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lizard-shifter-noms · 6 months

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Still Subject to Change Chapter 7 (NEW)

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Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

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Robin sat next to me and Rikaad, absentmindedly stuffing flowers into his mouth and making even more flower crowns out of those he didn't eat.

Rikaad stood up and looked towards the mountain.

“We should continue our journey after eating we still have some ways to go especially now that we had to flee from the Arachnids”

That much was true.

I had run a good distance away from those things and not in the direction we were headed but rather perpendicular to the mountain.

“Aw fuck but at least we know now how to avoid those critters at least”

Standing up slowly I picked up the flowers that weren't eaten and went over to Arthur, pouring the plants over him to which he reacted by sitting up abruptly and glaring at me.

“That's for stabbing me”

I went back over to the other two without a word.

Robin was laughing but Rikaad was looking rather displeased.

Fuck, i hoped i would not get murdered in my sleep for this.

He did not do anything else and instead turned away from the mountains and started walking back into the woods.

Arthur finally got up and went over to walk next to Rikaad, still glaring at me and tearing into some of the flowers I had tossed over him like an angry dog.

Robin ran up to me and motioned for me to pick him up again, so I once again offered him my hand to climb on.

Arthur did not look happy about it, he probably expected Robin to be scared of me now, honestly I was too so I was glad that it wasn't the case.

Cupping the ginger boy closer to my chest I tried to not walk too fast for the other two.

“You're lazy, ginger boy”

I quipped to the small human in my hands.

“I know”

He just grinned and lounged back against my chest.

The two that were walking by themselves kept looking at my hands, or more specifically the Rusthead that occupied them.

They were probably worried that I would do something.

I tried my best to not be offended and attributed it to what happened earlier instead.

It was a walk in silence for a few minutes until Arthur piped up.

“How long do you think we have to walk? Till we get home i mean”

It took a few moments before Rikaad responded.

“I would guess a few more days but i'm not familiar with the landscape here”

I was sure that as long as we went opposite of the mountain we couldn't go too wrong.

After all, the only thing we could run into would be the ocean if we somehow missed the Kingdom entirely so we would just have to walk along the shore to find civilization.

The redhead in my hands abruptly stood up and I tried my best to not let him fall over on the uneven surface.

“Maybe if Donovan held me over the trees I could see something?”

All of us looked at him a bit alarmed at his suggestion.

While not out of character for him to come up with such a dumb idea it might actually work.

I just wasn't sure how to go about something like that, What if I didn't hold him correctly and dropped him?

The smaller men apparently had similar thoughts as Arthur immediately bristled.

“That a dumb idea! And Dangerous too! What if you fall? You'll break your legs!”

Rikaad however seemed to mull it over.

“It might give insight as to where we currently are but i'm not sure if its a good idea, it might be dangerous if we don't find a way to do secure you this high up”

I looked down at the rusthead, trying to think of a way to hold him that would not result in him falling to the ground should he continue moving like a hyperactive mouse.

“I mean I could? I just would have to hold you i guess”

The Ginger boy nodded enthusiastically and sat down again, his legs straight out forward waiting for me to lift him over the trees.

Taking a few seconds to think of how to do it, I ended up grabbing his lower half in a gentle fist, leaving his arms and torso free.

I really hoped having his legs secure up to his waist would be good enough as he was a rather fidgety little guy.

Since it seemed alright like this I began to slowly lift him over my head, ignoring the death glare Arthur sent me and Rikaad’s icy gaze that lingered on me.

Having Robin so far over my head with my arm completely outstretched I felt like it was rather dumb looking but ignored it at his excited shout.

“I can see a tower! It's a good bit away still but i think we can make it today if we're fast!!”

He was pointing to a spot a tiny bit to our right and away from the mountain still.

That was weird, if anything I would have guessed that I'd be more to our left and farther away too.

How fast had I run away from those spiders?

Attributing it to adrenaline I slowly put Robin down to the ground again making sure not to go too fast to avoid making him dizzy.

He hopped off my hand as soon as he could and went over to the other two.

“I think we can make it today! If we go fast now!”

He grabbed both of their arms and began Dragging them along.

I slowly shuffled behind.

I felt weird over this piece of information.

I didn't know if I was sad or not about the fact that they all would be out of my life soon.

On one hand Robin was extremely nice to me and Rikaad seemed to at least tolerate me, but Arthur seemed to just plain dislike me completely.

Well I wouldn't have to worry about that soon as I couldn't go back to the City anyway, and Humans did not belong in the forest at all.

Slowly dragging my feet over the ground after them I was glad that at least one with Robin dragging them along it was a bit faster and I did not have to stop as much anymore.

It took a few hours to get anywhere close enough that everyone else could see the mentioned tower too, but something was off about it.

The tower looked well kept and clean, even the flags swaying in the light breeze that had warmed up the air since we ran from the spiders looked recently washed.

Wait a second the flags were wrong.

Instead of the yellow star on pale blue ground with the red ring around it it depicted two weird dark blue sickle moons on gray ground.

This was not Kamerasca.

We had walked all the way to the neighboring Kingdom Maringand instead of back to our own Kingdom.

Well this still wasn't so bad, civilisation was civilisation after all.

And the small humans could probably just hitch a ride on a traders cart or something.

Looking down I saw them looking rather confused, and Arthur looked downright frightened for whatever reason.

He probably thought he'd be home by now and realized that he had to walk even more through dangerous territory now.

Robin turned to look between me and Rikaad with puppy eyes.

“How do we go back to Kamerasca now? Donovan can't go through Maringand with us”

I kneeled down to be more at level with them, ignoring whatever Arthur was doing a bit further back.

“I'm Not going with you from this point anymore, i'm going back into the woods, i can't go anywhere near a city anymore as a Giant”

I stood back up as Robin tried to come up with something to say.

“But- but we-uh we are not in Kamerasca yet! You said you'd stay till we got there!”

That was not technically true.

“I said i'd stay with you until we got to a city not that it HAD to be Tunstead, besides only half of this group seems to not hate me so it's better if i just go”

I turned away from the small humans and slowly went away from them into the forest once again, but this time completely alone.

I was not sure what I would do now seeing as I only went Giant rather recently but would make due, I always did.

Having my back turned to them I suddenly heard the telltale CLACK of a bolt being shot from a crossbow.

Feeling it embed itself in my shoulder blade I turned around as fast as I could while ripping it out, thinking I had been betrayed by Rikaad as he was the only one with a crossbow.

As soon as I had turned completely a second bolt was shot straight into my collarbone and another was shot too quickly to have been reloaded into my upper leg.

Already starting to feel the effects of what had to be even more Sedative than last time I tried to figure out where it was coming from while falling to my knees once again.

Looking at a point behind the smaller men I saw an entire group of actual Guards, Guards from Maringand not Kamerasca, had surrounded us on half a side and with the Tranquilliser running through my bloodstream I could not do anything as I fell to the ground completely.

With my Vision Darkening from the edges the last thing I saw was Arthur shoving Robin in Rikaad’s direction before being tackled by at least five Guards into the ground as he tried to run away, now writhing like a man possessed under the heavier humans.

The last thing I heard was Robin shouting something but the words would not register in my brain.

Then everything went completely dark and I was left alone in Nothingness.

Some time passed, and then slowly there was something more than blackness… there was a slight sound… a very very distant thudding.

I frowned in my semi-consciousness… confused by the sound’s presence when just a moment ago there had been soft, fuzzy silence and comfort.

I knew I was lying on the floor, and the ground was a lot harder than the dirt in the forest.

My eyes flickered open to gray dimness, pupils immediately dilating and constricting to adjust to the scarce light, okay… so what was going on?

My thoughts were confused, and I didn't seem to have the capability to move just yet… So… That noise?

A little voice of reason in the back of my head spoke out, ‘That's your heartbeat genius’.

Okay… so i was alive then… or at least… I felt like I was…

Another couple of minutes passed before i regained the ability to move, and i sat up very slowly, putting a hand to the back of my head and rubbing my scalp, trying to recall what had landed me wherever I was now.

Then in a flash I remembered what had happened.

Oh Fuck.

Well one thing after the other, so where the hell was i?

Firstly I seemed to be in a circular room , the tower we had seen maybe?

Looking a bit more it seemed that the only light came from a window way up overhead.

I couldn't reach it even if I wanted to, but at least I had some light to work with.

A ray of dusty light came down all the way to one of the walls and I moved to sit in the sunbeam, there that was better.

Scanning the walls a bit there were small doors laid into the solid Brickwork, about three small ones and one larger one where I had to be brought inside through.

Looking a bit more up I saw the ceiling way way over me, This tower must be huge!

And on what I assumed was an upper floor there were balconies built, still out of reach for me even if I jumped as high up as I could.

So i was taken captive, fuck.

I wasn't sure what would happen to me now, would they keep me as a sort of twisted monster pet? Or would they toss me into an arena to be defeated by a gladiator?

None of the options running through my head were very appealing.

I wondered what had happened to the trio of small humans that I had tagged along with and hoped they were alright.

I knew at least Arthur had a problem when I got shot as the last thing I saw was him tackled into the ground by five soldiers.

Before I could dwell further about the whereabouts of the smaller men though, The smallest door opened for about five seconds and an unconscious person was thrown in.

The person was facing away from me lying in a heap and looking closer was wearing the Kamerasca tunic, all other Armour had been stripped away.

Getting slowly closer I recognized the Blonde hair and Identified him as Arthur.

Of all the people to be thrown into my cell it had to be the one that had an inherent dislike for me, of course.

Still I wanted to make sure he was alive as sharing a cell with a corpse wasn't something I was looking forward to.

And I didn't really believe he deserved to die even if he was an asshole to me.

Not to mention Robin would be sad.

So I gently shook the limp form of the Guard apprentice hoping to get a reaction.

The thing I got was a pained groan and his arms twitching a bit.

“Arthur? Wake up, are you okay? You're not dying on me here right? I don't want a rotting corpse in my cell”

My voice seemed to draw him a bit further out of his sorry state and he started moving to sit up.

I went a bit away from him to the opposite wall of the pit we were trapped in.

“Wha- whas goin onnn?”

He seemed to have trouble identifying where he was and I surmised he got whacked on the head or something.

“We got caught by Maringand dipshit”

He looked thoroughly alarmed by that for reasons that probably went beyond me, I hadn't really taken my time to keep an ear out for stupid politics when on the streets.

“Oh no oh no oh fuck I need to get out of here”

He was panicking and patting at the walls and trying to get the solid iron doors to open by rattling at each of them as hard as he could.

Did he have claustrophobia or something?

Well that wasn't really my problem and i didn't know what to do about it anyway.

He panicked for at least half an hour while I was watching in silence until he collapsed at the wall furthest from me to the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms over them and burying his head into the hollow it made.

“What are you panicking about? If anything i should be the one to do that seeing as i'm a Bastard and you're not”

He looked over his crossed arms at me with a sour expression.

“You don't understand, they WILL kill me i know it”

Well that wasn't vague at all, i rolled my eyes at him.

“Yeah sure, i bet i'll die before you though seeing as i'm a ‘Monster’ “

He looked at me strangely.

“That's NOT what I mean, they're probably going to put on a show for your death, but mine….well it's gonna get painful i guess”

What the fuck was he talking about? Had he been in Maringand before? Before I could think to ask him about it he had a Question himself though.

“How are you so calm? You know you are going to die and yet you just sit there?”

At least it was a coherent Inquiry for once.

“Well i guess i always expected to be caught one day, after all i was a Bastard living in the streets and i'm actually really surprised i made it this far”

He slunk back against the wall even further hiding his face once again.

It was true though, I always knew I wouldn't die of old age and likely be killed or die of some treatable disease.

Despite sitting in the only available sunbeam I still felt like it was way too dark here and something kept nagging at me.

“Arthur? Do you know what happened to the others?”

I almost didn't dare ask, as I was honestly afraid of the answer, I sincerely hoped they were okay.

“I think they're alright, Maringand doesn't really have any negative relations to the Kamerasca Citizens”

The way he said Kamerasca Citizens was a bit weird, almost as if he didn’t count himself.

“So why are you guys locked up? I mean i understand that they put me in this ugly pit, but you guys aren't even actual guards”

He shifted uncomfortably against the wall trying to hide his face even more.

“I'm Not from Kamerasca”

The quiet admission did surprise me, I had thought with how he acted absolutely loyal to Kamerasca that he was born there.

“What the fuck do you mean by that? Are you a Criminal here? Did you flee to Kamerasca or something?

He still looked incredibly uncomfortable and slid down even further on the wall, this guy was flexible as hell i noted.

“Or something is close enough i guess, i'm the son of a high ranking nobleman that was killed in a coup to take over the entire nobility of Maringand”

Of all the things I had expected it certainly was not this.

“What? You mean to tell me that you're a nobleman?? And that's why these fucks put us in this stupid prison?”

He actually seemed guilty for what had happened and looked like he tried to melt into the floor, wincing.

“I know how this sounds, but believe me i'm telling the truth, though I expected to be dead by now”

He did not have any reason to lie about Such a thing, and why would he?

That’d be absolutely idiotic if what he said about the coup was true then that just meant he’d put himself in danger by telling such a thing.

“I don’t think you are lying, it would be stupid to make that up and just put yourself in danger”

He finally looked back up from his arms.

“Yeah it would be, besides i'm an absolutely terrible actor anyways, basically everyone can attest to that, i wouldn't be able to act to save my life”

I realized that this was only the second time I had talked to Arthur that didn’t end in the use of insults or screaming.

Though looking at the dejected form of the human slouched against the wall I doubted that he had the energy to do so, and neither did I if I was honest, the sedative still made me a bit sleepy.

Before either of us could say anything more a loud Bang came from overhead, like big doors being flung open.

Looking up I realized that the noise must have come from one of the balconies, was someone there?

“WHY HASN'T THE BEAST DONE ANYTHING YET? I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!”

A loud nasally voice called from the platform, I couldn't see who the speaker was but I did hear other people speaking too albeit at a normal volume and I couldn't make out the words.

Glancing at Arthur I could see that he was looking up unconcealed dread, did he know the owner of the voice?

As I looked up again I could see a face leaning over the railing of one of the balconies.

The most prominent feature I could make out even from all the way down here was a pair of thick bushy eyebrows that had grown together in the middle.

To the side I heard Arthur start to breathe heavily, he likely did know the owner of the voice then.

The eyebrow guy's gaze seemed to bore into me and I tried my best to remain calm.

Just because I knew I would get killed here didn't mean I was going to accelerate my death by being an idiot.

“BEAST! TELL ME WHY THE MAN THROWN INTO YOUR CELL IS STILL ALIVE?”

What the fuck did this guy even want? Did he expect me to mindlessly kill whatever was thrown at me like a rabid dog?

Deciding to respond the best I could I also tried to remain as calm as possible.

I truly did not want to be seen as just another monster that they could put in shackles to do their bidding.

“I don't kill people, also where am I kept? I would like to leave”

I glared at him with a sour face making my disdain for the situation very clear.

The eyebrow guy did not seem to like that.

“WELL WE WILL SEE IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND ON THAT! YOU'LL NOT BE FED TILL YOU HAVE KILLED HIM BEAST!”

Before I could do anything else the loud man had already turned away out of sight and a few seconds later heard the door close.

“What the fuck dude, what do they expect? That I do what they want just cuz they don't give me food? Fat chance”

I huffed out and looked back to Arthur who had gone pale as a corpse, He was shaking and looking at me with fear in his eyes.

“You- you're not going to kill me? Why? You hate me”

I was a bit taken aback by this, had he really expected me to kill them the entire time? I tried to not let that hurt me but it still stung.

“No? Why should i? Just cuz i don't like someone doesn't mean i want them dead”

He curled up against the wall again, a sigh escaping his mouth.

“This is all my fault, i shouldn't have followed you into the forest i shouldn't have-”

“Shut up, its not your fault why the fuck would you have known what would happen?”

I interrupted him before he started swimming in self-pity.

He just groaned and put his hands over his face.

“I’m just glad that the others are fine for now, the Guards won't do anything to them seeing as killing Kamerasca Guards wouldn't look good for them”

I was relieved to hear that, but it still left the problem of being held captive.

“Do you have any idea how to get out of here?”

He looked back at me with a sad look on his face.

“No, these things were built to imprison dragons, so we don't really have a chance to get out unless someone gets us out”

This was built for dragons? Well it would make sense, seeing as the only window was way up in a gradually thinning cylinder that was likely underground.

“So we're stuck? Unless they actually let us out, which i doubt they would do”

He nodded, still slouched sadly against the curved wall.

“Maybe i can make a deal, ask them to let the others go and only kill me”

I looked at him a bit surprised, he'd actually offer his own life in exchange for letting the others free?

And would that include me too? I doubted it because he didn't like me, and even if he did try it was very unlikely that those aristocrats would agree to let a ‘dangerous Beast’ roam free.

“Are you sure about that? You are aware that dying is permanent right?”

“Of course I do! I just- I'm- This is just so dumb! I've been Terrified for like two years for exactly this!

And now I dragged my friends into it! I NEVER meant to do that!

I've been always on the lookout for anything that could kill me, and then later for anything that could kill my friends! And I failed! Twice!

I hate this! All of this!”

Oh… a few things suddenly made a bit more sense now, he wasn't really angry all this time, he was afraid, afraid to die or that i would kill him and his friends.

And as is Human Nature they don't want to be afraid, so they get angry instead, lashing out at whatever they could whether it was at fault or not.

I had completely misunderstood him the entire time, he hadn't been angry at me, he had been afraid of me!

And I didn't really do anything to help with that fear.

No wonder he was such a Grumpy dude.

Before either of us could say anything more a loud scraping sound came from one of the Balconies and a wooden construction held up with rope came into view.

A construction crane? Why would they have that here?

Arthur had gone pale again, looking up with dread as a dozen or so Guards appeared on the edges of the balconies, all holding mean looking Crossbows that were aimed at me.

Would they just shoot us both to death? They didn't move until a wooden platform was panned over the balcony hanging from the crane.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #g/t story #Barmea #Maringand #tower #nsx vore

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miyakuli · 11 months

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Hello Lola, I have been following your blog since years and I myself share arts with permission because of you :) but lately I am somewhat discouraged by the way tumblr is evolving :'( the fact that people stop reblogging is frustrating and I feel more and more lazy to ask to the artists and edit my posts, what the point if all the energy I put into this is for nothing. How do you feel about this? I am sorry to share negativity with you but I am impressed that you keep doing it with this situation.

Helloooo <333 I'm not sure to know who you are but first of all thank you very much for taking the time to ask to the artist consents before posting arts :D we both know how time consuming it can be ><

Hmm I get your point and a lot of creators on tumblr complained about it too actually. It is a real problem now since reblogging is the heart of tumblr, if people don't do it, posts can't spread correctly and it'll get less attention as well :/

Personally, I try not to attach too much importance to it, I share because I want to, even if I don't get reblogs to it. I understand it can be frustrating seeing the time we put in this though :/ but I'll enjoy sharing arts I love despite that (and this way my blog can become my personal art library hehe <3). I'm not gonna say I don't feel anything about it, that's the main reason why I don't share that much translations or gifsets those days bcs that is extra work and I don't think people care enough x') but again I make some from time to time bcs I love doing it too :D

My personal big frustrations AS USUAL is to see that it's unauthorized reposts that work better (==)''' I don't know if people are aesthetically bothered by having a caption under the arts, so they reblog from reposters because it looks more appealing, or because they don't check the blog or maybe they don't even care idk.. THAT is the thing that makes me think that we do all of this for nothing (;o;)

Anyway, all of this to say that if doing it becomes a bother to you, don't force yourself, it'll be less contents for people but that'll be their doing. You should just do things that you enjoy <3

#sorry if I can comfort you better than this ;v;"#I keep doing it bcs I just love it but if in your case it brings you negativity please be kind to yourself #try to do something that will bring you only positive vibes :D #ask #anon #personal

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truly-morgan · 2 years

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So 2 weeks ago I made this twitter thread about all my comic/animatic WIP and thought some of y'all may be interested. Although I am 100% too lazy to actually repost all the explanations I did and picture here (maybe later in a follow-up post or a reblog or something).

But it has 1 comic that I never finished (although I have all pages sketched out). which is "Cheesy pickup line" that I never finished.

and 5 animatic WIP:

Meant To Be Yours (from early 2018) Gay Pirates (from early 2019) Satisfied (from early 2020) The Other Side (from late 2020) Safe And Sound (from 2021)

crazy how I always start animatic ideas and just... don't finish them.

Anyway, do check the thread if you want more info, I did have some "bonus" and explained the idea better for others. All the videos are in the playlist (and hopefully they do play correctly)

#my art #animatic #wip #original character #comic #meant to be yours #gay pirates #satisfied #the other side #safe and sound

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trulymadlysydney · 3 years

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Wait for Me in the Sky: One

“Wasn’t spying.” Harry leans casually against the bar again, and he looks so fucking cool that Mars wants to scream. “Wondering if I knew you from somewhere.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, I’m afraid you didn’t.”

“But I do now, don’t I?” Harry drums his fingertips along the bar. “Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

***DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION***

MARS

Few things in this world annoy Mars Tyler like a call from crew scheduling.

The voices on the other end of the line are oftentimes remarkably too chipper and irritatingly bright, completely opposing the mood Mars is usually in upon answering the phone.

Especially when the call comes at 4:30 in the morning.

Of course, she isn’t limited to only middle of the night wake-up calls from scheduling. Sometimes, the calls come while she’s in the shower or away from her phone. Those times, she’s gifted with a voicemail that makes her blood pressure rise and a sense of panic pool in her ribcage as she calls the person back.

But then again, the middle of the night calls are just as terrifying, her body snapping to attention the moment she hears the emergency-bypass ringtone.

No matter which way she slices it, calls from scheduling are all around terrible and anxiety-inducing.

This morning, at the early and most ungodly hour of 4:49am, Mars’ phone rings, waking her from the dead with a start-- followed by a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of her belly. She loves her job, truly. But at 4:49 in the morning, she finds it hard to find a silver lining.

With a lazy swipe of her thumb across the screen she silences the ringer and raises the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” Her voice is quiet in an attempt not to wake her sleeping roommates, but she knows it’s useless when she hears Paige in the bunk above her roll over and sigh.

“Good morning Ms. Tyler.” It’s Dominic, a no-nonsense scheduler who always gets right to the point and seems void of a personality. “I’m calling to let you know you’ve been assigned a trip.”

Fuck.

“Great!” Mars tries her best to sound thrilled, but even she knows it’s useless.

“You report at 8:10am, and you have a 27 hour Cancun layover.”

Oh?

“Seriously?” Mars doesn’t know why she asks that, and she feels stupid the second it escapes her lips.

For the first time since Mars has started this job, Dominic actually shows a hint of emotion as he chuckles on the other end of the line. “Yeah, seriously. You’ll be operating as the lead.”

Oh.

“Okay.” Mars rubs at her eyes. “Not too bad.”

She doesn’t mind being the lead. It’s a bit more responsibility, sure, but it isn't bad. Plus the 27 hour layover in gorgeous Cancun will surely make up for the extra work.

“Alright, have a good day, Ms. Tyler.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Mars fights a yawn, rolling over onto her back and ending the call. Her thumb finds its way to the scheduling app on her home screen by habit, and she waits impatiently for it to load.

It’s always the first thing she does upon being assigned a trip; check the names of the other crew members that she’s going to be spending the next one to four days with-- looking for a name belonging to someone she knows.

Sometimes, she gets set up with a really incredible crew. Occasionally, she’ll even get assigned the odd flight with a classmate with whom she graduated training. And sure, she’s had her fair share of strange and ridiculously unpleasant crew mates here and there. But really, the good far outweighs the bad 90% of the time. She’s hoping that today will be one of those days.

Unable to fight the urge any longer, Mars lets out a most ungraceful yawn, covering her mouth to keep it quiet for the sake of her roommates. She blinks some of the sleep out of her eyes when the list of her fellow crew mates' names finally load, and she scans it carefully.

Gloria Cameron? Don’t know her.

Vincent Garcia? If Mars remembers correctly, she worked a Nashville turn with him once. Quiet guy, but pretty nice overall.

And the pilots--

Mars’ heart drops when she immediately recognizes a name she knows all too well.

First Officer Franco Price.

Mars has been waiting for this moment to happen for a while now; at least ever since the first trip she worked with Franco over a year ago. She reaches up to rub at her eyes again, as if doing so will bring some clarity-- or at least bring the disappointing revelation that she is, in fact, seeing things.

But she isn’t. There’s his name, in bold letters, right there above her own.

She reads the name with disbelief one last time before dropping her phone to her chest.

“Ho. Lee. Shit.”

It’s silly-- no, pathetic really, to be so thrilled. As far as anyone else in her life is concerned she’s long over him, she’s blocked his number, she’s mentally put him on a no-fly list and refuses to work with him.

But in reality, such statements are entirely untrue.

She knows it’s stupid after everything he’s put her through, but god, she can’t help it. He’s handsome, he’s charming, and, to be frank, he’s the best fuck Mars has ever experienced in her twenty-six years of life. He knows it, too, the cocky bastard, with his suave personality. The hair that’s greying along the sideburns ever so slightly. The big blue eyes. The deep voice.

Mars shakes her head-- a half-assed attempt to clear it-- and rolls over onto her back.

Mars had met Franco on a four day trip a while back, and they’d hit it off— because of course they had. She was new to the job and had been warned by almost every other flight attendant she’d encountered: stay away from pilots. And she had heeded that guidance, witnessing firsthand how pilots with proud, shiny gold bands on their left ring finger flirted shamelessly with her and her fellow crewmates.

And staying away from these types of pilots worked for her.

Until Franco.

Granted, Franco wasn’t married; a fact that Mars often used to justify her falling for him whenever she began to feel disappointed in herself. He wasn’t even a taken man, really, just a flirt. A flirt who was damn good at what he did.

So really, who could blame Mars for falling for him?

