Right here where anyone could walk by and see you.” You moan, because of his words or the tentacle that rubs against your clit, you aren’t sure. “I bet you’d just love that. Little slut.”

Like your shirt, your underwear is ripped down. The soaked, lacy fabric gets caught on the tentacles wrapped around your legs. Kuroo clicks his tongue, rucking up your skirt to get a better look at your slick thighs as the tentacle flicks over your clit once more. As his fingers graze your soft, inner thighs, the tendril drawing circles against you hooks around your panties and pulls. It tears, and you wince as the fabric snaps against your skin. Rough fingers slip between your legs, taking the ruined fabric from the tentacle and pocketing it. He makes sure to brush the lace against your clit as he pulls away.

Shakily, you take a deep breath, head tilting back just enough for you to meet his gaze. “You’re the one that wants to fuck me with them,” you remind him, fighting the urge to shiver as one of his tentacles strokes you directly, covering itself in your slick. “Who’s really the depraved one?”

The jab makes him grin. “So mouthy,” he murmurs again. The tentacle around your neck tightens, but doesn’t choke you. The pointed tip slides across your jaw and cheek, prodding at the corner of your mouth. It slides over your lips, but you refuse to part them. Kuroo sighs, disappointed. “I’ll have to fix that.”

Without warning, the tentacle stroking your slit shoves inside your pussy, spreading you open wide. Your lips part in a surprise squeal, but the other tentacle slips into your mouth, muffling the sound before it can tear from your throat. You moan around it, and Kuroo curses under his breath, feeling the vibrations through his quirk.

Another choked whine sounds through the empty alley, and he hushes you, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. Your hips lurch against the squirming sensation inside you, but the tentacles wrapped around your limbs hold you against the wall, forcing you to stay still as it wiggles.

“Careful, kitten,” Kuroo warns you, a smug look on his face. “You wouldn’t want Jishin’s little sidekicks to hear you moaning like a whore.” Those catlike eyes drift down your torso, locking on the thick tentacle stretching your dripping cunt. The tentacle in your mouth wiggles, pressing against your tongue and teeth. It pushes against the back of your throat, and you try not to gag. When you whimper again, Kuroo chuckles. “Or maybe you would.”

The palms of his hands land on your bare thighs, coaxing them further apart for a better view of the sloppy mess you’re making all over the tentacle between your legs. It’s a strange feeling. Smoother than his cock. Colder. It moves erratically, squirming inside you rather than thrusting. The tapered tip finds your sweet spot, rubbing and prodding until your hips jerk and you start to squirm again.

Around your left leg, the other tentacle holding you open starts to move, creeping across your inner thigh to join the other between your legs. Kuroo watches it slide over your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal as he watches his black tails writhe around you, simultaneously pinning you in place and stroking you purposely. They know just where to touch to turn you into a whimpering mess, and you cry out around the tendril in your mouth when the tentacle stuffed inside your dripping pussy slides part way out before slamming back inside of you.

The other, thinner one flicks over your clit. Your moan is muffled by the tentacle shoved down your throat. All four wiggle in delight as you arch your back, trying to match the pace of the tentacle that begins to pound into you. It’s thick inside you, stretching you obscenely, and Kuroo chuckles under his breath as he watches your pretty cunt swallow the shadowy tendril.

He takes a step back and slips his hands back into his pockets, watching the tentacle fuck you with a wild look in his eyes, like a cat toying with a mouse that’s already been caught. As he cocks his head to the side, his stares intently as your cute pussy as it drips all over the wriggling appendage. Slick glistens against the black tendril with every harsh thrust, and Kuroo shivers at the phantom sensation of your cunt clenching around one of his black tails.

The one playing with your clit strokes over you slowly, swirling against your swollen nerves in the same slow, teasing way as Kuroo’s tongue.

“I guess you really are a depraved little slut,” he muses, leaning his weight onto one leg. “Letting a bunch of filthy tentacles ravish you in a dirty alleyway.” Gold eyes glint possessively as they lock with yours. “And look how well you take them.”

A muffled moan falls from your mouth, and the tentacle pressed against your tongue thrusts against the back of your throat languidly, wiggling in a way that borders on uncomfortable. The tentacle in your mouth slides out of you wetly, leaving a trail of saliva across your cheek as it retreats to your neck, coiling tighter around your throat as you gasp for breath.

The tentacle thrusts against you harder, and this time there’s nothing in your mouth to muffle you as you cry out. “Ah, Tetsu, please.” You practically sob his name, writhing almost as much as the tendrils fucking you. “Please, I can’t—” You cut off with a whine, your head tossed back against the wall as you squeeze your eyes shut. By now you’ve started trembling, pleasure feeding into the tight little ball of tension in your lower belly with every rough thrust and stroke from his quirk.

“That’s right, kitten,” Kuroo murmurs. The jingle of his belt coming undone makes you whimper, and you force your eyes open, watching as his hand slips beneath his slacks, palming his hard cock. “Beg me to let you cum. You sound so fucking pretty when you beg for me.”

Your mouth is moving immediately, whimpering garbled pleas and breathy versions of his name between the gasps and moans rolling off your tongue. You’re only half aware of what you’re saying, but delight flickers in his eyes with every word. He strokes himself slowly, watching as you start to come undone.

The appendage around your throat constricts, stealing your breath.

The tentacle inside you writhes as the one on your clit rubs against you at just the right angle, and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as the knot of tension inside you snaps. You choke out a rough, strangled version of his name, whimpering as you tremble, writhing against the limbs holding you in place. The tentacles fuck you through it, pace never slowing as they draw out the pleasure until there are tears welling in your eyes from the intensity.

Shaking as you start to come down from the high, you wince when the pounding doesn’t stop. “Tetsu. I can’t—” The tendril that flicks over your clit again makes you flinch, and the one still stuffed inside your pussy thrusts against you roughly, making your walls clench. A hissed exhale escapes from between your teeth, your eyes squeezing shut at the raw feeling of overstimulation. “Too much,” you gasp, starting to struggle against the near painful pleasure.

You shiver as he caresses your cheek, his hand warm against your clammy skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos as you lean into his touch, thumb brushing against your bottom lip lovingly. “You didn’t think we’d be done that fast, did you? No, we’re just getting started.”

The tentacles curled around your limbs suddenly yank you towards Kuroo, pulling you away from the side of the building. They drag you down to your knees, and you wince as gravel digs into your skin. The tentacle around your wrists release you, but before you can grab Kuroo’s thighs to steady yourself, they’re wrenched behind you back, binding you again.

Kuroo nudges your thighs further apart with his foot. An approving sound rumbles in his chest as he watches the tentacle continue to fuck you despite your whimpering. He grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, grip bruising as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. A devilish look flashes in his eyes, sharp and predatory as he looks at you, on your knees for him. He shoves the front of his pants down with his free hand, clever fingers sneaking inside to stroke himself.

There’s a reason they call him a panther. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

[ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime]

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 4

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 4: U

I went home and opened my MacBook. While shivering in the cold, I clicked on the link sent by Hiro-chan. The letter "U" slowly emerges on a pitch-black screen with a wave-like sound. ".......U?" My tattered face covered in vomit was illuminated by the light of the monitor. The invitation page will be launched and a message will be displayed.

[ "U" is another reality

"Az" is another you

Reality cannot be redone

But with "U" you can start over

Let's live another you

Let's start a new life

Let's change the world ]

I forgot about the cold and was looking forward to it. The smartphone placed next to it was linked and the app started automatically. A registration screen appears on my MacBook monitor. It says "NAME".

"Name...."

I hesitated. There was a feeling of resistance. However, contrary to my feelings, I reach out towards my keyboard.

"S" "u" "z" …….

I type in steadily.

"U".

At that moment, a strong anxiety arose. I impulsively press the delete key. I slammed the keys to erase it and closed my MacBook.

[............]

I curled up and sighed, shivering. "I'm next to Luka" I found Luka on the bench in the courtyard. The girls are gathering together and surrounding Luka-chan. The first grade is almost over, so it seemed like everyone was going to take a picture.

"Mr. Watanabe's Yokozaro"

"Eh~? No fair!"

"I like Luka-chan's soba." Ako was envious of the shining Luka-chan from behind the pillars of piloti. I was jealous of the girls who could be photographed with Luka.

"Mr. Watanabe, look over here. I'll take a picture," urged the girl who played the role of the camera, and Luka looked in front of her. Then she waved towards us as she suddenly noticed.

"Ah. Suzu-chan!"

"Eh?" Luca beckoned to me, who was scared.

"Suzu-chan is also included!"

The girls looked at me all at once. Why? Is written on the face. I'm in a hurry

I hid in a pillar, then I looked a little and turned my palm.

"No, no, I", but Luca continued to beckon me.

"It’ll be fast!” Later, the image was sent. A group photo of girls with cute V signs, centered on Luca. There is my face full of freckles mixed with it. The position just behind Luka. Like the spirit behind her, I have an awkward V sign. When I tried to register for "U" again, I was asked for a photo of my face. I don’t have a photo of my face. I don't bother to point the camera at myself.

So, I used the image at this time for registration.

Face recognition markers are displayed on everyone. Which one are you? I moved the cursor and selected the freckled face behind Luka.

The text "A / I automatically generates a new Az" appears. At the same time, there is an annotation, "What is Az?". << The name of the avatar in "U" and another you >>

Another you.

Soon, the rendered Az was displayed.

"That ...?" There was a terrifyingly beautiful Az, far from me. You can say it's just like Luka-chan, not me. "Luka-chan? Why ..."

AI was confused with Luca, who was right next to my image. If so, what an awkward artificial intelligence! While the difference must be corrected. I hit the back button repeatedly.

"No. Back, back. Cancel ...", but suddenly I stopped pressing the button. Red spot-like patterns were clearly drawn on both cheeks of the Az.

"Freckles ..." I put my hand on my cheek. Isn't it my freckles? "Maybe I .....?" I slowly typed in each character in the "NAME" field of the registration screen. This time it's not "Suzu".

"B" "e" “l” “l” “e”

"Bell" = “Suzu”

When I decide on the name "... Bell", the Az in front of me suddenly seems to be adorable. "Cancel" and "OK" buttons are displayed on the screen, prompting you to make a selection.

"What should I do..…"

To make this beauty Az me, I'm not courageous and I'm afraid. On the other hand, no matter how far she is from me in reality, I also think. Rather, it is the world of the Internet that is far away. There are many examples of flashy names and icons on SNS.

"U" is a virtual world and Az is a virtual personality. Privacy is strictly protected. It claims that anonymity is strictly guaranteed. Then no one should blame you. Then, at the next moment, I'm at a loss. In the first place, why did AI of "U" automatically generate such a beautiful Az for me? Is it just a coincidence created by uncertainty? Or is it deep inside my heart? Are you seeing through your true desires? Or ...

It's time to select "Cancel or OK".

A late-night study room with only desk lights. In front of the MacBook screen, I decided to take a slow breath and trim. --Now, let's live another you-in my head, the message of "U" was refrained. "Click" I clicked OK.

At that moment, as if you were preparing, the "U" app on your smartphone started automatically. You can hear the announcement of a calm tone voice.

"Please attach the device"

As per the instruction screen, take out the earphone type device from the case and take it out. I put it on my ear.

"I'm reading your biometric information ..."

The letter "U" on the device glows blue and shimmers. With just one vise, you can get all the information about human beings as living things. It seems that you can do it. And in a very short time. "Done," the announcement said. Then I continued as if I was checking.

"Start body sharing"

It sounds like something is spinning at high speed. Head circumference. There was a feeling that the surroundings were covered with dense air. It seems that it was brought about by the strong magnetic field developed by the device, and perhaps because of that, the hair lifts up softly as if it were in a weightless space.

