#post cold front bass fishing

[lilyrizzy]

revealing myself as the author of this kinkmeme fic & cross-posting here bc why not! romeo & juliet au

Shoving his way through the dancing bodies, Max searches for something to bring him relief from his pounding head, his sweating palms. The faces belonging to the bodies are all blurred, occasionally shifting into focus to reveal the gold-trimmed, bold-coloured masks that most of the partygoers have opted for in place of a real costume.

The metal armour of Max’s own creaks as he moves, but the noise is lost underneath the thrumming of the bass. It repeats only inside his head with every step he takes, the memory of it captured earlier in the quiet of Helmut’s drawing room as he and the boys had prepared to leave.

Don’t go making trouble tonight, they had been warned, but that had before the endless shots hand delivered by Gianni, the pill Martin had presented to him with a sly grin.

Let ’s have some fucking fun.

The fun burnt up just as fast as the ecstasy in Max’s bloodstream, until all that remained of the vibrant colours and wondrous elation was his pounding heart and the grinding of his back teeth.

Stumbling out from the crowd, he makes his way back to the same bathroom he and Martin had giggled their way out of only an hour or so earlier. With shaking hands he plugs and fills the sink, dipping his head underneath the gold faucet when it is only halfway full because he can’t wait a second longer to fill his burning throat with cold liquid. When it’s near the point of overflowing, he dunks his entire face into the bowl.

The cold has prickles erupt over his scolding cheeks, like a thousand tiny needles dancing on the surface of his skin. It’s a pleasurable pain, sweet relief followed quickly with a growing, then agonising discomfort. Lifting his head when he can take no more, he stares at himself in the jewel-framed mirror, watching the water slide down his face and drip from his chin as he pants.

His silver mask floats on top of the cool pool or water, but he doesn’t move to place it back over his eyes.

Let them throw him out; he’s ready to go home anyway.

He swipes a hand over his face, and then across his head. Hours ago he had a helmet as part of his costume, and he wishes he still did to hide his dripping wet hair. It’s long since been lost in the chaos of the evening.

Nobody throws a party like Horner. Max’s pupils are still dilated, his cheeks still flushed pink in testament to that well-regarded fact.

The flush of a toilet behind him disturbs his dissociation and has him pushing away from the sink. He means to make his way back towards the party, but his steps are sluggish and lingering, unsure of where to go. Gianni was his ride, but only a few moments before Max had escaped from the sweating mass of dancers he’d spied him at the bar, helping himself to a bottle of whiskey.

Away from the main hall, the music is quieter, a low murmur punctuated only by the vibration through the floorboards underneath Max’s feet. Every room he has seen has the same garish decor, crystal chandeliers glistening overhead, rich velvet drapes of royal red and forest green drawn across every window to conceal the depravity occurring inside from the respectable front the Horner family portray to the outside. This one, stuck between the place where they snort their drugs and the place where they dance them away is no different.

Showing off their new money Helmut would scoff, like he didn’t compete for the same back alley jobs as Christian, didn’t fill the same corrupt officer’s pockets, just on different days of the week.

To Max, a beautiful thing is a beautiful thing.

Glancing around with awe that would no doubt have his father disown him, something sparkles in the corner of Max’s eye, capturing his attention. Turning towards it, he sees it is the ripple of water trapped inside an enormous tank he didn't notice earlier. Fish every shade of the rainbow gliding through it with ease.

The colours are so bold that Max almost wants to rub his eyes again. To pinch himself, remind himself that it is time to wake himself up from his drug-induced stupor, but- 

As he steps closer to the glass with a small smile, eyes tracing the movement of the beautiful creatures, something warmer slides into focus.

Deep brown eyes tracing the same fish Max is, wide in a kind of wonder. Then, meeting his through the ripples of water, wider still.

Max’s breath catches in his throat, as he blinks the rest of the face into focus. In an instance, every extravagance of the evening fades into insignificance, becomes a poor imitation of the beauty held in the teasing curve of lips that the stranger offers him through the glass when Max cannot tear his gaze away.

There’s more than lovely eyes; dark curls, a proud nose and tanned skin. Against the white feathered wings that sit just above his shoulders, it looks the colour of honey and Max imagines would be just as sweet to taste. There is dark ink snaking across his bared collarbones like vines that speak of nothing angelic, and instead only of Max’s desire to consume.

Is this what it feels like, to fall in love?

Hello, Max mouthes almost helplessly through the layers of glass and captive ocean between them. When the man only raises an eyebrow, questioning, Max raises a hand and waves.