They’d spent night one of their layover talking at the hotel bar until well after it closed. Nothing had happened between them (and Mars still kicks herself occasionally for it) but he’d walked her to her room and lamented how badly he didn’t want to say goodnight yet. The following morning, he’d brought her coffee on the shuttle to the airport.

By the third night of their layover, Mars found herself in his bed. And when both she and Franco were late coming downstairs for the airport shuttle, they’d tried to play it off as coincidence. (Although the not so well concealed hickey peaking just barely through the neckline of Mars’ uniform may have given them away.)

After the trip had ended, they’d texted non stop for a few days; such lovely conversations during which Franco had promised to take Mars out “on a proper date.” And at first, Mars had believed him.

But alas, as was unfortunately expected, Franco’s texts came less and less frequently. Messages which were once beautifully written and so perfectly tailored to Mars’ exact desires were now reduced to mere single words, or occasionally only the dreaded “read receipt.” Mars, of course, had forgiven this, knowing that as a pilot, Franco was indeed very busy. When finally they did meet up again, very late one night, it was for nothing more than a quick romp in Franco’s car outside the little apartment Mars shared with twelve other flight attendants. And she had excused it.

She’d also excused all the other times when he would invite her over to his own place on nights when his roommates weren’t home, falling asleep promptly after a half-assed attempt at sex.

Somewhere in her heart, Mars knows she’s being used. She knows Franco doesn’t see her as anything more, and she knows that he doesn’t even feel slightly the same way that she does. Hell, she’d been told this by her friends more times than she could ever count on all fingers, toes, and other limbs. Still she returns, each and every time he beckons, only to be disappointed days later.

All of this considered, it stands to reason that she does feel rather silly for what she does next.

She opens her contacts on her phone, typing the name that her thumbs are far too familiar with. It comes up within seconds, “Franco Price” with a contact picture that she may or may not have taken of them lying together in his bed a few months ago. Her stomach twists at the sight.

Without allowing herself a second thought, she types out a message to him.

Hey dude! Looks like we’re gonna be working the same trip to Cancun! Can’t wait to see you!

Her face twists up in disgust as she reads the words back to herself. “Dude?” Seriously? She sighs, erasing the message before typing out her next draft.

Hey stranger! Hope you packed your swim trunks. Stoked to see you!

Not the swim trunks. She sounds like her mom. Shaking her head, she backspaces the entire thing and begins again.

Hey Franco! See ya in Cancun! Drinks later? :)

Ew. Definitely not.

With an exasperated roll of her tired eyes, she types out the winning text and sends it before she gets the chance to become so frustrated that she sets her phone on fire.

Hey! Looks like we’re both headed to Cancun today! Can’t wait to see you again! :) x

As soon as the small “delivered” appears beneath her blue text bubble, Mars feels nauseous. Why did she have to use so many exclamation points?

She tosses her phone down beside her and blows all of her air out in a quiet puff. In an attempt to distract herself, she does a bit of mental math in her head to figure out exactly what time she needs to leave.

It’s 5:00am, give or take. She reports at 8:10. That gives her another hour or so to sleep, in order to get up and get ready at 6am, in order to catch the 7am bus, in order to be at the airport at 7:30am. Sure it’s early, but she figures she can grab a coffee or something while she waits to board.

What if Franco wants a coffee?

Maybe she should get Franco a coffee.

But, if she gets up at 6am to leave at 7am, will that be enough time? She wants to put in extra work on her appearance today in order to ensure she’s looking her absolute best.

Maybe she should get up at 5:30.

Although, 5:30 is only thirty minutes from now, give or take. There’s no way she’s going to get any substantial sleep within the next thirty minutes, and she knows that by the time her alarm goes off she’ll be more exhausted than she is now due to the fact that she’ll be just relaxed enough to be teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Unless, of course, her anxiety keeps her awake and entirely un-relaxed--which, at this point, seems like a big waste of time.

Maybe she should just get up now.

Mars sits up in her bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and allows herself one large, bone-rattling stretch before moving her legs from the warmth of the sheets and onto the cold, wooden floor.

Today is going to be a good day.

——

HARRY

There’s a dull headache pounding at Harry’s temples, and he knows that it’s due in part to lack of sleep, and that he probably should’ve taken a nap earlier before coming straight down to the hotel bar to drink with his team. But here he is, altogether ignoring the pain just as he does most things and trying to enjoy his last day in sunny Cancun.

The entire place is lovely, and Harry really is going to miss it when he leaves. The hotel opens up to an outdoor bar overlooking both the gated pool area and, just beyond that, the ocean. He’s spent the majority of his day down here in this general vicinity, enjoying endless margaritas and trying not to annoy his buddies too much by dwelling on the current issue that plagues him.

His manager and best friend Jeff stands beside him, shaking his head as he drops his phone down onto the bar. “I don’t get it,” he says. “Why would she send that if she’s like, actively with this guy?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know, man. She just did.”

Jeff doesn’t count. He has to listen to Harry’s problems. It’s his job.

“What time last night did she send it?”

“Like, maybe 4am?”

Jeff does some mental math, and the look of confusion on his face only grows. “But that would’ve been like… 2am her time. She was--”

“With him,” Harry finishes. “I know.”

Jeff shakes his head again. “I don’t get it,” he repeats.

Harry blows a puff of air out before raising his glass to his lips again. The bartender, although a bit heavy-handed, has been taking excellent care of Harry and his mates this entire day. This margarita he’s drinking hits the spot, as have the last three or four of them. Harry licks the excess bit of alcohol from his lips, avoiding the gaze of the nearby group of fans who have accumulated over time.

It isn’t that they’re annoying him by any means. It’s just that he doesn’t feel quite in the mood for all eyes to be on him like this. He clears his throat, and waves the bartender over.

“Hey man,” he greets, “Sorry to bother you again.”

The bartender beams an award winning smile. “Not a bother at all, dude. What can I get ya?”

“Can I get the uhhh…” Harry glances down at the menu, a wet circle staining the corner of it from his drink. He’s not that hungry, but he figures at the rate he’s drinking he should at least munch on something. “Can I get the fruit platter?”

Jeff’s scoff does not go unnoticed by Harry, but the bartender seems far less critical of Harry’s fruit hankering. “Sure thing. It’ll be about… eh, I’d say twenty minutes. That alright? Anything else? ‘Nother drink?”

“Nah. Not yet.”

“Alright, bro, you got it.” His attention is quickly drawn by Jeff, who’s probably ordering another round of shots for their group-- but Harry can’t be bothered to pay attention. He’s already swiping into his text messages to read the message causing such inner turmoil.

For the fifth time in the last hour.

The number one source of most of his problems at the moment-- Nicole Harker, who just so happened to send him a very questionable text last night, accompanied by a rather risque picture. Which, obviously, would not be something to complain about…

Had Harry and Nicole not ended things between them a month ago.

Actually, if keeping tally, they’d ended things multiple times over the past two years or so, but a month ago was the breaking point.

Or it was supposed to be, at least-- though now Harry isn’t sure.

He had been watching her Instagram stories the entire evening last night… and perhaps that’s why she’d done it. She’d been out with a new fellow, one Harry vaguely recognized-- someone he thinks he might possibly be following on his own instagram, although he can’t quite put a name to the face. In every single one of Nicole’s instagram stories, he was there; in some of them he was a mere voice in the background, and in others, he and she were hanging on one another, lips ghosting each other and silly drunk smiles plastered on their faces.

Maybe she’d been waiting, seeing who all was watching her instagram stories-- and seeing Harry’s name pop up again and again had prompted her to send it. So what if he’d fallen for her trap? Maybe she knew he would.

She was clever like that.

The picture remains burned into Harry’s mind without him having to look at it again. Her, in a lacy red bra— Harry’s fucking favorite one, no less— smirking at her own reflection in a neon lit bathroom that Harry recognized all too well as the one he’d fucked her in during a night out about four months ago. Her long fingers spidering over the phone case, her lips perfectly plumped and pouty, and her eyes— god those eyes.

The message that came with it only added insult to injury. A novel of a text, starting with a question, “remember me?” and ending in an entire monologue depicting everything she and Harry had done in this bathroom the last time they’d been there together. A short lament about how good they were together, about how she’d wished it were his lips on her neck instead of this new man, and finally, a statement that Harry knew she didn’t fully mean: “Anyway. Hope you’re well baby. Xx”

He hates how much he loves when she calls him baby.

Things were unmistakably bad between Harry and Nicole for a good chunk of their relationship-- if Harry could even call it that-- so he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way. There were constant fights. Constant guilt tripping (from both ends, really. Harry knows he isn’t a saint by any means). And when Harry had found out that Nicole had had a steady relationship going on with another man that she’d told Harry not to worry about, that had torn him apart and ended in the most explosive breakup Harry had ever experienced.

The first time, at least.

And it isn’t that she’s a bad person. Harry knows she isn’t. She’s generally kind, great with kids, and loves her family. The kind of person who walks into a room and immediately shifts the energy. Her presence is so captivating, her personality so golden. Anyone would be a fool not to be drawn to her. In theory, she’s everything Harry has ever wanted.

In practice, however, they couldn’t be worse for one another. Which is why it hurt so badly to wake up to the killer picture and text combo from her on his phone this morning.

He still hasn’t replied to the message yet. What would he even say? His thumbs have typed and retyped a response over and over again, but nothing has seemed correct. He wants to just ignore it; maybe Nicole was drunk and doesn’t remember sending it?

No, Harry knows her better than that. She’s aching for a response from him because it means she’s won.

Harry also knows he should tell her to fuck off. He’s got too much on his plate right now to be worried about this anyway; he’s finalizing his second album due to be released in just a month and a half. He’s just shot the first music video for his debut single, and he should be over the moon excited right now.

It is so like Nicole to try and ruin this for him.

“Excuse me?”

A voice draws Harry’s attention and, before he can even think about it, he’s turning around to respond. A girl in a turquoise bathing suit, somewhere around his age, stands behind him, giggling quietly to a group of friends.

Harry smiles, once again pushing his issues to the back burner. He doesn’t say anything, he waits for her to talk-- although he knows what’s coming.

“Harry, hi!” She says. “I’m sorry to bother-- how are you?”

She’s cute. She’s nervous, but she doesn’t really have a reason to be. Not in Harry’s mind. His smile grows warmer and deeper, and his tongue feels somewhat thick when he talks. “Good, thanks, how are you?”

Her friends giggle, and she fumbles with the phone in her hands. “I’m good, um-- sorry, I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

Instantly, whether he realizes it or not, Harry’s charm is on. “Don’t freak out,” he says, straightening up. “Why’re you freaking out?”

She laughs again. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know… I just… would you mind if I… can I get a picture with you?”

Harry spares a glance in Jeff’s direction, and he’s met with the exact look on Jeff’s face that he’s expecting. Jeff is a bit protective of Harry when it comes to fans approaching, which Harry appreciates most of the time. Of course, it is a bit of a nuisance when Harry finds the fan to be someone he wouldn’t mind actually chatting up for a bit. Not that Jeff can stop Harry, of course— he is a grown man, after all. But still, it feels a bit awkward all things considered.

Jeff and Harry have a two second mental conversation just through looks alone.

You’re not in the right mindset, Harry. Don’t do something you’ll regret.

Yeah but she’s gorgeous.

Harry….

Harry hates how Jeff is always right.

He smiles, covering up the entire internal dialogue he just experienced, and nods his head. “Sure, yeah,” he says, standing straight. “You wanna take it or—“

“Becca!” The girl is practically squeaking at her friends, who match her enthusiasm in the decibels of their squeals as well. She hands her phone to another petty girl behind her— presumably Becca, and settles comfortably into Harry’s side.

She smiles up at Harry, looking overwhelmed and almost on the verge of tears. “Thank you,” she giggles. “Sorry, I’m probably such a mess—“

“No, no,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around her. “Not a mess. You alright?”

“I’m alright, I just…” her eyes grow even mistier than before, and she swallows a visible lump in her throat. “Sorry, just can’t believe it’s you.”

“It’s just me,” Harry says, smiling as comfortingly as he can manage.

It’s a funny thing, really, the idea that people care about him so much without even really knowing him. So much, in fact, that they have a physical reaction like this upon meeting him face to face. Of course, he understands. Even as a man of his status, he still gets starstruck around his own idols; fumbling over his words occasionally or awkwardly asking for a picture even though it always makes him feel unbelievably stupid afterwards.

At concerts, it’s a little more understandable. The screaming and crying is meant to happen, and Harry plays into it because he’s the one on the stage. These people paid for a performance and by god he’s going to give them one. But times like this, when he’s relaxed, buzzy and barefoot at a beach hotel bar; when he’s just Harry, and people still have a reaction to meeting him….

That’s something that, no matter how many years of experiencing it, he’s not sure he’ll ever fully get used to.

He takes the picture with the girl— who’s name, he’s found, is Claudia, and the picture is followed by a few more pictures with each one of Claudia’s friends. And fuck it, he’s buzzed and so are they-- so he offers to take a group picture as well. Not like he’s got anything else going on.

Plus, he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t a nice little stroke to his ego.

Jeff watches on, smiling and shaking his head, distracted a bit when one of the girls in the crowd recognizes him and starts talking to him directly. Harry loves when they do that; it gets Jeff out of his own head sometimes; forces him to put his guard down for just a second. Jeff can be really fun when he isn’t in manager mode, and Harry wishes it wasn’t a mode that he snapped into so easily whenever fans were around.

The crowd soon dissipates, while Harry’s half-drunk brain beats himself up for not dropping Claudia his cell phone number. The bartender returns with two shots of tequila and a fruity drink (presumably for Jeff’s girlfriend Glenne) though Harry respectfully declines the shot meant for him and watches on in amusement as Jeff swallows both. They make their way together out into the crowded pool area and towards the cabana that Glenne has been so kind to rent out for them and the few others on Harry’s team.

A few wandering fans follow him, although they pretend like they aren’t, and Harry pretends he doesn’t notice the dozens of cameras that are all pointed at him. He reckons he’s going to have to take at least a hundred more photos with people, although at this point he can’t say he really minds it. It’s a welcomed distraction, really.

And honestly, he wishes Claudia would come back.

Glenne, however, doesn’t seem to be on the same page. She frowns. “You guys were gone forever,” she says, taking her drink from her boyfriend’s hands. “And now look. Everyone’s staring.”

“Yeah man,” Jeff speaks up. “You wanna move?”

Harry raises two fingers in a lazy peace sign at a kid who isn’t even trying to be stealthy about the picture he’s taking. The kid shrieks when he snaps the photo, and Harry turns, bored, back to Jeff and Glenne. “Nah, it’s alright,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

Glenne looks on in confusion and Jeff rolls his eyes. “He’s pouting,” he explains. “So now I think he’s doing that thing where he punishes himself.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” Harry says, once again pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I just don’t really mind the company.”

“You’re being watched like a zoo animal, Harry,” Glenne replies. “I would hardly consider it ‘company.’ Why are you pouting?”

Harry doesn’t respond, scrolling through his phone and trying to resist the urge to read Nicole’s message again. Glenne rolls her eyes and turns to Jeff, repeating her question. “Why is he pouting?”

“Nicole,” is all Jeff has to say, and Glenne looks back at Harry, shocked and offended.

“Again?!” she says, annoyance dripping off of her lips. “Harry--”

“Well he didn’t necessarily do anything this time,” Jeff says, and it amuses Harry how he and Glenne are discussing his current issues as if they were watching the latest episode of a sitcom. “He just woke up to a picture and some fuckin long text about missing him.”

“And he blocked her right?” Glenne turns to Harry. “You blocked her?”

“No,” Harry and Jeff answer simultaneously.

“Harry.” Glenne speaks through clenched teeth.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Harry says, turning in his seat so he’s facing his two best friends. “I just ignored it. Left her on ‘read.’ She’s fine.”

“Yeah, but she knows you saw it!” Glenne takes an aggressive sip from her drink. It's almost comical how worked up she’s getting. “Harry, she knows you’re weak!”

“Hey,” Harry fake pouts. “Not weak.”

“She knows you’ve seen it, and she knows you’re stewing with it. I know her, Harry, I know how she is.”

“Take a shot every time Glenne says ‘Harry,’” Harry says smugly, and even Jeff can’t help but to snort.

Glenne, of course, does not find Harry’s joke quite as amusing. “I say this because I care about you, asshole. Nicole doesn’t.”

“I know she doesn’t,” Harry admits. “But she sure as hell can’t get me off her mind.”

“That is not the case,” Glenne says, “And you know it.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Can you help me explain this to him, please?”

“I’ve already said my peace!” Jeff speaks into his glass, about to take a sip. “He knows how I feel.”

Glenne groans. “God, you’re exhausting. Both of you.”

“It’s seriously not that big of a deal,” Harry says. “And anyway, I think I’m the one with the upper hand here. Because--”

A voice interrupts Harry mid-sentence. “Harry?”

Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all immediately shut up, and Harry turns around to see two young fans standing awkwardly by his chair. He smiles, briefly forgetting about the conversation he’s having entirely.

“Hi there.”

The friends, a young boy who looks about nineteen and a girl who can’t be much younger, giggle together and nudge one another. “Hi, Harry,” the boy speaks, “would you mind taking a picture with us?”

Jeff opens his mouth, presumably to turn the boy away, but Harry only grins and turns fully in his seat. “Sure thing.” He can feel Jeff and Glenne growing annoyed with him, but he doesn’t care. This is a good way to get all of their minds off of his own stupidity when it comes to Nicole. “You two here on vacation?”

He’s off in his own conversation with the friends, smiling patiently for their pictures and even going so far as to record a short video for one of the girls’ friends who couldn’t make it on the trip because she broke her ankle. Of course, as expected, a small crowd begins to form, weeding their way into Harry’s small bubble. It’s exhausting, but simultaneously refreshing, because these people don’t know about the shit that’s going on with Nicole. They don’t know what an absolute sucker he is for her. They don’t know how annoyed his friends are with him for letting her affect him. And they don’t know that, despite how friendly and happy he seems now, he’s actually quite lonely inside.

“Harry--” Jeff starts, testing the waters to see if Harry wants him to try and do some crowd control.

Harry only smiles up at his best mate. “Jeff,” he says, “I could really go for another margarita.”

——

MARS

The first sip of her second margarita hits Mars like a bus, and she coughs slightly at the taste of pure alcohol burning the back of her throat. Vincent, her fellow crew member who had been down here much longer than Mars, had warned her via text that the bartender was a bit heavy-handed. But by the taste of this, heavy-handed seems an understatement.

Not that that’s a bad thing, of course. In fact, it’s exactly what Mars needs after the day she’s had.

What Mars hadn’t realized when she’d looked at her schedule this morning was that this flight would be taking place on a first class aircraft. Meaning that, while her other crewmates were working the back half of the cabin, she found herself up front dealing with luxurious people who’d brought their luxurious luggage and couldn’t possibly understand why they, after having paid such a hefty price for these seats, were not allowed to keep said luggage on the floor. Nevermind the fact that the luggage would be blocking the entire aisle for anyone else trying to locate their seat-- didn’t Mars know who they were?!

After a long and tedious boarding process and only a brief interaction with the golden boy, Franco himself, Mars found herself sitting on her jumpseat, overthinking every word she’d ever spoken to him.

He’d claimed not to have seen her text this morning-- which was a lie; she’d stared at the infamous “read at 7:23am,” receipt beneath her blue text bubble numerous times-- but she let it go. Maybe he’d just forgotten.

When she’d hinted at not having anything fun planned for her first time in Cancun, he’d responded with a completely disingenuous “yeah, shoot me a text tonight, I’ll see what I’m up to.”

Mars has known Franco long enough to know that that means she probably won’t be seeing him this evening.

He had ended up beside her on the shuttle to the hotel, and although in her brain she knew that it was because logically there was really nowhere else for him to go, she told herself it was because maybe he too had been feeling the same anticipation and itching to be near her.

And then, of course, the minute they’d stepped off of the elevator at the hotel, they went their separate ways.

So here Mars is now: three hours and a margarita and a half in at the outdoor hotel bar.

The hotel is insanely gorgeous, and Mars is feeling lucky that scheduling had smiled upon her and her crew and put them up here for the night. She decides maybe one day she’d like to visit again on her own time, not when she has to wake up early to work a flight back to the U.S. Of course, she feels she would enjoy it more with Franco, but that is entirely beside the point.

She knows she’s being stood up; if she can even call it that. All she’d done was invite Franco down for a few drinks. A bit hopeful maybe, but for all he knew it didn’t imply she was expecting anything else. Right? Because she wasn’t…

Only she was. She was hopeful that he’d take her up on her offer, they’d have a few drinks, and he’d invite her up to his hotel room. Perhaps it would rekindle the flame they’d once shared and invite some spice back into their sex life. Hell, she’d even thrown her favorite lingerie into her suitcase as a last minute thought before leaving for the airport this morning. In hindsight, she realizes, it was a bit presumptuous of her, sure. But still.

He’s confessed to her before that he’s quite scared of relationships, but it’s always a half-hearted explanation that Mars isn’t even sure she buys 100%. He’s had his heart broken before by a long term fiancé years ago. He’s scared of how easily he let said fiancé do that to him, and he’s scared of the idea that hearts can be broken at all. To a certain extent, Mars understands. But mostly, she knows it’s just an excuse.

After swallowing, her mouth carries an aftertaste of straight tequila, and a shiver runs down her spine as she tries to get used to it. The tips of her toes grow tingly, and she can feel goosebumps rising along her arms.

Oh yes. This is exactly what she needed.

She turns to face away from the bar, surveying her surroundings. She’s found that one of her favorite things to do is people watch, and the crowd here certainly does not disappoint.

A strangely large group of people hang out near a back corner cabana, and Mars can sense that something exciting is happening over there. Under normal circumstances, her curiosity would get the best of her and she would go investigate. However, as it stands now, she cannot be bothered.

It sounds like several people are very enthusiastic about some guy, presumably a celebrity. Growing up in northern California and having been based out of Los Angeles for nearly two years now, she’s become almost completely desensitized to the idea of celebrity and the entire culture surrounding it. If anything, she finds it unnecessary and rather boring. She doesn’t see how people can practically worship another person, all because they make millions and have a talent for singing or acting or some other thing.

Although, perhaps Mars is just bitter.

A little girl sprints from one end of the pool to the other with crooked goggles halfway on her face and water wings falling down her arms. She makes her way into the crowd of people as well, and it does pique Mars’ interest the slightest bit. Who could the person be if its’ someone who has adults and children alike practically falling over themselves to get closer to them?

At any rate, Mars doesn’t care enough to investigate any further, and she is caught off guard by the grumbling in her belly.

She’d eaten when she’d first arrived at the hotel, but the tequila and sunshine had drained her, and now she’s just snack-y enough that she finds herself ordering a glass of water, a fruit platter, and fuck it-- one more margarita. She figures she could take her mini picnic with her out onto the beach and watch the sunset over the waves before retiring to her hotel room for an early night.

She stands at the bar and scrolls mindlessly through her phone, ashamed of herself when she pops over to Franco’s Instagram. She gets embarrassingly excited when she sees he’s posted on his Instagram story, and then stupidly disappointed when she sees that the post is just a link to his buddy’s podcast posted two hours ago.

Two hours ago…. so he has been on his phone….

Knock it off, Mars.

Minutes go by and she hears voices behind her go up in pitch. She assumes that whatever excitement she’d walked past earlier has somehow found its way over to her general area, and she sighs at the thought of having to push through a crowd to get back to the beach.

“I’ve got a fruit platter!” Calls the food runner behind the bar.

“Right here!” Mars says.

“That’s me!” Comes a voice behind her at the exact same time.

She and someone else reach for the fruit platter at the exact same time, and Mars is both a mix of annoyed and surprised. She turns on her heel to see the owner of the hand that just brushed hers, and her confusion only grows.

Is she dreaming… or is that Harry Styles reaching for her fruit platter?

The food runner glances down at the receipt in his hands. “It’s for uh… Styles?”

“That’s me,” says Mr. Harry Styles himself, and suddenly Mars feels fucking stupid.

Of course her platter would not have come out yet. She literally just ordered it.

Harry smiles at her apologetically, sneaking his way over to stand beside her at the bar. “Sorry,” he says, “Think it’s mine, but you can have it if you’d like.”

“Uh,” Mars says, voice sounding far away and foggy in her own ears. “No that’s… that’s fine. Sorry. It’s yours.”

“Did you--”

“Yeah I got one, too, but I mean--”

“I can just wait for that one and you--”

“No, no, I just ordered it. This one is yours, you go ahead--”

“It’s really not a problem--”

“Stop,” Mars says, through a laugh. “God, it’s yours, just take it.”

Harry grins, seemingly taken aback by Mars’ forward tone. She laughs at his reaction, turning away from him and assuming that’s the end of the conversation. She takes a sip from her now watery margarita, but she can still feel his eyes on her, as if he has more to say.

Sure enough, after a beat, he speaks. “We could share it.”

Mars snorts, turning back to him. “Seriously?”

“It’s a fruit platter,” Harry says with a nonchalant shrug. “Meant to be shared.”

She eyes Harry, as if he’s just said the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard in her life. Surely the Harry Styles isn’t offering to share his fucking fruit platter with her.

“It’s seriously okay,” she laughs. “I’m not that desperate for some fruit.”

“I insist,” Harry adds, gesturing to the platter. “Help yourself.”

Mars looks around the crowded bar, halfway expecting to find a hidden camera or something of the sort. For the most part, her interaction with Harry has gone unnoticed by the various drunk people around her-- save, of course, for a few eyes that she can feel burning holes into her skull purely because she’s so much as spoken in Harry Styles direction. She turns back to Harry, a smile of disbelief on her lips.

“Are you always this giving?” she can’t help herself from asking.

Harry shrugs, popping the lid off of the platter. “When the mood strikes,” he says, picking up a piece of honeydew melon and putting it into his mouth. “The offer is there if you’d like.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, chewing mindlessly and scrolling without another word.

So fuck it. Mars is feeling bold.

She steps closer to the platter, picking up a grape and eyeing Harry-- as if waiting for him to say sike. He says nothing, but he does smirk a bit when he realizes Mars has, in fact, decided to share. He’s infuriatingly beautiful, Mars thinks.