"First, vision comes under control."

The feel of the magnetic field seemed to concentrate on the back of the head. I slowly open my eyes. "Ah!" A dazzling white light rushed into my eyes.

It's a cloth. White cloths that were more than 10 meters long overlapped, fluttering and fluttering in the wind. I looked at my body as if I were checking my body, and was shocked. My feet are floating in the air. The announcement echoes, as if it were an announcement from heaven.

"Other cognitive functions and deep limb sensations come under control."

What do you mean? There were no words in that unrealistic space. Sweat gushes from the whole body, and the heart beats.

"The feeling of physical independence and physical possession moves to your registered Az." Something slowly approaches from behind. Pink hair. It was the "shadow" of Az that I registered earlier. However, it’s face is flat and white like a plate with nothing on it.

[.........]

I'm just stunned. "Shadow" overlaps. The feeling that another body gets inside me is unpleasant. The shadow of Az was fine-tuned by moving the position back and forth so that it would be in focus, but it fits perfectly immediately. Immediately, the discomfort I had just disappeared somewhere. Beyond the fluttering white cloth, I saw a large white door. I reach out my hands as I slowly approach. The announcement announced. "Welcome to the world of 'U'"

I pressed my hands against the door and opened it vigorously. When I jumped out, I saw a group of skyscrapers that filled my view. "Ah!" On the bustling boulevard that intersects three-dimensionally, a large number of people, not humans, Az-- are floating in the air. Az that imitate animals, insects, marine life, vases and set squares, Az that imitate bicycles, half-beasts and goddesses that are likely to appear in fiction, Az that imitate warriors ... , Az in all kinds of shapes are flying around while chatting loudly. When I look up at the night sky, the lights of countless windows blink, not from the twinkling stars, but from the skyscrapers hanging upside down. Another reality. Another world. Is this "U"? Powder snow is dancing. It's a little chilly. When I opened my hands to take the powder snow in the palm of my hand, I saw a white arm and long, thin fingers in my eyes.

[...]

I was surprised at the difference in physical sensation and looked as if I was checking my body. Her slender body and long legs are wrapped in a white dress that looks like a newborn.

Is this me?

Let's live another you.

The message of "U" was refrained in my head.

[............]

There, I noticed multiple eyes and looked forward. Some Az in the crowd are looking at me. However, as soon as I glanced at it, I went there. You may be a little beautiful, but this is "U". To that extent, nothing is unusual here. That was convenient. No one cares. Then you might be able to do what you've always wanted to do. When I raise my face, I take a deep breath and try to speak out.

The voice was undeniably my own voice. It's much more relaxed than I expected. I tried humming so that the nasal cavity would resonate instead of stretching. Sounds smoother than I imagined. Is it conveniently corrected because the body is virtual? But I don't feel that the sound is far from my consciousness. Is it because the scanned biometric information is accurate? Anyway…

I can't believe it. "I could sing ...!"As the powder snow dances fantastically, my voice rebels against the skyscrapers. It is echoing. How many years has it been since you sung properly? It was irresistible that I could immediately make a voice as I imagined, even though there was a blank and I hadn't done any preparatory movements. It feels like I've got a lot of freedom, and at the same time I'm a little scared. How is biometric information transformed into this output? What is Az? Anyway,

"Oh, I finally sang ...!"

I was very happy about this. I decided to sit down and sing a song with the lyrics properly. Of course there is no accompaniment, but is it okay?

[ I want to see a world where such a small melody pierces through a happy song

I wake up every morning and look for a future without you

I don't want to imagine the unpleasant singing ]

The lyrics translated into various languages ​​around me. Many languages, it surrounds me as a belt. Gaelic, Thai, Persian ...

All languages ​​overlap. If a song is detected, will it be displayed automatically without any settings? In addition, the synthetic voice singing in some languages ​​sounds faint, although the types are limited. Maybe because of that, "Hmm ...?"

Az and others who should have ignored me, suddenly look back and look at me.

"Ah ...?" Many Az in the building area are standing in the air one after another. I didn't mean to do that. I was just trying to check the condition of the technology called body sharing. However, it seems that more Az are gathering and listening than I expected. It's very embarrassing to think of myself as a street musician in a virtual world. However, it cannot be stopped on the way. Let's sing to the end, for myself. I continued thinking so.

[But I don't know the correct answer anymore.

It seems that it's going well except for me. Will it still come tomorrow?

Song, guide me, whatever happens, song, beside me, love, approach ]

From the Az who were listening, balloons displaying comments one after another appeared.

"What is this?" "Who is singing?" "Mysterious song"

At first, the content was cautious, as if watching the situation.

However, it gradually became less reluctant. For some reason, the only people who made comments such as "noisy", "strange songs", and "don't be pretentious" were Az with a cute appearance that I couldn't say such a thing. Wearing a frilly pink dress, a little animal, or a baby holding a teddy bear.

"Her looks aren't bad" "What's that freckled face (laughs)" Various tweets fly while singing. I do not mind. I'm singing for me. However, I was hurt by the words thrown at me. It ’s hard to say that only a small number of people will say

You can see it from here as well. hard. It may have appeared on the face. Furthermore, the words escalated. "I feel bad" "Stop it!" "Stop it!" I managed to finish singing before my feelings broke down. The noisy Az sighed and sighed, sighing and leaving. I had no choice but to see them off with disappointment,

"Belle"

Called my name, I looked up.

"……ah"

Something slipped in, "Eh? ... Ah," once I sprinkled the glittering scales, and once I went all the way down, it slowly stopped on my hand. It was a mysterious Az, like a white fairy, like an angel, like a clionidae. If you look closely, you can see that the body is transparent with the delicacy of warabi mochi. While swaying the wings of both hands, he said in a slightly traumatic tone.

"You are wonderful. You are beautiful."

That said, I felt saved.

"....... Fufufu. Thank you."

When I woke up, it was morning. Before I knew it, I was lying on my bed. Was last night a dream? It still has a fresh feeling. I looked at my smartphone to make sure. I have a profile page for Belle. It wasn't a dream. If you look under the bell icon, there is a column showing the number of followers.

《Belle: 0 followers》

That number is zero.

"There are no followers ....." I muttered while staring at the screen. "The world doesn't change anything." I didn't ask for it, but I felt a little disappointed.

When I thought, a beep sounded. The number of followers became "1" in front of me. That angel Az. A comment balloon appears. It was a blank space with nothing written on it. I laid down my smartphone, lay on my back on the bed, and remembered last night. There were many unplanned things. However, "But I finally sang ..." Above all, my heart was refreshed. The light of the winter morning looked dazzling. It's been a while since I've had such a refreshing feeling. Then there was a second follow-up notice. It was Hiro-chan. A cute bird-shaped Az with a round hat.

In the comment of "Re: I tried it for the first time"

<< This is Hiro. Belle is the best. I'll do anything >>

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.

[ranma-rewatch]

Episode 1-The Strange Stranger from China/Enter Ranma

Alright, time to really start this thing off with the first episode, “The Strange Stranger from China”. I...don’t remember that being the name of the episode, but it has been about a decade since I last saw the series.

I feel like I remember what happens in this episode pretty well, it should just be an introduction to (some) of the main cast and kick of the dynamic between the two leads, but I could be wrong. Let’s see after the break, once I have rewatched the episode!

Okay first things first, the Opening. Musically, this song has always sat in a weird spot for me. It’s really freaking catchy and memorable, but it’s also kind of annoying? Like, there is a fine line between a great ear worm and a song you actually want out of your head, and “Don’t Make Me Wild Like You” by Etsuki Nishio is like right on that line. There are parts of it I think are adorably entertaining, like the whistle, and other parts where I kind of cringe. It’s not my favorite opening song of the series, but it’s not bad either.

Visually, it is Okay with a capital O. There is a reason Mother’s Basement has never done a feature on it. It is mostly just the cast running in place over pastel backgrounds, and some of them have the coloring that’s very different from what would end up being used later on once they appeared. That said, I have to give infinite props to Akane’s little snapping dance, because it is freaking adorable and I love ever frame of it.

Also, the title. What I said it was earlier, “The Strange Stranger from China”, was what Hulu has it listed as, and from what I can tell that was what it was listed as on DVD. From what I can tell from my expert translator, Mr. Google Translate, it’s kind of similar to the Japanese title, which says it is “He's from China!! A little weird!!”. But in the episode, the dub says the episode is “Here’s Ranma” which is what I remember it being. So...yeah. Apparently at some point they wanted to retcon the english title of the episode, but never changed the dub track to match.

So, what’s the episode about? Hell, what is this show even about? Well, the episode starts with a feminine person with red hair fighting a panda in the street, arguing about being betrothed to someone against their will, while onlookers watch in confusion. Then the panda knocks them out, and carries them away. Cut to the Tendo family estate, where Soun Tendo has received news that Ranma Saotome and his father Genma will soon be coming, and gathers his three daughters to explain the situation.

You see, in addition to being fairly well off in general, Soun is the owner of a dojo for the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, and his best friend and fellow practitioner of the same art, Genma, made an agreement years ago to bind their families in marriage. Thus, Ranma will marry one of Soun’s three daughters. From oldest to youngest, they’re Kasumi, Nabiki, and Akane, who is the only one of the three to practice martial arts herself. When Soun reveals he has never met Ranma and has no idea what he’s like, his daughters are kind of pissed that their dad promised one of them would have to marry him, which is pretty fair.

Instead of the middle-aged man and teenage boy they expected, the red-head from before is dragged in by the panda, and they explain they are Ranma Saotome, to everyone’s confusion. Based on their body, everyone assumes Ranma is a girl, and Ranma and Akane actually become fast friends, sparring in the dojo. But after Akane has a surprise bathroom encounter with a very masculine Ranma that involves him seeing her naked, and vice versa, they learn the truth.

See, Ranma and his dad were in China training when they visited Jusenkyo, a seeming hot spring tourist trap, only to each fall in a different spring while practicing fighting there. Turns out all the water there is cursed because things kept drowning in the springs a long time ago. Now they’re both cursed. They each transform when cold water is poured on their heads, into a feminine body for Ranma and a panda’s body for Genma, and turned back with hot water.

Once that’s all out in the open, everyone except Ranma and Akane thinks that, since Akane doesn’t like guys, she would be the perfect fiance for Ranma since he is ‘half girl’. Akane is still upset with Ranma, both because she has a lot of issues with men and feels betrayed that Ranma never said he was really a guy, and also because he saw her naked. Ranma claims it isn’t a problem because he can look at himself anytime and he’s more stacked, and the dynamic of Akane hitting Ranma for the asshole-ish things he says is born.

So, lots of stuff to talk about for an analysis. I think I’ll go with a compliment sandwich, bundling up what was rough for me around what I liked or thought was particularly interesting. To start with, aside from a few places where there was clear corner-cutting of reusing animation and kind of needless flashbacks, I liked the animation. The original mangka, Rumiko Takahashi, has really great character designs, and I love seeing her personal art style brought to life by the animation of Studio DEEN, a group I am not super used to complimenting.

In terms of plot, I think it’s a pretty strong opener. It introduces a lot of the main cast, even if some of them are depicted fairly broadly and not shown as the characters they’d one day become. This might sound odd, but I also really appreciate how female nudity is handled. Maybe it’s just because, if anything, the way most anime handle ‘fanservice’ has just gotten more and more over-the-top as the years go by, but the way Ranma 1/2 handled it feels like a breath of breath air.