This gets him laughed at. Instead of embarrassment, it’s pleasure that has his cheeks burn as a giggle slips from his own lips, fogging the glass in front of him. He resists the urge to press his face against it to see the man better.

Instead, he steps to the left, meaning to move around the fish tank and see the man with only air and no water between them. Wants to move closer until there’s nothing between them at all.

The man seems to have other ideas. 

He steps quickly in the opposite direction to which Max walks, teasing. Max stops, raising his eyebrows in his own question, but the man only bites his lip as though trying to hide his grin. Around them, people pass by- or at least they must. Max hardly notices, as though the world has narrowed to only the two of them.

Max steps backwards and again the man evades by stepping back in the direction he just came. For a few moments, they continue like this. No matter which way Max moves, the man dances the opposite way, no longer trying to hide his smirk. Max finds that despite it being at his expense it is a smile easy to return, the way no other has been before it.

Finally, the man's face splits into joyous laughter that Max can just about hear. His body tumbles against the glass as though he has knocked himself from his feet with his own silliness, the palms of both his hands pressing against it. On several of his fingers, there are gold rings that the light through the water dances off.

Max finds himself laughing also, raising his own hands to touch the tank, as though he could press against the man's skin through it.

When the laughing has subsided, the man steps back, raising one finger to beckon Max to him. Max goes, powerless against his need to give this stranger whatever he wants. This time, he doesn’t move when Max steps around the tank until they are face to face with no body of water between them.

“Hello,” Max says again, and this time he doesn’t wave. His blood is hot from their game, thrumming in his veins. Now it is easy to see the rest of the man's costume, a white slip that meets the floor, the hem edged with golden thread.

It is normal at these parties, for men to go in women's clothing. Martin himself is tonight sporting a denim mini skirt and strapless, tiny top borrowed from Victoria for the occasion. This man's outfit is much more tasteful, of course.

A good girl, Max wants to say nonsensically, just to see if he could get the man to blush.

There is no modesty, however. Instead, there is a slit in the fabric of the skirt that travels all the way up to the man's hipbone, a plunging neckline. One strap is dangling just off his shoulder, and it would only take one nudge of Max’s fingertips to reveal his tit, his nipple that would no doubt be the same rose colour as his mouth. This knowledge feels particularly indecent to the lion prowling in Max’s chest, looking to devour.

Though raised to be classy in his own way, reserved and polite, his upbringing abandons him in favour of molten desire pooling in his stomach as he steps closer, and closer, until the man's back is pressed firmly against the wall behind him.

His fingertips itch with the need to touch, but is places them instead on the brick at either side of the man’s head. He’s still laughing; Max wonders if he knows how not to.

“A knight in shining armour,” the man says, eyes sliding from Max’s face down to his toes, in a way that makes Max want to strip it all from his body, lay his flesh bare for more of the same interested gaze. “Very original.”

The teasing edge to his voice is bolder than Max is used to from strangers, startling more laughter from him also.

“What, you do not like it?” He asks, placing a hand over his breastplate, where just underneath his heart is beating for a different reason than the drugs. “I suppose, of course, a fairy is much better.”

He lowers one of his hands to tug playfully at the feathered wing protruding between the man’s back and the brick wall Max has him backed up against.

It is the stranger’s turn to sound affronted.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an angel,” he insists, and he mimes looping a halo around his dark curls with an outstretched index finger. “I just lost my halo dancing.”

Max smirks, then presses a thumb to the man’s plush bottom lip. Immediately, his eyelids flutter shut and his mouth slips open. Hearing his breath hitch has Max’s cock- trapped inside his stupid costume- twitch with interest.

“How lucky,” he murmurs, leaning in so the words are half breathed across the angel’s parted lips, “that you fell from heaven, just for me.”

Girls in his position would usually swoon at Max’s interest, but the man laughs and throws his head back, his eyes still closed. It makes his curls fan out against the dark brickwork, makes his body arch up into Max’s.

“You need to get some better chat up lines,” he says, but his voice is breathy, like he cannot drag enough air into his lungs to make the insult land the way it should. Max silences him by pressing his hips harder against him, unable to help flick his gaze downwards, desperate to see where the man is pressed into Max’s body, wanting to know- Unable to feel because of the hard metal separating them.

If only he was wearing nothing more than an elaborate bedsheet, like-

“Tell me your name,” Max pleads, hand moving from the man’s lips to the back of his head, wanting to protect his delicate-looking curls from the rough scrape of the wall.

The man's eyes slit open again. It sends a thrill through Max, how the man can look him dead in the eye the way the women he’s had never can.