She pops the grape into her mouth and pulls out her own phone.

A little over five more minutes go by, and Mars tries to remain focused on her own phone, but her thoughts are getting the best of her. Why is she literally sharing a fruit platter with Harry Styles in Cancun? Why isn’t he saying anything? Should she say something? Should she ask for a picture? She’s never been the type to see a celebrity and bother them to take a picture with her, but she realizes her friends might never believe her if she tells them this story.

But then again, does it really matter whether they’d believe her or not?

Mars and Harry reach for a piece of pineapple at the same time, and Harry laughs, immediately putting his hands up in surrender. “It’s yours,” he says quickly. “No take backs.”

Mars can’t help but to giggle, rolling her eyes as she picks up the fruit. “Thanks,” she says, quietly, before turning back to her phone.

This time, however, Harry doesn’t turn back to his own. Mars can feel him staring, and it makes her squirm.

He raises his drink to his lips; a margarita that is half full. After a long, thoughtful sip, he clears his throat. “You know,” he says, “You look really familiar.”

And Mars wants to roll her eyes, because how many other people has he used that line on?

Still, she takes the bait. “Oh yeah?” She sets her phone down on the bar and turns the screen off.

“Yeah,” he says. “Reckon we’ve met before?”

“Not sure,” Mars says, even though she already knows the answer. “I think you would’ve remembered a face like this.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and Harry snorts.

“I think I agree with you,” he replies, and Mars squirms again.

“You do look familiar though,” he adds. “Can’t put my finger on it.”

“Maybe you’re thinking of my sister,” Mars suggests. “She’s a model.”

Harry eyes Mars as if trying to picture her sister and Mars laughs. “She’s in LA. She goes to a lot of parties.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mars waits a beat. “Romee Tyler.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, scanning through his brain for any recollection of the name. Then suddenly, the lightbulb goes off, and his eyes grow wide.

“No way!” He says. ‘Romee Tyler?”

“Yep.”

“Your sister is Romee Tyler?”

Mars offers an indignant shrug and a sarcastic smile, sipping from her glass a bit more aggressively. “The one and only.”

Harry, completely unbothered, only continues. “No shit. Met her at a party in like, March.”

“Mm,” Mars says dismissively into her glass. “Well. No surprises there.”

“Yeah she was nice.” The way he says it makes Mars feel as though he’s got more to say, and she eyes him for a moment, waiting for him to continue.

He senses her anticipation, and chuckles softly. ‘You find that hard to believe?”

“I mean,” Mars speaks around a mouthful of strawberry. “She can be nice. If she wants something.” She shoots Harry a pointed look.

If Harry gets what Mars is implying, he certainly doesn’t show it. “I mean, she was pretty drunk, I won’t lie to you. But she was fine. She did ask to take a lot of selfies with me though.”

Mars snorts. “Sounds like her.”

Harry grins, shifting his weight to his other foot. “So I assume you weren’t in attendance that night.’

“Unfortunately I was not.”

“Shame.” Harry grins. “Your cheery disposition would have made it all the more thrilling.”

Mars wants to be offended by this, but instead she finds herself giggling. “You’re funny,’ she remarks, and though it sounds sarcastic she genuinely means it.

Her statement gets a chuckle from Harry. Both of them reach for the fruit bowl at the same time again, their fingertips brushing, and Harry puts on a show of gesturing grandly at the platter. “After you,” he says.

Mars rolls her eyes, unable to hide the smile on her lips. She carefully plucks a grape from the bunch and bites it with a satisfying crunch.

Harry runs a hand through his wind blown curls, glancing around once more. It’s something Mars notices he does quite a lot actually. As cool and collected as he appears to be, his guard is always up— which, of course, she can understand. Even she can feel all the eyes on Harry and now, in turn, on herself. So she does feel bad. Every celebrity she’s ever encountered has had to deal with this, and it’s something she knows she would never be able to handle herself.

“So,” Harry says finally. “What brings you to Cancun?’

Mars hates when people ask her why she’s visiting the places she has layovers at. For safety reasons, she never answers it directly. She always says she’s on a girl’s trip, or she’s visiting family. Never that she’s a flight attendant, and never that she’s alone-- even if, in most cases, both statements are completely true. She doesn’t trust anyone she meets on these layovers, even if they’re Harry Styles.

She swallows what’s left of the grape and answers as casually as she can. “Girls trip.”

“Mm.” Harry smiles, mouth still full of pineapple. “And where are your girls?”

Mars raises her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Her question catches Harry off guard and he snorts. “Just a question,” he says through a dimpled grin. “Wasn’t being creepy.”

“I didn’t think you were being creepy,” Mars retorts, selecting another grape from the bunch. “But they’re out swimming right now.”

“And why didn’t you join them?”

“Not much of the swimming type, I’m afraid.” Another lie. “There were fruit platters to be eaten.”

“I see.” Harry nods, smiling as if he knows something Mars doesn’t. His charm drives her fucking crazy. “Well I should let you get to it then, shouldn’t I?”

“No.” Mars doesn’t mean to respond so quickly, and both she and Harry catch each other’s eye the instant the short word leaves her mouth. They both raise their eyebrows at the other, as if challenging, and Mars scrambles to come up with an excuse as to why she responded so quickly.

Because truth be told, she really is enjoying Harry’s company quite the bit.

She chews her grape, thankful that he’s being patient for her but also overwhelmed by his unwavering stare. His facial expression never once changes, and the way he chews his fruit-- almost cocky-- makes her all the more intrigued.

“What brings you here then?” She asks, awkwardly switching the conversation to put him on the spot and ignoring her previous knee-jerk response. “A girlfriend?” Why would she say that? “Some exciting party for the rich and famous?” Why would she fucking say that?

Harry seems completely unbothered by her somewhat accusatory assumptions. His dimple only grows in size. “Top secret, I’m afraid,” he says, very seriously.

“Oh yeah?” Mars shifts her weight, raising a quizzical eyebrows. “Some ‘if I told you I’d have to kill you’ type shit?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs. “Exactly.”

Mars grows increasingly more aware of the eyes on her and Harry, and she knows that if she isn’t careful she could end up all over Twitter as Harry’s new mystery girl. Not that she cares, of course. But still. She takes a half step away from Harry, glancing around and smiling awkwardly at a young teenager who gapes at her. Harry nods to the bartender, beckoning him over, while Mars awkwardly holds a staring contest with the teen. She doesn’t hear what Harry says, and when the teen finally turns away to whisper something to her friends, Mars turns back to Harry.

“How do you do this?” She asks.

The bartender leaves and Harry turns back to Mars. “Do what?”

“Like…” Mars gestures vaguely. “This. Be watched all the time.”

“Ah.” Harry nods, and Mars can see the gears in his head turning as he prepares some overly clever response. “How do you know they aren’t watching you, hm?”

Mars shoots Harry a deadpanned look. “Harry.”

“How do you know I wasn’t watching you?”

“Were you?” Mars purses her lips in amusement.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Mars feels a stirring in her belly.

“Surely the Harry Styles has got better things to do than to spy on a girl alone at the bar,” Mars retorts.

“Wasn’t spying.” Harry leans casually against the bar again, and he looks so fucking cool that Mars wants to scream. “Wondering if I knew you from somewhere.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, I’m afraid you didn’t.”

“But I do now, don’t I?” Harry drums his fingertips along the bar. “Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Mars doesn’t know why his words make her feel embarrassed all of a sudden. She knows his name because he’s Harry Styles; everyone knows his name. But now she feels self conscious over the fact that she hadn’t even asked him for his name. Was that rude of her?

“And I just think,” Harry continues, “That that puts me at a bit of a disadvantage.”

“So this is you asking then?”

“I’m already halfway there,” Harry explains. “Know your last name is Tyler. And you’ve got a sister named Romee who’s a model.”

“You’re quite the observant one, aren’t you?”

Harry beams, dropping for a split second the absolute cheekiness in his grin. “What is your name?” he says. “Please.”

Normally, and especially at a bar, Mars would give out a fake name; ‘Marcie’ is usually her go to, because it sounds so close to her actual name that, if drunk enough or in a loud enough atmosphere, she’ll still likely respond to it. But she doesn’t quite feel like lying to Harry Styles. For whatever reason, she trusts him. So she, after fake consideration, smiles at him. “It’s Mars.”

Harry maintains the same unwavering eye contact that makes Mars’ insides twist. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding.” Mars shakes her head. “You seem surprised.”

“It’s just a fuckin cool name!” Harry says, quickly tacking on a “pardon my french.”

“Thanks.” Mars would be lying if she said that that compliment coming from him didn’t go straight to her head.

“Is it just Mars? Like, not short for anything? Just… Mars?”

“Well…” Now Mars grows embarrassed again. “It’s short for Marzelle. But like,” she shrugs, “I hate that name. So. Mars it is.”

“Marzelle is quite nice too, though,” Harry says.

“Is it?” Mars teases. “I was named after my elderly great great aunt. I never met the woman, but apparently she was a hoot.”

“Mm,” Harry says, nodding. “Well now I know where you get it from, don’t I?” The bartender returns with two shot glasses in hand, each with a slice of lime on top, and Harry thanks him as he places them down. He gently nudges one of them in Mars’ direction, and she eyes it carefully.

“What are you--”

“Tequila,” Harry says. “Do you like tequila?” He nods at the margarita in Mars’ hand. “Figured you did because of the drink, but maybe I should’ve asked.”

“No, no, I like tequila.” Mars is completely taken aback by Harry’s offering, and her cheeks feel hot. Did Harry Styles literally just buy her a shot? “You didn’t have to--”

Harry grins, taking his own shot glass in his hand. “Know I didn’t have to. Wanted to though.”

Mars glances around nervously though, wondering just how many people are watching this interaction go down. Why is it making her stomach twist in excitement?

Why is he making her so fucking nervous in the best way?

“You don’t have to do it,” Harry offers with a laugh. “If you don’t want to, don’t.”

Mars jumps right back to her witty self. “Who said I didn’t want to?” She takes the shot glass in her hand, trying not to wince at the strong scent of alcohol burning her nostrils.

“What should we drink to, then?” She removes the lime from the top of the glass and reaches for a nearby salt shaker. “To you and your top secret project?”

Harry laughs. “To you and your girls trip.” He takes the salt shaker from Mars after she’s finished shaking some salt onto her hand, and Mars tries to ignore how fucking good his tongue looks when he’s licking the cross tattoo on the back of his hand before dumping the salt on it.

“I haven’t done a shot in a while,” Mars admits, and Harry grins up at her from under his lashes.

“That’s alright,” Harry says. “With the salt and the lime, it goes down like nothing. It’s good for you.” He drops the cheekiness before continuing. “But really, you don’t have to--”

“God, will you stop?” Mars laughs. “You’re being such a gentleman. Chill out. I want to.”

His dimple flashes once again. “You do?”

“I do. Seriously.”

“Alright then, get on with it.” Harry raises his shot glass to Mars, almost as if in a toast, and grins. “Salud,” he says with a nod, and it makes her giggle.

“Indeed,” she replies, marveling at what a good time she’s having with this boy.

Both Mars and Harry lick the salt from their hands, never once breaking eye contact, before raising the shot glasses to their lips. Mars opens her mouth, allowing the bitter liquid to enter and sending it straight to the back of her throat. She swallows without a second thought, and the alcohol burns a bit as it goes down. She smiles effortlessly at Harry as she lowers the shot glass from her lips, blowing a long puff of air out while he’s still swallowing.

Harry never breaks eye contact as he swallows, and the look on his face is almost challenging; as if both he and Mars are competing to see who can have the least drastic reaction. His throat visibly bobs as he swallows, and he licks the excess off of his lips in a way that leads Mars to believe he knows exactly what he’s doing. After another long second of almost intimidating eye contact, he reaches for his lime and Mars follows suit, biting down on the sour fruit and feeling her mouth water when it explodes between her teeth.

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe this is good for her.

After a few seconds of strangely erotic lime sucking, Harry removes the fruit from his mouth and places it gingerly in his now empty shot glass. He clears his throat and chuckles, completely unbothered by what he just did, and he raises his eyebrows— as if impressed— as Mars calmly discards her own lime.

“You seem shocked,” Mars says after a few moments of charged eye contact.

“Never seen anyone take a shot so well,” Harry replies, shrugging.

“You didn’t do such a bad job with it either,” Mars says, but she’s half cut off when the bartender brings out her fruit platter and margarita.

Harry beams. “I love tequila,” he answers, reaching for another piece of pineapple.

“Apparently so.”

What is happening?! Is this conversation as sexually charged as Mars thinks it is? Or is the tequila going straight to her brain? Harry smiles, once again as if he’s keeping some secret from Mars, and it drives her crazy.

When Harry glances back at her, he not-so-subtly glances down at her lips, and Mars automatically pokes her tongue out to lick them— catching a bit of excess tequila in the corner.

Mars can never be sure, but she thinks she hears Harry’s breath hitch in his throat.

Which gives her her next idea.

She reaches for her own fruit platter, picking up a piece of cubed watermelon. She opens her mouth, putting on a subtle show of placing the watermelon right onto her tongue. She bites down, feeling her mouth become filled with the delicious juices, and she allows a bit of it to spill out onto her lips.

And now she knows Harry’s thinking the exact same thing she is.

He hums, low in his throat, finally breaking eye contact for fear that the tent beginning to form in his swim trunks will give him away. “So,” he says, voice somewhat strained.

“So.” Mars repeats around her mouthful, picking up another slice of watermelon that sits pooling in it’s own juices.

Mars doesn’t know why she’s doing this, really. Call it a power play. Call it her just loving the attention. But at any rate, she’s getting exactly what she wants, and she’s loving the way it feels like she has Harry Styles himself hanging by a thread. She feels the watermelon juice drip down her hand and onto her arm and she doesn’t bother licking it up, enjoying the way Harry’s eyes follow the droplet along its descent.

And then his eyes are on hers again, and he’s grinning that dimpled grin. “Messy,” he offers.

“Yeah,” she replies, licking at the excess juice on her hand with the point of her tongue before changing the subject. “You gonna tell me any more about that top secret project you’re working on?”

“Should I?” He grins, a bit of the darkness in his eyes clearing up. “Not sure I can trust you yet.”

“Ohhh,” Mars coos playfully, “You can trust me, Harry Styles.”

Harry snorts. “Don’t want to ruin it for you,” he says sarcastically. “You seem like such a massive fan.”

“What if I actually am?”

“Are you?”

Admittedly she’s not. It isn’t that she doesn’t like his stuff, she just doesn’t know it other than a few songs she’s heard on the radio here and there.

“Yeah,” Mars lies.

“Bull-shit,” Harry chuckles, pronouncing the word as if it were two separate words.

Now Mars giggles, shifting her weight and forgetting momentarily about the show she’s putting on with the watermelon juices on her skin. “Maybe I am!” She says. “You don’t know me.”

“Not yet,” Harry says, picking up his margarita and taking a long sip. “I’d like to though.”

And somehow, Mars gets the feeling that he doesn’t mean in the friendship sense.

Mars mirrors his actions, taking a sip from her new margarita and finally daring to be the first to break eye contact. She clears her throat, ignoring the brain freeze that’s itching at her temples.

“In any case,” Harry says finally, “I get the feeling we’re fairly similar.”

“Do you?”

“Mm.” Harry picks up his own slice of cubed watermelon, eyeing Mars as if he’s about to beat her at her own game. He places the watermelon right onto his flat tongue, closing his mouth around it and subtly quirking an eyebrow.

“Are you going to elaborate?” Mars asks after a moment, wiping some of the excess sticky watermelon juice off of her arm.

“No,” Harry says through a grin. “Still not sure I can trust you, yet.”

“I see,” Mars says, fingering the rim of her glass. After a beat, she takes a breath “Well, what can I do to earn your trust, Harry?”

“Not sure yet.” Harry picks up a particularly large chunk of watermelon and traces his fingertip along the edges of it. He watches Mars, who watches his movements with bated breath. She doesn’t want to be, but she’s imagining how good those fingertips would feel on her body… on her chest… between her legs…

“Would you like another shot?” Harry’s voice is low, and it draws Mars from her trance.

“No,” she lies. “Think maybe we’ve had enough.”

“Have we?” Harry stops his fingers. “Feel like we’re just getting started.” He licks his lips, before taking her by surprise and holding the watermelon out to her.

In the back of her mind, she knows she needs to be more careful right now. She knows there are eyes everywhere, and she knows they’re all on her and Harry. But right now, with the way he’s looking at her, she doesn’t seem to care.

As tempted as she is to just open her mouth and let Harry feed her the sticky fruit straight from his fingers, though, she knows she needs to be a bit more careful. So she clears her throat, reaching for it herself and taking it from him.

She knows he tries to hide the way his smile briefly falters in disappointment, but he does a shitty job of it.

Maybe the tequila is getting to both of their heads, but in some odd way this feels like one of the most erotic moments Mars has had in a while. She smirks. “I feel like you’re trouble,” she says.

“Me?” Harry’s eyes twinkle. “I’m a saint.”

“Don’t know if I believe you.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry says with a shrug. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” she says. “But I’ve decided I’d like to.”

“Would you?” Harry shifts his weight, stepping subtly closer to Mars. “And how do you suggest we go about getting to know one another?”

What Mars knows she should say is: get lost, I don’t fuck with celebrities who know exactly how charming they are.

But instead, what she finds herself actually saying is: “Your room or mine?”

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry styles fic #Harry fic #One Direction fic #fic

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thetaoofbetty · 4 years

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this was a submission but they asked me to hide their name so, here you go, lovely:

I hate being petty, but I’ll make an exception today. Just a note, right now at the most unusual jughead/veronica ship on ao3 590 fics.—i wonder how much overlap there is between b/a and j/v fics? because i’m guessing a lot of b/a fics have them as a background pairing.

While the “most popular, desired, long-awaited, romantic, slowburn” (atc.) ba ship has 806 ficks.—they finally got to 800? good for them!

And I guess that’s all there is to know about ba shippers. I’m many years old, and although I have been in a few fandoms, I have watched many. And I have never seen such loud, aggressive, embittered, toxic, arrogant, harassing, clamoring, climbing the other ships, judgmental, mesogynistic and incredibly lazy fans like BAs before.—they are the baby version of antis that i’ve encountered tbh. so, i’m like, yawn. been there, done that, the others were better at it than they could have ever hoped to have been.

to be fair, i have no doubt there are level headed and totally chill b/a shippers. unfortunately for them, the angry trolly ones are the loudest. There are bad shippers in every fandom, that’s not new but when the majority of your fandom has made hating something their personality, i think that’s pretty loud about what that sort of ship seems to attract.

I joined the fandom in the middle of the third season and since then I have seen just one ba fan art. Not cutting from a comic or a repost from a comic artist’s page. A real shipper fanart. Of course, I could be wrong here - I have never looked specifically, but until last week I had never turned on filters on my social networks. So I’m sure that if there were a lot of ba fanart, I would have stumbled upon him sometimes.—huh. you know what? i just realized i’ve never seen b/a art either. i don’t have any b/a filters on either. i’m sure there’s art for them but you’re right, it seems to be sorely lacking comparatively.

I’m sure there are ba shippers out there who really enjoy their ship, but it’s mostly a noisy mass of teenagers who don’t actually ship ba, they just ship against everyone.—oh, for sure. there’s definitely b/a shippers just doing their thing and enjoying their content. but you’re not wrong, most of the shippers i come across are only interested in telling me why my ship sucks. as if i care about what some teenage gremlin thinks of my otp.

Sorry for the grammar. I am not native english, so all errors and strange phrases are on the conscience of Google translate.—your english is fine, lovely! english is hard enough as a first language. as a second, it must be absurd. my exchange students always, always hate their english classes for the first few months and i hear constantly about how stupid it is, ha. they’re not wrong, tho.

And obviously I have absolutely no tumblr skills, so I hope I sent my text correctly. You can completely ignore my message, I definitely do not want to waste your time here. But if you still decide to comment on something, please hide my nickname, because I definitely will not be able to resist the ba trolls as virtuoso as you :) Have a good day!—you’re not wasting my time, doll. you’re expressing yourself and we all need that once in awhile. have a good day (or night) too!💜

#besos!#anti-barchie #anti-jeronica #just in case #because they're mentioned #anonymous

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

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Trouble in Canada

a/n: hey hi hello!! tis been a while :’) but I'm back bc quarantine got me feeling nostalgic of writing! My computer crashed in September 2019 and all of my writing was no more :( but miraculously, TiC was the only writing saved to my cloud and it only felt fitting to repost it with some ~minor tweaks! Whether you read TiC when it first came out a few years ago, or it’s your first time, I hope you enjoy :) Hoping everyone is staying happy, healthy, and sane during this time!! Happy reading!! Come chat!! It’s been a while!!

WORD COUNT: 4,632 | ANGST | PART 2

“I’ll see you at the next session?”

You picked your head up from rummaging in your bag and smiled at Ethan, the cooking class instructor, “My husband should be back in town, but I’ll see.”

Ethan nodded his head steadily. He held your gaze for a few moments, but after a while of looking at each other, you diverted your gaze down towards the wooden table. Slowly, you saw his tapping fingers inch closer to your hand that rested on the table.

Quickly, you moved your hand, and placed your engagement and wedding ring back on your ring finger. You didn’t like cooking with your rings on, in fear that they could fall down the drain, “Uh,” you cleared your throat, “thanks for the lesson, see you later.”

He lifted his head up from staring at your left hand with sad eyes, “See you next week, Mrs. Mendes.” The last part was said with a hint of distaste that he didn’t care to hide.

As fast as you could, you scurried out the door and saw your friend, Jessie, waiting for you outside. She saw your flustered expression and smirked, “Looks like the teacher has a crush on the student.”

You rolled your eyes, “Married,” You held up your left hand and showed off the rings that you proudly wore every day out of love to your husband. Jessie let out a small laugh as the two of you walked down the streets of Toronto.

Since Shawn had left for tour about three months ago, Jessie stepped up her best friend role by keeping you occupied whenever Shawn was away. Out of the three months he’d been touring, Shawn had been home for four days. It got lonely around the house with no one there, especially since this was the first time Shawn was away for a substantial amount of time since you had been married.

You missed rolling over in bed and reaching a hand out to lay on your husband’s chest when you were both too lazy to get up. You missed playfully kicking his feet underneath the table during dinner, even when it was just you two in your apartment. And most importantly, you missed it when he would come back with coffees and bakery items from the coffee shop down the street from his gym early in the mornings.

To fill up the gaping holes of the time you normally spent with Shawn, Jessie suggested that the two of you take cooking lessons at a place in down town Toronto. You thought it was a wonderful idea, seeing as you couldn’t even cook pasta correctly, and Shawn got a kick out of the idea of you being in a kitchen setting.

A little bell dinged over your head when you opened the door to a coffee shop that was a block down from where you and Jessie took your kitchen lessons. The two of you stood in line to order your drinks in silence. Once it was your turn to order, you asked for an iced latte, even though it was February and snow was on the ground. After Jessie ordered her decaf coffee, the two of you found a seat by the window.

“Ethan knows you’re married, right?”

You nodded your head as you crossed your right leg over your left, “Called me Mrs. Mendes as I left today after he tried to make a move.”

Jessie scrunched her nose up, “Like, I can see the appeal to having a little crush on someone who’s married––they’re unattainable in a sense––but dude,” Jessie paused her words when a server brought your drinks over to the table, “Keep it to yourself and don’t be a home wrecker.”

You took a sip of your cold drink and stifled a laugh, “I honestly think he doesn’t care, and it kinda freaks me out?” Your mind couldn’t properly put together why Ethan would try anything out on a married woman, “Like when he was trying to show me the correct way to cut whatever it was and he came around from behind—almost like the boy trying to teach the girl how to swing a golf club,” Jessie nodded, “I just feel weird.”

Peering over her coffee cup Jessie’s eyes were curious, “Do you want to get a different teacher?”

You shook your head, “I’m sure it’ll calm down.”

It was a Tuesday night, and instead of it being spent in your bed reading a good book, you were pacing your room on the phone with your husband. You understood that the life he led was full of uncertainty and things popping up last minute, and even after years of dealing with it, the feeling of being let down grew more and more familiar.

“Andrew won’t let you do it earlier?” You crossed your arms as you paced around the bedroom.

You heard Shawn sigh on the other end, “I already asked.”

Shawn was currently in Cape Town, South Africa, so while you were ending your day, he was just beginning his. He was supposed to come home Thursday for five days and then get back on the road. But now it seemed as though the plans had changed. Shawn was to be in Cape Town for an extra two days. So, with the added days on to his schedule, and the travel days, he would essentially not be home at all.

“Should you even bother coming home?” You questioned him as you went over to the bay area window of your apartment. The twinkling lights of the city and the sound of traffic below made the lonely nights bearable, “I know you don’t do well with traveling, and I don’t want to disrupt your tour schedule––“

“Y/n,” Shawn spoke assertively into the phone, “You’re my wife, of course I still want to come home to you.”

Even with no one around, you felt yourself trying to hide the blush that was making its way onto your cheeks, “I don’t want you to work yourself too hard––“

“You’re sounding like you don’t want me to come home,” There was a pause before Shawn spoke hesitantly into the phone, “Is something going on?”

Your eyes widened and you felt your previous warmth shift into nerves in your stomach. You weren’t hiding anything from him, but your mind drifted over to Ethan and how odd he’d been acting lately, his confidence growing more and more with each class. Of course you had no further interaction with him other than him teaching you how to cook, but you didn’t want Shawn to find out that the teacher had been flirting with you.

“Of course I want you home,” You looked down at your left hand and twirled your engagement ring as you smiled and softly whispered, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Shawn instantly replied back with a sigh. It was silent for a moment until you heard his voice pipe up, “Are you sure I don’t need to worry about anything?”

Your mind drifted to thinking that it might be in your best interest to inform your husband about the handsy cooking instructor. Surely he would understand that it made you uncomfortable and that you didn’t reciprocate any of the feelings. It seemed trivial to explain everything to him, he knew you loved him, you took a vow to love Shawn for the rest of your life.