See, in most modern anime, full blown nudity of either sex is never shown. Instead, feminine characters’ bodies are incredibly sexualized, with lots of emphasis put on the breasts and other body parts, without ever giving the full game away. By contrast, this episode contained several example of the feminine form shown completely nude, but it wasn’t treated like some mind-blowingly sexy thing, it was just kinda shown without much fanfare. I’ve currently watching the original Mobile Suit Gundam, which came out around the same time, and it actually does the same thing a few times. It feels more similar to how nudity is treated in, say, paintings or sculpture, more tasteful, and I just kind of think it’s neat.

What is definitely less neat...is the music. If I had to throw out right away my biggest gripe with the show, it is the OST. Not all of it, there are a few bits near the end of the episode that are actually really good, they’re the kind of music I remember being in the show. But the more silly, goofy tracks more common in the first half of the episode really don’t work for me. They remind me of the generic ‘Silly Person’ theme songs from the Ace Attorney games, and maybe it’s just me, but those kind of background music always take me out of the experience and grate on my nerves. That’s actually my only big issue so far, but it did make both times watching this episode genuinely hard to get through at points, it annoys me that much.

Now, I will say right now that I will be referring to Ranma using male pronouns regardless of whether he’s in his cursed form or not, and I won’t call him a ‘girl’ or a ‘woman’. If you didn’t know, sex and gender are not actually the same thing, so even if his physical sex is changed to fit someone who would be Assigned Female at Birth, his internal gender doesn’t change. No matter how Ranma looks, he thinks of himself as a man.

Corollary to that, it was this time going through this episode that I realized something that I’d never thought of before: Ranma’s experience in this episode, and in some ways throughout the series, is actually a lot like that of a transgender man’s. Ranma shows up at the Tendo’s estate and they all see him as a girl because of how he looks, only for him to reveal his actual gender. When he’s hanging out with Akane, and she thinks he is actually a girl, and they’re getting along, there’s a part where she tells Ranma that she’s so happy he turned out not to be a boy, and you can see Ranma’s facial expression, he doesn’t want to hear that. Clearly, yes, you can read that as Ranma wincing at the fact that she’s in for a rude awakening later on, but it also gives off the same kind of vibes closeted trans people experience when they’re misgendered by people they know.

In fact, when you think about how his curse really affects Ranma, when he’s in his cursed form, he effectively is a trans man. He still identifies as a guy, but his body has been changed so that it no longer represents who he sees himself as inside. It just felt like an interesting real life parallel in this episode, and I’m interested to see if I feel it shows up more later on. But for now, let’s move on to character spotlight.

For the first spotlight, I thought I should center on the titular Ranma Saotome. Obviously this won’t be the only time I focus on him, he’ll get more spotlight pieces as the series develops, so right now I’ll try to focus on the Ranma we see in just this one episode.

To start with, who plays him? Well, that’s a funny story, actually. Not only does Ranma, due to his curse, have different voice actors in each language for his cursed and non-cursed forms, but in the English Dub they recast his masculine body’s voice actor after three seasons. I’ll talk about that voice actor, Richard Ian Cox, once we get to when he actually becomes Ranma’s voice actor, so let’s start with the masculine form’s VA’s.

Now, the Ranma I first met when I was a teenager was Sarah Strange, a Canadian Voice Actress who is not known for much else. Her Ranma has mostly been the one I think of in my head when I think of the character. A little nasaly, her take on the character is very average joe, very ordinary high schooler. There’s some brashness to it, sure, but it’s actually kind of a subdued version of Ranma. Looking at it now, I actually feel like both of Ranma’s masculine form’s voice actors don’t quite fit the character, but for opposite reasons. Sarah Strange’s voice is so normal sounding that it dampens the more extreme parts of his character, Ranma at his most arrogant and egotistical. Like I said, I’ll cover Richard Ian Cox when he takes over the role, but I’ll say in brief here that his version of Ranma is the polar opposite, too over-the-top and aggressive.

In contrast, his original Japanese voice actor, Kappei Yamaguchi, feels a lot better to me, at least so far. Again, this is basically my first time seeing the series subbed, so I’ve only heard him for one episode as opposed to the 3 seasons I had with Sarah Strange. Still, Kappei’s take on Ranma is just as normal sounding as Sarah’s, but I felt like I could already hear a little more of the more emotional side of the character I felt Sarah never quite managed to capture properly.

As for Ranma’s cursed form, I was kind of confused, because the voice I was hearing in the episode wasn’t the one I remembered. For a while, I thought she must have just grown into the role over time, but it turns out that is not the case. For the first six episodes of the show, he was played by Brigitta Dau, who was then replaced with Venus Terzo. Now, I did not know this until literally right now, as I am typing this, so I feel like I don’t actually have much to say about Brigitta. Her performance felt a little off to me, but not bad. Venus, though, really owns the role once she takes over. Her performance as red-headed Ranma has always felt perfect for me, selling the idea that this is a teenage guy in a feminine body, and she’s really good at selling Ranma at his most dickish.

In Japanese, this form of Ranma is played by Megumi Hayashibara. Now, I would never ever say she did a bad job, but from what I saw of her in this episode, I don’t know how much I actually like her as Ranma. Maybe it’s just the pitch of her voice, but she doesn’t sound quite to me like a guy in a feminine body, but just like a very emotional teenage girl. Of course, I do not speak Japanese and it’s a lot harder to really judge acting in a language you don’t understand, so I could be spouting utter nonsense, but that’s my thoughts on her as of this episode.

In terms of Ranma’s character, they don’t really give much away with this first episode. We know he’s a good fighter, has a difficult relationship with his father, doesn’t like his curse and wants to get rid of it, and has enough stubbornness to butt heads with Akane and stand his ground. I also felt like they did a good job telegraphing Ranma’s general fighting style during his sparring match with Akane. He spent the entire time dodging her attacks with incredible ease, which emphasizes his speed. Generally speaking, I’d describe Ranma as a very agile, thinking-on-his feet kind of fighter, but that’s something we’ll see more of in later episodes. I was going to do a big thing about his personality, but I feel like anything more than what I’ve said hasn’t really borne out in what we have, so I’ll wait for another time to do that.

Like I said in my Introduction post, I will be ranking each episode as they appear, and as this is the only one I’ve seen in the rewatch, it is both the best one and the worst one so far. The real question is how it will stand up next time, when I’ll be able to compare it to the second episode, “School is No Place for Horsing Around”. See you then!

[scone-lover]

@findingniamho​

HAHAHAHA thank you so much for this ask!!! ❤️ This is exciting. Honestly the Egghead fight was one of the most entertaining scenes to write. (Coming up with all the puns was an egg-celent time.) Rereading it just now was like an out of body experience 😂 

Link to the original chapter here - passage & commentary below the cut!

So I have to start with how this scene was born. This is a Simon scene. He’s had a couple fight scenes with Vampire, but I wanted to show him off as the superhero of the city. What was he doing before Vampire appeared on the scene? What are his strengths and weaknesses? Despite the scene’s silliness, it’s also one of the first where we start to get a sense of what Mayor Mage is up to. 

So I knew I wanted him to do the typical defending-the-city thing, and showcase him and Penny as the dread companions power duo.

Besides the plot stuff, my main goal was to make this scene as ridiculously, stereotypically comic book-ish as possible. 😂Hence, Egghead the Villain.

Most of the credit for Egghead goes to my friend -- they’re really into DC and helped me with a lot of the plot stuff in this fic and making things semi-realistic. (Every time you read a clever plot point, it was probably them. 😂) For this non-Vampire fight, my friend suggested a gangster who was doing crimes and bribing the police. Hence this exchange--

“Okay, okay, um-- fuck. Did you call the police?” She huffs. “Yes, and I think they’ve been fucking bribed, because they pretended they didn’t even know who Egghead was! Can you believe that?”

I made him a repeat villain because honestly, I just thought it was more compelling that way. They know who he is already, Simon can grumble about him, they have egg-themed quips at the ready, etc. 😂 

As for the name, Egghead. I love how it came together because Simon is a baker, and I was able to work a couple baking jokes in there eventually. But in reality, it was me begging my superhero expert friend (named t below) to help me out with crafting this villain and coming up with some witty exchanges. A transcript of our conversation with the brainstorming and some of the rejects--

t: the gangster has a nickname right? he has to if he’s a supervillain t: make it a gimmick t: like if he has a red outfit call him mr. red or something t: he has a flamethrower and call him dragon (this made it in, later) me: Vampire already has a flamethrower t: they can be forced to fight him together me: Vampire is at home studying bc he’s a NERD t: ok he can be bald and simon can call him egghead me: THANKS I HATE IT t: simon throws him on the ground at the end of the fight - that was over-easy me: I hate you where do you get this shit t: I mean it’s typical superhero stuff t: he wears yellow and white and deals crack me: This fic is so food themed I love it t: that’s your villain. that’s it. t: listen, if the Flash can have an ice skating villain, YOU CAN HAVE EGGHEAD. And he was born.

(And yes, The Flash does have an ice skating villain. AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ICE POWERS.)

Okay, let’s do this! Warning that this is definitely going to go through more than 500 words of the chapter. 😂 

Men dressed in black suits with bright yellow pocket squares. And larger men around the perimeter, wearing grey and holding flashlights. It looks more like a business transaction than anything; there are briefcases and money being passed back and forth, hands being shaken. “Hey!” I call. There are six men, and they all turn to stare at me, and then make a run for it. The flashlight beams dart wildly and I hear a few of them clatter to the floor. Everyone starts yelling at once and looking for an escape.

I basically watched an episode of Brooklyn-99 and crafted the warehouse drug deal based on that. 

“Don’t move. There’s only one exit,” Penny says in my ear. “And you’re standing in front of it.” I stand my ground, but no one comes near me. The suited guys stay slightly behind the muscular ones. Finally, one of them steps forward. “Mage’s Head Boy. Come to tell us off?”

This scene was also an opportunity to have Penny in Simon’s ear! I wanted them to work together more closely than just talking about superhero stuff - I wanted Penny to be invaluable to Simon’s superhero success and in on the action, too. She’s kind of modeled after Oracle from Batman throughout this fic. 

Mage’s Head Boy is a pretty transparent CO reference. 

There are times when I’m grateful for my ability to just have muscles and growl at people and make them disappear, and there are times when I wish I was witty like Vampire. This is definitely the second. I can’t think of a response to that. Luckily, I have a best friend with a head full of wit. “Tell them to fuck off,” Penny says. Then again, maybe not. What would Vampire say? I get hot and frustrated in the face of danger. He seems to get cooler the higher the stakes get. I fall into a fighting stance. “You wish.” The guy takes a step backwards. “But since I can’t bring you to the police, I suppose I’ll just have to teach you a lesson.” “That was good,” Penny says in my ear.

I obviously had to work a bit of Baz jealousy / crushing into this. I like the idea of Penny being super blunt. She’s smart and sometimes witty, but more often she just says it like it is. “Cooler the higher the stakes get” was a direct reference to the similar line in Carry On. With Simon’s last line - this scene was all about showcasing him as a “typical” superhero that you’d find in a comic, fighting a classic comic book villain. So I gave him one of those cheesy lines.

I’m surrounded. There must be fifteen or twenty of them. Eight huge muscular guys, and the rest in suits. They form a loose circle around me. Almost all of them wield knives, but I don’t see any guns so far.

I knew from the outset I wanted this to be a one-against-many fight. At this point in the story I’d set up a good dynamic for Blade vs Vampire, but not so much Blade vs. other city threats. What makes him a trustworthy hero? Simon’s origin story is that he got news attention by fighting off a group - so putting him in this group fight setting was a chance for him to shine.