“Where would be the fun in that?” He asks. His hands have fallen by his sides, palms flat against the wall behind him, as though caught somewhere between surrender and submission.

Max makes a noise of consideration, before dropping his mouth down daringly to press against the ink on the man’s shoulder. This close, he can see that they are tiny rose buds in various states of bloom.

“I can think of other ways we can have fun,” Max counters, slotting a leg between the man’s thighs. He hisses, hips rutting against Max, as his lips continue to graze over the delicate skin of his throat. “I could have lots of fun with you, in my bed.”

He would be lying to say it didn’t give him some kind of thrill, taking something so beautiful for himself under the roof of his lifelong enemies, in front of their eyes, but at the same time- This was more. A treasure too precious to be shared.

Even so, Max’s hand snakes under the skirt of his costume, finding the deliciously smooth skin of his angel's inner thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads again, nose brushing against his, as his fingertips inch higher and higher. “Just having this has ruined me for anyone else, I-”

There’s a flurry of noise behind him, the sound of shouts and a door crashing open. Still, it takes the calling of his name in Martin’s frantic tones to have Max dragging his face away from the strangers, looking over his shoulder.

“Max!” Martin says, his pleading face coming into focus, penetrating the light of Max’s personal heaven “Mate, we have to run. Gianni’s been found out, and-“

He pauses, looking between Max’s face and then his lover's. Eyes growing wide, Max is about to ask what the fuck the matter is when Martin is clutching his arm hard and yanking him away with a few forceful tugs.

“What the fuck!” Max spits, looking apologetically back to the man, except-

Except his own eyes are wide now, with fear. They’re fixed on the pendant that Martin wears around his neck, Helmut’s crest, which has slipped from underneath his costume.

“Really, Max, we need to- I don’t think you want Horner to catch you feeling up his golden boy,” Martin says again, desperate, and everything finally slots into place inside Max’s love-drugged brain.

“Daniel,” he whispers, glancing back at his- At the angel.

“Max,” is all he replies, something between salvation and despair. Then, pushing off from the wall and reaching as though to catch Max’s hand, he says firmer, “wait, Max-“

But Max is already running.

---

Later, in Gianni’s car, Martin doesn’t excitedly tell the story of how he caught Max nearly fucking the son of their enemy, the way he would had it been any other conquest. Some lines, in their world, are too bold and bloody to cross.

Instead, he sneaks quiet glances at Max as they drive away from the Horner mansion, as though there is a question burning on the tip of his tongue that he doesn’t dare to ask. It becomes so irritating that Max has to close his eyes.

In the darkness behind his lids, he sees Daniel again. This time, there is the shine of a halo above his head that illuminates the rest of him, bathes him in gold. The knowledge of who he is does nothing to sever the pull Max’s heart feels towards his, his only regret of the evening being he didn’t take more while it was so ripe and real underneath his fingertips.

“Max,” Gianni questions, but his voice sounds far away as though Max’s ears are in the water of the fish tank. “What has gotten you so mellow? Too much to drink?”

Martin scoffs, something pitifully knowing in his voice.

“He’s gone and fallen in love.”

[every-lemon]

prompto and gladio running buddies short fic

I wrote this for ramel a while back and shared it in the ffxv book club discord server; figured I'd polish it up a bit and share it while AO3 is down. it issss 808 words, gen, prompto & gladio friendship times! post-high school, pre-canon

Prompto’s alarm clock goes off at 5:15 a.m.

The trick, he’s learned, is to just start moving before you really have a chance to think about it. It’s easy when you’re so tired, anyway. No questions asked. Just roll out of bed groggily and stumble towards the bathroom before you can talk yourself out of it.

(It’s all too easy to convince someone who’s already mostly-asleep to just stay that way.)

Like every morning, Prompto washes his face, brushes his teeth while scrolling on his phone, and changes into the running clothes he left folded on the stool the night before: shorts, a tank top, and socks. He keeps yesterday’s sweatband on. He’ll swap it out when he showers later.

The kitchen’s gray and empty when he pads downstairs; the microwave clock says 5:13. His earbuds are waiting by the front door, as are his running shoes, unlaced and waiting to be done up properly. He hums to himself while he pulls the laces taught, checking to make sure the fit’s right before tying them. The spare key goes into the little mesh pocket in the waistband of his shorts; the earbuds, of course, go in his ears.

There. All set. He hits play on his running mix, the bass on a pop song playing probably-too-loud straight into his eardrums, then opens the door to go.