With the little debate you had in your head, you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t important to tell him. The class would be over soon and you wouldn’t have to worry about Ethan again. And you knew that Shawn trusted you with his life, so he would know that nothing would come of it, so you shook your head, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m your husband,” Shawn let out a small laugh, “It’s my job.” You let out a small laugh as well, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the not so subtle advances Ethan has tried on you. They made you uncomfortable, and maybe it was in your bet interest to confided in your husband, but just as you briefly opened your mouth, Shawn spoke up, “I have to go, but text me throughout the day? I’m not sure when I’ll be able to pick up the phone and actually talk.”

“Yeah,” You answered him dismally, “I can do that.”

“I love you.” Shawn’s words were spoken in unwavering confidence into the phone.

With a stinging feeling pricking behind your eyes, you let out a breathy laugh to cover up your heavy heart of not being able to see your husband as soon as you thought, “I love you too.”

You hung up the phone and let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Of course supporting Shawn was something you would do no matter what, but with him constantly being away, it was beginning to take a toll on you. You thought that it would be better once you got married, but that wasn’t the case.

Then thoughts that never once crossed your mind in all of the years you and Shawn had been together; what would it be like to be with someone, to have dated or be married to, that wasn’t him? To have someone who wasn’t constantly traveling the world. What would it be like to be married to someone who spent more time with their wife than a tour bus?

––––

Trouble in Canada?

Newlyweds Shawn and Y/n Mendes are no stranger to the media, especially when it comes with rumors circulating their marriage. Just a few months shy of their first wedding anniversary, the couple has been caught in the middle of a few fiascos.

If we’re being quite honest with ourselves, keeping up with the Kardashians is easier than these two.

Shawn is currently on his world tour and about to start the European leg. Earlier in the week, Shawn was supposed to be traveling home to spend a short break with the Misses before the European part of his tour officially kicked off. But according to a source close to Mr. Mendes, he had to stay in Cape Town, South Africa for a few more days.

“He tried everything he could to get out of staying,” The source close to Shawn said. “He misses Y/n, but even with the amount of times they call each other or FaceTime in a day, it’s not the same as talking to each other face to face.”

But as Shawn slips into a land of everlasting bliss between he and his wife, it looks like Y/n has been spending her time with someone else as of late. Below, pictures of Y/n and a mystery man have appeared over the course of a few weeks, starting just after Shawn left home.

“There’s been a noticeable change in him,” the source said, who has requested to remain anonymous, added in, “Everyone around him knows how much he loves his wife, so when he saw pictures of her with another man in that room, it really hit him.”

Since pictures emerged of Y/n and the mystery man, people have commented that Shawn has been distant and more quiet than usual.

“It’s another reason why he wants to get back to Toronto so bad, he wants to settle things with Y/n. He’s tried to convince himself that it’s just a misunderstanding, but everyone around him knows how it’s already going to play out–and it’s not going to end well. It seems like he’s catching on. Those pictures leave no room for questioning what’s going on between his wife and someone that isn’t him.”

Have Shawn and Y/n Mendes followed in the steps of many other famous couples, and not been able to handle their marriage in the spot light? We were banking on the couple hitting the five-year marriage mark before anything like this happened.

What do you all think? Leave your comments in the section below.

––––

“Hey, Shawn,” You sighed into the phone. It was the fourth time he had missed your call, “It’s uh––me, again.” Pacing around your room, you didn’t know what was going on with him that made him miss your calls multiple times. Usually, he wouldn’t ever miss one, and if he did, he would call you back ten minutes later profusely apologizing.

You had enough with pacing around your room, so you took a seat at the edge of your bed. It didn’t stop the nerves though as your leg began to bounce, “I’m just calling to check up, it’s uh,” You looked over at the clock on your wall, “It’s almost midnight here, and I don’t know where you are,” Your voice dwindled off at the end as you held back a small cry, “I hope you’re having a great day, or that you’re getting a good rest because you work yourself too hard doing what you love,” You tried to lighten your own mood by letting out a laugh, “Just call me back, I love you and can’t wait to see you when you get home.”

Quickly, you hung up the phone and dropped your head to rest between your knees. Your whole body felt off, there was a reason why Shawn wasn’t calling you back and you couldn’t think of anything. The thought of him purposefully ignoring you felt like being stabbed in the chest with the knife twisting. Your head started to pound, and you couldn’t help but start to chew the inside of your lip.

You made your way up to your pillows on the bed and slowly made your way under the covers. You brought the white sheets up to where they were tucked under your chin and curled up. With a constant sharp pounding in your head, and uneven breathing, you realized that you had begun to cry without realizing it until you sat up and saw tear stains on the pillow. You brought both hands up to your eyes to wipe away the tears, but it was useless.

Your husband was dodging your calls. You knew he had been on his phone because he seemed to be constantly Tweeting more than usual. So he had to have seen your calls. Then the thought struck you that this was the first time you didn’t know where in the world your husband was.

––––

“I haven’t heard from him in a few days,” You spoke to Jessie as the two of you walked into the building for your weekly cooking class, “Not even a––“

“Y/n,” You were cut off when you heard a familiar voice call your name, you cringed a bit, and turned to the right to see Ethan, “Thought you weren’t going to make it in for this lesson?”

You cleared your throat, “Uh, yeah, I wasn’t supposed to because my hus–––“

“I’m glad you could join,” He cut you off, with a gleaming smile, before the word husband could make its past your lips. The way he was looking at you made you slightly uncomfortable so you awkwardly smiled and looked the other direction without a reply.

With a nod of your head, you gave Jessie an odd look that she returned with a shrug. The two of you made your way over to a little a cooking station and placed your bags under the table. Jessie and you chatted as other people strolled into the class area and set up in their usual position as Ethan made small talk with the people around him.

Once the time came to start the class, Ethan clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention, “We’ll be learning how to make a steak dinner,” He looked over and into your eyes, “For two.”

Jessie leaned over to you and whispered, “I think I threw up a little.” You stifled a laugh because you shared the same reaction.

First, you and Jessie both successfully made the creamy scalloped potatoes and the little side Caesar salad to go along with the steak. You then seasoned the steak, put the steak to bake in the oven for a few minutes, and then turned on the gas burner on the stove. You put canola oil in the pan, butter, garlic, rosemary and thyme as you took the steak out of the oven. As you pulled the oven pan out, you bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry––“

“You’re fine,” Ethan’s voice filled the air. You scrunched your nose up as he took a step closer to you from behind and, along with your hand, he took hold of the oven pan and settled it on the counter top. Jessie side glanced over as she cooked her steak, and all you could do was widen your eyes and beg for help.

Ethan then took a pair of tongs and placed the steak in the sizzling pan, “So, now what you do––“

“I can help her cooking the steak,” Jessie cut him off. She sensed how uncomfortable you were, and it even made her feel weird seeing how close Ethan pressed himself up against you. She didn’t like how he was treating you and thought the behavior was inappropriate.

Ethan shook his head, “I’ve got it. I should help my students out.”

You cleared your throat, “I can handle it, someone else may need your help––”

“What am I getting paid to do if I don’t help you out?” Ethan raised an eyebrow.

But you weren’t backing down easily. He’d made other advances on you during other lessons and this was your time to put your foot down, “I’m fine––“

“Mrs. Mendes––“

“Yes, Mrs. Mendes,” You stumbled over your words and began to talk faster than the speed of light. Whenever you got extremely nervous, you always seemed to talk with your hands, “That’s my name, the one and only, and the prefix indicates that I’m married––“

It seemed like Ethan didn’t like you mentioning how you were married and very much not looking for a relationship. His eyes narrowed at yours and he took hold of your wrists. His grip was too strong for your liking, and you looked up at him in shock. The glowering possessiveness in his eyes frightened you.

Ethan gripped your wrists tighter, “Moving your hands and having them fly around while other people are cooking isn’t safe––“

“Hey,” Jessie turned off her stove, “You probably shouldn’t touch her––“

You didn’t let Jessie finish her sentence before you ripped your wrists out from his hold. Part of you was shocked that a teacher would take hold of his student in such a rough manner, and the other half of your brain couldn’t process what was happening because with pulling your wrist back, you brought your elbow down and it collided with the handle of the searing pan that the steak was cooking in.

You felt the sting of hot oils run down your back, and in response, you jumped forward, and Ethan was the person in front of you who caught you. He looked at you with concern in his eyes, “Don’t move, you could be burned––“

“Stop!” Your voice was high and scratchy as you raised your voice at him. It was then you realized that everyone had stopped their cooking and turned their attention toward the two of you. Embarrassment flooded your whole body. And you felt yourself heat up in a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear. You grabbed your bag from under the table and rushed to put your coat on, not wanting anyone outside of the cooking studio to see the oil stains on you.

“Y/n–”

You didn’t want to make any more of a scene, so while biting the inside of your lip to keep yourself from crying, you shook your head, “Thank you for a wonderful lesson today, but I don’t think I’ll be returning ever again.”

And before he could reply, or try and put his hands on you again, you swiftly turned on your heel and sped walked out of the kitchen studio.

––––

Sitting at the little breakfast nook in your apartment with a cup of tea would be more relaxing if your husband hadn’t blatantly been ignoring you for a few days. You knew he was coming home today, but you were clueless as to where he was flying from or what time his flight was getting in.

You were sipping on your tea, watching the Toronto traffic from your window, when your phone buzzed. You looked down and saw Shawn’s name popped up. You had to look at it again because after all the voicemails you left him, his first contact to you was a text message.

Just landed in Toronto.

You stared at the blue text bubble in confusion. Every time he was about to get on a plane, he would always text you, no matter what time it was. He knew that you liked to know his travel schedule. But this was the first time he hadn’t told you his travel information. It made your stomach churn because now you definitely knew that something was wrong.

So you sent him a text back; Do you want me to pick you up?

Almost instantly, he replied, No.

Your heart sank just a little when you read his message. And then you started to feel it break piece by piece as you read the one word, one syllable, answer that held more negative. emotion than it should have. With tears threatening to fall from your eyes at any time, you felt your phone buzz once more with a text from him; Andrew is driving me back.

You nodded to yourself as you typed back a simple; Ok.

Neither one of you said how excited you were to see one another. Which was odd because you and Shawn would always count down the days until you could see each other again, but this time, the two of you hadn’t talked in what seemed like forever.

With the stress about not knowing what was wrong with Shawn and what happened yesterday at the cooking class, your heart was racing and you felt jittery until you saw a familiar car pull up to the side walk down below. You peered out the window and saw your husband for the first time in a few months. Even though there were tons of unsettled questions between the two of you, you still felt your heart pick up speed at the sight of him like it had on your first date.

He pulled out a little over the shoulder bag from inside the car and then you saw Andrew come around with a larger suitcase. You saw the two of them exchange some words, but since you were so high up and looking down at them through the window, you couldn’t hear what either of them were saying.

But a few moments later, Andrew and Shawn hugged, and then Shawn walked towards the building and Andrew got into his car and drove away. Shawn didn’t even send you a text that he was close to your apartment, like he would normally do so you would be waiting in the lobby to greet him. It looked like he didn’t want you to greet him in the lobby. Or see you at all.

He didn’t want you––his wife––he one who promised to love him forever no matter what, to be the first person to greet him when he came back from a long month or so from traveling. Your daunting thoughts kept themselves on a loop in your mind that you didn’t even hear the door open.

It was the sound of a suitcase rolling and a bag dropping on the floor that made you look up from the window. For the first time in months, your husband was standing right in front of you and you didn’t have the need to run up and hug him. Seeing him made your blood boil because of how unreliable he had been recently.

You sat in the little nook and took a sip of your tea, “Have a nice flight?” You kept your voice monotone. You didn’t want him to know that your past few nights had been hell with him ignoring you, and that you were getting no sleep, imagining what your reunion would be like after radio silence from him. And here you were, after every scenario you created in your mind, it did not turn out how you thought.

His hair was disheveled, t-shirt wrinkled in every place, and his left sock was raised higher than the left. It looked like he had the same problem as you––not being able to sleep for the past few days. All you wanted to do was reach out to him and feel his arms wrap tight around you. You missed his familiar smell, the one that his pillow still smelled like, even after countless washes. You slept on that pillow every night he had been on tour.

In your mind, you imagined Shawn either apologizing for his silence, or having his face turn red as he yelled at you for something you had no idea about. But it wasn’t either of those options. It was just like how he had been treating you for the past few days; silence.

His eyes held no emotion, the exhaustion evident in his face. Shawn was silent, something that was worse than blowing up at you. You imagined anything but him being mute about his feelings because Shawn was always a vocal person.

It was the most deafening silence you had ever heard.

You were waiting for a response to your seemingly innocent question. But as he didn’t respond, you began searching for any facial clues as to any answer you could possibly find. You were growing frustrated. His face was kept with a neutral look; no creases in the eyebrows and not a scrunch of distaste with his nose.

Then you began to search for any other signs that would give away his answer. He wasn’t tapping his foot, he wasn’t swaying from side to side, and he wasn’t twiddling his hands out of nervousness.

His hands.

It was tiny, a detail that wouldn’t be caught by many. But with being married to a man for almost a year, you began to notice every little thing about them. There were certain things that you knew Shawn would always keep on him, and as a married man, you knew he always wore his wedding band. But as you looked at his left hand, you noticed that there was a small sliver of his skin that was lighter shade than the rest.

His ring finger.

You looked down at your left hand, your engagement and wedding ring were in their place, and you quickly looked back at Shawn’s left hand to see if your mind had been playing tricks on you.

Shawn wasn’t wearing his ring, the symbol of marriage that brought two people, who loved each other more than life itself, together.

Your heart stopped and you felt as if you were about to throw up at any minute, a feeling of doom weighed down your chest with every moment of silence passing. Biting the inside of your lip, you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The silence that surrounded the two of you stole your voice. You looked up at him, wanting to ask him why he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring, but with silence stealing your voice, he gave it to Shawn who spoke without hesitation in his voice.

“We need to talk.”

#hello hello!!!#feels good to be back and ~editing haha promise I'll get more into writing #since ya know…my laptop crashed and was erased rip cried for so long about that #but ANYWAY #here's Trouble in Canada :)#only made some ~minor tweaks #let me know what you thought of it!! I loved chatting about it with you all and still would love to chat about it now!!#hopefully you're having/had a lovely day or night!!#and let me know what you want to read!!#requests are open obvs #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes fanfictoin #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x yn #Shawn x yn #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes angst #Shawn Mendes x you #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes writing #hope you all enjoyed it!!!#Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes writing

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chappybird · 4 years

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How to Get Roleplay on F-List: A Guide

Hey all. So I’ve had a few people ask me how on earth to get RP over F-List, or for those that have tried, say its too confusing. While F-List is a much different format than I think a lot of people are used to, it’s a pretty reliable source of RP once you get used to it. So I’m going to walk you through, step by step, how to start from nothing and get a profile set up to start RPing. F-List is 18+ Only and is a Restricted To Adults® Verified website. You can learn more about it by clicking the RTA logo at the bottom of f-list’s main page.

F-list’s main landing page can be located at https://www.f-list.net/.

Note that my f-list may look different from yours because I’m using dark mode (which can be set in the account tab) and I’m a subscriber, so I don’t see ads.

Step One: Make a Profile

Making a profile, or as they’re known on F-List, a character, is your jumping off point for getting started. There are three main factions on F-List: Anthro Characters, Canon Characters, and Original Characters, with subcategories of each. You also have hub profiles. There is a right way to make a hub profile, but that’s not something I’ll be talking about on this post. Hub profiles are pretty universally disliked on F-List and are often seen as a mark of laziness, and I do not recommend making one to look for RP on. You should make a separate Profile for each character you want to play as. If you have a normal account, you can make up to 150 different characters. If you’re a subscriber, you can make significantly more than that depending on your tier.

Choosing a name for your character is very important! You want something attention grabbing, but since each character has to have a unique name, this can get a little tricky. Today I’m choosing to create a Link from the Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time. As this is a popular character, it can be difficult to track down a good name. You can be clever with naming conventions, while making it obvious who you’re playing, or you can add in underscores, hyphens, numbers, etc. It’s really up to personal preference. I advise not getting too abstract with your character name. Just pick something easy to read and to the point. Once you’ve decided on a name, click the create character button to open up the character editor.

Step Two: Holy Fuck Dude That’s a Lot of Shit To Fill Out

Take a deep breath. The character editor is very intimidating to those that haven’t used F-List before. Perhaps you have used F-List for it’s old intended purpose, just to list your kinks to link people to when RPing on other sites. Your first instinct might be to scroll down there and start picking kinks willy-nilly. Stop. In the grand scheme of things, this is not as important for getting Roleplay and if you do it incorrectly you might actually hurt your chances.

Now that we’ve calmed down you’ll notice two things at the top of the page. A big white text field, and this guy:

This, more than anything on your profile, is the most important thing. If you have this on profile, you will almost never get any roleplay. This is your character icon, and it’s the first step on your journey to doing this whole thing correctly. All you need to do is find an image that’s 300x300 pixels or smaller and upload it with the Choose File button. Then scroll down to the very bottom of the page and hit save. Search on google, and if you have a hard time finding something of that size, A great site to use is https://lunapic.com/ to edit pics if you don’t have Photoshop or Gimp. Choosing or creating an image with some sort of transparency layer is recommended because it makes your icon look more polished, but you don’t really need to do that. This isn’t an image software guide so I’ll leave that to you to figure out. If all you can do is crop an image into a square, that will do perfectly. But you need to have something here. Besides your character name, it’s the first impression you’re going to give to people when using the site. I have honest to god had people message me on empty profiles that having nothing but a character name and an icon.

Sourcing your images is a bit of a grey area on f-list. It’s not really an art sharing site, but if you choose fanart that someone doesn’t want to be reposted, it can be removed by the mods if you’re reported for it. So we’ll just use some official art that already has a transparency channel and crop it using Lunapic.

Step Three: How To Set the Profile Up

If you’re following along, you should have something like this by now. This already gives us an idea of who you’re playing, and what they look like, and while you might get a couple of weirdos messaging you already, there’s still a lot to do. So let’s go over what to do next.

Now that you’ve already created a character, it will be listed under the character tab. Further characters will be listed in alphabetical order. Navigate to your character and click the “Edit” button underneath their icon.

We’re back to the big scary page. Remember that big text field? We’re going to ignore everything else and focus on this first.

F-List uses standard BBC code tags with [square brackets.] You can find some buttons that will give you tools like bold, italics, color, hyperlinks, and quote blocks. There are many different ways to create eye-catching descriptions. I would say the three basic ways are minimalist, inline based, and heavy BBC code. We’ll go through the first option in detail but if you’re interested in the the latter, there is actually a few F-List profiles that teach coding and even have a few templates to use. User beware, though. Many F-List users use these templates and they can sometimes look a bit generic as they are overused.

Templates: https://www.f-list.net/c/profile%20templates

Coding Help: https://www.f-list.net/c/profile%20references

If you want to make an inline based profile, having access to software like Illustrator, Photoshop, GIMP, and similar content is good to have as well. You can also make a blend of the three styles of profiles. I’ll link some examples of my own profiles for reference. Some of these have text included in the inline. Some of them just have an image with the text written out underneath. Again, it’s really up to your personal preference.

https://www.f-list.net/c/Rival%20II/

https://www.f-list.net/c/Lion%20Heart/

https://www.f-list.net/c/The%20Fire%20of%20Tamaran/

Now would also be a great time to familiarize yourself with the rules. Keep an eye on these, especially if you play contentious content.

https://wiki.f-list.net/Code_of_Conduct

Some big things to look out for and not to do: Photographs and realistic images of animals are not allowed. Even Nonsexual ones. Photographs and 3D renders of minors (even nonsexual images or nonsexual profiles) are not allowed. If there is even a hint of the character being a minor, do not use photographic or 3D renders. (For example: Tom Holland’s depiction of Spiderman. Even though Tom Holland was an adult when he played the role, the character is a minor.) Sometimes these can run into a lot of grey areas, but it’s better safe than sorry!

Step Four: Creating A Minimalist Profile

We’ll start with a short description. It’s really important to make sure your character’s name is present in your descriptio, especially if it’s not the profile name. If you’re feeling particularly lazy, you can copypaste something from a wiki or official description. Let’s start with something like this.

Link had humble beginnings as a boy that lived in the forest with the Kokiri. Known as the boy without a fairy, Link led a simple life until one day, the dying Guardian of the forest, the Deku Tree, set him upon a Quest to save the Kingdom of Hyrule from darkness. Arming himself with the elemental powers of Hyrule and the legendary Master Sword, Link journeyed through time to the Dark Era of Hyrule to challenge the evil Ganondorf and save his Kingdom from evil.

Shoving this into the Description box and hitting save will generate something like this.

You might notice that this looks like crap. And it does! however, we can very easily fix that with the power of just three simple BBC tags. Those being [center], [color], and [sub]. plus a little something extra I’ll explain in a moment. Let’s add those in like so.

[center][color=green][sub]Link had humble beginnings as a boy that lived in the forest with the Kokiri. Known as the boy without a fairy, Link led a simple life until one day, the dying Guardian of the forest, the Deku Tree, set him upon a Quest to save the Kingdom of Hyrule from darkness. Arming himself with the elemental powers of Hyrule and the legendary Master Sword, Link journeyed through time to the Dark Era of Hyrule to challenge the evil Ganondorf and save his Kingdom from evil.[/sub][/color][/center]

Instead of hitting save at the bottom of the profile this time, we’re going to click “Preview BBC Code” to get a look at what our coding has done.

Fancy.

But it could use a little work. When I’m making minimalist profiles, I like to make the lines of text a little shorter so it’s a little easier to read and looks nicer. Make sure each line of text is about the same length as the previous (minus any BBC tags)

[eicon]blank[/eicon] [center][color=green][sub]Link had humble beginnings as a boy that lived in the forest with the Kokiri. Known as the boy without a fairy, Link led a simple life until one day, the dying Guardian of the forest, the Deku Tree, set him upon a Quest to save the Kingdom of Hyrule from darkness. Arming himself with the elemental powers of Hyrule and the legendary Master Sword, Link journeyed through time to the Dark Era of Hyrule to challenge the evil Ganondorf and save his Kingdom from evil.[/sub][/color][/center] [eicon]blank[/eicon]

You’ll also notice that I placed an eicon tag with a “blank” body. Eicons are essentially image macros that can be used all over the site. Using the blank one here is a good way to put a block of empty space on the top and bottom so the text isn’t too crowded by the frame of the description box. Another couple to keep in mind are [eicon]under construction[/eicon] or [eicon]WIP[/eicon] if you want to save your work now and get right to chatting and exploring the site. This signifies that you’re still working on your profile and more will be added later. You can create your own eicons by going to Account > Icon gallery. Keep in mind each eicon must have a unique name across all users. Inputting this into the description and checking how it looks in the preview, we end up getting something that looks like this:

Looks like we got a bookmark while we were setting the profile up. That means someone saw us while browsing new characters and decided they want to keep an eye on our profile and are likely interested in RPing! If you like, you can disable bookmarks per character in the character editor under settings. Generally speaking though, bookmarks are your friend and it’s how people will find you to RP later.

Optionally if you want to add an inline, just upload an image of your choice in Account > Inline Images. You can then add it in the character editor using this button.

This isn’t a tutorial for creating inlines, but a general rule is to make sure it’s sized well, and transparent images tend to look better than non-transparent images.

Step Five: Character Details

Opening the Character Editor once more, a couple basic things should be filled out. We will take this section by section.

Settings: Some general tweaks to change and edit. Personally, I like to turn my timezone off, and besides that, I like to have my Guestbook and Bookmarks turned on as well, but all of these settings are up to you. A big one a I suggest turning on is “Custom Kinks Sort First.” This will come up later but it’s good to turn it on.

Character List: For now, you can ignore this part. You can use this to have certain characters grouped together and will show up in the sidebars of these characters. I haven’t run into any limits for how many character lists you can have, but keep in mind a character can only belong to one list at a time.

Images: If you have any images you want to upload, this is the place to do it. Headcanons of body types, additional art you’ve drawn or found, can be added here. You can add descriptions to each image that will appear when a user hovers over the image. Keep in mind, again, that usage of fan art is a grey area on F-List. It’s not an image posting site, but some artists do not want their art reposted at all.

Profile Info: You don’t need to fill out every single detail here. Bits that aren’t filled in will just not appear on your profile. It’s a good idea to fill out your gender, and in many cases, your orientation. Both are under General Details. Filling out RPing preferences is also a good idea. It’ll keep people from approaching you IC using first person posts if that’s not your thing.

Step Six: Kinks and Custom Kinks

This is probably one of the most overwhelming parts of the process. My first tip: Ignore the Kink section for now. Instead, skip ahead to the Custom Kink section.

Custom Kinks are a good way to tell people what you really want. Click the Add +1 Custom Kink button to make a new custom kink. You can fill out the basic title of the kink, and a description. Or if you prefer to leave the description blank, just press the spacebar. Select what category you want the kink to appear in (Fave, Yes, Maybe, No.) Try to avoid using inflammatory language against different races, genders, identities, and don’t kinkshame. This is a site based primarily around finding rpers that have the same interests and kinks that you do. Save the profile when you’re done and we’ve got something like this.

And really, you can probably start roleplaying like this. Maybe add a couple of images, and tweak a few things. So if you like, skip to the next step. But for now, I’ll go over the kink list.

The most important think to remember is you don’t have to add every single kink to your profile. Try to select the most relevant things, and avoid redundancies.

For example, I’m not interested in Vore of any kind. So I can put the kinks Vore (Being Predator) and Vore (Being Prey) Into my No category. Or, if I want to make it even more simplified, I can add a custom Vore kink and put that in my No category. Likewise, if I don’t want to do any sex driven play, I can probably go ahead and just put sex driven there and ignore most of the kink list. Kinks that are not relevant such as Vaginal Sex (Receiving) on a cis male can also be ignored. Kinks are broken up into sections, and while it is a lot, just take your time, go through it sensibly, and take a break if you want to. Remember you don’t have to add every single one to your profile. This will ultimately be easier on you and make your profile easier to read.