A man steps out from the shadows. He’s bald, with a straight, dark mustache, and he’s wearing a pristine white suit and a shirt the colour of an egg yolk. “Egghead,” I say in what I hope is a threatening tone. The name sounds absurd. I’m glad the mask covers my mouth, because I don’t think I can keep a straight face. Penny coughs. Benedict Eggerton, better known as Egghead, is a drug lord who wears yellow and deals… crack. (I know.) (He got into crime early; his parents were poachers.) (Okay, I made that one up. I can’t help it.) I put him in jail earlier this year, but he escaped and fled north.

I was laughing so hard while writing this. You can see in the text exchange above where the suit and nickname came from. I was trying to come up with what his first name might be (my first idea was Sunny). I was so amused when I finally thought of Benedict. 😂 The poachers line is also from my friend T, and the “north” is a reference to Scotland, which comes back later as the Scotch Egg joke.

I draw my weapon, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I remember your blade being bigger,” he says, eyeing my kitchen knife. “Is it too cold for you in here?”

PFFFFFT I LOVE THIS JOKE okay so. I originally made Simon forget his sword because I thought the fight would be too easy - and going back to what I said above, he’s kind of returning to his “roots” with this fight - that spark he has that makes him a hero. And then I wrote the line “I remember your blade being bigger.” TO BE CLEAR, this was not originally intended as an innuendo. 

And then my friend said something like ‘he should turn up the heating in this warehouse then’, and I was like OH DING DING DING PENIS JOKE! 😂I’m oblivious sometimes. I’m glad I realized in time because this is honestly one of my favorite villain lines I’ve ever written.

I really, really wanted to give the “too cold” line to Vampire. It would be perfect for him. But Simon always has his normal sword with Vamp, so Egghead it was. And he instantly became an icon. 😂 

I twirl the knife between my fingers. “I can crack you anyway.” “Good effort,” Penny whispers. “But a bit rough on the delivery. 'Take a crack at you' might have been better...” “Sword or no sword,” I continue, “you’ll be an egg wash by the end of this.” “What?” Penny says. “Is that a baking reference?” Egghead cracks his knuckles, and his men rush me.

Much like Penny does later in the scene, I had a tab open of egg-related words up while writing this. I had to work in the baking reference. But a terrible one. There’s a French term for whisking eggs that basically translates to “beating eggs into snow” - and I wish it was a thing in English, because, you know, Simon Snow. Oh well. 😂 

I Google a list of ways to make eggs. Simon needs to win this fight, but more importantly, he needs to get some egg-themed one-liners in there to show them who’s boss. Chances like this don’t come around very often. 

Listen, Penny is very dedicated. I love the idea of heroes just being quick-witted and coming up with these ridiculous quips on demand. But ultimately, I thought it was funnier - and more in character for Penny - to do this. (Even though her Superhero name is Quickwit, oops.) She has the world of Google at her disposal. Egg puns may not seem important, but superhero image and reputation is half the battle.

Simon is being attacked from all angles, but he fights like a whirlwind. The bulky guys attack first, mostly with their fists. Simon kicks their legs out from under them. He throws them across the floor like they weigh nothing. “Behind you!” I say. Simon spins around and disarms the man behind him, twisting his arm, and I hear a shout through my earbuds. He grabs the guy’s knife and kicks him in the stomach, sending him sprawling. Simon Snow faces fifteen men with nothing but two knives, looking like he’s ready to explode.

I loved writing this from Penny’s POV. I am used to writing fight scenes from the POV of the person fighting, so this was definitely a cool challenge. It’s part of why I brought Penny into the scene in the first place - so I could show Simon in third person. Almost like we’re watching a movie and getting some overhead shots. From his POV, you don’t realize quite how awesome he is. So getting to showcase him like this was really fun.

I still have to wonder how Shepard knew… well, everything. 

Don’t tell anyone but I didn’t know yet either

“He’s Scottish,” I tell Simon. “Scotch Egg.”

I know. This one’s bad.

He’s a blur of gold and white in motion. He throws his knife—I have no idea where he learned to do that—and it embeds itself in one of the men’s legs. He rolls across the floor, picking up two more discarded knives.

I don’t do a ton of plotting/outlining with fight scenes, but one thing I decide in advance is where and how everyone gets hurt. I didn’t want Simon to win the fight too easily, but I did need to injure him somehow. So it wouldn’t be too easy, but also to serve as a counterpoint to the socks thing later.

I watched a lot of action sequences to write this fic, especially with the trickier one vs. many scenes. 

Simon tosses him like a sack of flour.

Couldn’t resist the baker!Simon reference.

“Hard or soft boiled,” I whisper. “Which way is it gonna be, Egghead? Hard or soft boiled?” Simon shouts. He whispers to me, “That was stupid.” Egghead raises an eyebrow. “Last chance to leave us alone, Blade.” I consult my list of egg dishes. “Give up before you get scrambled.” Simon twirls his blades. I love it when he does that; he looks like Deadpool. “It’s your last chance to surrender before you get scrambled.”

I loved the hard or soft boiled line at first. And then I wrote it down and said it out loud, just to check, and it sounded SO DUMB. 😂I almost took it out, but then figured—Simon is probably not going to think this through, either.

Maybe the Deadpool line was a bit on the nose here, but I wanted to give readers some really vivid imagery of what Simon looks like right now with these dual wicked blades kitchen knives.

“I prefer my eggs… poached,” he says. 

Even though Egghead has turned out to be quite a serious villain—there are guns, drugs, and a backstory—he is, after all, original master of the egg puns. He would never turn down this opportunity.

Egghead scrambles (ha) to his feet

I think Penny is just me in this.

“Over-easy,” I whisper.

“That was over-easy,” he says.

Not my best. But it had to be in there.

I’ll skip the serious bits, since the plot there is pretty self-explanatory, to this:

I wish he’d asked what we serve, because I have so many egg puns at the ready. Eggs-ecution. Hash-ing out justice. Karma served hard.  

My beta ashspren gave me this line, and I could not be more grateful. Imagine the chapter without this. It would be a shame.

Here are a few egg puns that didn’t make the cut, SADLY:

You're washed out, egghead

*Egghead gets angry* hey, it was just a yolk

I had to go "beat" some eggs

*uppercut* Sunny side UP!

I'll bash in your Eggnoggin’

Some people are just bad eggs

Sorry this is so long—this has been a purely self-indulgent experience. Thanks so much for this ask, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it! ❤️ 

[booknerd-r]

Just a Crush

Introducing a short, fluffy one-sided Five/Miko drabble I wrote without really thinking about it! Also on ao3!

_________________________________________________________

Her hands were soft.

Five had expected them to be rough, calloused through battle but he supposed swinging a hammer made of pixels didn't have the same effect as swinging a legitimate one.

Her nails were left blank, not a single trace of polish to be found much unlike her sister's. Not that he'd expected her to be the kind of girl that bothered with that stuff, much too entranced in gaming and besides, Five figured Miko had her hands full maintaining the color in her hair anyway. If she didn't dye that stuff at least once every two months, he called sorcery.

It was a slow day, and Five had managed to get his partner out of her boredom dance long enough for her to take refuge sitting at the small round table across from him. Sure, he'd had to keep her distracted with his Hinobi Portable but the array of classics in his game library had kept her pliant for the time being, and somewhere along the way Five had ended up with her hand trapped between both of his. Just….playing.

It was calming, in a way. Tracing her fingers with his own, not a care in the world as he absentmindedly toyed with the one hand she'd kept free because 'Look, Five! Watch me beat this level one-handed!' because of course she would.

Miko tended to fall asleep whenever someone messed with her hair. Five had figured that one out after she'd dropped dead on his lap after just two minutes of him running his fingers across her scalp. She'd passed out with just as much energy as she carried; Five hadn't even realized it'd happened until he'd felt her weight on his legs and by the time he had, his abuela had walked in on the scene with the biggest knowing expression she could've possibly had.

It had certainly been an...experience explaining why his gaming buddy was fast asleep on top of him in his room while he'd supposedly only called her over to play the latest Smash Bros. But eh, people were bound to ask questions someday.

And Five figured it wouldn't be a good idea to have the same incident repeat itself while on the clock, but Phil had warned them of the destruction a bored Miko brought with her so this was the next best thing. Intentional or not, she couldn't run off if he held her hand hostage, now could she?

"Oh nerds," the 'Game Over' noise was enough to bring Five out of his semi-trance and when he looked up, it was to find Miko dramatically slunged back in her chair, head tilted upwards like she wanted to curse the gods themselves. "This damn level! I can't get past!"

"What?" Five perked up, a bit of a teasing grin on his lips. "The great Miko? Stuck at a game? Pure blasphemy, there's gotta be some rule against that."

Miko huffed. "In my defense, I'm playing one-handed! OG Castlestein is already hard enough with both hands!"

"You brought that on yourself."

"Says the one who's been hogging my hand this entire time!"

Five sensed the blush coming more than he felt it, and when Miko yanked her hand back and wiggled her fingers to emphasize her point, he didn't react. He hadn't really expected to be called out; they were generally touchy with each other, maybe even a little too much but it worked for them. "I-"

"Always touching me," Miko tsked, her hand falling back on the portable console she'd been nursing. A few clicks more and then the short silence was interrupted by the familiar Castlestein tune. "If you're not careful, people might start to think you have a thing for me, Five."

It was meant as nothing more than a tease, an off-handed little joke while she focused on her game but the problem was that there was some truth to it and Five could already feel the color in his face darkening. Damn it, he had to turn this around.

"Whoa, whoa, just a minute there!" He said, his fingers flattening out over the table keeping them separate. "You were the one who initiated the hugs after we literally just met!"

And what an experience that had been. Five wouldn't lie, the first time Miko had jumped him in a surprise hug, just a day after they'd gotten accepted into Hinobi, he hadn't known what to think. Sure he was familiar with the concept, his family practically lived off bear hugs and the like, but Miko had essentially still been a stranger to him at the time, albeit a special one. He hadn't been expecting the sudden affection, but he'd been quick to learn that it was going to be happening a lot and he might as well just get used to it. Miko had just been built like that, after all.

"Well, yeah!" Miko looked up from the screen for just a moment, grin flashing in a show of teeth. "We're friends, Five. I was excited to see you!"

"Excited to-" Five sputtered, his face catching flame and his brain switching to default Spanish in the confusion. Miko just let him go, having grown used to his frequent swaps by then and fully unaware of the few choice yet flustered words that were coming out of her best friend's mouth. Five sincerely prayed for this girl to never decide to pick up Spanish as a third language.

"I'm gonna end up fluent in Google translate because of you," Miko told him after he'd finished, her lips quirked into a half-smile while her eyes, once again, flickered up from the screen for a brief moment.

"Please don't," Five whimpered, his head tucked into his arms on the table, face entirely hidden from view.

He'd heard plenty of stories concerning people falling for their best friends, thought it was silly, honestly. Surely a little crush shouldn't be enough to feel awkward around someone you already have such a close relationship with, right? You just had to suck it up. And if not that, then confess your feelings, it was that easy.

That had been his mindset for the longest time, and it had also been his mindset the first time he actually realized what he'd been feeling this entire time. They'd been on a mission, he'd been on the ground, knocked on his ass with a ridiculously oversized glitch gaining on him. His gauntlet had been malfunctioning, sizzling and crackling in a way that just couldn't be good no matter how you cut it, and it was safe to say that Five was in a crapload of trouble.

But then Miko had, quite literally, come crashing into him with the full force of her body and a worried call of his nickname. Her next move had been to call for Ally to get them out of there, but when Five looked up and blinked out of his daze, for a split second the light hit her face just right and Five realized that the rapid beating of his heart wasn't just because of what went down not even a minute ago.