Cool air hits him. Overnight, it’s gone from summer heat to fall chill. He shivers, but there’s no use grabbing a hoodie — it’s not that cold, he’s just not used to it yet. He’ll just end up wanting to ditch it halfway through.

No, the real way to warm up is to run.

So off he goes, pulling the door shut behind him and making sure it’s locked, then jogging down off the steps and setting out down the sidewalk. He falls into his usual pace, brisk and upbeat to match the tempo of the song.

It’s about a mile through neighborhood sidewalks until when he reaches the nice trail: wide, lined with gravel, cutting through the green space that winds throughout Insomnia like a little garden. It’s busy, popular with runners and bikers and hikers alike, but at this hour it’s not terrible. He smiles and nods to each person he passes, whether or not they look up — easier just to do it and not think about it.

Even with the bass beat of some in-the-club-dance-remix in his ears, he hears Gladio coming up behind him before he sees him and steels himself for a hearty thump on his shoulder,, which comes the next moment.

“Hey, big guy,” he greets back, taking an earbud out and slowing down just a tick to Gladio’s preferred pace. “You’re up early today.”

“It’s nice to catch you,” Gladio says. He’s in a plain black athletic shirt and gym shorts, rather than the official Crownsguard workout attire. No jacket, either, but Prompto’s never seen Gladio shiver. “I get slow if there’s no one to keep up with.”

“Glad to help!” Prompto says, grinning. And he really, really is.

Usually, it’s Gladio peeling him off the floor of the training room, barking at him to keep going, and asking him to please do something, anything about those noodle arms. (And Prompto’s guns are coming along nicely, thankyouverymuch!! . . . but it’s slow going.) So it’s nice to feel strong and confident about this one thing. Like he’s not a complete and utter lost cause.

“Think you could get Noct to come with?” Gladio asks after a while of silently jogging along, his breaths coming in puffs. Prompto doesn’t do him the disservice of slowing down, though. Gladio’s got good stamina, even if this pace is a stretch for his bulk.

“I couldn’t get Noct to wake up this early for anything, I don’t think. Not even like, video games and junk food. Not that those are super appealing at five in the morning.”

“Bet he’d get up . . . early to fish,” Gladio says, breaking in the middle to suck down a breath.

Prompto snorts at that. “Maybe? Yeah, you know what, you’re probably right about that. Noct is pretty weird about fishing.”

The wheeze Gladio makes might be a laugh.

To his credit, he keeps pace with Prompto all the way until they reach the point where the trail splits. Prompto will head left, back home to shower and get ready for work, and Gladio will head right, to the parking lot where a a chauffeur waits to bring him back to the Amicitia manor before his work at the Citadel begins.

“Thanks for the run, Blondie,” Gladio says, slowing to a walk as they reach the end. “Glad one of us has such good endurance.”

Prompto can feel himself flush at the praise, but he just lifts a hand in a cheerful wave and keeps on running home.

[jwenvs3000w24]

Blog 5: The Flow of Water

Hey everyone! Welcome back to my blog! I hope you’ve been enjoying the posts and I have been reading all the replies/reblogs and I am glad to see others taking interest in the same topics as me! Anyway, we’ll get into this new blog post, and I’ll be writing about what water really means to me. Enjoy the read and the pics!

Ever since I can remember I have had a strong connection and always feel drawn/pulled towards the water. Anytime I am near any body of water no matter how big or small, it could be a small puddle on the ground or on a table or it could be an ocean or lake, I will stare at it for a little while to see if I can see anything moving within it. I am unsure why but all life in the water intrigues me. Ever since I was young my dad would take me fishing when we could and I know for a fact that this is one reason I have the love for the water that I do, but even before that I was eager to go to the water and look at everything in it. 

This is a picture of a time my friend and I went fishing just out front of my cottage in a paddle boat, and we caught 4 smallmouth bass (2-3 pound like the one in the picture, 1 1.5 pound, and 1 1 pound).

Fishing is a very large hobby for me to this day, and I will find any excuse I can to go fishing when I’m at my cottage or somewhere I know I can fish. I mentioned in an earlier post that my dad and I are going on a fishing trip in BC and it is supposed to be a once in a lifetime experience, so I am very excited for that. Due to how much I had gone fishing it piqued my interest more and more on how the fish survived and lived in the water. I was always told to be careful when handling a fish because their gills are very sensitive, but I was never told why. This interested me so much I am now in my 4th year of Marine and Freshwater biology, and while this answered the original question of why fish gills are so sensitive it has opened up a multitude of other more in depth questions and just makes my love for these creatures even more deep.