After a bit of editing, this is what my kink list ends up looking like:

You can try exploring the Subfetish editor but it’s a little confusing to navigate and isn’t very necessary. And now, your profile is done!

Step Six: Using F-Chat

So now that we have a profile set up, it’s time to find some partners. Regardless of what way you want to connect, if you prefer script or para, the main place you’re going to find RP is through F-Chat. There is currently both a desktop and mobile client. if you select Chat you’ll see the option for both, and clicking on them will take you to instructions on how to set those up. We will however be using the Browser client in this example. Go ahead and select F-Chat 3.0.

You will be taken to a landing page with a drop down of your characters, with the first character you created selected as the default. (You can change your default character in your account settings.) You can have up to three characters online at once. Keep in mind this goes by IP address, so if you have a roommate that also uses F-List, those will count towards your total number of online characters. If this becomes a problem for you, just use a virtual machine or connect to the internet via a different method, such as with data. (F-List is not that much of a data drain.)

Here is what you’ll see when you open F-Chat. You’ll see I already have people in my friends list and my bookmarks (that I’ve blurred out for courtesy.) These will appear the same on all the characters you sign in as. I will be notified whenever one of my friends signs in or sets a status. You can set these notifications to show only on the console if you’d like to in the settings. Let’s set a status first.

Here, you have the options of selecting from the default Online status to Looking, Away, Busy, and Do Not Disturb. These all do what you’d expect, with Do Not Disturb turning off the sound that would play when you get notifications from personal messages or pings.

The Status Message is an optional addition, and it’s great for if you’re looking for specific things or want your friends and bookmarks to know what you’re doing. Be careful not to post anything that breaks F-Lists code of conduct. F-List does have an aggregate of every status you ever posted logged on their server, so throwing a temper tantrum and posting something inappropriate and then taking it back later might still get you in trouble.

While the Character Search Option is available to you, I’ve personally never found it very effective. You can search users by kinks, but keep in mind it doesn’t search by gender or orientation, or what species or even if they’re canon or original. Instead, we’ll go right to the settings tab.

General: Just your general settings. You have a few options here to tweak and while most of it is personal preference, I’ll highlight a few to keep in mind.

Disallowed BBC Code Tag: good for if you find a particular colour particularly garish as a text colour, or if you find an eicon that you no longer want to see anymore. Enter Sends Messages: I have this set to off so I can avoid accidentally sending a message for when I post. When this is enabled, just press the send button on screen to send messages. Otherwise, if you want to linebreak in one post, just press Shift + Enter. Animate eicons: If you’re running a slow computer, or have a slow connection, turn this to off. Eicons are used as memes a lot in F-Chat, and some of them can get a little ridiculous. (Someone has compressed the entire Shrek movie into an eicon and uploaded to the site in very poor quality for example.) There can also be bright flashing colours or even nsfw images. In general these eicons are all 100x100 pixels in size, but some users like to tile them together to create bigger images so it can sometimes get out of hand. This is something up to personal preference, and while I have Animate eicons turned on, I can see why some people wouldn’t like it. Idle Timer: If you are the kind of person that walks away from your computer without changing your status, or you have fallen asleep with F-Chat open, it’s good to set this to a reasonable time. If you’re in Online or Looking, after you’ve been inactive for the depicted number of seconds, your status will be set to Idle. This is so other users know that you’re not ignoring them if you don’t respond to their messages. A downside to this is if you’re tabbed out or multitasking, it’ll set you to idle when you may not intend it to and going back to the window switches you to Online again. It can be a little spammy if you’re constantly switching between Online and Idle. Font Size: If you find F-Chat’s font too big or too small, you can edit that here.

Notifications: While this section is pretty self explanatory, I’d like to specifically go over the Custom Highlight Notify Words.

Now, because each profile has to have a unique name, you might want to select additional pings. For example I might want to add Link,Zelda,Hyrule,Hero,Hero of Time to my list. Everything is comma seperated and not case sensitive. There are a few things to keep in mind.

Common word pings: If I add Link to my list of pings, I might get pinged whenever someone talks about a url link, or a chain link, or any other common use of the word link. It therefore might be better to not use the word. If you have a profile name that is a common word, it might be better to also uncheck the option for Notify Messages Containing your name.

Similar Profiles: If there’s another Link in chat, then I will be notified everytime someone refers to him by name as well. This is less of a problem on more niche characters, but it’s something to keep in mind! You can set pings by room, so perhaps a solution to this is using Link as a highlight word in the Canon Characters room, but not using it as a highlight word in the Nintendo room. More about how to do that later.

Hidden Users: Pretty self explanatory once click over. If you keep seeing an ad you dislike, you can hide all advertisements from said user (re: character) going forward. Keep in mind this is not your block list.

Import: If you make two profiles and want to have these settings copied from one to the other, just log into the profile you want to import to, and select the profile you want to import from. Make sure to go back to change your pings if needed.

Lastly, we’ll be looking at the channel section.

You might be starting to be overwhelmed again, and that’s okay. There are a lot of options, but most of the time, you’ll only want to select the options that are relevant to us. Check off the list of rooms you want to open a tab for. These will begin to be added to your sidebar. the number in brackets signifies the number of users thats joined that room. By default, this list is most popular to least popular, but I personally prefer alphabetical. There may be some channels that you find inappropriate, offensive, or contentious, but your best bet is to ignore those parts of the site. It’s an Adult site that is heavily moderated by a mixture of paid and volunteer staff. Every effort is made to ensure that no real people get hurt, but it is understood that as an adult, you are responsible for curating the content that you consume. This is one of the fundamental principals that F-List is built upon.

For now, I’m going to go with Canon Characters and Canon Characters OOC from this list.

You will also notice an Open Room tab. Unlike the Official Channels which are moderated by F-List staff, Open Rooms are chat rooms created by the userbase, and moderated by the userbase. While the standard F-List code of content is applicable to all areas of the site, special rules may apply in these rooms, and you’ll find things like rooms dedicated to certain kinks, species, and fandoms. I can try searching for a few things I think might be applicable to me, such as Hyrule, Zelda, Nintendo, and Elf. Some of those get hits, and some of those don’t. I can also check them off to add them to my list. (Note that search terms have to be entered one at a time. I cannot search for multiple things at once.)

Once you’ve selected the channels and rooms you want to join, you can click and drag on the tabs to reorder them on the sidebar. If you’d like to pin a chat, You can just press the little push pin symbol, which will then turn green. (You can do this for User Messages as well.) This means when you sign out, these chats will still be there when you sign back in. Note that settings and pinned chats are device by device only, and furthermore, channels and logs will not carry over between characters.

Make sure to read the description of each room you join. There are often specific rules (such as no ooc talk in the canon characters room, and no male characters in the lesbians room.) Clicking the gear will allow you to change settings on a per-room basis.

Step Seven: Actually Finding some RP

Now, after all that effort, we’re finally ready to find some RP. You have a few options on how to do this.

You could just join a few rooms and set your status to looking with a status message on what you want, but this is considered very passive. You may get some people that reach out (As you saw, someone had bookmarked my Link less than an hour after I made the profile before logging into f-chat.) But your best bet is one of three options.

Look at the Ads: Whenever you’re in a room that allows ads, you will sometimes notice a differently coloured message fly by looking for roleplay. This is an ad. If you see one that seems to fit what you have to offer, you can right-click on their username and select “Open Conversation.” A chat window will be open under the PMs section on your sidebar. You can view this conversation like you would a channel. Keep in mind that users are not notified if you open a conversation with them, only if you send them a message.

Create an Ad: Make sure you are in a room or channel that allows ads by checking the description, you can select the ad tab in the lower right hand corner above the text input box to write an ad instead of a chat message.

Making a normal chat post saying “hey does anyone want to roleplay with me” is considered spam and could result in the mods having a word with you.

You have similar tools to what you do in the character descriptions, and clicking each one will automatically place the tags in the text box, with the eyeball being a preview and the question mark being a how to. You want your ads to stand out, but you don’t want them to be too obnoxious. Take a look at what kind of ads other people are posting to get an idea of what’s expected.

Talk to Others: And lastly, you can just play in public rooms or chat with people in ooc channels. This is a great way for others to sample what you’re like to play with and vice versa, or even just to get to know potential partners. In my general experience, you’ll have more luck finding people to play with long term in the user created Open Rooms than in the Official Channels, but ever case is different. There are a vast number of styles, methods of RP, and types of partners you can find.

That’s basically the ins and outs of F-List! The more you’ll use it, the more you’ll understand how it works and the social etiquette on the platform. Like many sites, it certainly has it’s share of dark corners and flaws, but all in all it’s a pretty good website to find people to play with! Have fun!

#cherp #mxrp #rp #tumblr rp #flist #no tea no shade for tagging other RP sites #just giving people more options and I've been asked about it a few times

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imagine-fight-write · 4 years

Text

RANDOM - Banana Fish Review, Vol. 1, Part Four

(This was one of my fav gifs looking for gifs of Shorter.)

*There will be pictures/gifs included tomorrow, because this is already late & loading them is taking forever, for some reason.

Haha, no, I actually prettied it up 1/5/21. Yes, I’m glorious.

No I’m actually Dio DIO in this situation, who am I kidding.

(This transition from Caesar to Dio fascinates me, by the way.) (The GIF.)

The JOJO reference is because I’ve finally finished Diamond is Unbreakable! It was fun! I enjoyed it a lot! Ready for the next part!

But back to Banana Fish.

Hope you enjoy this!

So my plans failed again. Who is surprised? (Not me.)

I apologize profusely for the gaping void of Banana Fish-ness left since last I posted.

No really. I now have an alarm set for every Wednesday.

Let’s see how this goes. News Update: Maybe next time.

Also, my internet is still blitzy & rotten, otherwise I would’ve posted this yesterday (the 15th).

Now on to the in-depth, delighted gushing - er, review, of Banana Fish!

*Also, this is part 4, and 4 is a special number for me. Because of this guy:

And I can spell his name correctly!!! (It’s Ulquiorra, from Bleach, my 1st anime fan gushing love.)

Yes, I’m strange. Moving on.

So, brief recap, since I’m not sure anyone has read Part 3, given how terrifyingly long it is. If you missed it, here’s the link:

https://imagine-fight-write.tumblr.com/post/632014616404344832/random-banana-fish-review-vol-1-part-3-my

Please love & like it & repost to the rest of the Web. I worked tremendously hard on it.

Yes it’s long, but oh, it was delightful! There was snark! Delicious food! Wine! Fabulous mustaches! Mysteries! I gushed so much!

(And snarled at the wonton waste of good breakfast food, which I will not forget & always condemn.)

*I mean, I know people who will throw up if they have breakfast in the morning. But it’s important to eat so you have energy to do things & feel good.

And Dino took a perfectly beautiful breakfast & essentially wasted it for no good reason. I was so mad.

We meet Dino Golzine, a.k.a., Ash’s worst nemesis /enemy (note, I can’t spell nemesis) and major reason for why his life sucks.

(Although society doesn’t help either. Though the police try. They really do. Except what’s his face who’s complete scum & thoughtless, but we won’t meet him til Vol. 2. Plus I don’t think he has a name?)

But yes, Dino Golzine. All around awful person, and not safe around children (or anyone, really.) He’s low-key in this scene, mostly using verbal assaults (to great effect) but just you wait. There’s a reason he’s a mob boss.

Ash snarks, to great effect, but he’s no match. Dino has all the cards and all the dice (cards & dice being metaphors for power, & how he involves awful, painful memories of Ash’s past & tries to manipulate & order him around. Brrr.)

But Ash rallies, and ultimately refuses returning to be Dino’s heir / toy.

We meet Shorter! Huzzah!

(End of recap.)

It’s clear right away Shorter & Ash are old friends. They exchange quips about Marvin. We learn Marvin holds a mean grudge, so savvy readers can guess it’ll come to play later (it does.)

Shorter’s last line is strange.

“Just don’t put me in the position of having to kill you.”

Which is kinda out of the blue. I don’t know what to make of it. It doesn’t spoil or fore-shadow anything (unless in a very confused, round-about way) because that never happens later. So I’m confused.

Ash laughs it off and goes zooming off on his motor-bike / motorcycle (not sure which).

Note, from this short scene we already learn Shorter has his own sources of information - he knows Ash went to Dino’s, fast enough to be there before their conversation ended (unless he was just lucky to be there already - why was he there?). He already knows about Ash’s talk with Marvin, with enough detail to warn Ash about Marvin’s temper & that Marvin likes him, which is a bad combination.

Shorter is smart & cares about his friends, warning Ash about Marvin.

Aren’t friends great?

Especially after meeting such a dominating if soft spoken monster like Dino?

The answer is yes.

Next, we get this hilariously great shot of Ash running up the steps to his dingy apartment (pg. 47.)

It’s reminiscent for me of a scene in JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Part 1, when Jonathan & Dino have their epic fight in the Joestar mansion.

There’s a part where Jonathan does this epic flip up to a second floor via sword (it’s epic) & it ends with this a few-seconds-longer-than it-needs-to-be shot of his butt. You can’t miss it. I’m usually oblivious to such things & I noticed it. I laugh every single time.

Anyway, back to Banana Fish.

(The atmosphere of grunginess (it’s not a word, I meant dirty, ugly, rough) & spartan furniture is great. Just look at those walls. I adore it.

(But would never want to live there.) Ash is clearly not rich & after Dino’s rich mansion, this is a stark contrast.

Also, there are no pictures or posters on the walls (which are festooned with dirt and cracks instead.) In fact, there’s almost nothing in terms of personal effects at all.

This baffles me. I mean yes, I assume they’re all dirt poor, living in a gang & working for the mafia on the side isn’t something you do for the luxuries. But surely they’d have something.

Or maybe it has something to do with Japanese decorating aesthetics? Meaning, Japanese appear to be more spartan than Americans in terms of decor (see the book, In Praise of Shadows, for example.)

* I can’t spell aesthetics. Why do I even use that word?

The apartment just looks extremely bare compared to others I’ve seen in movies depicting this era. Is what I’m saying.

Look at those bare walls. (It hurts me.)

Thoughts? Comments on how Japanese, Americans, and Europeans differ in basic decorating styles? Comment below!

Also remember as always, Banana Fish is both set & was written in the 1980’s, well before the “modern” style we have now.

Unless - wait. There is something very important to Ash which he’s clearly hiding in the apartment he goes to, which I assume only Skip & select members know about.

So maybe this isn’t actually Ash’s main base, where he sleeps & hangs out?

Yes, that must be it.

If you’re confused, I’ll explain once we get done with this section.

Moving on.

We meet Skip!!!! (Pg.47)

Black characters (and Latino) are still, alas, extremely rare in manga, anime, & other media, so all the cheers for including Skip so early & as such an important character.

Because Skip is very important. For multiple reasons. More on that later. Also note, 1 of the gang members Ash busts earlier is also black.

Again, the dialogue is great here between Ash & Skip, establishing Ash’s trust in him. Which is no small thing.

Skip is like Shorter, (agh, both their names start with S) sweet, but also has a nose for news.

Arthur’s going to get it, hah!

There’s yet another reference to it being early.

Though there’s no specific time mentioned . . . Nope, not since Ash found the poor, dying banana fish dude.

Does Ash usually sleep in? Is he a night owl? He was wandering around at 1 in the morning last night, after all.

*Yes, technically it was early morning, but it was still dark, so bite me.

But then, he was also suspicious & keeping tabs on his 2 gang members. So, who knows.

But I’m going to guess he’s a night owl.

Ash sits on the bed, and after Skip mentions everything is good, “him, too”.

Ash gives his 1st real, genuine smile. Gentle, relieved, no hard edges. Just pure happiness & relief. It’s sweet.

(Also, I just realized the “him, too” is supposed to be a surprise / shock for the reader & I spoiled it earlier. I do apologize.)

Skip offers to get coffee but Ash declines, deciding to nap, which reminds me:

Actually, drinking coffee before you take a nap can, for some people, actually make you sleep better.

Also, short cat naps (15-30mins) can boost your energy and mood.

Naps are good for you!

I almost wondered if the comics Skip had on the table might’ve been manga, but remembered it was the 1980’s and, far as I know, manga wasn’t big the U.S. yet. Alas!

Which is funny if you think about this being in a manga.

Skip goes to leave. Ash puts his hand in his pocket and gets this intense, almost fierce expression on his face (middle panel, pg. 48).

I was absolutely baffled by this reaction for a long time, but finally figured it out. Ash’s reaction is supposed to be baffling, because what he realizes right here will be revealed in the next few pages.

Skip, concerned, asks what’s up, but Ash brushes him off and sends him off to buy coffee. (After which I sincerely hope he takes a nap, because he needs one, he’s been up all night.) Sleep is good for you!

Skip is able to buy coffee with a single coin. A single coin.

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

All my tears, and curses on inflation and overpriced coffee! And Starbucks!

Anyway, we learn Arthur’s going to get it (and Skip is the best spy ever) and the scene cuts to:

Our favorite person (not) Dino Golzine, tending his orchids.

I like this. It’s a rather unique hobby for a villian. I assume to give him a refined, elegant, and exact air.

He’s interrupted by Angie & his fabulous mustache (snickers) and this delightfully comic scientist person (who might be important later? The face sameness makes it difficult to judge, & I’m too lazy to consult my other volumes, which are not close by.)

But his entrance is priceless (pg. 50). I mean seriously, please go find it if you haven’t already. It’s dramatic, with a big WHAM! & he looks so cartoonish.

I love it.

Dino tells him, essentially, “don’t disturb my orchids” and me being an non-gardner person, I wonder: is it actually true loud noises can disturb flowers?

Comment below!

Anyway, Dino quickly establishes yes, he did send Ash’s gang members to kill the poor banana fish guy who started this whole mystery, and yes, it was important.

There’s a great panel (pg. 51) of scientist dude, drawn much less comedic, the whole panel black except for a white aura around him sweating and clearly in distress.

He whispers, “It - it’s gone.”

Dino snaps to attention with a leonine look, exactly like a cat who has just spotted another cat. It’s easily my favorite picture of Dino so far, very striking.

The dialogue is brilliant and snappy, short and direct.

“What is gone? . . . You’re positive? . . . Just a small amount.”

And we get the grand reveal:

Ash, taking out a bullet shaped capsule (was the shape intentional by Yoshida?). A capsule he’d clearly taken from the dying banana fish guy. There’s a great panel on the bottom of pg. 52 of Ash’s questioning expression and a ?

He unscrews the capsule and pulls out a tiny vial.

Thinks of the address the dying banana fish guy gave him.

Ash goes into the next room, where we see the silhouette of someone sitting with a plaid blanket draped across their knees.

He expresses his first real look of vulnerability, and gives a wonderful line:

“Go see . . . Banana fish . . . He said it and died. And you say it and you might as well be dead. Who did this to you? Griff . . . Please tell me, big brother.”

Everything clicks together (almost.)

Griff /Griffin is the soldier shown way back in the very beginning. The one who left for a few minutes and came back insane and shot up his squad.

Who’s now a human vegetable.

Banana fish is clearly responsible. Somehow.

And Dino is mixed in with it (of course). Pieces are coming together, but questions still remain.

Until next time!

#random #banana fish #banana fish review #manga #ash lynx #skip #banana fish shorter #friendship #xena warrior princess #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

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stutterfly · 5 years

Text

Love Bytes 04 | Addressing Error | KNJ (M)

Last time on LB03: You're ready to go home with Jimin, but obstacles arise, namely your own drunkenness. Namjoon helps you out of a tight spot and you find a new way to stave off loneliness: falling asleep in the comforting arms of a trusted friend. But is there more to it?

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: 11.4K

Series: Love Bytes (4/?)

Genre: F2l, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

CW: anxiety, hidden erections, nip-slips, and masturbation(teaser)

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

A/N: Leave a comment if you like! It’s like fuel to my fire. 💜 Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re stiff,” you murmur, nuzzling your head into the fabric of his shirt, trying in vain to get comfortable at a ninety degree angle. “Can you like… lay down instead?”

He sighs and repositions, wiggling down beside you. His massive hand cups your head close to his chest as he does so. His head falls against the pillow and he nudges the side of your face with his knuckles. “Better?”

Your face angles upwards and you can just barely make out the mocking flick of his tongue in the moonlight that slips through the blinds. You bury your face, humming a note of approval over his collarbone. You’re quick to splay an arm across his torso and uncurl your fingers against his chest. Heavy fingers climb on yours, trapping your hand between his and the heartbeat beneath your palm. His other hand lands on your shoulder and you shiver when he starts to trace lazy lines up and down your skin.

You don’t have time to fully appreciate the motion as sleep threatens to take you. The last thing you feel is his chin falling against the top of your head, both of you subconsciously snuggling closer. Never in your life have you felt so relaxed, so fast. You forget whom is resting beside you, holding you in a way that keeps you from drunkenly crying yourself to sleep. The world falls away. The thoughts of the night fall away. The emptiness is replaced by something good. Something tender. It’s a strange and foreign concept, and you can’t quite put your finger on it, but what you do know is that it’s the closest thing you’ve ever felt to a place you’ve never truly had: Home.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The first time Namjoon awakens, it’s to the sound of your heavy snoring. He lazily removes the cocked glasses from his face, relieved they hadn’t broken when he fell asleep. Turning his attention to you, he holds in a laugh, then a disgusted snort when he feels the moisture leaking from your mouth onto his arm. You’ve managed to roll away at some point, which makes it easier to slip his arm out from beneath you in order to remove the two layers of shirts from his sweating body.

How many times had he told you to get on the landlord about fixing the broken air conditioning in your unit? On such a hot night, this is torture. He’s tempted to remove his pants, but even half-asleep he knows that would get awkward real fast in the morning. Instead he carefully rises from the mattress and turns on the fan idling beside the bed.

A deep, quiet sigh passes his lips as he rests his head on the pillow once more, a wave of relief flowing with the air towards him. He blinks a few times, eyelids incredibly heavy as turns to face you, letting the breeze cool his back. Your legs are out from under the sheets and you’re hunched over, oversized shirt scrunched up and exposing the small of your back. He catches the goosebumps that form on your arms and quickly realizes your body might not be running quite as hot. Maybe he can share his natural temperature with you?

He tries as best he can to slide back into position with his arm beneath you, gently feeding it under the crook of your neck. As gross as your drooling and snoring is, it isn’t going to stop him from holding you. He’s been thinking about this for too long to let the opportunity pass him by. He snuggles in closer, blanket acting as a barrier between his now bare chest and your back. His arm falls over your hip as he leans closer, inhaling your scent and committing as much as he can to memory before letting the sounds of your snoring lull him back to sleep.

The second time his eyes open, the sheet is partially draped over him along with an arm and a leg. He takes in the dimly lit view of your face pressed against the skin of his chest. It feels like he’s dreaming, hazy thoughts tempting him to press his lips to the precipice of your forehead. His fingertips twitch against your shoulder, tugging the sheet up and swirling his fingers across it a few times with a smile. That’s when he notices the subtle tremble of your form. Not knowing if you’re cold or having a nightmare, he gently presses you back towards the comfort of your pillow, slowly, regretfully untangling his limbs from yours. He reaches down towards the foot of the bed and hikes a soft, fuzzy blanket to cover whatever chill you may be feeling. He waits, studying the quake of breaths as your chest rises and falls.

He rolls towards you, cradling your head into him, arm draping over you. Your cold fingers quickly find their way to the heat of his core. He breathes a sigh of relief, taking in the beauty of your face before closing his eyes and letting sleep reclaim him once more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When the sun creeps in through the blinds, it’s a good sign that it’s a lot later in the day than you’d like. You groan, rolling away from the light hitting your face and splay your hand across the mattress. Your eyes flutter open with the realization you had asked Namjoon to sleep with you last night. The sight of the empty space next to you has you breathing a sigh of relief --and if you’re being honest with yourself, just a hint of disappointment.

The recollection of his hands intertwined with yours causes a dull ache to form in your heart. It had been so long since anyone had held you like that. It felt so good. You close your eyes, envisioning those long, slender fingers cupping your shoulder. Were you remembering the details correctly? Had he actually been as caring and sweet as your mind recalled? The blanket covering your torso says yes. Scooching over to the side of the bed, you grab at the phone on your nightstand, pulling it from the charger. Your mind struggles to remember the moment you had enough clarity to charge your phone; you quickly surmise Namjoon probably did that for you too. As you swipe the screen, a message is waiting.

Joonie 😬: Drink up

That’s when you notice the cup sitting on the nightstand. The sweating glass and remnants of ice indicate it’s been there for quite some time. You throw your head back against the pillow and look over at the place where he had been laying last night. Again your hand drapes across the empty expanse of mattress, missing the heat from his chest when it comes into contact with something hard. Your fingers clasp around the plastic frames of Namjoon’s folded glasses. You puff your cheeks and expel a burst of air, wishing he were here instead of the item in your hand.

You attribute the thought to the frustration coursing through your lower abdomen. You reach into the drawer of your nightstand, pulling out the pink vibrator nestled between the lingerie you never wear. You’re sorely disappointed as you bring it to your aching cunt. Of fucking course the battery is dead. Tossing it aside, your fingers work quickly to ease the tension radiating throughout your body, remembering the way it felt grinding on Jimin’s cock.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s early in the week when you get the tech service request for Professor Kim’s office computer. It’s been relatively slow so far. If Namjoon’s good for one thing, it’s your job security. You’ve only gotten a couple repairs and a stream of basic support calls, most of which were fixed by turning the computer off and on again. You roll your eyes as you read the description of the problem, but when they click “in-person appointment: required, status: urgent” you hardly have a choice in whether or not the trek across campus is worth your time. How many times could you tell him what the ethernet cable looked like? Although with his luck, he might have ripped it from the tower with his gangly legs and broke it.