But it'd been fine because again, it was just a silly little crush and he wasn't planning to dwell on it at all. Miko was his gaming buddy. His best friend. He wasn't going to give that up for the world.

Five wished his mindset had stayed that sober.

The mission completion sound went off, followed by an excited victory cry that had Bergy stumbling and nearly tripping over himself in the back. Five didn't even have the chance to look up before a pair of soft hands dived for his face and nearly squished his cheeks together as he was pulled close to his excited partner's face. She was smiling, her eyes damn near sparkling and if his heart wasn't beating so damn loud in his ears he'd probably be grinning with her.

"I did it, Five! Did you see?!" Miko cried, bringing their faces together even closer in her excitement and ah, there were the touches again. Honestly she probably didn't even realize she was doing it. "I told you I could do it!"

Play it cool, play it cool. What were they talking about? Oh, right, Castlestein. "You beat it one handed?! No way!"

"Yes way!" Their foreheads were touching now; game forgotten between them. Five most certainly wasn't dying inside. Definitely not. "MVP of the day? ME_K.O.! I told you!"

Five reached for his face with a laugh that was a mix of amused and nervous. His hands wrapped around hers, gently peeling them off his cheeks and putting some distance between them as he leaned back. Their hands, however, remained intertwined. "Okay, okay! I get it!" He chuckled. "You're amazing, we know. Make sure to rub it in Mitch's face later."

His heartbeat slowed down to a pace that was less cause for concern and more healthy, but then she laughed and squeezed his hands a little and crap, there it went again.

"I so will!" Miko tugged at his hands again, but instead of pulling away, she just tightened her grip, almost intertwining their fingers. "You have to come with me though! Wouldn't be the same without you, partner!"

Five froze, his brain short-circuiting for just a second. "Do-" he swallowed; looked away. God that smile was dangerous. "Do you think I'd want to miss that? Not a chance!"

'Falling for your best friend is silly,' he'd said.

'Just confess! It can't be that big of a deal,' he'd said.

Oh nerds, was this karma? It had to be karma.

Miko leaped up from her seat, practically bouncing over as she rounded the table to stand in front of him, their hands still linked. "Well, come on, Five! Let's go!" She urged, tugging in an attempt to lift him from his chair.

Five's nervous smile turned soft at her antics, at her smile, and just like that, his inner panic disappeared just as quickly as a passed highscore. Because you know, if this was what he was going to be risking just for something as silly as a small crush? He was perfectly fine just staying the way they are.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm following, I'm following, relax!" 

[schrijverr]

Behind the Scenes

This is a story that developed from a small peek into my brain whenever I write the stories you read into a thinkpiece about writing and posting fanfiction. 

On AO3.

Ships: none (unless you wanna ship me with my keyboard lol)

Warnings: none, I suppose, but it does get a little down in the end, I was having a rough day when I wrote this, sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

I sit on my chair before my laptop. I’m curled into myself as my fingers glide over the keyboard and my thoughts flow out of my fingertips onto the screen.

It isn’t all that late, just past midnight, but it’s already dark outside and in order to see the keys properly I have to turn on the lamp I have on my desk. With the light it’s kind of cozy here in my little nook of the world.

I look to the screen and try to make sense of my own words. I don’t have a fully fledged idea yet, but a vague idea that floated through my brain at some point during the day has inspired me enough to open a new document and start typing.

I now know how this story begins and I see where I am going and how it will end, but the question of how I get there sits heavily on my mind.

I stop typing for a moment and think. If I introduce this character now, it might set some other things in motion and that’ll be good for the plot, but I don’t know how to write that character at all and I’m afraid that if I do it wrong, people won’t like me or my story.

I sigh and realize I’ve started almost every new paragraph with the same word. I hate it when I do that. The story starts to feel repetitive and as a non native English speaker I want to prove that I have a bigger vocabulary than that.

How to proceed?

A synonym, maybe? But I’ll have to look that up and I don’t think there is a good synonym for I. Sighing again I scan the page and think. Maybe I could start with a verb to shake things up a bit or a question. No, not a question that would feel out of place here.

Now I’ve written a few paragraphs again, so I could use the word I used before, but since I used it so many times already I want a bit more space between now and the next time I use it. So a synonym it is, I guess, I think as I open my browser to look one up.

…

There is no synonym for I.

Goddammit, I think. Well, it’s no use now anyway. I’ve decided to write this story in the first person, despite knowing I’m horrible at it, and now I have to deal with the fact that I don’t have another word for I.

I start my next paragr- no that’s not right. Backspace, backspace. Moving on to the next- No, not that either. Backspace, backspace. I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t, hmm, what’s a good word there?

I know I have a good word in Dutch ‘voortborduren’, but when I translate it, it gives me elaborate, which doesn’t fit in the sentence at all. Mentally groaning I recline in my chair as I try to think.

Maybe it’s the sentence itself? Lets see what did I write again? Oh yeah: I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t- and then I need to find a word. Hm, funny, I don’t know how to go on by the sentence about not knowing how to go on.

‘I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t’, I whisper it to myself in the hope the right word comes to mind.

First there is nothing, but then! Expand! Not perfect, but it fits, which is good enough for now, maybe when I proof read it a better word will come to me and I can use that.

So, expand. I wonder why I wrote something I can’t expand upon.

Fuck, I’ve spend so much time finding the right word that I have forgotten what I was talking, well writing, about in the first place. Softly swearing under my breath I scroll up and read what came before the sentence with the stupidly hard word to think off.

Ah yeah, it was about the other stupid thing, namely that I am writing this in the first person, which I still cannot do, no that skill has not come to me in the time it took to look up a word. What a pity.

But I have started the last few paragraphs with something other than I from time to time. That at least is something. Wait, should I add punctuation there? That, at least, is something. Looks better, but maybe that is just my love for commas talking. I mean, why write a boring sentence with a dot in the middle, which makes it short and doesn’t give you enough space to play with it, when you can also add unnecessary punctuation, so that you can play with the cadence of how something is read out loud or in someones mind?

Whoops, now that whole paragraph is long, if I want to make this story easy to read I’ll have to make this one shorter. Hmm, is this good? Yeah, probably. Enter.

Now, I’m suddenly wondering, if paragraph is even the right word. In Dutch the word is ‘alinea’ and the word ‘paragraaf’ also means chapter, but not really, only in a school book. It doesn’t really make sense, because you also have a chapter in a schoolbook and that’s divided in paragraphs and each paragraph has ‘alinea’s’

Aaand I’ve distracted myself by thinking about the differences between each language instead of looking up if paragraph is actually the right word and it means what I think it means.

I look it up on Google translate, not the most trustworthy source for sentences, but for lone words it’s alright.

It is the right word, along with indention, but I’m not really familiar with that word, although I can see where it comes from with the paragraphs creating indentions in the text. Still, I decide to stick with paragraphs, cause “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and I live by that.

Looking back to the clock in the corner of my screen I realize that I’ve now been writing this for 40 minutes. It isn’t all that long, but I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. I had a point when I began and now I’ve forgotten it.

I stretch my arms, by pushing away my chair, leaning forward until my shoulders are at the same height of my desk is. My right shoulder cracks, it has always done that, but the sound snaps me out of my musings and makes me pay more attention to my surroundings.

It is raining outside and I hear people screaming. They sound happy, probably celebrating something and drinking, but I still wondered what they’re doing up so late (ignoring the fact that I am still awake too.)

Right, my word document. I was trying to remember what my point was. No wait, not remember, recall sounds better. I double click remember and replace it with recall: I was trying to recall what my point was.

Although I have found a nice sentences with the best word to describe the action, I still don’t know what comes next. I suddenly begin to doubt myself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe I’ve read this somewhere before and I am unconsciously copying someone. Maybe I should just delete this and move on to something else.

I mean, come on, who wants to read this? No one. I’m just going to post it, knowing that no one cares and no one will read it. People don’t go to AO3 for original works, you don’t, so why would anyone care about it? It’s going to get five hits tops, with maybe two kudos, three if you’re lucky.

And now I have accidentally switched to a second person perspective, can’t even stay consistent. Maybe if I play it off as an introspection or and internal dialogue no one will notice or think it’s an artistic choice.

Pff, artistic choice. You can hardly call what I’m doing artistic. It’s just fanfiction, a hobby. Yeah, I know that is still good and can be great, even amazing and artfully written, but this isn’t. I have a too direct writing style for that. I’ve only been getting English education for six years and it’ll take so much more practice until I ever reach that level.

I’ve gotten off track completely now. I faintly remember that this started out as a mock internal dialogue of what happens when I write a fanfic, but now it turned into a self deprecating shit parade.

I blink long and hard, trying to get my head back on track and write something better, or at least more consistent.

Realizing that in order to do that I should probably scroll up and read (lets be honest scan) how I started. I don’t have the energy for it, but I force myself to do it with a sigh.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Ah, yeah, I began with where I was and then that discussion about language and looking things up. Oh, but I’ve also reflected on what I’ve written before, well, before. Then it was about re-finding what I was doing after I had to look up a word and now it is desperately trying to remember what the actual fuck I was doing in an attempt to make something cohesive, but still. I decide to not do that again.

I still don’t know what my point was when I started this, but I’m making a new one up right now. I think I’m going to call the work ‘behind the scenes’ or ‘the thoughts of a writer’, since I have now decided that this is a way to get readers a peek behind the curtains.

As a reader, I can respect people so much for all the work they put into a story. And of course I’m not saying you can’t do that if you don’t write, no, that would be pretentious, but I do have more respect for them than before I started writing all those years ago.

It is really easy to forget that something you read in a few minutes has taken hours to write. This is not even 2k words long right now. I know I can read that in a few minutes, not even blinking and mostly forgetting, before moving on to the next story, but I have been writing almost nonstop for over an hour now.

I am lucky that I can usually keep the words flowing long enough to make some bullshit up that I can reason into a coherent story in the end, but that has taken practice. A lot of practice.

In order to become a good in writing a story you have to do it so many times and you won’t even notice you’ve gotten better until much later. I know this, because I recently went through all my works and made them better. Got all the typos out there, I fixed vague sentences and I made the lay out better. I also cringed a lot.

Well, I think I have to go with a ‘behind the scenes’ now, because I don’t think I can claim this is my internal monologue when I’m writing. Instead this has turned into a think piece about writing and appreciating it or something.

I don’t even know anymore.

I recall I had a point when I started this, probably thought it out and then my brain decided to throw it away and throw up this garbage instead. It is interesting, I suppose, but not at all what I was going for in the beginning.

Oh well, maybe I can fix it when I proof read it, because I am tired and I think I’m going to bed. I have half the mind to just fuck it and throw it on AO3 without glancing over my own words even once. It’s very tempting to leave others to deal with these honest words and pretend they aren’t mine, but I don’t.

However, I don’t think I will edit this that much, because it was nice to get some frustrations on, well not paper, but on screen. Just order my thoughts, you know?

It is hard to stay motivated when it seems that everyone around you is doing so much better than you. It is disheartening and it makes you want to stop.

I don’t.

I can’t.

Writing is what I do, it helps, it’s nice. I love writing and I don’t think I will stop loving it. But one of the reasons I love writing is because it can get the constant thoughts and ideas to stop swirling around in my head.

Today I needed it to stop, so that I could just go to sleep properly and I feel like this helped. It was honest and I feel better now. Tomorrow can come at me and I will face it like I did today. Maybe my last few fics weren’t to everyones taste and that’s okay, they were my taste and I love them and I am proud of them. For me that’s enough.

I would apologize for ranting, I usually do, but since you could stop at any time and leave, I don’t think I’m going to do that, what I am going to do, is thank you.