I’ve never really been one who enjoys reading, but as a young child my favourite book of all time that I would take everywhere with me was titled, “Oceans”. This book helped with my ever growing interest in all things aquatic, and has helped with my ‘random useless facts’. This book never left my side for roughly the years between 7 years old to 11 years old. This is what I would read when I was bored or during the “silent reading” time in school.

This video shows how rough the waters at Indian head cove, Tobermory can get, but as dangerous as this may be there is also beauty in the waves destruction.

Swimming is one of my favourite forms of exercise. I find that whenever I go swimming with friends either in a lake or in a pool I am always able to continue swimming without fatigue. While swimming I do not feel as if I get tired and always have strength. I also enjoy freediving (although I am still trying to get better). I find diving to deeper depths extremely peaceful because it’s so solitary when you are 20-25 feet below the surface. The noise isn’t overwhelmingly loud but it’s also not silent. The water pressure around you feels like a cold hug, and all you see is a beautiful deep blue (at least in Georgian bay/Lake Huron), and when you let your body swish in the current (while holding onto something so you don’t drift away too far) it is such a serene feeling.

This is a picture of Georgian bay on a very calm day and it shows the beautiful deep blue colour.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of being underwater, but I hope you enjoyed the other pics. I hope you all enjoyed the post this week, and I look forward to your replies! I’ll see you next week for the next post! 

[largemouthbassnation]

GoPro Spring Post Cold Front Tips - Bass Fishing

GoPro Spring Post Cold Front Tips – Bass Fishing

In this video I explain how to catch fish after a cold front comes in during the early spring months, enjoy! *Check out Salt Life’s channel for more videos:

Check out my website:

Check out my other channel “Flair Fishing Reviews”

Add me on Snapchat: aflair430

Have questions? Kik me at: fishingwithflair

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[robins-whump]

Go and read the pinned post @the-whumpers-soiree for context!

No warnings apply (yet <3)

Autumn cold bit at his cheeks, frozen hands tucked under his armpits. Levi shifted on his feet, waiting in the alley just beyond the reach of thumping music and flashing lights. The heaving roar of the club strained from behind the door, and between him and hot, pumping bodies was an immovable bouncer.

Ugh, the line was barely ten people. It shouldn’t be taking this long.

It had seemed pretty exclusive, from what Jason had told him. To be fair, Jason wasn’t exactly a reliable source of information. Just gave him the address and a guarantee he’d be let in. For Levi, who had just spent some of the best years of his life hiding from a literal plague…

Well, he didn’t need much convincing.

But finally at the front of the line, Levi flashed an ID at the bouncer, hands shaking from cold and adrenaline. His ID said twenty-two and he could totally pass for it – when he wasn’t wearing a sheer top and eyeliner.

The bouncer barely glanced at his ID before handing it back.

“Wrist.”

Levi held out a wrist, cool olive skin glowing green against the neon welcome sign above the door.

The bouncer snapped on a glowing blue wristband from a large box. Behind it, a much emptier basket held red wristbands.

Levi inspected the new accessory. “What’s this for?”

The bouncer gave him a bored stare. All Levi could see reflected in the man’s dark shades was his own gelled-back hair and bright, feverish eyes.

The invite said sober entry only. Just looking at the girls who went in front of him he could see that was a fucking lie.

“Just club policy.”

He went to push past the bouncer – it really was fucking cold – but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him.

“I’ll also need your phone.”

“Uhh,” Levi tried to stall. “Like, really?”

“Really,” the bouncer said flatly.

“What if I need to call someone?” Which, you know, could be better done over text.

“Then come back outside and get it.”

He leaned in with a flirtatious grin. “Why all the secrecy? Is this the kind of club where you don’t want pictures?”

A flash of white teeth hid the undercurrent of tension straining his voice. Jason told him this place was a bit weird. Levi was thinking more twinks in collars kind of weird, not taking-your-phone-until-you-leave kind of weird.

He much preferred the former.

The security guard’s expression didn’t change. “Something like that.” he agreed.

Levi flashed another smile. “Well, alrighty then. He fished his phone out of his back pocket and reluctantly handed it over. He was not gonna let weird club rules ruin his night.

The bouncer slipped the phone into one of his many pockets.

“Right this way.”

Finally, finally, the door opened, and the heat, the light, the thumping bass all washed over him. The bouncer nudged him forward, and when he looked back a moment later, the door was closed behind him.