Regardless, you stuff an extra ethernet cable into your tool case and click “accept.” A message appears on your work tracker with a smiley face with thick black frames and buck teeth: “Your Tech Service Is On the Way!” On one hand you hate that stupid emoji, but on the other hand it makes you laugh that management is convinced this is the way you make people not scream at you when their wireless mouse needs a battery changed.

You begin the journey across campus on foot, knowing it’s a little over a kilometer to his office in the library. As you exit the computer science building, you longingly stare at the little golf carts you once had the luxury of using for quick transport from one end of campus to the other. However, since the last IT guy they hired took one for a joyride and crashed it into the koi pond in front of admissions, all carts had been recently restricted to security only. You also find the campus courtesy bike rack empty as you round the corner. You swear they should always keep at least one bike reserved for maintenance, but whatever. Your mood lightens a few steps in as sunshine floods your skin; it’s been a slow day anyway. Who knows? Maybe Joon actually has a reasonable problem with his network this week.

After a leisurely stroll in the sun, two flights of stairs, and stack after stack of bookshelves, you finally arrive at his office door. It occurs to you that he might be with a student as you approach the closed door, so you take a deep breath and try to put on your best fake customer service smile before rapping your knuckles against the wood, narrowly missing the plaque with his name engraved on it.

A few seconds later the professor is opening the door, with an expression as hard as stone. You can tell by the bags under his eyes that he’s fatigued, but physically composed nonetheless. It never ceases to amaze you the transformation he undergoes from slicked-back, slacks and suit coat “Mr. Kim” to mussed up hair, Saturday night baggy sweats Namjoon. The smile falls from your face as you look at him. You feel like Smeagol emerging from his cave for the first time in years, highly aware of the lack of makeup on your face, the disheveled birds nest that is your hair, and the cheap white t-shirt and cargo pants full of screws that loosely hang about your waist.

He blinks a few times and his expression softens, little dimples forming with a wan smile. “Oh good. It’s only you.” He nods towards his desk. “Come in.”

“Rough week, buddy?” you ask, half teasing, half concerned for his state of mind. When he doesn’t answer, you quirk an eyebrow at him, slipping in past his far-off stare.

The door closes softly a moment later and you’re already getting your case open in the event it’s needed. Clearly he’s not in a chatty mood, but you feel the need to offer anyway. Gripping his shoulder brings him back down to earth, looking at you through troubled brows. “Hey, if you wanna talk… I’m here, Joon.”

“I’d love to get your opinion…” A frustrated sigh passes his lips and he breaks past you to pace around the comfy chair across from his desk. “But... I can’t talk to you about my students, you know that.”

You cock your head to the side, sheepishly scratching your cheek with a fingertip as you watch him stride across his office. “Is this another one of those ethical things or an actual policy?”

You don’t take it personally when he glares daggers at you. As you settle in his computer chair you do a preliminary scan of his network settings, stealing cursory glances towards him. He plops into the cushioned chair across from the desk, sinking into it with a sigh.

“So there’s this student,” he begins, locking eyes with you briefly.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum in a tone that tells him to proceed, gazing at the screen as you wait for him to spill whatever he’s so preoccupied with.

“They’re brilliant, but they don’t care about the work. They don’t even need to try that hard; they have this natural talent, but they can’t be bothered to even put in the bare minimum. I don’t think they’ve even read any of the required texts for the course,” he continues, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like seeing anyone fail my course, especially not someone as smart and creative as this. How do you reach someone who doesn’t want to try? How do you keep someone from falling through the cracks?”

Your eyes rest on the screen, not really looking at anything as your brain scrambles to piece together some kind of advice. “I learned years ago when I tutored people… you can’t make people care about the content. You can suggest ways of making the experience unique or fun for individuals. But ultimately, it’s on them. Three things I think when I show up for work every day: do your best, be patient, and don’t give up.”

Your eyes meet again and you can see him exhale, features still troubled, but the smile he sends your way is warmer, more relaxed. “Do you best. Be patient. Don’t give up,” he repeats softly and lets a halfhearted chuckle loose. “Thank you. I’ll think about it some more.” He groans, rising to his feet and smoothing back his hair. “After I grade the rest of the tests and essays.” You stiffen as he circles the desk, standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Make any progress?”

You tongue the inside of your cheek as you stare at the blinking cursor on command prompt. You haven’t actually done anything yet and in an attempt to look busy you run a quick ipconfig command, knowing it will look like a bunch of gibberish to someone like Joon. With the computer not recognizing the ethernet and no wireless adapter installed, you know the first step is to check the physical connection. You clear your throat loudly as you drop to your hands and knees, mumbling a quick. “Working on it.”

The tower is further back under the desk than you would like and you pull it towards you just a bit, falling onto your elbows to inspect the cables. Seeing everything in tact, your vision follows the cord to the jack in the wall; everything looks normal.

Namjoon keeps his hands tucked away, watching the delicious sight of you on all fours before him. This is easily one of his favorite parts about your visits, though he always tries to act casual about it. Face down, ass up; you really get into it. He wants to say you do it on purpose because maybe you know what it does to him--he had seen your games of chicken with Jimin, ever the tease-- but he also knows it’s more likely a side effect of you being passionate about your job.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a sick satisfaction watching you like this. You grunt softly, lunging even farther forward onto one knee in order to physically ensure the cable is pushed into the wall. Namjoon’s eyelids close and he sighs, biting down on his lip to force the air through his nostrils. He turns towards the window to hide the way his pants begin to tent, but keeps his head turned to watch your ass sway from side to side, the thin outline of your panties visible through the cream-colored fabric.

God, he hates himself for being so gross, but he can’t seem to break away from the sight, especially not with the lingering memory of Saturday haunting the gap between his thoughts: your legs dragging across the sheets, enticing him to join you in bed with the subtle pout of soft lips that promised more than they could possibly deliver. He wonders if you even remember, but doesn’t dare to get his own hopes up by assuming you do. You were drunk. Didn’t really mean it. Cuddling you was a one time thing. He knew that and yet he was still trying to find a way to reassure himself that once would be enough to sate the craving deep inside. But now he knew how it felt to wake up next to you, and it only intensified his desire to repeat the interaction.

You reach back towards the end of the cable plugged into the computer and push against it with your thumb and forefinger. There’s a small ‘click’. That will probably do it, but you lean back and wiggle out of the crawlspace beneath the desk, staying on your knees as your eyes scan the screen for any difference in connectivity.

You feel Namjoon hovering behind you and your eyes dart to the face that appears beside yours as he leans in. “Did you fix it?”

You fix your eyes back to the screen. Network connected. You do another ipconfig and flush the DNS just for good measure. “Looks like it. Ever thought about not kicking your big clown feet into the mess of wires down there?”

“Is that how you talk to all your clients?” he scoffs as he stands up straight. He casually walks behind the computer chair and plants his hands on the back cushion, careful to hide the softening bulge in his pants.

You move to seat yourself as he nudges it toward you. “Just the ones that are incompetent enough to need my help every week when they unhook their ethernet."

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in a huff. "Okay well it could have been something more. You would have yelled at me if I tried to fix it myself 'cause you know I would have probably made it worse somehow."

"That's true," you mutter, falling back to rest against the cushion of the chair. "Alright, is there anything else you needed or is this it?" You tilt your head back up to look at him.

His eyes lock onto yours. Could he tell you? Is now the time? He starts playing all of the possible scenarios in his head of how this might play out. The anxiety bubbling in his chest causes an uncomfortable span of silence to choke the air out of his lungs. Nope. Not today.

You clear your throat loudly as you stand. "Okay well, as always, don't forget to leave a review on the app if I resolved your issue, Mr. Kim."

He blinks a few times in rapid succession, snapping himself back to reality. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

You grab your tool case and turn back for a moment, coy smile on your lips. "Just being professional."

"Professional, my ass," he laughs and you can still hear the tiredness in it. "Don't worry. I'll give you a good review."

"Okay, but like don't be too extra 'cause they'll know we're friends. Short and simple," you say, opening the door and flashing him a phony smile. In an attempt to make him smile, you put on your best customer service voice once more. "I hope my services were pleasurable, Mr. Kim!"

He chokes out a cough to restrain his laughter as you turn to face the student waiting outside the doorframe. You inhale deeply, holding the air in as you try to think of something that will save face with this doe-eyed, timid-looking girl --most likely a freshman.

The breath leaves you in a quick huff as you attempt to make a statement. "Sorry. I need to go service someone else, excuse me."

Hoping the words came out too fast for the poor girl to comprehend, you nearly sprint around the closest stack of books and try to purge the memory of the horrified look on that girl's face. Your phone beeps and a message appears: 'Feedback: Professor Kim Namjoon: "Better than GeekSquad."' You shake your head and mutter "he's so lame" as you travel through the stacks, but you can't help the smile that creeps across your face. Despite just embarrassing the shit out of you both, you take pride in the personal flare of his comment.

The rest of your day goes by painfully slow and for some reason you find yourself thinking how professional Namjoon always manages to look in his professor attire. Even dead tired, he still manages to look so good, so composed--again, not that you'd ever admit it to his face. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a blank monitor nearby and crinkle your nose at the reflection. Your boss is a pretty chill dude and is super laid back about dress code, but maybe you could stand to try a little harder. It's not like you're trying to impress anyone, but something about feeling like a shriveled goblin next to Namjoon today has you second guessing the laissez faire nature of your wardrobe.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A little later in the week, you're sprawled across the loveseat after work, neck craned around the armrest as you're catching up on a tv show. The phone resting on your chest buzzes and your heart damn near stops beating for just a second. Panic slowly seeps into your mind. It's not often you get a direct message from Taehyung. Group chats are one thing. You seeking him out for advice is another. But unprompted texting direct from the god of baritones? Why do you get the feeling there's something sinister at play here?

Oh, right. Because Taehyung is a beautiful goddamn hermit.

You stare blankly at the keyboard on your phone. Over the last year, you've gotten close to the seven of them, but Taehyung has been the most closed off, the hardest to get to know. His resting bitch face makes for a great barrier between the outside world and himself and you can't help but think maybe he likes it that way. Come to think of it, you still don't know much about him, except for the fact that he's loaded, good at painting, and insanely attractive. And you know how he makes you feel: nervous, faint, like a helpless animal caught in a trap.

You've never been well-equipped to talk to someone of his stature. Just catching eyes with him makes you feel unworthy of his gaze, like you're so far beneath him that it's a crime to do so. You know he's not so scary, that he's not a god to be placed on any pedestal, but his presence intimidates you. His eyes, his body language, the way he talks; it's all very closed off compared to the others and you worry it might be that you've done something to upset him at some point and he's just held onto it instead of mentioning it directly.

In fact, you sometimes worry that you might not even be friends at all, what with the level of distance he seems to maintain. You hope that he considers you one, but you find yourself growing increasingly nervous the longer the message before you remains an inquiry in need of response.

Tae: Are you busy?

Should you just pretend you didn't see it? No. He has a fancy new iPhone. There's no way he won't get the read receipt on it. Stop taking so long and just act normal.

You: Haha just me and some Netflix. What's up?

The loud gunshots playing from the TV do nothing to distract you from the silence of your phone. Your eyes are glued to the image on your lock screen, waiting for Taehyung to message you back. You nearly jump when the vibrations hit your hand.

Tae: Come over

Your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your skull. Why? An invite to his place? Are we on a group chat? No? Oh fuck. The panic sets in and you feel like you're going to pass out as you read far too much into the two simple words on your screen. A knot forms in your stomach and sweat begins to build on your forehead. Clumsy fingers fumble their way across the keyboard.

You: Excuse me???

Tae: Oh... has Hoseok not talked to you yet...?

You peel your eyes from the screen and stare blankly at the television for a moment, brows immediately furrowing.

You: about what

The knot in your stomach grows bigger as you wait for the response. What the fuck did Hobi do now?

Tae: ...

Tae: The photoshoot?

You rise from the couch, dread filling the expanse of your belly. What the fuck do you mean photoshoot? You're a bitch on a mission, already sprint-stomping down the hallway towards Hoseok and Yoongi's apartment. Your knuckles rap against the door in quick succession, not having time or the patience for your special knock. Almost a minute passes before you press an ear against the door. Nothing. Again you knock, louder this time. There's a grumble and shuffling from the other side before the door swings open.

You're about to vent your frustration and confusion when you realize it's not Hoseok standing before you, but his roommate. You don't know why it hasn't dawned on you until this very moment that there was a very good possibility Yoongi would answer the door. The annoyance in his face fades with the recognition of the shock on yours.

He flashes you a subdued smile, sucking his bottom lip through his teeth. "Yes?"

Immediately your posture becomes rigid, bristling at the innocent response to you pounding on his door. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you prepare your lips for the words funneling painfully slowly out of your brain. You haven't had a chance to permanently quarantine the memory of Yoongi finger-fucking two girls at the club. You're positive that fact is written all over your face as he raises his eyebrows and darts his tongue out to wet his lips.

Amused by your silence, he leans against the doorframe and tilts his head up at you with a cocky grin. "Do you always freeze up when you see something you like?"

Your jaw snaps shut as you swallow the frog in your throat and shake your head. "Just when I see something I'm not expecting."

He seems entertained as he crosses his arms. "So did you actually need something or are you just desperate for attention?"

The direct nature of his question catches you off guard and you feel your pride take a hit. You mirror his stance, shrinking in stature as you fold your arms across your chest. "Y-You don't have to be rude!"

A smile cracks at the corners of his mouth. "Relax I'm kidding... Mostly."

You roll your eyes. "Well I'm not here for your mean jokes today. Where's your roommate? I've got a bone to pick with him."

You don't hear Hoseok approaching from behind you, a finger pressed to his lips as a signal for Yoongi to remain silent. The mint-haired man raises his eyebrows and cocks his head in the other direction, the anticipation of the upcoming scare growing the smug grin on his face. "Not up for banter? Tsk, tsk. That's not like you. Did your night with Namjoonie go that poorly?" he teases, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Are you sensitive because Jimin's rubbing off on you?"

Even ignoring the insinuation about Namjoon, which is totally ludicrous, the double meaning of his last statement is not lost on you. Yoongi laughs in his obnoxious way, shoulders rising and falling with the nearly breathless, croaky sound emanating from his throat. “Or is it because he’s not?”

The humiliation tints your cheeks with pink, although it's hard to hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears. Hoseok takes the opportunity to sneak in closer as you attempt to stutter out a defense.

He gives a sudden stomp towards you and grips your shoulders. “Again!?”

You jump hard, reaching out towards Yoongi for safety. The lurch forward is accompanied by a frightened yelp passing your lips. The two boys burst into a fit of laughter as you spin on your heels to face Hoseok.

"You're such a dick, Hobi!" you hiss, running shaky fingers through your hair, pretending you can comb the anxiety from your scalp if you just keep trying.

He grins and bows. "At your service. Still better than those Tinder dicks though."

"She's looking for you," Yoongi says with a yawn, scratching at the back of his head. "Sounded pretty pissed from the way she was stomping around."

Hoseok's brow knots and he puckers his lips at you as he whines, "Why?"

You note the duffel bag strapped to his chest and the sweat drenching every inch of his body. He looks absolutely exhausted. That almost lessens the desire to bring it up, but Taehyung's message is still unanswered. Every time you think about it you die a little more inside.

You take a moment to sharply inhale through your nose, sighing out a long exhale as you thrust the screen of your phone in his face. "Why is Taehyung texting me about a photoshoot?"

The way you're waving it around makes it difficult for him to see. He leans back, cupping his hands around the edge of the phone to get a better look. His eyes suddenly snap to you and a crooked smile splits his face in two. The knot in your stomach ties itself up a second time as he snatches the phone from your grasp and books it down the hallway towards your apartment. You blink a few times and give chase just as he steps inside; you want to scream at him but you're very aware of the public hallway separating you. Yoongi rubs his eyes and slowly returns to his lair, ready for the relief of sleep to cure the pain of extra shifts. "I'm not awake enough for this."

"I live here you know," you remind Hoseok as you close the door to your own apartment.

The man is oddly absent from the room, Netflix still blaring on the TV. The contents of his duffel bag have been dumped onto your living room floor and you can hear him talking to himself in another room.

"Hobi?" you call, rushing into the bedroom. "Hobi! What the hell?"

The duffel bag lays open on the bed, already half filled with clothes: your clothes. Hoseok doesn't bother to spare a glance as he tosses something in the bag; it looks vaguely familiar, but you don't bother to look closer because he's already taking out another item. He's careful with both delicate straps as he pulls it from the hanger, cellphone glued to his ear. A series of thoughtless one-word affirmations are mumbled into the receiver as he traps the device between his shoulder and neck. He cocks his head to the side as he inspect the dress, running his fingers down the material. Spinning on his heels toward you, he presses the fabric against himself, mouthing "WOW!" with a cheeky grin. You wish he'd act a little less surprised to find something sexy in your wardrobe. Dick.

You tongue the inside of your cheek as he runs one of his hands along the material draped across his chest and throws his torso back dramatically. That thing has been the back of your closet since the day you bought it; there is literally never a reason to wear it, but you can't exactly bring yourself to donate it either, not for the money you paid. He pauses a moment and notes the long slit in the side of the dress, playfully dragging a hand up his thigh. The impulse buy clings to him as he rotates his hips a few times to mock you, and heat rushes to your face. With a silent laugh, he tosses the garment into the bag.

"Yeah, we'll be over soon. See you in 15. Okay, bye." As he hangs up he slides the closet door shut, shining smile doing nothing to lift the frown from your lips.

"Hobi. What. Did. You. Do." The stippled words cut their way through your mouth. You can't help the bristle in your tone but your impatience has gotten the better of you.

His grin grows impossibly wider. "Ah, what are you mad for? Can't you at least hear me out before your face gets like this?" He scrunches up his features in an attempt to drop the scowl on yours, but your expression remains unchanged. "Hmmm. Okay!"

With a quick zip, he tosses the bag back around his shoulder. You raise your eyebrows at him and cross your arms. "You wanna tell me why you're packing my clothes?"

"We're going to Tae's. I'll explain on the drive," he responds simply, trying to loop his arm in yours but you shrug him off and step out of range. His face drops into a pout. "Come on. Why don't you trust me?"

"Because I know you," you snort, wagging your finger in his face. "You are not one to be trusted. Sneaky, Jung Hoseok."

He places a palm over his heart and looks at you as though you just wrongfully insulted his character, but you know better than to trust the dramatic act. He needs to explain himself and not just drag you off on some bizarre adventure. You're exhausted. While earlier this week had been pretty lax, an upsurge in service requests had you running all over campus on a tight schedule and not all of the issues were quite so easy as re-seating a loose cable. There’s a lot waiting for you tomorrow, so for tonight you want nothing more than to mindlessly binge TV and vegetate.

"Explain."

He shifts his weight to one foot and folds his hands over one another, sheepishly twiddling his thumbs. "Well... After looking through your dating profile, I thought maybe we could help you make it better."

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. "That's what this is about? Hobi…” You want to forget he even knew about that, but his words replay in your head. Your eyes narrow. "...Wait… We?"

"The group. Me. Yoongs, Tae, Chim, Kook, Jin... even Namjoon. We all wanna make you a new profile."

"There's nothing wrong with what I have. Give me my phone." You hold your palm out and flex your fingers at him a few times.

"Oh really?" He tosses your phone back at you, causing you to fumble. "Tinder's going good then? Talking to a lot of people?"

"I haven't really had time to look," you fib, an innate eye twitch threatening to give you away. Swiping is part of your bedtime routine and you haven't gotten any matches, but he doesn't need to know that. In your defense, you've only been shown bottom-of-the-barrel neckbeard types anyway. You look from the phone back to Hoseok's smug face.

"What's so bad about my current profile? I worked really hard on it!" The brittle tone of your voice betrays the defense of your words. Tears are building up behind your eyes, but you won't let them out yet. How embarrassing, how sad must your life seem if all seven of them want you to start over? He said even Namjoon was on board. Could it be because of Saturday?

Your eyes scan the disheveled blankets, remembering how stupid you sounded that night, how pitiful and weak you had been to practically throw yourself at him in a hopeless attempt to feel something with someone. Did he tell them? Or did Hobi just figure it out on his own? The lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow but it's all you can manage to suppress the rage bubbling inside you.

No no no no no. Do not fucking cry right now. The tears hold for now, but the dam can break at any second.

"Okay I'm gonna be honest. Your profile? Meeeeeeh." He holds out his hand and flips it rapidly back and forth. "But with our help we can make it like WOAH SO AMAZING!" He flips both palms and raises them to the ceiling before waving his hands around to further accent his statement.

How the hell did he have all this oomph left after dance practice? You can practically feel the positive energy radiating from him, doing your best to keep your expression sour. But the genuine smile on his face makes you want to believe he will make things better, not worse.

"...How?"

"Well, taking new photos for starters," he says, sheepishly scratching his cheek.

"What? What's wrong with my photos?" You're already pulling them up to review again, just in case they're actually embarrassing and you're just too clueless to realize.

"Ah! Nothing!" he yelps, pulling you into a hug. "But I think you can have better ones, not just selfies." He tussles your hair and you crack a smile.

The weight of his hands move down and tug playfully on the hair behind your neck, forcing you to look up at him. The memory of his offer at the club resurfaces in your mind. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire. You swallow, looking up into deep brown eyes that radiate hope. You lose the argument on the tip of your tongue before it can even form.

"I asked Tae if he could shoot something a little more sexy."

You step back to create some space, breaking the teasing hold he has. Your eyes drift to your phone and scour the app for your profile. You hold up the full body shot for him to see again, as if this time he will agree that you don't need their help. "Um, excuse me? This one is sexy."

He tilts his head to the side and throws up his hands. "Ah, yeah. That one's sexy and mysterious. I like the curves, but I think we can turn up the heat. I'm thinking more of you in that dress!" he adds with a wolf whistle.

A small chuckle escapes your lips. Of course he thinks that; he’s Hobi. His fire burns hotter than most people’s. Even so, maybe he has a point. "You think that will really help?"

"I know it," he says with the confidence of a man who knows he's got you on the ropes. "Ah... Look we all know how amazing you are. Let us help you show it!"

You're still not totally convinced this is a great idea, but your batting average is zero right now and you're at least somewhat willing to entertain the idea that they can help increase the number.

"Okay. Let me grab my makeup. We can't be out all night though. I have to work tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know it's a school night. Don't worry. I'll have you back before you turn into a pumpkin." He grins, jingling the car keys now between his fingers. You're already texting Namjoon to help you hatch an escape plan.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You've been standing with your arms covering your chest for the better part of five minutes, internally dismantling what little confidence you possessed before coming here. Hoseok had been persuasive enough on the drive here; he made a good argument for taking nicer photos in slightly sexier clothing with better angles and lighting. But you had gone far past "slightly sexy" the moment Hoseok abandoned you for a shower in Taehyung's master suite, handing you off to an almost too eager Jungkook.

Needless to say, Hoseok failed to mention Taehyung's gorgeous roommate would be involved, nor did he mention Jungkook would be planning your outfit combinations with Tae's scene setup. Did they really have to get so involved and make a huge deal about your stupid dating profile?

Standing in Jungkook's bedroom now clad in swimwear, you stare at the grumpy reflection in the full-length mirror before you. I can't fucking go out there like this. I feel practically naked.

You carefully open a dresser drawer in search of cover for your humiliation. Jungkook is just outside with the rest of your clothes Hoseok stuffed into his gym bag. If only he let you have it so you could at least see if there was something in there to cover up with.You can tell his patience is waning as the familiar quick rapping of knuckles comes once more.

"Y/N, are you okay?" The concern in his tone almost makes you feel guilty for going through his shit, but you can't just go out there dressed in just your bikini and some cutoffs.

You swallow hard, eyes scanning every last piece of fabric crammed in the drawer. How the hell does he even fit everything in here???

"Yeah, I'm fine," you call back, trying not to sound as distressed as you feel. "Just, uh.... struggling with the straps."

There's a short pause. "...Do you need any help? I'm pretty good with straps." The words travel to your ears accompanied by visions of the mischievous grin you know he's sporting.

Inhaling deeply, you hold your breath. When you had first met Jungkook, he was shy, timid, kind, and definitely not the teasing brat you had come to know. No matter how much time passes, he still seems to hold onto immature remarks that make you want to toss him out a window. Like you could. That guy is built like a brick shithouse.

You take a moment to collect yourself, grabbing at the nearest piece of fabric that catches your eye. "Aw, it's so cute when baby wants to help."

As you quickly slip the white flowing fabric over your shoulders, you check yourself in the mirror one last time. Thank god you shaved this morning or this would be way more awkward. Combing your fingers through your hair drives you to look for more imperfections, wishing he hadn't taken your hair-tie.

The groan from the other side of the wall pulls you out of scrutiny-mode. "I am not a baby."

"Bras are a little different than the jockstraps you're used to, Kookie," you sneer, pulling the door open in a huff.

Jungkook is hunched over the frame with an elbow. The rebuttal dies on his lips as his gaze travels from the floor up your body. Your ears start ringing at the silence and the undeniable thirst in his expression, the way he darts his tongue out, holding his teeth over his lower lip. His stare lingers a little too long on your breasts so you cross your arms, the flowing material around your form obscuring his view.

Agitated eyes snap to your face as he uses his tongue to poke the inside of his cheek. His features scrunch into a scowl. "I do have game you know. You're looking at an international playboy."

God he's so full of shit. Making out with a girl at the 'Small World' ride at Disneyland doesn't count.

"Yeah okay, Kookie," you scoff, rolling your eyes as you move to walk past him.

A rigid forearm reaches across the doorway to block your path, sleeveless shirt showcasing every bulging muscle in his arms. He straightens his posture to tower over you, flexing in a show of bravado. "It's Jungkook."

The air is sucked from your lungs as he pins you with a dark, taunting look that almost rivals Yoongi's. Almost. Needles prick at your ears and you can feel your hands immediately start to break into a cold sweat.

"What, you don't believe me, Noona?" he asks innocently, sweeping gentle fingers along your shoulder and around your neck. You grow tense at the sensation, doing your best to fight the stutter in your blink and the hitch in your breath.