Thank you for reading this, despite the fact that it is not a fanfic. Thank you for allowing me to just dump all these thoughts on you. And thank you for being here and clicking it, your support, even if it is only an extra number by “hits”, means so incredibly much to me and I cannot put in to words how grateful I am that you are here.

Since it is now 01:18 and if I recall correctly it was 00:02 when I started, I think I am really going to stop now. Goodnight, or good-whatever time a day you’re reading this!

Goodbye :)

[bazz-b]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Thomas/Tom     AGE: +25       CONTACT: IM, Ask, Discord

CHARACTER(S): Bazz-B, King Baraggan Louisenbairn, Kurosaki Ichigo, Ichibei Hyosube

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  I have an ATLA and LOK AU for Bazz-B, but no Bleach AUs for external muses

MY LANGUAGE(S): Passable Japanese, Survivable Italian, Fluent English

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc. (what Bazz-B wants is reflected in italics)

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?:   YES / NO    only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK.

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. (usually but I need to catch up at the moment)

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. /DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY I

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING:  You can IM me or send an ask, but the tumblr messaging systems SUCK so I encourage y’all to add me on discord and then just go ham. I’ll only turn down a plot if it’s OOC for Bazz-B, but otherwise I’ll usually try anything. If it’s not working out I’ll typically let you know, but I’m game for most things.

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER:  Honestly, not a lot. You can be as invested or as chaotic as works for you. You get the urge to suddenly write a specific theme? Hit me with it. The urge goes and you lose interest, that’s fine. Four weeks later and the muse hits you again LETS DO THIS.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  I don’t typically struggle with this issue. If anything, I’m the lackluster end of the plotting side. I typically run things through Bazz-B as their happening, rarely looking forward. Unless there’s an overarching story we’re specifically working towards I’m pretty weak sauce. Sorry people!

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  I’ll typically propose an idea and then see where our muses take us. If my partner needs a rough road map, I’m happy to negotiate what we’d each like to see happen. Generally speaking I let Bazz-B take the wheel.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: If you want to drop a thread, I’m completely fine with it. The only reason I’d want to know is so I don’t start panicking and think that I forgot to reply you your latest response to it.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?:  If I lose the thread, or if I think it’s reach a natural conclusion. I don’t typically abandon one in the middle on purpose.

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: I don’t require a constant, nor deep level of communication, but it’s important to voice concerns. People tend to internalize problems until they become these big ordeals. A friendly message every now and again can save everyone a lot of drama later.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: I BEG for negative feedback. Even if you feel like your nitpicking, it’s the number one thing I crave from writing partners. Tell me what you dislike and I can work on it.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: To tell a story. Bazz-B is my primary muse, and his entire tale is so interesting to me. The foundations of his identity are flawed and I want to explore that as much a I can, throw him into as many situations as possible and watch him evolve.

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  My left arm for an entire roster of Sternritter, of course. Bazz-B and Liltotto surviving after the war. A reality where Bazz-B finds happiness and acceptance in himself. A healthy bond with a Shinigami. 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   I’ll not write rape, it’s understandably triggering for a lot of people and writing it glorifies it, I think. Also racism in a real world setting? I’ve come to terms with it in regards to Shinigami and Arrancar, but they’re fictional groups. I wont engage with it outside of that. Finally, trans-phobia. If a guy like Bazz-B doesn’t engage with that sort of vile nonsense, none of you should either.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: Starters that provide a setting and a purpose are great. The sort of starter that turns it back at the recipient with something akin to “Why are you here” are confining. Also, if in the starter your muse is already pushing away mine.. Bazz-B might just nope outta there.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  Despite my main muse being Bazz-B (or perhaps in favour of it) I typically write as old men cemented deeply in their ways. Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni, King Baraggan Louisenbairn and Ichibei Hyosube are just some examples. Bazz-B kinda fits the bill too.. I GUESS.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  Cold, distant, dispassionate sorts. I could never write as the likes of Ishida, Ulquiorra, Haschwalth, etc. They’re all very nuanced characters, they just don’t mesh well with me. 

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I typically respond lightning fast, my last two weeks or so a poor example of that. I’m passionate, you’ll not find another person so desperately in love with Bazz-B as this fool. I’m easy-going, you can take as long as you want and I’ll still be ready to rumble.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: Tumblr confuses the hell out of me, I don’t understand a lot of lingo and the big CARDINAL LAWS of writing. I struggle with scene transitioning and limb placement, and my tags are a mess.

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO/ DEPENDS.

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?:  What I want and what Bazz-B want are wildly different things. This man is planting a flag in the middle of bonezone whether I agree or not. I commonly write smut because it’s what Bazz-B wants, but I prefer to do it for development.

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  I am personally the most vanilla dude you’ll meet. I can google things but it might not translate very well.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO A characters growth should never be locked to a specific person, but exploring a character in isolation can only get you so far. As people, we grow from one another. Romance is a key factor in formulating a person’s ideals, but that’s no the only form of ship. The eventual friendship between Bazz-B and Liltotto and Giselle is one of the most interesting things to me. A romance surviving Silbern is incredibly powerful in my opinion. The bond of a teacher and a student. There are so many situations that force a character to change how they would typically react.

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?:  YES / NO. More and more I’ve been thinking that I’ve been writing Bazz-B in more ships, but that is not the blog’s focus. Ultimately I’m exploring the character of Bazz-B, and that just happens to be inclusive of ships. Some of my most active writing partners also happen to be muses that Bazz-B has excitedly/begrudgingly/unexpectedly fallen for.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

 - WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: Individuals who challenge Bazz-B, who force him to rise above what he is, what he thinks he should be. Who tear down complacency and demand better of him in all ways. Whether overtly, intentionally, whatever! 

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - If you come to me and sell me a story, I’m in. I’m easily swayed by visual art, written lyrics (my ears don’t work so good with music for some reason) and themes.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: Bazz-B is a fun guy to taunt, and to cause havoc with. But he’s more than just a hothead, you can read any one of my many rants if you wanna find out about that. With a plot to kill God spanning 1000 years, a burning fury and misguided ideals dragged through the mud of “the lesser of two evils”, he’s a real party trick.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  Muses who, from the start, wish to disengage with Bazz-B. I understand it might be in character, but both Bazz-B and I are gonna struggle to engage if there’s not some allowances made.

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?:  His ultimate goal is the death of Yhwach. In a perfect world that would coexist with a Quincy victory over the Shinigami, vengeance for genocide. But he’ll take the former over the latter.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  Style, first and foremost. If a Quincy had modified their Wandenreich uniform he’s gonna take notice and make some judgement calls. The rest comes after.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  Honesty to themselves, and a drive to survive. Not to be buried by what’s expected of them, or what they should do. Free will is one of the fundamental truths of the world.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  Motorbikes, Pop-culture, Fashion, Movies, Himself.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  History, loyalty beyond all else, the importance of leadership and hierarchy, lectures of all kinds.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  His family was burned alive by the man who claimed to be their God. Entering a war on the losing side, his kind facing extinction. Hiding in the shadows, surrounded by a extremist military cult.

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  After a certain point in his life, it’s really only Hollows that should fear indiscriminate murder. Unless you threaten his fragile peace, or claim Yhwach was just.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  Bazz-B hates Hollows, and any Quincy loyalists that stand by Yhwach post-Aushwalen. Anyone who saw the true colors of their progenitor and still deluded themselves into thinking him right.. it’s disgusting.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  Stoke his ego and you’re usually set for a good few hours.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: Nothing you cant already find on one of my many ramblings about that greatest Quincy that every lived, Bazzard ‘Bazz-B’ Black!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @equipollency (I got a phantom notification so I rolled with it)

Tagging: @diepower + @zombiequincy + @verzinken + @cheonsaaui + @bleachsthetic + @senboago + any other quincy reading this

[rabbiteclair]

how do you go about doing research for your fics? i often want to write, but find myself stuck and overwhelmed with the amount of research that’s needed to portray things accurately. i never know where to start looking. got any pointers?

(Standard ‘look I just do this for funsies and have no formal education around writing, so this is all just my own experience and some secondhand advice’ disclaimer applies)

First off, by avoiding research as much as humanly possible. Really. Really. Do yourself a favor.

The way I see it, when you run into a Factual Thing you don’t actually know while writing, you have three options.

Avoid going into unnecessary detail on the thing so that it doesn’t matter that you don’t know about it.

Research the thing in-depth to make sure you get it right.

Give up on getting it Just Right and BS something.

#1 is very nice where applicable! Especially works well for stuff that isn’t very interesting or relevant to the plot.How does one go about making a TV from scratch? Heck if I know. So when I wrote Nitori doing it, I gave only really broad details about the process, and it mostly happened offscreen. No research required!

#3 is a lifesaving skill. This should probably be your default answer on 90% of things. Like, as an example: the bit from Goddess/Girlfriend where Sanae got enshrined. I am pretty sure that a few arahitogami got enshrined during their lifetimes in ye olden dayes. If I searched long and hard, I could probably find out what this process looks like. And, I did in fact start searching when I was writing the fic. But, 1) the odds of readers knowing the Proper way to do things were pretty darn slim and 2) we’re talking Reimu, who happens to live in a fantasy realm where provable gods can walk up to you and steal your french fries, and isn’t a very orthodox shrine maiden anyway. She was probably BS’ing it in character. So hey, make something up and avoid the thirty hours of research.

This is great for things that aren’t ultimately that important, or stuff that’s obscure enough that nobody’s likely to have their experience ruined if you don’t get the details right. Dunno much about historic pub food costs to use as a basis for the prices at Mystia’s stand? Make something up. Dunno how somebody living in an isolated fantasy realm analogous to the mid-1800s could get their hands on refined sugar, or sulfuric acid, or a modern telescope? Make something up. Plus, with some of these cases, ‘what’s historically accurate?’ is a less important question than ‘what would make the story more interesting?’

Which just leaves... stuff that actually needs researched.

And if you get to that point, you should still really ask yourself whether it matters. Will somebody care that you wrote about characters eating sushi in a landlocked region? No, really, think about it. I promise you that the time you spend debating whether Gensokyo could have developed the right sorts of aquaculture techniques to raise freshwater fish that are safe for sushi production could be better spent writing. If somebody still complains about it, look them in the eye and say ‘I don’t fucking know, Sumireko smuggled in another ocean fish, are you happy?’ (Yes this is a topic I spent about eight hours researching back in the day and I am retroactively bitter about it.)

But, let’s say you do find some stuff that legit needs to be accurate. First off, there are two real broad categories here, I feel.

Number one is straightforward factual bits. How tall is a torii usually? What’s a suitable detonator for a modern explosive? How long would somebody have to fly straight up before they hit clouds, assuming they were going a bit faster than a sprint? This is all stuff that you might decide you’ve gotta get right. It’s also stuff that could very well not be that important. When you hit one of these, you really should just leave a note for yourself, keep writing, and research it later. Nothing slows down your progress like pausing every seven minutes to research things that don’t even impact the story. (The Patchouli chapter of Thief of Hearts had a lot of these in the rough draft. Lots of ‘Marisa pointed the telescope at [COORDINATES]. Looking through it, she saw [SOME CONSTELLATIONS].’)

Number two... is, yeah, the stuff that you both need to research, and that matters to the story. If you’re writing a long arc about characters building an airplane, you should probably have a pretty good idea of how airplanes are made. Not only that, but the details shape the story--what kinds of obstacles the characters face will partially depend on your findings. This stuff, you should try to research before you even start writing, when possible.

Apart from factual stuff, it can also be a very good idea to research general... flavor things. Like, if I were writing a novel-length story set in the underground, I’d probably BS a lot of the details, but I’d also read a good bit about spelunking and those weird cave fish and stuff, to just kind of help me get the feel right and give me some general ideas.