Levi found himself pushed into a writhing crowd, a sea of limbs and half-naked sweating bodies. Glowing blue wristbands bobbed with the music, but there were a fair few red wristbands too. Some, in among the crowd, others, standing back, watching.

He let himself be pulled further in. he danced with a girl, with a boy, kissed them both and slunk away before either could try to give him their number. Danced with a third, until they were pulled away by someone in a red wristband, giddy and winking back at him like he was missing the joke.

He lost time to the thump thump of the beat, swaying until he was stumbling out of the mosh and leaning against a sticky bar.

Levi rested his elbows on the counter to catch his breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose. He grabbed a glass of water from the stack while the bartender was busy with someone else.

The water was barely cool but still soothing. As he sipped, he made eye contact with a guy across the bar. A few years older than him. Business shirt rolled to his elbows, five-o’clock shadow more of a one-am shadow. Glowing red wristband on his left wrist. Levi might have thought he’d come straight from work if his trousers weren’t too tight to be considered work-appropriate.

Still, the stubble traced a sharp jawline, and the man’s warm, dark eyes were locked with his.

Levi pushed off the counter as the guy came around. His eyes slid up and down, from too-nice work shoes on the tacky floor to his chest, top couple buttons popped open. He wouldn’t mind unpopping a few more.

He moves closer to the guy, who’s got one arm propped up on the counter and the other in his pocket. Comfortable.

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda scene,” he shouts over the music still blaring.

The guy smiled, like it was some private joke. “What makes you think that? Maybe this is exactly my kind of scene.”

Levi laughed. “I think I could be convinced.”

The guy grins back, and again they lock eyes. “Let me buy you a drink.”

It’s not a question and Levi doesn’t take it as such. “I’ll have whatever’s strongest.”

Five minutes and half a drink later, Levi’s giggling. He toys with the man’s red bracelet and holds the man’s hand in both of his own.

“How come you get a red one?” he pouts.

The guy laughs, a little mocking. He cups Levi’s jaw with one broad hand, and wow, the world was looking a little hazy. The flashing colours must be getting to him.

“Don’t you like yours? It suits you.”

“Thanks.” He leans into the other guy until their lips are inches apart. “I still like yours better.”

Warmth creeps up his neck, and it must be the guy’s smile that does it because alcohol doesn’t work that fast.

He’s pulled even closer, the hand with the red wristband settled around his waist.

“I can show you what it’s for, if you like.

A voice in his ear, hot and murmuring.

Levi nods, soft and eager.

“You can’t tell anyone. House secret.”

“Of course,” Levi breathes, entirely too sincere. He pictures VIP rooms hosting the real party, with more free drinks and red wristbands he knows he wants to snag next time he’s here.

So the man leads him away from the pulsing music, and Levi follows, swaying on bambi legs that shouldn’t be buckling after just one drink.

[tact-and-impulse]

@shepherds-of-haven, thanks for the fun prompts! I’ll be collecting my fics on AO3 as well.

encounter

She really doesn’t belong here.

Her fingers nervously run over the extra card in her pocket, as she scans the undulating crowd for telltale ashen hair and displeased features. It’s difficult, with the rhythmically flashing lights overhead. She’s tried calling, but with the heavy bass tingling in her jaw, it’s no wonder that Prihine hasn’t picked up. What her roommate could be doing in this downtown club, she has no idea, but she also doesn’t know the other girl that well. Prihine is from a wealthy Norm family, she never cleans up after herself, and from her frequent complaints, she loathes that she’s living in an ancient and cramped freshman dorm with a scholarship student who never goes to parties. But if something unsavory has happened to her, that would be awful.

So, she renews her grip on Prihine’s student ID and heads further into the building. She keeps to the walls, which are speckled with colorful paint and feel slightly sticky. But with her back covered, it’s safer this way. At first. Someone is shoved out of the crush, their solid back colliding into her, and she instinctively freezes. The pressure is brief, but she doesn’t wait to hear an apology, before she’s scrambling for the first exit sign in sight. She hurtles into a side street, ignoring the protests of a draft, and turns the nearest corner before collapsing.

The night air is cold, and she inhales lungfuls, trying to calm down. Trying not to cry. She has to find Prihine soon, and then, she can go back to campus. Where her classes are. Where the Mage clubs are filled with people who all know each other from Capra, while she was homeschooled. Where the Hunter organizations talk around her, forgetting she can understand their conversations. She hasn’t felt truly alone in years, but right now-

She isn’t. There’s someone here. She lifts her head and at the end of the alley, only a few paces away, she can make out the silhouette of a Hunter. White hair, gray eyes, a couple of piercings glinting in one ear, tattoos running up and down his arms. He’s crouched and balanced on his heels, an unlit stick of charch between his fingers, as he stares at her. 