The arm crossing the doorway drops and tugs on the material covering you. "Is that my shirt?"

"You're not using it," you argue, grateful for the distraction as you slip past him. "Does it really bother you that much?"

"No, I don't mind. But..." His lips pucker up into a ridiculous pout and he sways his body back and forth. "The whole point is to make you look sexy but you're here covering up. Hyung trusted me with this job. Promise you'll take it off when you're in front of the camera?"

"You're taking it off for the camera?" Namjoon's voice booms out from over your shoulder. He takes a second to snap his tongue against his teeth as he approaches. "Wow. Guess you don't need saving after all, Geeksquad."

You spin to give him a playful shove, but an uneasy sensation quickly settles in the pit of your stomach. Time seems to slow as the strap around your neck falls. The words passing your lips are frenzied nonsense, clumsy hands fumbling to keep soft flesh from spilling out of your top. Namjoon's eyes go wide, mouth falling open at the sight of your failure. You curse, turning back towards Jungkook as you manage to regain coverage.

If the smug grin didn't give him away, the cocky words that follow seal his culpability. "I'm pretty good with straps. Sure you don't need some help?"

Your eyes narrow, fingers floundering with the tie around your neck. "Don't you have something better to do?"

His obnoxious laugh echoes down the hallway as he slips past you. "I'll tell Tae you're on your way."

You fold the cover across your chest and face Namjoon, clearing your throat weakly. "Y-You didn't, uh..."

He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, blush mirroring yours. "No, no. I didn't."

"Okay." You breathe a sigh of relief. "Good. Good."

"I-I mean I barely saw--" He puffs out his cheeks, guilt painting his features.

You inhale deeply, trying to quell the shame in your chest as you cast your gaze at the floor. Silence fills the air between you for a few seconds.

He sputters out a held breath and pinches his fingers together. "Okay, like just a-- just a little nip-nipple--"

"Oh my god! Namjoon!" You bring your hands to cover your face, wanting to slither back into Jungkook's room and seal yourself away. But you force yourself to brush past him and make your way to the room Taehyung had converted to his studio. You can hear Namjoon’s long strides behind you, barely needing to try to keep pace with your pathetic attempts at jogging. He keeps muttering out apologies, but every word only heightens your awareness to the awkwardness of the event rather than helping you forget it.

The door to Taehyung’s studio is already open and as you turn the corner to enter, you come to a screeching halt, causing Namjoon’s to smack against your back. He reaches to your shoulders to steady himself, but it doesn’t even register on the list of things currently buzzing through your brain. It’s so well lit in here. No one told you it would be this bright. You cross Jungkook’s shirt impossibly closer to your torso and swallow the hum buzzing in your throat.

Sensing your discomfort, Namjoon leans down and whispers, “Hey, we can just leave. This is too much. I’ll talk to them.”

A relieved chuckle bursts from your mouth with the breath you’ve been holding. He offers the escape you asked for. He offers the familiar comfort and safety of returning to your apartment. But these things bring you no closer to the companionship you crave, meaningful or trivial in nature. Maybe what you asked for isn’t really what you need.

Looking about the room, Taehyung’s back is to you as he works on finalizing the tripod in the middle of the room, focusing the camera atop it at the well-lit screen. Off to the side, a very casually dressed, very wet, curly-haired Hoseok holds both ends of the towel draped around his neck. Beside him Jungkook stands with arms crossed and crinkled nose as he throws his head back in obnoxious laughter that fills the room. The pair are speaking to a short, well-dressed blonde man who contrasts everything about the two standing adjacent to him. If his stature, tight pants, and billowing overshirt didn’t give it away, the way he quickly roams his fingers through his hair as he talks to Jungkook certainly does.

Jimin?! Jimin’s here too?! What kind of fucked up intervention is this? I’m going to kill Hobi.

Hoseok’s attention span wavers and settles on your form in the doorway as you all but cower back into Namjoon. Hoseok’s excited wave draws the attention of his companions and they turn their gaze on you. Jungkook’s smug smirk, Hoseok’s thrilled grin, and Jimin’s shy smile illicit extremely different fear responses, which mingle to form a deep panic in your gut that threatens to cause hyperventilation.

Namjoon’s fingertips dig into your skin, thumbs kneading soothing circles into the meat of your shoulders. He speaks softly, but his deep voice buzzes deep in your eardrum. “Breathe. It’s okay. I’ll tell ‘em to call it off.”

You let out a deep, controlled exhale. Then another. The panic attack that threatens to take hold quickly crumples in your belly. You often take for granted just how well Namjoon knows you, how well he can read the signals of your body and avert disaster before it arrives. Never once have you given it a second thought, never questioned the stability he offers with a touch, the praise that mollifies you. Today is no different; you push the gratitude aside and settle your eyes on the blonde man across the room.

“Good. Good...” The delicate string of breath against your ear trails off, knowing full well you’re already past it.

The others have fallen silent, waiting for you to move in and say something. The snarky comment on your lips shrivels and your lips melt into a goofy smile at the awkward air filling the room. Taehyung senses something is off and turns slowly, one hand still on the tripod as he locks eyes with you from across the room. An icy chill fills your lungs as his intense stare bores into you. Your shoulders raise, muscles tightening as you slink back into Namjoon’s chest. Taehyung slips his hands in his pockets as long, confident strides carry him towards you.

“You look terrified,” he mumbles with a stony expression that twists your stomach into knots. “Are you afraid of me? Of us?”

The hardness in his eyes fades in an instant and is replaced by a kindness you rarely see. His mouth curls into a warm smile as he leans forward with a slight bow. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know. We’re friends. We want to help, but I understand if it’s too much being put on the spot like this.”

We’re friends. You knew that and still the anxiety corroding your insides persists. The energy shift in his persona nearly gives you whiplash. Was this the same angry-looking man, poised like a god as he did his peacock strut over here? He raises a hand towards you, palm facing the ceiling. The rings around his fingers seem to shimmer as they reflect the lights set around the room.

“Only take my hand if you want to be here,” he says softly, the low bass of his tone almost apologetic. “There’s nothing joyful about taking pictures of someone who doesn’t feel like smiling.”

He seems so sincere and genuine. Is this what Taehyung is really like under that cold exterior? Your shoulders relax and your arms drop to your sides, allowing Jungkook’s shirt to partially expose your torso. His eyes never waver from your face as he waits for your answer. The others watch on, silently nodding at his words. You can feel Namjoon’s fingers drop down your back, tracing light, reassuring lines as they go.

“Taehyung,” you begin, voice stronger than you imagined it would be. You clasp your cold, clammy fingertips along the warmth of his. “I would be honored if you would photograph me. Sorry it’s not for anything more exciting than a dating profile.”

His smile grows wider and he offers a playful tug, lurching you forward. “It’s not the final output that matters so much to me as the moments spent taking them.”

Was everyone else seeing how sweet he was being? You look over at the trio, but they appear unfazed. Were you really the only one surprised by Taehyung’s hidden kindness? You suppose it makes sense, considering they have all known each other for much longer. Not everyone is going to spill their guts to someone after a year of only moderate interaction.

You nod, appreciating the sentiment. “Okay. Show me where I should stand and what I should do.”

He gently directs you to a seemingly random spot in front of the camera. You feel washed out under the heat of at least three different lamps shining at you. Taehyung steps back, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. His brow twitches lightly and he shifts his jaw back and forth before turning his attention to the trio standing nearby.

“Jimin, warm ups. Jungkook, reflector. Hyung--” Taehyung starts barking orders, but Hoseok interrupts already on his way to you.

“I got it!” He cheerfully replies, pulling a small lip balm from his pocket and hastily twists it open. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I thought about it for a long time before finally picking this color for you.”

You purse your lips and reluctantly tick your jaw a few times. Reluctance has a strong hold on you.

“Oh relax, you big baby,” he chides, vicing your cheeks with his thumb and index finger to force your lips to pucker. He’s careful with his application of the color to your lips, making sure not to veer off course. “You’re gonna do great. Trust me. Just relax.” He demonstrates by taking in a deep breath, holding it, and then exhales. “Easy!”

"Yeah, easy." You sigh and force yourself to give him a smile and a thumbs up. "Okay."

"Oh, are you going to keep this on?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over the silky collar around your neck. His eyes drag across the faint glimmer of skin hidden underneath before darting to Jungkook as if to say 'you had one job.' Jungkook catches eyes with him and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with a pout.

"I don't know..." you trail, trying to find the right words to convey your feelings. "I just... don't feel very confident, I guess."

Hoseok dabs your lip with his pinky for good measure. "That's okay. That's why Jimin is here. He's going to help you warm up a little. Maybe you'll want to take it off after you get comfortable?" He smacks his lips a few times, indicating you need to rub your lips together to make the color even.

You do as he asks, feeling a little foolish as you share a shy smile with the blonde man nearby. There are certainly other ways Jimin could help you warm up; it was still pretty hard to face him after bailing last Saturday though. You do your best to push the thoughts from your mind and turn your attention to the doorway where Namjoon is standing, arms crossed with a sly smile decorating his features.

"What are you just gonna watch the whole time?" you call out, feeling uncertain about his cheeky grin. Suddenly you remember not too long ago he watched your tits come toppling out of your bathing suit and you fall silent, focusing on the legs of the tripod.

He licks his lips and takes a few steps forward with a sharp raise of his brow. "You texted me, remember? So now that you don't need me for anything," he pauses as he takes a folded chair from the wall nearby and sets it down a short distance behind the camera, "I think I'm gonna make it worth my while and see how this plays out. If you don't mind, Tae?"

Taehyung's eyes flicker between the both of you. "I don't have a problem with that. Having you here might be more relaxing, don't you think?"

You resist the urge to bite on your bottom lip. Relaxing. Right. Hoseok moves to quickly change the backdrop behind you; the image is that of an ocean, calm, peaceful, and absolutely gorgeous. You squint as Jungkook begins to blind you with the reflector.

"Okay. It's a summer day, very hot, but not as hot as you," Tae says, quirking an eyebrow up at you from behind the camera. "Compete with the sun for me."

What.

You swallow, staring into the camera like a deer caught in headlights, your body stiff as a board. The shutter sounds off only once before he shakes his head very lightly, a laugh escaping his lips. Namjoon brings a hand to cover his mouth as he manspreads and leans back.

"Ah, Jimin. Look at Jimin," Tae instructs, pointing to the blonde man close enough to touch, but far enough to keep out of frame.

Jimin sighs dramatically and cranes his neck towards the ceiling, looking up and blinking a few times. He angles off his body just enough to create a flattering view, balancing his casual stance with relaxed, broad shoulders. Oh right, he's a professional. You try to copy his stance, and do so perfectly, but you forget what you're supposed to do with your face. You steal a look back at him, almost immediately falling victim to his angelic features.

Your heart aches when you think about the way you left things last weekend. He seems unbothered but you wonder how; Joon had explained that he was used to keeping things casual, but you sure as hell weren't and that's why you needed to keep that sort of thing off limits. Saturday night was a big faux pas and you couldn't feel more ashamed about it if you tried. Yet somehow you head still found a way to be smitten.

The shutter clicks again and you look over at Jimin, who is already modifying his pose. You continue mimicking him for some time, slowly increasing pace every time the shutter clicks. It starts to come more naturally and you feel yourself opening up. Jimin drops his outer shirt down, revealing a bit of his shoulder and without thinking you do the same, exposing the bathing suit underneath. You look over at Jimin, feeling slightly embarrassed at the display, but he just laughs and drops the fabric from his other shoulder. You continue to mirror his actions until you finally slip the shirt off completely and toss it Namjoon's way, covering his face briefly before he pulls it down while sporting a coy smirk.

An hour passes as you continue on with Jungkook coordinating your outfits, Jimin helping you pose, and Hoseok creating ambiance while Taehyung does all the shot calling with his camera. Namjoon is your cheerleader, offering words of encouragement with each new scene. Honestly the weirdest thing about the night is that it starts progressing smoothly and you almost feel comfortable in front of the lens now. That is, until you’re standing in the dress Hoseok pulled from your closet.

They’ve turned most of the lights off to create a candlelight effect. The warm glow of the remaining lamps barely kisses your skin and you’re thankful for the loss in heat, as well as the cover of darkness. Whatever confidence you’ve built up quickly diminishes as you catch Namjoon’s expression off to the side. His jaw is tight, screwing into a lopsided grimace; it’s hard to read the rest of his face in this light, but it certainly looks like a cross between sympathy and disgust. It could just be your brain filling in the gaps with nonsense, but you hug your elbows close to your chest and shrink back, finding a spot on the floor to stare at while the rest of them continue to tweak the scene.

This is for sure the most beautiful he’s ever seen you; there’s no way you could look more breathtaking, yet there’s something hidden just beneath the surface of your beauty. Namjoon swallows hard, watching your hesitant movements. You’re uncomfortable; it’s hard to miss the uncertainty of your posture, the shaky exhales, trembling fingers, subtle quiver of your lip.

Okay, so maybe he searches for these things, but reading your body language has become a pastime. He’s not sure if it’s more for your benefit or his own masochistic torture --reading into every little detail to assure himself there’s no way you can feel the way he does-- but either way he can’t seem to stop himself from doing it.

He’s thinking of ways to assuage the anxiety, but a heavy fog blurs the possibilities. The words become scrambled on their way to his lips as he looks you over again, and again, and again. Desire clouds his mind, moving in like a storm to coat every last thought with obscenities. His cock twitches against his thigh, already rock hard and aching to be touched. He stares blankly ahead as he crosses his legs and hunches forward onto an elbow, trying to will away the tent in his pants by silently reciting the alphabet.

He’s absolutely disgusted with himself for being so lewd when clearly you’re in need of some support and he clenches his jaw in frustration. There’s no way he can stand right now without drawing attention to it, so the best thing he can do is try to compose himself and keep it that way. As he nears the end of the alphabet, he finally notices the way your gaze is cast at the floor and feels the need to say something, anything.

“Geeksquad.”

Your head snaps up to find Namjoon’s eyes locked onto your face, hard expression softening. “You look amazing. Try to breathe, okay? You’re doing fine.”

Your face brightens as you crack a smile, grateful for the reassurance. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, Joonie.”

He smiles back, dimples forming in his cheeks as he folds his hands over his lap. You fail to realize he’s equally happy about the lighting conditions in this moment.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The makeup is being stingy about coming off. You’ve been scrubbing remnants of eyeshadow and mascara off your eyelids for the better part of five minutes. A toothbrush lazily hangs from your mouth as you toss the makeup-caked pad in the trash bin. As you resume brushing your teeth, you pick up your phone with your free hand and begin texting.

You: hey… so

You: i may have overreacted earlier when i asked u to save me 🤔

You: but you still came through for me and i do appreciate it

When no response comes, you decide to come out and say what’s on your mind. You’d like to cut through any residual awkwardness left over from the nip slip incident because god knows it’s all that’s been on your mind since donning your regular clothes. As long as you can both pretend like nothing happened, you’re good.

You: i guess what i’m trying to say is thanks

You: it was nice that you made an attempt

You’re concerned about the amount of time that passes in silence as you finish up. You watched Hoseok drop him off at his apartment before returning home yourselves, so you know he got there safely. It’s only nine thirty. You doubt he’s asleep so you’re about to call, but you reconsider once you remember he’s had a lot of papers to grade this week and could be catching up on extra sleep. Or he’s avoiding you.

Your belly twists with the turmoil suffocating your brain. Do you just send something asking him if things are okay between you? It’s really awkward, but you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you accidentally flashed him. He’s probably avoiding you. Well fuck it.

You: are u avoiding me Namjoonie????

You: pls don’t :c

You sigh, falling back into bed as you open Tinder. What’s on the swipeLeft radar for tonight? A blue star appears, telling you this person “super-liked” you; he’s an average looking guy, but once sentence into the profile tells you all you’d need to know about his shitty personality. Douche.

You swipe left on a few more guys either holding fish, didn’t fill out their profile, or only have pictures of their current vacation destinations. There’s so much trash to sift through; it’s disheartening. Maybe Hoseok’s plan really will work and you’ll have guys eating out of the palm of your hand in no time. Maybe even eating you out. You’d have to find a viable candidate first, either way.

Your phone starts buzzing, familiar cross-eyed photo of Namjoon taking up your screen. Quickly swiping the green button, you answer, “Hello?”

“Geeksquad… Why you being paranoid?” Ragged breaths seep through his words just enough to pique your interest.

“Are you okay?” you ask, not entirely meaning to deflect, but still grateful for the opportunity to do so. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“Oh,” he sighs loudly, trying his best to reduce the sound of any following exhales. “Sorry I’m… just uh, working out.”

“You,” you begin in an accusatory tone. “...Working out?”

“It’s a great stress reliever,” he points out defensively. “Anyway, I’m just calling so you won’t worry yourself to sleep.”

“Wow. What? Pshh. I wasn’t worried, like, at all, dude.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah…” you answer, hearing the insincerity in your own tone. “I was just making sure you weren’t too mad about the false alarm.”

He chuckles. “Look, I’ll say it now and any time you need me to repeat it: I’m always gonna be there for you when I can. I wasn’t doing anything important tonight anyway and the uber ride was hella cheap from my place to Tae’s. Plus… I got to see you model next to Jimin, which was hilarious by the way.”

“Har. Har. Har. I got completely blindsided by Hobi and Tae. Super hilarious. Especially considering I haven’t spoken to Jimin really since Saturday. You know. When I made him think we were gonna hook up and then just peaced out. Like a bitch.”

“He’s not going to hold it against you. You know that.”

“Yeah.” You hum a sound of discontent as you fix your gaze on the ceiling. “Hey Joonie? Do you think those photos are going to look okay?”

“I think Tae can pull out some decent ones. He has an eye for that kinda thing. Once you started smiling for real and let go of that fake shit, I think those were the money shots.”

You can’t help but smirk at his words. “Good. I’m anxious about it still, but I feel slightly better.”

“Glad to help. Is there anything else?”

“Um….” You bite your lip, tasting the remnants lip balm. “W-We’re good right? I mean...about that whole thing with Kookie in the hall.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue against the receiver. “Ah, I hadn’t even thought about it all that much. But I suppose we need to address it.”

“Do you think you can pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“Like what didn’t happen?” he asks lightheartedly.

You fail to catch on and you grind your teeth together before hissing, “The nip slip!”

He fumbles with his words on the other line. “I-uh,Ah, yeah-Hmm. I know. I was, uh… making a joke Y/N.”

“Oh.” You breathe a sigh of relief, while filling with embarrassment. You force the words out of your mouth at torpedo speed “Well... I think that’s all we need to talk about. I need to go to bed. Thanks, Namjoonie. You have a good night.”

“You... too.”

“And remember to forget!” You want to die as the words pass your lips.

You wish the mattress would swallow you as your head falls against the pillows.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As you hang up, Namjoon sits back against his chair and stares down at the exposed swollen head of his cock, already dripping with precum and ready to continue where he left off.

“No worries… Hadn’t even thought about it at all.”

#bts #bts fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenario #namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts scenario #fic: love bytes #love bytes #bts au #series: love bytes #love bytes 04 #ot7 fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon x you #namjoon angst

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thatmultifandomhoe · 6 years

Text

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 5

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 1,790

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: None.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

By the time dinner was done, Hoseok had, to his preference, erased as much of Johnny’s scent that he could. Apparently, it was nonexistent and even if there was anything remaining, it would most certainly be gone by the end of the four months. If Johnny for some reason came around to visit, he’d get hit with the smell of Hoseok like a truck on a highway.

After that he disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. That was another thing. Normally he always kept his door open when he stayed over. But he had scampered into his room and had been there ever since, leaving you to a quiet apartment that you had been positive would be filled with laughter and Hoseok’s voice.

You took a sip of your third coffee, leaning against the fridge for a moment. Everything was ready to eat. The high counter was set for two, the windows were now closed and the heat was on, and Hoseok was still hiding. He had been in there for hours. Sighing, you put your mug next to your plate and stood outside his door. He had to be hungry at least.

“Hoseok,” you called out, lightly knocking on the door. Faintly you heard some shifting behind the door, but he didn’t unlock it. “Dinner’s ready. I made hamburgers, and my tuna casserole salad that I know you love.” It was a weak attempt to get him out, but in your defense, you had already planned out tonight’s meal in advance after agreeing to have him stay. It was his favorite meal of yours and it made sense to make it on his first night. You just wanted to make him comfortable about the long stay.

Only silence greeted you from his room, making you wonder if he was even still in there. You raised your hand to knock again, but at the last moment decided against it and stepped back. You weren’t going to force him to come out if he didn’t want to, he was a grown adult after all. Walking back to the kitchen, you took out your phone and scrolled through your music. It was one thing to eat alone, but eating in silence was something you were not going to do. In seconds pop music was softly playing and you set it on the counter, fixing a plate and sitting back down just as quickly. You only glanced back once, but when you only saw the wooden door staring at you, you pressed your lips together and began to eat.

Twirling the fork, you rested your cheek against your knuckles, absentmindedly pushing the casserole around. All you kept thinking about was how angry he looked. It wasn’t like you swore off men in front of your friends at some point in your life. Dating wasn’t the most important part of your life, but there had been a few guys you had relationships with. They even met your friends and had been praised about. But none of them were like the relationship Colin and Sue had. Granted, you weren’t looking for a snob of a boyfriend, but you wanted the part Sue had. The part where butterflies came alive in your stomach at the touch of your boyfriend, or the soft smile that randomly appeared when she thought about him, and how her eyes seemed to glow when she was looking at him.

You wanted to love someone and to be loved.

None of the men you dated made you feel that way, or you were putting in all the effort and they contributed negative zero after a while. So, you cut them loose. You cried, watched those stupid romantic comedies and muttered about how love was stupid to the TV screen, lived in your comfiest clothes, aka your pajamas, ate a bunch of junk food, and eventually, got over it.

It was the circle of life.

Hoseok knew that. He had been there for every heart break after he joined the group. You always told Sue when you broke up with an ex. Sometimes she would come over and join you in your grief, but typically she called to comfort and reassure you that not all guys were losers.

It was always within five minutes of the phone call ending that there was a knock at your door and upon opening it, found Hoseok standing there. A bag of junk food in one hand, and two cartons of your favorite ice cream in the other. He watched the movies with you, was the shoulder you cried on when the tears came out and after some time, would barge into your apartment and bedroom to tell you that you smelled funny and needed to shower and get dressed.

As much as Sue was your best friend, Hoseok was more than just your best friend, he was your rock. Your everything.

Which made it harder for you to comprehend why he acted that way. He never did when he smelled whatever lingering scent your exes left. After breakups he would say they smelled of desperation and asshole; it never failed to make you at least smile for him. Maybe it was because this time…this time it was a male hybrid. Someone he’d never been introduced to before. You hadn’t mention seeing anyone so he probably hadn’t prepared himself.

Sighing, you took another bite of your hamburger, a pickle sliding onto your plate with a sad plop. You tossed it into your mouth and was wiping your fingers on a napkin when you heard a door opening up. You pretended to not notice, preferring to let him make his own presence known. Which was harder than you expected. You wanted to turn around and apologize for not realizing that Johnny’s scent would have made him react that way. At the same time, a part of you wanted an apology. You were an adult woman, you were allowed to be with whoever you wanted, hybrid or human.

Without making any rash movements, Hoseok came up to your side, silently standing next to you with his head down. You could see his tail was lowered and his ears were to his sides. It was the opposite of the Hoseok that you knew and loved, and you didn’t like it. You missed your smiling Hobi who was happy and got excited at the mention of his favorite food. You put your fork down and wiped your mouth and fingers, turning to look at him.

Hoseok lifted his head, his brown eyes watery as he swallowed. He opened his mouth but closed, looking conflicted as he repeated this actions a few more times. Frustration was apparent with his own lack of words, the only sound he made was a sad whine. “I’m sorry Strawberry,” he finally spoke.

You simply raised an eyebrow, not speaking just yet.

He caught the message you were sending and continued on. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have gotten angry. I didn’t want too, but as soon as I caught his scent…” he lowered his gaze as if he was ashamed with himself. “It’s a crappy excuse using my hybrid genes for acting that way, but it’s true. All I could think about was protecting you. Even though he’s obviously not a stranger to you, he was to me and I felt the urge to keep you safe. That’s not my place though. I’m Sue’s hybrid, not yours.”

Licking your lips, you reached out and gently tugged on his hand so he would look at you. “Hoseok, you may not be my hybrid, but you’re still my best friend.” You kept your voice soft but firm, wanting him to understand that you saw him as not just a hybrid, but as a person. As someone you wanted in your life. “And I accept your apology.”

“You do?” His head lifted some more and his ears perked up, hope filling his eyes again. “But I…I acted like some controlling prick.”

His wording made you smile and you shook your head. “No Hoseok. You were only doing what was instinct for you. You’re here almost as much as I am. If I remember correctly from that Hybrid 101 class I took, someone encroached on your territory and you were only trying to protect what’s yours. It’s literally a part of your DNA, I can’t be angry for something you can’t control.” You gave his hand a squeeze and looked around at the food that was still out. Smiling, you tugged on his hand. “Now come on, fix up a plate and eat with me. I’m lonely.”

Hoseok glanced around, slowly smiling as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. Unlike before, when he had been trying to calm himself, his touch was gentle and hesitant as he pressed the side of his head against yours. He slowly took a deep breath, his muscles relaxing as you hugged him back. “I promise to not act like that again. And if for some reason I do, just tell me.”

You nodded, only leaning back so that you were able to grab his plate and hand it to him. “Now eat. I made all this for you.”

With a giggle, he quickly began to build up a plate, having two servings at once to make up for the time he was hiding out in his room. It seemed like he only sat on the stool next to you and he already had his food devoured, going back for even another helping of your casserole.

“Any text from Sue?” You asked, scooping up another bite of your dinner.