... so, with all of those ‘CHOOSE YOUR RESEARCH WISELY’ warnings out of the way, what secrets can I bestow upon you for actually performing research?

idk, Google mostly

Google can turn up a lot, though. Google Books has a ton of old reference stuff available, and if you’re searching on fairly scholarly topics, it’s usually pretty good at finding relevant academic papers for you. Cultural stuff is its big weakness, in my experience: If you want a good overview of architecture styles in regular houses two hundred years ago, or what weddings looked like in the Meiji era, you are out of luck.

Youtube is also surprisingly helpful here. Weird DIY chemistry videos gave me a 10x better idea of how to make chemicals than I got from a day of reading Wikipedia. I found something like a 18-minute documentary about how karakasa are traditionally made that was very helpful for writing Kogasa.

There are two whole online resources I can recommend for Touhou-adjacent topics in particular:

First is The Encyclopedia of Shinto. This is an indexed English translation of one of the main Japanese references on Shinto, so it’s fairly thorough, if a bit high-level in places. Useful for writing shrine/god stuff. Plus, since it’s, you know, a religion, I feel inclined to try harder for accuracy when it comes to Shinto topics.

Second is the Kojiki. As of last time I checked, the only translation available online is Chamberlain’s old clunky one, but it works. Volume 1 contains a lot of bedrock mythological stuff. Touhou references it all over in general, and basically every Lunarian but Kaguya can be traced back to a character in here.

... good references on youkai are unfortunately much harder to find. There are a few English sites cataloguing them, but I don’t trust any of them thoroughly enough to link directly. ZUN plays pretty fast-and-loose with a lot of youkai, anyway, so I feel like actual folktales are best viewed as an inspiration.

oops this turned into an essay didn’t it. Oh well hopefully something in there is useful.

[mermaidxatxheart]

I Wish

Chapter three is here. I will make this short and sweet. @i-have-arrived-bitch has harassed me into posting more of this story ;) honestly it didn’t take much convincing. 

Word Count: 4.579

Warnings: descriptions of vomiting, swearing, probably terribly translated Romanian. I used google translate and tried very very very hard to pick through the meanings and actual definitions of words to use the right ones, but it’s still google translate, so if I did it wrong I’m so sorry. I tried and feel free to send me a message and correct me, because there’s going to be a lot of it in this story, so I could use the help before I post it. I’m very nice, I won’t bite if you drop me a message and say hey, thought you should know it should be said this way and I”m happy to fix it. 

Chapter Three

Harry

I heaved a sigh and tossed another pamphlet on the coffee table. I really didn’t want to do this, but I needed to face the music.

 “What was up with Si this morning?” Liam asked, glancing up at me.

“I have no idea. Who knows what she was on. She came home at three this morning, obviously drunk as hell. But from the way she was acting this morning, I would say she probably took something,” I dropped my head backwards onto the couch to stare at the ceiling.

 I felt Liam watching me. I knew it was hard on him to see Sirena going through such a hard time, he was one of her best friends. Hell, all of my friends loved her, especially Liam, Niall, Louis and Zayn.

“You two will get through this, mate,” he said, trying to be helpful.

“What if she’s cheating?” I blurted, voicing a thought that had been nagging at me since we got home for this hiatus. I knew the reality of that being true was slim, but Sirena was so far out of my league, part of me just kept thinking she was going to find someone better, someone on her level.

“Harold, if there’s one thing you don’t need to worry about, it’s Sirena cheating. That girl loves you,” Liam said positively.

 “So, what the hell happened? She was fine only a few months ago. And then this… drinking, partying, maybe drugs… all out of nowhere,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I looked suspiciously at Liam, a thought occurring to me.

 He seemed to feel my gaze and looked up. “What?” he asked.

“You two are awfully close,” I commented and he rolled his eyes.

“Harry, I’m not sleeping with your girlfriend,” he said exasperatedly.

 I waved my hand, pushing that aside. I had moved on. “No. I didn’t think you would. I just meant that she considers you one of her best friends. She would tell you things she might not necessarily tell me, right? So… has she mentioned anything happening lately?”

“Oh,” his face relaxed as he realized I wasn’t accusing him. “No. She hasn’t said anything to me. If something happened that was bad enough to make her start drinking like that, I would have told you. I don’t care how close she and I are. If it puts her health at risk, screw secrets, mate.”

“So. What do you think?” I asked.

 He closed the pamphlet he was reading and studied my face for a minute.  “I think something big happened to her a few months ago. An event or some huge news that’s bad enough that she doesn’t want to talk about it and this is how she’s dealing with it. You know her as well as I do. When she’s upset about something, the worse it is-the less she talks about it. And if she’s not telling you, then it’s really bad.”

 I frowned. What could be so bad that she doesn’t want to talk to me about it?

 “If you want, I can talk to her,” he offered.

“Maybe, but not right now,” I blew out another sigh and dropped head backwards again. “I love the girl and everything, but sometimes, I think she tries to push me to the breaking point.”

“Why would she do that?” he asked.

“I think she’s trying to see how far she can push me until I leave. Until enough is enough.”

“And are you there?”

 I looked at him and shook my head. “You don’t give up on the people you love.” I said evenly. My phone started ringing on the side table next to Liam, he glanced at the screen before tossing it to me.

“Dani,” he said and I answered, wondering why she was calling me.

“Hey, Danielle.”

“Your girlfriend stood me up,” she snapped. “I texted her to see what time she wanted to go pick up our dresses for that release party and she never answered. Unless she’s still asleep.”

 I closed my eyes. “No, she was awake when I left, but I do know she said she wasn’t feeling well,” I said, covering for Sirena.

 It wasn’t like her to just ignore Danielle. Even after Liam and Dani split, we all still remained friends. And much to everyone’s surprise, she became one of Sirena’s best friends.

“She could have at least answered me back,” she grumbled.

“Agreed. I’ll check on her in a little bit to make sure she’s okay,” I said. “Mind if I pick your brain really quick?” I asked. If Sirena hadn’t gone to Liam, she had two other people she might talk to about what’s bothering her: Danielle Peazer or Niall Horan, one of my other bandmate and best friends.

“Go ahead. If you’re thinking about looking for a mental health facility to stick her in instead, I know just the one to put her in.”

 I snorted. “Maybe later. Has she mentioned anything major to you? Anything a while back?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine,” she answered.

“Okay. Thanks, Dani,” we hung up and I looked over at Liam.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She’s ignoring Dani for some reason. I swear, I don’t know what to do with this girl,” I sighed.

“Wanna take a break and go see Zayn? That might cheer you up,” he suggested.

 I nodded, standing up and he clapped me on the shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll call her in a bit to see if she’s actually okay. We’ve only been gone three hours. How much trouble can she get into?” I asked rhetorically, following him out the door. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

 Sirena

I looked at my phone screen as Harry’s face popped up. I bit my lip and declined the call. I was almost to my Gran’s house, according to my GPS and I couldn’t be distracted by Mr. Perfect.

 I turned down a barely visible road, trees so thick they blocked out the overcast sky. About a mile down the secret road, there was a huge stone wall, like a gate house with a gothic wrought iron fence blocking the road. I slowed down as I approached, wondering how I was going to get in when the gate creaked open. A light was flashing on my dashboard and I realized it was an automatic remote sensor. I drove in and followed the massive length of the driveway. It led to a round-about with a little flower bed around a beautiful stone fountain. The house was, in fact, a manor done in a very traditional gothic style.

 A stone vestibule extended from the door out over the gravel drive, protecting the drivers from the rain. I parked under it and got out, grabbing my bags and ringing the doorbell. My grandmother answered, her face lighting up into a huge smile when she realized it was me.

 “Oh, my sweet înger,” she greeted, pulling me into a tight hug.

 I wasn’t feeling much like an angel today, but I kept that to myself. Now was not the time for sarcastic comments. I hugged her back, happy to have something familiar near me.

 “Hi, Gran.”

 She let me go and held me at arm’s length. “This is a nice surprise,” she commented. “Come. Put down your bags. I’ll make you food,” she said, pulling me inside.

 The foyer was massive, dark cherry woods formed archways leading to different areas of the house. The ceiling was slightly domed, designed like a Japanese geisha umbrella. I could almost picture this being a house in Romania. I was turning, trying to take everything in at once, but at the mention of food, my stomach churned uncomfortably.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry. My stomach is pretty upset. But I will take some water, if you don’t mind,” I said, setting my bags in one of the arm chairs next to the grand staircase.

“Fine, but you’re too skinny. You turn sideways and that handsome young man of yours is going to lose you.”

I rolled my eyes as I followed her to what was presumably the kitchen.

 “Is he here with you?” she asked, glancing around as if maybe he were hiding.

 “No. He stayed home,” I said, feeling myself getting anxious about telling her why I was here. She was never as big as a believer as her mother.

 “That’s too bad. When are you going to make me some grandbabies?” she asked and I felt my face heat up.

 “Maybe someday, Gran. Is Nan home? I have a problem,” I said as we entered the most beautiful kitchen I had ever seen. It was my dream kitchen if I could ever design one. I felt my jaw fall open slightly.

The ceiling was dark wood while the cabinets were a warm chestnut brown. The walls were granite stone blocks fading from a dark brown to a white cream color and rough, not smooth. The counter was granite slabs of the same colors, matching beautifully with the walls and the stone tiles that made up the floor.

The island in the center was massive, about six feet long and four feet wide with drawers on one side, bookshelves at either end for cook books and a microwave underneath across from the stove with cabinet space on either side. On top was a sink, a fruit basket and a cutting board, ready for use. On the other side of the kitchen was more counter space with a secondary sink, dishwasher and a large arched window looking out over the massive rolling backyard. A matching breakfast bar ran the width of the back of the kitchen and I could very easily see myself getting comfortable in a life here.

“No. She’ll be home soon. Sirena, what’s the matter?” she asked, looking at me.

“I’m in love with this kitchen.” I said, walking around the island.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen it before,” she laughed.

“Just… in constant awe,” I lied.

“Have a sit,” she pointed to the breakfast bar and went to the tall cabinets, pulling on one, which turned out to be the fridge. She filled a glass of water and set it in front of me.

“Thank you.”

 She sat next to me as I took a small sip. “Is it Harry’s?” She asked and I choked.

“What?”

“The baby that’s making you sick enough to rush up here on short notice. Is it Harry’s?”

“I’m not pregnant. This is way worse.”

“Something you need Nan for?” she raised an eyebrow.

 I nodded, feeling my stomach climbing into my throat. I didn’t trust myself to speak as I covered my mouth.

“Your eyes always lose their sparkle when you’re sick,” she looked at me curiously. “Bathroom is through that door and to the left,” she pointed without looking.

 I rushed to find it, emptying my stomach once more. I quickly rinsed my mouth out when I was done and I could hear voices in the kitchen. I went back out and reclaimed my seat as Nan was putting things away in the cupboards. I always loved seeing my Nan. As a team, they taught us Romanian from a young age because she only ever speaks her native language.

“Ah, fata frumoasa mea, când ai ajuns aici?” she asked, hurrying over to give me a big hug.

“She said-“ Gran started.

“She wanted to know how long I’ve been here. I know. I remember my lessons, Gran,” I said with a smile, turning to my great grandmother. “I got here about five or ten minutes ago. I haven’t been here long, Nan,” I promised and she smiled happily, pulling back to take a good look at me.

 She searched my face, her smile fading. “Arati diferit,” she commented and I frowned.

“What do you mean ‘I look different’? Different how?” I asked, confused.

“Ești o versiune diferită de tine.”

“A different version? Yes! Nan-that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about!” I said excitedly, realizing she would actually believe me.