“You okay?” His voice is low and placid, like he’s just woken up. 

“I...I just need a minute. I’m not good with crowds in tight spaces.”

“Yeah, I hate it when people breathe on me.”

She vigorously nods in agreement, before realizing. “Then, why are you here?”

“Band has a gig tonight. What about you?”

“I’m looking for my roommate. She forgot her ID, she can’t get back to our dorm without it.”

He gives a skeptical look, tucking the cigarette behind his unpierced ear for safekeeping. “Are you sure she’s in this club?”

While she answers, she takes out her phone. “She hasn’t returned my texts or calls, but she has Instagram. One of her cousins is famous on there, I think, and my roommate’s competitive, so she posts a lot. It looks like she was here in her last one...oh.” She frowns at the website, blocked entirely by a notification. She never did download the app, only searching for clues via Prihine’s frequently used social media, and now she needs an account to continue viewing.

He stifles a laugh, but his expression is only mildly amused as he extends his open palm. “Can I log in and try?”

“Sure. Thank you.” She draws closer to him, passing her device over, and his hand envelops it entirely. His thumbs are almost comically oversized as he types.

“Haven freshman?”

“Yes. Are you an upperclassman?”

“I dropped out a couple years ago. I’m across the street, at the culinary school. Is this the post you mentioned?” He slants the image towards her and she recognizes Prihine’s selfie, taken while she was waiting in line.

“Ah, that’s it! Have you seen her?”

“No, but one of my friends might have. He helps with the band’s publicity, so he’s around. Mind if I ask him?”

“Please, you’d be really helpful. Thank you, um...” 

“Halek.” He supplies, as he dials another guy named Riel, judging by the brief greeting when the call goes through. 

The conversation is short, and she notices the roommate must be from Leore, but she focuses on locating Prihine for the time being, only speaking to provide information and her own name. Riel doesn’t remember seeing the other girl, but he’ll check with security and will call back when they find her. The line dies, and with her phone back in her hands, she hesitates.

Fortunately, Halek pats the adjacent pavement. “Feel free to wait with me. Band’s not on again for another hour, so I’m not leaving.”

Relief sweeps over her, and she sits down, inquiring. “What do you play?”

“None of the others can agree on a genre, but I’m on drums. We perform around town, sometimes on campus if you’ve heard us before.”

“I don’t think so. Sorry.” She reflexively apologizes. “I don’t get out much.” Certainly, nowhere other than lecture auditoriums and the dining halls.

“What’s your major?”

“Biology, I’m pre-med.”

“Ah, that explains it. You’d get along with my twin brother, he’s currently applying and I don’t envy him. Everyone in our family’s invested in his acceptance, since somebody needs to live up to their standards. He’s not at Haven, but I can give you his number if you have questions.”

“I don’t want to bother him, if he’s stressed out.”

“He’s always stressed out though. That’s just how he is.” Nevertheless, his tone is fond.

“You must be close.” She draws her knees up, interlacing her fingers around them. “Your family doesn’t approve of your career?”

“They never did, they wanted me to be a politician.” He makes a disgusted expression. “No thanks. Too much work.”

“It definitely is. Signing papers, holding press conferences. A lot of people would be breathing on you.” She does her best to maintain a straight face.

“Exactly.” His gaze shifts to meet hers, and she’s not sure who breaks first, but in the next moment, they’re both laughing. Her hair’s fallen loose, and as she recovers her composure, she tucks it behind her ears. Not for the first time, he glances at the white streak, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he fishes in his back pocket, removing a small punch card that doubles as an advertisement. “Politics would mean quitting my job at the café too. It’s quiet, we have some Haven students like you.”

She accepts it, noting the offer of a free meal after five purchases. “What kind of food do you serve?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” He pulls up his Instagram, scrolling through vibrant pictures of their daily specials, each plate unique. It all seems appetizing, especially in the short cooking videos. In the clips, his steady fingers arrange sandwiches, work over pans of sizzling ingredients, and decorate confections.

There’s one motion in particular that intrigues her. “How’d you do that? Break an egg with one hand?”

“It’s just easier for me, keeps my other one available.”

“You make it look natural.” She attempts to figure out the trick, imagining an egg in her palm and flexing her knuckles.

“One of the waitresses can do it too.”

“So, is it a hiring requirement?”