He shook his head though. “No. I checked and there wasn’t anything. She probably won’t send a text until late tomorrow. The flight to Hong Kong is nineteen hours.” Wiping his hands with a napkin, he scratched his neck around the band of his collar Sue had gotten him. It didn’t look like a typical hybrid collar. It was a simple black piece of fabric that had a silver clasp in the back, a small silver dog charm rested on the base of his throat. Since it was easily confused with just a necklace, Hoseok carried his form stating that Sue had adopted him in his wallet at all times.

“Well, how about after we clean up, we just be lazy and binge watch Netflix. Does that sound good?” You were already clearing up, glancing over your shoulder to ask if he was going to have any more to eat.

“Strawberry, when doesn’t that sound good?”

This time you were the one giggling, and you were rewarded with the best thing of all. Seeing Hoseok’s heart shape smile.

It certainly was good.

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 5 years

Text

A Dance With the Devil: Part 2

Pairing: Incubus!Bucky x Reader Summary: You sold your soul to the devil. Literally. But as far as you’re concerned, every ounce of pleasure Bucky brings you is worth the risk. Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW 18+, unprotected sex, anal play, oral, fingering, filthy porn gifs, blood, blood drinking Word Count: ~a lot I guess idk. Maybe 4k? A/N: This fic is the winner for my 500 follower Fan Pick Fic Celebration! Thank you to everyone who voted, I love you all (even if you did make me write 5k+ words of pure filth). This has little to no plot. Enjoy. *gifs not mine* This has been reposted after my original was deleted in the Great Tumblr Purge 2k18.

Masterlist // The Monster Series Collection // Previous Part

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. You’re such a good girl,” Bucky purred as his cock pumped in and out of your soaking cunt. You mewled against the gag in your mouth, back arching in pleasure at his praise. Your fingers gripped the silky sheets, fighting against the urge to come undone under his expert attention. Your legs quaked with the effort to keep yourself up on your hands and knees.

You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, pet.

His orders were the only thing keeping you from giving into the primal urge. Using the chain leash attached to the collar on your neck, he pulled you onto his cock again and again. As if that wasn’t enough, he slowed down every time he felt you getting close.

It was torture. Pure, delicious torture.

“You take my cock so nice, sweetheart,” he praised, sending a chill straight down your spine. “I wish you could see how well your greedy pussy takes me,” he murmured, eyes glued on the spot where the two of you were connected.

At the thought, your walls clenched around him, causing a deep groan to escape his lips.

You needed him to fuck you harder; needed him deep inside of you, but you knew you’d be punished if you tried to set the pace and your orgasm would only be denied even longer.

“Fuck, Doll. I love it when your cunt hugs my dick like that,” he said, running a hand down your back and over your bouncing ass. You moaned against the ball gag, walls fluttering around his cock again at his filthy praises. He groaned and picked up the pace and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He leaned forward, yanking your head back slightly by the leash and collar. You could feel his hot breath against your ear. “Hell, babydoll. I’m getting close. Want me to fill you up with my seed, you filthy cock slut?” he murmured as he nibbled on your ear.

You turned your head as much as you could to look at him, nodding fiercely, eyes pleading with his. You needed his cum in you. Needed to feel him release deep inside you while you came hard on his cock.

A few thrusts later you could feel him fast approaching his orgasm. His hips snapped into yours, pace erratic, as he chased his own release. His free hand slipped around you and between your leg, finger tracing lazy circles around your clit. Your hips bucked at his touch and you bit back a scream of pleasure. You were going to-

“Cum for me, Doll,” he whispered into your ear.

And just like that, the tight coil in the pit of your stomach snapped. Your cries were muffled by the gag but your pleasure was evident. Your walls fluttered around Bucky’s cock as he pumped into you, pace brutal, fingers dancing on your clit. He murmured praises and filthy words into your ear and a moment later his hips faltered and he groaned, hips snapping into you once, twice, three times before they stilled. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, painting your walls and filling you up with thick ribbons of cum.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, panting, as you tried to catch your breath. Without pulling out of you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. He deftly undid your gag, throwing it onto the floor, and kissed you passionately.

You moaned into the kiss, gasping when he pulled his quickly softening cock from you. You bemoaned its loss and turned to face him, deepening the kiss.

Bucky chuckled at your eagerness, hands roaming down your back. When he reached between your legs and felt the mix of his cum and your juices dripping down your inner thigh he groaned into the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth before he soothed it with a lick.

He broke the kiss, leaning back to admire you, smirk dancing on his lips. You tried to lean forward to kiss him, but he picked you up as though you weighed nothing and hopped off of the bed. You pouted, but didn’t say anything.

It seems you didn’t need to; he read the disappointment easily on your face and chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding you, he unhooked the leash, tossing it on the bed where it jangled merrily as it settled against the rumpled sheets.

“I’d rather you just get me messier,” you said, looking up at him coyly through your eyelashes.

“Don’t tempt me, Doll. Sin is my thing,” he said, smirking as he kissed you hard on the lips, leaving you breathless. “When was the last time you ate? And, no. My cock doesn’t count,” he said, winking playfully at you.

You scowled at him, pouting. You racked your brain trying to remember, but came up with nothing but debauched memories of you and him together.

He correctly interpreted your silence and smiled ruefully. “See? You need to eat, Doll. But we need to get you cleaned up first,” he said, giving you an absolutely filthy smile that you only had a second to guess at before he hefted you up, setting your thighs on his shoulders. You lost your balance and began to fall backwards, but your back gently hit the wall before you’d made it more than a few inches.

You looked down at him, surprise on your face. “I was expecting a bath,” you said wryly.

He grinned up at you, eyes dark with lust. “And waste all this?” he asked coyly, running a finger through your folds. “Never,” he said quietly, lips ghosting against your fuck-swollen lips.

You shivered at the feeling, hips jutting forward of their own volition as he ran his tongue up your folds in a thick stripe. You sighed, throwing your head back against the wall, and his hands slid under your ass to help support you. One of your hands buried themselves in his hair and tugged gently, pulling him onto your cunt and earning a deep groan from him that you felt all the way in your core.

He lapped eagerly at your combined juices, apparently relishing the way you tasted together. He worked his tongue through your folds, occasionally stopping to suck gently at your sensitive clit. You ground your hips into his face, loving the sensations he was bringing you, but needing more.

“Fuck, James-” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grip desperately onto the door frame behind to you. The sight of him below you, eagerly licking away at his own cum along with your own juices, was perhaps the most sinful thing you’d ever seen him do, and you’d seen him do a lot.

You felt one of his hands sneak closer to your ass. His thumb was soaked from the juices that had trickled down your core and to your ass while he’d been working. He rubbed at your ass gently, thumb working the ring of muscle there until it relaxed.

You knew what was coming, but you still gasped when he slipped his thumb in, pushing it slowly but steadily in as far as it would go.

His mouth worked your clit lightly while he worked; you were so sensitive after your previous orgasm that it didn’t take much to draw pleasure from the swollen bud.

“M-Master! I’m not going to- to last long if-”

He seemed to realize this, too, because his thumb and tongue began to work in tandem, thrusting in and out together. He groaned as a new wave of arousal hit his tongue. He looked up at you, eyes flashing black before returning to their icy blue.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said quickly, mouth leaving you only for a moment before it returned, nose nudging your clit gently as he tongue fucked you, his thumb burying itself deep into your ass.

You came a second later, thighs clamping down on his head, calling his name over and over again. He kept up his fevered pace, carrying you through the waves of pleasure as they racked your body.

When you were done he gently removed his thumb, placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh, and returned you once again to his arms.

“Thank you, James,” you murmured reverently, thoroughly fucked out.

“Your pleasure is mine, Doll. Anything for you,” he said earnestly, small smile on his lip as he placed a tender kiss on your hair. “Do you want a bath now?” he asked as he walked towards the huge luxury bathroom the two of you shared.

“Only if you join me,” you said salaciously, sending a flirty wink up at him.

He scoffed, wide grin on his lips. “You’re incorrigible,” he said, though his chastising tone was somewhat undermined by the lustful look he gave you.

“So that’s a yes?” you asked as he entered the bathroom and began filling the tub, easily adjusting you in his arms so he wouldn’t have to set you down.

“No, Doll. I’m going to go get some food for you while you’re washing up,” he said, running a finger tenderly over your cheek. Your face fell and you looked away from him, upset.

He sighed and leaned down to kiss you, lips lingering where your mouth was pulled down into a frown. Eventually, his insistent kisses won out and you smiled up at him, temporarily placated.

“I’ll be back soon, alright?” he murmured against your neck, breath warm against your skin.

You hummed your response, carding your fingers through your hair. He gently set you into the now-full bath, leaning over it to kiss you deeply before he pulled away.

He grabbed a fluffy towel from the rack and set it on the edge of the sink where it was within arm’s reach, giving you one last appreciative once-over.

“Enjoy your bath, Doll,” he said. You could tell from the way he was stalling that he didn’t want to leave, either.

“Hurry back please, Buck,” you said, smiling up at him as though he was the most beautiful thing in the universe (and to you, he was).

“Now that I can manage,” he said, throwing you a wink before he took a few steps out of the bathroom and vanished on the spot.

You tried not to sulk at his absence, resolving to make yourself presentable for his return. First order of business: fixing the rats’ nest you called your hair.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky appeared in an alley a few blocks from your favorite restaurant. He looked down and realized he was still naked. While the sexual excitement in the air would be delicious if he walked around naked, he knew he’d attract too much attention. With a snap of his fingers clothes appeared on his body.

Satisfied, he walked out onto the busy New York street, making a beeline for the restaurant. The quicker he got your food, the quicker you’d finish eating and the quicker the both of you could get back to more pleasurable activities.

Bucky hated the hunger. He was always hungry nowadays. You were delicious, but he couldn’t ever take his fill of you, or you’d almost certainly die. You hadn’t noticed yet, but you’d been losing your strength slowly while you were with him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay with you before-

“Hey, stranger,” came a sultry voice from just a few feet behind him.

Bucky heaved out a sigh and didn’t bother turning around. He knew that voice.

“What do you want, Natasha?” he asked the succubus wearily.

She caught up to him and fell into step beside him, peering up at him curiously. “Not lookin’ so hot there, pal,” she said, studying Bucky through her long lashes.

“None of your business, Nat,” he said grumpily, opening the door to the Chinese restaurant.

“So you won’t mind if I tell Steve where you are?” she said nonchalantly, smirking when Bucky froze for a second.

“This is none of that damn punk’s business,” Bucky growled under his breath, not bothering to hide his anger now that Natasha had already gotten a reaction out of him. He took his place at the end of the line, determinedly not looking at her.

“Well you should know that little witch- the one you stole your pet from- went to him for help, and you know how fallen angels can be-”

“I didn’t steal her,” Bucky said, glowering at Natasha out of the corner of his eye. “She made the deal of her own free will. You know the rules,” he spat.

“Well the witch can’t come after you, but Steve sure can. And with her help, he can actually find you… And you don’t seem strong enough to stop him at present,” she said, smirking as she looked him up and down.

“Fuck off, Nat,” Bucky said venomously before he coached his face back into something resembling neutrality and gave the man behind the counter your order.

“You’re welcome for the warning, big boy,” Natasha whispered in his ear. Bucky’s eye twitched but otherwise made no sign he’d heard her.

By the time he turned around with the receipt, Natasha was gone.

He groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he muttered angrily, willing himself not to take his anger out on bystanders.

They couldn’t have you. He wouldn’t let them take you from him.

Steve and Wanda’s POV

“You’re sure this will work?” Steve asked warily, eyeing the map as though it had committed murder.

“It will… unless he took her to hell or killed her,” Wanda said, wincing at the thought. It was her fault you were in this situation and she’d do everything in her power to ensure you’d get out of your deal and away from that demon.

“She’s still alive,” came a voice from behind them. They both spun, Wanda’s fingertips alight with red energy, Steve dropping into a combat stance, a shield of corrupted energy appearing in front of him. “Calm down, I’m not here to fight,” Natasha said, smiling salaciously at them.

“Succubi don’t fight,” Steve said knowingly, glaring at the red-haired demoness.

Her grin widened at that, her teeth flashing in the gloom of Wanda’s room. “Point taken. I’m not here to suck your souls out through your genitals, either.”

Wanda relaxed imperceptibly, but her hands still swirled with energy.

Steve glanced between Natasha and Wanda, before his gaze fixed on the redhead. “You said she’s alive? Bucky hasn’t killed her? Or taken her to hell?” he asked, barely daring to believe his ears. You’d been gone for nearly a month; succubi and incubi victims almost never lasted past the first night, much less three weeks.

“Yup! He seems to have taken a liking to her. From what I’ve heard from the other demons, he’s keeping her well-fed and safe. Not sure where, though,” she said, shrugging.

“And why are you telling us this?” Wanda asked, distrust clear in her voice.

Natasha crossed her arms, leveling her steely gaze at Wanda. “Because it’s probably killing them both. We’re not meant to live off one person; it’s fuck, feast, kill, repeat. I’ve seen Bucky recently; he looks weak. I doubt she’s much better off.”

Both Wanda and Steve paled at her words.

“Find them soon, loves. Or there might not be much left to find,” she said ominously before she vanished, air disturbed where she’d just stood.

Your POV

You sat in Bucky’s lap while you ate. His arms were wrapped around you and he rested his forehead on your back, occasionally pressing a light kiss between your shoulder blades.

Eventually, you set your food down and placed your hands gently over his.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” you asked quietly as you traced patterns gently over the back of his hands. He’d told you a while ago it was alright for you to call him Bucky outside of the bedroom and you’d taken to the nickname eagerly.

He tensed at your question for a moment before he let out a year’s worth of sighs and pulled you firmly to his chest. “It’s nothin’, Babydoll,” he murmured into your hair.

“You’re a terrible liar, Buck,” you said, turning your head so you could look up at him.

He rolled his eyes at that, planting a kiss to your cheek. There was no use hiding it, it seemed. “They’re coming for you, Doll,” he murmured, running one of his huge hands up and down your arm comfortingly.

“They?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Your witch friend and my… friend Steve,” he said, tripping over the word friend.

“Well Wanda can’t attack demons, right? She said something one time about-”

“She can’t,” Bucky agreed as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“And Steve’s a demon, so he won’t-”

“He’s not a demon,” Bucky said solemnly, eyes far away.

You paused, surprised and confused. Demons usually only ever made friends with other demons. For Bucky to make friends with-

“He’s a fallen angel, Doll. I used to be an angel. We were friends back then. In heaven. I fell and turned, and he refused to fight me in the name of Heaven…. so they took his wings and cast him to Earth. He’s been looking for me ever since,” Bucky explained sadly.

“And you never talked to-”

“I know what I am, Doll. I’ve come to terms with it. Steve still sees the being I used to be. I don’t want to put either of us through the hardship of trying to reconcile the thing I was with the thing I am,” he said, tone making it clear he was done talking about the subject.

You bit your lip, wanting to say more, but not wanting to upset him further.

“Finish eating, pet,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. “I need you,” he said, voice deep with lust.

You nodded quickly, picking up your takeout boxes and eating with perhaps a bit too much gusto, as you almost choked on a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken. He chuckled at your eagerness, wrapping his large, comforting arms securely around your waist.

“Neither I nor the chicken are going anywhere, Doll. Take your time,” he chastised warmly.

The two of you didn’t make it to the bedroom. In fact, your clothes didn’t even make it all of the way off. You didn’t wear much in the way of clothing as it was anymore, anyway, but the panties you had on were shoved hastily to the side. The nice clothing he’d worn out could have come off with the snap of his fingers, but he knew how much you liked seeing him in them.

You’d made it as far as the couch. You were above him, riding his dick while his hips snapped up into yours. “Fuck, James, you feel so damn good,” you moaned, lusty eyes half closed as you looked down at him.

He pulled you down into a kiss, swallowing your moans as he thrust deeply into you. His hands found your hips and he pulled you down onto his dick, spearing you again and again on his thick cock.

He broke the hiss, groaning when he hit your cervix. You mewled at the feeling; just the right amount of pain to mix with the pleasure.

“Fuck, Babydoll. You make the prettiest noises,” he murmured, transfixed by the way your breasts bounced in front of his face. “Let me hear more,” he said, leaning forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips. Your back arched forward and your hips momentarily lost their rhythm before his hands forced you down onto him and helped you keep pace.

You moaned loudly, the sensations nearly overwhelming you. “Master, please, don’t stop!” you begged. “Need you to keep fucking me!”

“Mm I love when you beg for my cock,” he groaned. You yelped in surprise when he picked you up, hips not faltering in their pace for a moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck, head thrown back in ecstasy as he carried you towards the bedroom. His strong arms kept you aloft, hooked just below your knees. While he walked he buried his face in your exposed neck, leaving love bites and drawing breathy gasps from your lips when he nibbled at your sensitive flesh.

Before you knew it you were in the bedroom the two of you shared together. He pulled out of you long enough to throw you unceremoniously onto the bed. You bounced, only able to see the white ceiling before you settled and looked over at him. In the seconds you hadn’t been watching him, he must have used his powers to strip. He was a glorious vision standing there, completely nude. He was over you a second later, kissing you fiercely. He tore at your clothes, ripping your panties off of your body. You broke the kiss long enough to yank your shirt over your head. A half second later his fingers undid the clasps of your bra, and it promptly joined your shirt and ruined panties on the floor. His lips were back on yours instantly. You were so enthralled by the heated kiss you didn’t see the things in his hands until a handcuff closed around one of your wrists.

You broke the kiss, looking up at him in surprise.

He looked down at you, pupils blown wide with lust, and licked his lips. “Problem, Doll?” he asked seductively as he closed the other cuff around your other wrist.

The cold metal made you shiver, as did the thoughts of the pleasure to come. “No, Master,” you said fervently.

“Hold still, pet,” he murmured, reaching for a length of rope you kept in the bedside table. You practically quivered with anticipation. He threw the bulk of it around the headboard before securing each end to your wrist. With the second end tied, your hands were stuck above your head. He gave it a firm tug just to make sure it wouldn’t come undone before he grabbed another pair of handcuffs, this one with a longer chain.

You gave him a confused look, trying to figure out what the second pair was for, but he only smiled at you, taking a nipple into his mouth as his hands ran down your sides. The cold scrape of the metal raised goosebumps on your skin and only emphasized the heat of his mouth against you. You expected his hands to linger around your hips and core, but they kept going downward until he reached your ankles. He slowly brought one of your legs up, closing the cuff securely around your ankle, before he brought the other up. He pressed your legs back until they were snug against your sides and threw the chain for the ankle cuffs around the handcuff chain before attaching it to your other ankle. The end result was your complete inability to move your arms or lower your legs, exposing yourself completely to him.

“You look delicious like this, Doll,” he said, gazing down at you affectionately as his hands played idly with your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he saw fit.

You whimpered at his touch, rolling your hips closer to him. “Please,” you begged, frustrated that you couldn’t move closer.

“Please what, pet? Use your words,” he said darkly as he teased your nipples and ran the shaft of his cock gently between your folds, stopping just before he hit your clit each time.

“Please fuck me, Master. I need your cock. Want you deep inside of me. Need you to fill me up,” you begged, biting back a moan as he pinched and rolled your nipples.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised as he leaned down to kiss you messily. His kiss was like a drug, serving only to turn you on more; your body getting even hotter by the second.

He broke the kiss, sitting up as he lined himself up at your entrance. He watched your reaction as he slowly pushed into you, stretching your walls with his thick cock. You both let out a moan when he bottomed out inside of you, his tip gently brushing against your cervix.

He let you adjust to him, a sigh of relief escaping his lips; he loved being inside of you as much as you did. The pace he set at first was torturous. Each thrust was shallow, hitting you on your most sensitive spot each time. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs hard enough to bruise; a testament to how hard it was for him to control his pace.

“Please, Master. Harder. Fuck me harder,” you begged pathetically, your voice a breathy whine.

His eyes flicked black and you knew his self control was shot. A second later his pace quickened. His hips slammed into yours and you felt yourself inching up the bed, moans of pure ecstasy escaping your lips. One of his hands left your thigh and wrapped itself around your neck, cutting off some of your air circulation. You gasped, lungs screaming for air, body on fire at his show of dominance.

There was something almost desperate about his movements this time. Usually he was utterly in control, working every ounce of pleasure from your body, but today he was an uncaged animal, wreaking havoc on your poor, thoroughly-fucked body. You loved it.

He leaned over you, hooking his free arm under one of your legs and drove himself into you, reducing you to a moaning, gasping mess.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet,” he groaned, leaning down to take a nipple between his teeth. Your back arched at the feeling, a strangled, raspy cry leaving your lips. “You’re mine,” he growled, hot breath tickling your skin. His eyes flicked black and you felt a thrill of excitement go down your spine at the sight. His hand loosened its grip on your neck slightly. “Say it,” he ordered, face inches from yours as he pounded relentlessly into you.

“I’m yours, Master. Fuck, I’m yours,” you moaned. You could sense his agitation and you said everything you could to sooth him. “Always be yours, Bucky,” you groaned, using his nickname. It was a risk; he normally didn’t allow it in the bedroom, but you needed him to know that you belonged to him, body and soul.

However, it made his eyes flick back to their steel blue, and he leaned down to kiss you fiercely, hand disappearing between your legs to rub circles into your clit.

He broke the kiss, face inches from yours, and the two of you were so close you breathed the same air. “Cum for me, Doll,” he ordered, changing the angle he was fucking you at so that each time he plowed into you it hit that special spot.

“Master, oh fuck, James!” you moaned, orgasm rolling through you like a raging fire. Your walls clamped down on his cock, practically begging him to release inside of you.

You didn’t have to wait long, he buried his face in your neck, and you felt more than heard the deep groans that escaped his lips as he chased his own release inside of you. His hips snapped into yours frantically, pace erratic, until at last he fell over the edge, helped along by your own orgasm. “Oh yeah, Babydoll. Fuck I love cumming inside of you,” he groaned filthily into your ear.

He stilled inside of you, his cock twitching as his cum filled your greedy pussy. As the vestiges of your orgasm faded, your walls fluttered around him, your pussy eagerly milking him of every last drop of his seed.

Instead of pulling out he untied you and undid the handcuffs before he collapsed on top of you (though he was careful not to crush you beneath him).

You cupped his cheek in your hand, caressing it gently with your thumb. “I meant it, you know,” you said quietly, gaze locking with his.

“Hmm?” he hummed, blue eyes searching your face, clearly playing dumb. His ghosted over your skin, reveling in the feel of you beneath him.

“I’m yours, Bucky. And I always will be. I love you,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Once they were out there, though, you realized you didn’t regret them.

He looked shocked, eyes widening slightly. “You-” his words died in his throat.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding slightly, small smile on your lips.

He looked at you as though you were the most beautiful thing in existence. A small chuckle left his lips and he leaned down to kiss you.

The tenderness of the kiss took your breath away; his kisses were normally like a wildfire; all-consuming and frenzied. But this was the warmth of a hearth fire; passionate, caring, and felt undeniably like home.

“Do you trust me, Doll?” he asked, blue eyes searching yours warily.

“You know I do, Bucky,” you said earnestly as you carded your fingers through his hair, causing him to lean into your touch.

“Then I need you to do something for me,” he said determinedly, gaze once again tempestuous. You nodded; you’d do whatever he needed of you without a second thought.

Steve’s POV

It had taken Wanda a while to find where Bucky was hiding you; Bucharest, Romania of all places.

Steve opened the door silently, listening for any signs of you or Bucky. He hadn’t seen his friend often since the fall, but every time he had Bucky had been surrounded by men and women alike, all eager to please the sex demon.

It seemed Wanda and the rumors had been right; Bucky had only been with you as of late.

He prowled the house cautiously, but each new room he entered turned up empty.

That is, until he got to the bedroom. He heard hushed voices from his spot in the hallway and crept forward, glancing into the room.

What he saw made his eyes bug out and cheeks turn red for two reasons. One, you and Bucky were completely naked and even from his quick glance he could see the semen leaking out between your legs. Two, his face was buried in your neck and his wrist was at your lips.

It only took him a second to figure out what was going on.

“No!” Steve yelled, barging into the room.

Bucky’s head snapped up and his gaze turned to Steve, eyes instantly going pure black. Blood dribbled down his chin as he bared his teeth in a feral snarl that had your and Steve’s blood turning cold. He removed his wrist from your mouth and the wound he’d caused himself closed over; You wiped his blood from your lips self consciously.

“Too late, punk,” Bucky said scathingly. He stood, pulling the blanket over you as he went. He snapped his fingers and a black suit appeared on his body. He moved between you and Steve protectively, not backing down at the taller man’s glare.

“How could you, Buck!? You know what a blood pact means!” Steve said, gesturing between you and Bucky helplessly.

“You were going to take us away from each other. Couldn’t have that happen,” Bucky said matter-of-factly.

“You’re killing each other, Bucky!” Steve yelled in exasperation.

Your brows furrowed at that; that wasn’t true, was it? You had been feeling weaker lately, but attributed it to the exhausting nearly non-stop sex you and Bucky had been having. Bucky… Bucky didn’t seem to be getting any weaker, right?

“And now you’ll kill us if you separate us,” Bucky said as he crossed his arms, smirk gracing his beautiful face.

“Damn it, Bucky! I’m just trying to help you!” Steve yelled.

Bucky’s gaze hardened, and for a second his eyes flashed their usual grey-blue.

“Well, I don’t need your help, Steve. Now, get out of my house,” Bucky said. You stood in awe as his black wings unfurled, nearly touching the walls of the bedroom.

Steve took a half step back, startled. “Bucky-”

“Out!” Bucky bellowed, taking a menacing step towards Steve.

Steve’s jaw clenched and unclenched and he glanced warily between the door, Bucky, and you. Bucky’s wings moved so you were hidden from Steve’s view, and Steve’s gaze shifted back to Bucky.

“This isn’t over, Buck,” Steve said, glaring at his friend.

“Yes, it is,” Bucky said ominously. A second later, Steve was rocketed towards the door by some unseen force. The second his body passed through the doorway, the door shut behind him and the lock clicked into a place with a resounding snap.

He turned to look at you, wings extended as far as they would go, his gaze affectionate.

“Now, Doll. Where were we?”

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