“Oh, mama,” Gran started, waving her hand.

“No, Gran. She’s right. That’s why I’m here. Yesterday-I was living in Texas and single. And then I have this crazy dream and I wake up dating Harry Styles, and living with him in London for a year,” I said, my eyes starting to fill with tears. I hate crying. I tried to blink back the tears of frustration as Nan perked up when I mentioned a dream.

“Vis? În ea a fost acolo o mulțime de ceață?” she asked.

“Yes! There was so much mist I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and it tingled, like static. And then this thing started chasing me so I ran.” I recalled, seeing the dream vividly in my mind. “Then images started flashing on either side of my path, like projections on movie screens and I heard someone calling my name.”

“Who was it?” Grandma asked, leaning forward on her elbows interestedly.

“Harry. I felt like it was coming home after months of being apart when I saw him. I couldn’t breathe, it felt so real.”

“Because you love him.”

“Gran, I didn’t even know him before this morning,” I sighed, brushing away the tears that spilled over.

“Spune-mi ce sa întâmplat în continuare.”

“Okay, so next I reached a bridge. This dilapidated, broken wooden rope bridge that looked like it hadn’t been touched in two hundred years. Harry was on the other side, so I crossed it and then I was struck by lightning. Harry and I both fell over the edge. Then I woke up on my father’s couch in a stranger’s apartment in a country that I’ve never even been to.” Gran sat back and looked at her mother.

“Mama, you don’t think,” Gran started.

“Fulger? În cazul în care a făcut-o ai lovi?”

“On my shoulder,” I said, gesturing to the back side of my left shoulder.

“Show her, child,” Gran urged and I pulled my jacket off.

 I pulled my arm out of my sleeve and lifted up my shirt to expose my back as they both walked behind me. Nan’s cold fingers touched my bare shoulder lightly and I winced.

“That’s where it’s been hurting all day,” I said quietly.

“Your scar hurts?” Gran asked.

“What scar? I don’t have a scar back there.”

“You were struck by lightning when you were seven. You don’t remember?” she asked.

“Gran, except for my Dream-I’ve never been hit by lightning,” I said seriously.

“Show me how to take a picture on that fancy phone of yours. I can never remember,” she held out her hand and I pulled out my cell.

 I ignored the voicemail from Harry and opened the camera app. “Just push this button right here,” I showed her and moved my long hair out of the way.

 Nan lifted my shirt more and I heard the click of the camera.

“Here,” Gran handed my phone back and I pulled up the photo.

 Starting at my left shoulder and spreading down and across my back was what looked like a lightning bolt. Not the aluminum foil kind in a school play, I’m talking the ‘turn-night-into-day’ kind in the sky. Ugly, purple splotches spread around the impact site and the scar itself was pink and angry looking, which means it was still fresh.

“I’ve never had that scar before, Nan.”

 She came back around to face me, her look very serious.

 “I remember the stories you used to tell us, about Ivan, about being able to change things by wishing. The power you talked about, you never came out and said it, but it was magic, wasn’t it?” I guessed and she nodded.

“Ivan kept a journal about all the wishes he made in the dreams. We can get them for you if you want. I just don’t know how much good it’s going to do for you,” Gran said uncertainly.

 “Because he didn’t change everything around him in a nap” I said and she nodded.

 “For two hundred years, Ivan and his descendants kept journals about wishing, describing each dream and wish they made. The journals include more than just that, though. Day to day occurrences that affect the dreams and wishes. Then all of a sudden, they just stop. No more wishing and no more journals. The stories were passed down as just that, stories. The journals were kept safe and preserved, just in case the magic came back.”

 I felt my stomach starting to act up again. “Why?” I asked, my muscles jangling.

“Who knows? Maybe they had a lemon of a kid who didn’t get the gift, or didn’t believe. Maybe they decided we had enough money so they didn’t need to keep wishing. For whatever reason, the magic stopped for two hundred years. Until you.”

“Why me?” I asked, trying to control my shaking.

 “Prin toate drepturile, ar trebui să fie mort.” Nan said.

 I felt the blood drain from my face. “Dead? Why should I be dead?” I exclaimed, my voice cracking slightly.

“Mama!” Gran scolded. She looked back at me, but there was no avoiding this answer. “There was one account of a family member who died during his dream. Someone filled in the journal telling of how miserable he was without the girl he loved. So he tried to wish her back to life, or himself into a new life where she was still alive. The theory was, the stress of such a big wish was what killed him.”

 I opened my mouth, but she clearly wasn’t done.

 “But why you survived, now that’s curious. Maybe the magic was building up all this time like carbonation behind a cork. Maybe you were really unhappy in your life and your wishing was just so much that it turned it back on like a light switch,” she shrugged. “Or maybe you’re incredibly powerful. I mean-you changed your whole life. Not just dreaming of investments, but your whole life, complete with memories,” she continued and I shook my head.

“All of my memories are from my old life.”

“The memories I mean are the ones you described in your dream. The projections on the mist. But in all the accounts I’ve read, I’ve never heard of mist that thick. And you said the bridge was broken down.”

“I’m confused,” I held up my hand, pausing them. “Be right back,” I hurried to the bathroom once more. I rinsed out my mouth once I was done and my phone started ringing. I jumped and pulled it out to see Harry’s face. I bit my bottom lip and declined the call again. I didn’t want to talk to him and say something really wrong. Not at least until I had time to adjust. I went back out and Gran frowned.

“Was that Harry calling?” she asked. I nodded.

“Probably freaking out about where his girlfriend is,” I muttered. “Do we know where she went?” I asked.

“She is you. You’re still the same person, she just has more memories than you, different ones. You should talk to him. You’ll feel better,” she said as I took my seat again.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. My throat was raw and sore from vomiting so often today.

“We’ll explain more tomorrow. But for now, you should call Harry and rest.”

“But what if I say something totally wrong?”

“So, make him do all the taking. It will help you sleep,” she said confidently.

“Why?”

“Am putea spune despre boală înainte de a merge,” Nan said and my brown eyes widened.

“Illness? Yes, tell me about the illness. I knew this was killing me,” I muttered. Gran gave her mother another look.

“It’s not a big deal, nothing life threatening, înger,” she said, placating me.

“Considering that I should be dead and I can’t stop throwing up, please tell me.”

“Ivan would get these headaches after his wishes. Not your average headaches, these were bad-in bed for days bad. They would stop once the investments started paying off. It’s just a side effect of separation from what you wished for, for some reason, and as far as we can tell-the bigger the wish the more severe the illness.”

“Great. So what do I do?”

“Spend time with Harry. He’s clearly what you wished for. He’ll make you better. Some of Ivan’s kids described what felt like a clicking in their chest the exact moment the illness stopped.”

 I nodded and stood up.

 “We’ll explain more tomorrow,” Gran added, standing up as well and leading me towards the stairs.

“Gran, what about Alek?” I asked.

“He’s good. Studying in Cardiff at the moment. They have a wonderful genealogy program there.”

 I breathed a little sigh of relief. “Do I still speak to him?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, but he’s not a fan of your boyfriend,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve seen the way that young man looks at you and I can see why Aleksei is so protective,” she added, leading me down a long hallway and through a doorway into a very impressive bedroom. It had a California king four post bed that looked absolutely to die for. At the foot of the bed was a couch in front of a fireplace. A small, two-person glass table sat off to the side in a little alcove.

“This is mine all the time?” I asked, setting my bags on the bed.

“Yes. Your sister has the room next door and your brother down the hall. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I like to sleep in, but my crazy mother rises early. Michael gets here at about ten. Yes, you’ve met him before.”

 I nodded. “Who’s Michael?” I asked.

“He comes in to clean for us,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and from her tone, I expect Michael will be very good looking.

“Okay.”

 She kissed my cheek and left, closing the door behind her. I grabbed my pajamas, an oversized tee shirt and some boy short panties, and changed, picturing Harry’s face the whole time. It was still pretty early, but after a whole day of being sick, I was exhausted.

“I wonder what you’re doing,” I murmured, grabbing my toothbrush and going to the en-suite bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and got comfy in bed. I dialed Harry’s number and waited for him to answer. I could do this. I was still the same person. I mean, honestly, how much could I have changed? The ringing stopped and there was silence on the other end for a moment.

“Please tell me you’re not dead on a ditch somewhere,” he said, his voice tight.

 I thought about how I would respond and decided to just be myself. I would deal with any backlash. “And this is what, exactly? My ghost calling you to tell you which one?” I replied sarcastically.

“Oh, thank god. You’re fine.”

 I felt the churning in my stomach ease slightly. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t get to answer your calls earlier. The first time I was driving and the second time I was talking to my grandma.”

 He we quiet for a minute. “I have so many things I want to say to you right now,” he muttered.

 “Say them,” I prompted.

“What the hell were you thinking?! Just taking off and not telling me where you were going! Don’t you know how worried I was? Where in the world are you? Dani called me saying you were ignoring her. I thought you two had plans to go pick up your dresses for the album release party. I don’t even know what’s going on with you these days, between the drinking and whatever drugs you’re doing-it’s like I don’t even know you anymore. And I wish you trusted me enough to tell me what happened, but you clearly don’t,” he took a deep breath and I brushed away the tears that had fallen.

 Fake me had screwed up big time.

“Harry-“

“I’m not done,” he said, his tone a little softer now and I had a feeling that the angrier part was over.

“Okay, sorry.”

“I wish you would have waited for me. You know I love going to see your grandmothers. And we could have gone to see my mum and made a vacation out of it,” I waited for him to continue. “Now I’m done.” 

I sniffled reflexively. “Harry. I don’t know where to start. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve been putting you through lately. I know this isn’t what you signed up for. The drinking and partying-it’s done. Ends now. I swear it. I know I’ve probably said that a million times, but this time I mean it. I don’t care how long it will take for me to make this up to you, I’ll do it. And as for what happened, I’m not sure. But as soon as I figure it out, I’ll tell you. I’ll always tell you. And as for where I am, I’m at Gran’s. I didn’t even think about your mom. This was a last minute thing that had to be done. I know that doesn’t help, but it was important,” there was a long pause and I could feel the change in the conversation.

 He was done being mad.

“When are you coming home?” he asked softly and I had no problem imagining him lying in our bed in just his boxers.

“Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. I’m not sure yet.”

“I really miss you, Si.”

“I miss you, too,” I replied, only half surprised to find that it was true. I had liked Harry Styles before the wish, but now? I don’t know what I would do without him. And that was the problem. My heart said I was crazy in love but my head said you can’t be in love with someone you just met.

“Are you feeling any better? I know this morning you said you were feeling sick.”

“I’ve actually been sick all day. That’s part of the reason I came here. They have all these crazy Romanian remedies. I can’t even keep water down. So, maybe it’s a good thing I’m not there so I don’t get you sick, too,” I said, stifling a yawn.

“You should get ready for bed,” he said.

“All done. I’m in my pajamas, which I believe is actually one of your shirts and a pair of boy shorts.”

“Mmm. You’re so mean to me,” he sighed.

 I snuggled down under the covers and turned off the lights. “You love when I’m mean to you,” I teased, surprised at how normal joking with him felt.

“I wish you hadn’t left. I really miss you.”

“I’ll be home soon. There was just something I had to do here. I know it doesn’t make sense, Harry and I’m sorry,” I closed my eyes, relaxing to the sound of him breathing.

“It’s okay. You can make it up to me when you get home,” I smiled. “What can I do to help, baby?”

“Stay on the phone with me? You’re making me feel better,” I said honestly.

“How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Tell me what you did with Liam today,” I said, getting into my favorite sleeping position.

 He began talking and I drifted off to the sound of his perfect voice.

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