He laughs again. “No, the other one breaks every egg she touches. You can meet them and see for yourself. You’d probably get along with them.” There’s a pause, as he gives a thoughtful expression. “Thanks.”

Too surprised, she stammers. “F-for what?”

“Usually, I’m too tired for these late night gigs, but right now, I feel fine. I can make it through tonight.”

“...Me too.” She softly says. Her earlier panic has been forgotten, and Halek’s presence is comforting. She’s having fun, just sitting out here and talking. Laughing, which she hasn’t in a long time. Already, she feels closer to him than anyone on campus.

Riel’s return call interrupts them, with the news that her roommate is currently detained at the club’s entrance and clearly unhappy by the screeching in the background. It’s her cue to go, and she hastily brushes herself off, thanking Halek again.

“No problem. Are you going back to your dorm?”

“I thought I would.” She hesitates for just a second, before venturing. “Or I can stay? And listen to your band’s performance?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “If you want, I can let you in backstage. Take a nap, eat the snacks I brought. You don’t have to worry about crowds at all.”

Oh. That’s very kind of him. Her heart skips a beat, and she hopes she’s not blushing. “Okay then. I’d like that. See you soon?”

“See ya.”

Squaring her shoulders, she makes her way to the front. She braces for whatever abrasive words are in store, but she’s made up her mind. For the first time this semester, she’ll try to have an enjoyable college experience.

[abalonetea]

Just Keep Breathing: Chapter Two

I was partnered with @the-dot for the @originalfictionbigbang​! Thank you for working with me, Dot!

Here is the first chapter! I’ve split the first 10k words between four chapters, and will be posting them all in a masterpost in just a moment!

Summary: It’s the height of storm season and everyone in Hi-Banks, Florida is getting ready for the bad weather. It should be a year like any other - but on the tails of a national pandemic, a new disaster strikes. More than one new disasters. So many disasters that Eddie Carver would like to put some of them back, thanks. He’s just a down on his luck guy living in the local trailer park with his boyfriend. He’s not interested in dealing with the revival of an old murder case - which he knows nothing about, thanks -, the storm season of the century, or…zombies?

Yeah. Absolutely not interested in the zombies.

This black-comedy follows the inner workings of a small town as they band together to survive, and the young man - reckless, mean, angry, written off b the big city folk come to look into a cold case - that might hold all of societies survival in his hands.

Forget about society.Eddie’s only interested in keeping his friends alive.

Chapter Two – The Hunt Shop

The Mason family has owned a bait and tackle shop out on the north edge of Hi Banks for almost a solid four generations. It’s a good twenty minute walk from the trailer park, which isn’t that bad when it’s not also pouring down rain. As it stands, they’re both soaked by the time they hit the long dirt road that winds towards it. The sides are pitted out from constant tire tracks, turned into thick puddles of standing water and mud.

The rain lets up to a light drizzle, but it’s too late for that to be helpful. Eddie makes a point of splashing his feet in as many of the puddles as he can.

Carson’s the one who calls out, “truck,” when twin headlights appear in the distance. It’s got a massive dent on the passenger side and the fender looks like it’s held on with duck tape.

Lincoln Wiltshire, the deputy, pulls over. He’s a tall, skinny man with a hooked nose and a scar on the side of his neck. Every time he’s asked, Lincoln tells a different story about how he got that scar. Eddie’s pretty sure it’s something mundane and stupid, like a fishing accident.

“You boys having trouble?” Lincoln asks, rolling down his window and half leaning out it.

“Truck still won’t run,” says Carson. “We’re stuck hoofing it everywhere.”

“And the power’s out at the trailer park,” adds Eddie.

“Shit, already? I was hoping it might stay on a while longer.” Lincoln scratches at his side burns. “Wonder if it’s out where I live, too.”

“Store had power last time I was there,” says Eddie. There’s no need to specify. Everyone just calls it The Store.

Carson asks, “you coming from Red’s?”

“Was getting some more shells.” Lincoln gestures at the brown paper bag in his passenger seat. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on anything with him today, boys. He’s in a rotten mood.”

“Eh, we’ll take the risk. I want something hot to eat tonight, you know?” Eddie says “Shit. You think he might have some of that soup still?”

“Maybe,” says Carson. And then, to Lincoln, “can you do me a favor? I was only at the docks for like an hour earlier, but Clancy didn’t show up.”

Lincoln frowns. “Now that ain’t like him.”

“No, it’s not. He’s always there, doesn’t matter the weather,” says Carson. “Figure maybe you could swing by his place, see if he’s...I dunno. Gotten into something.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll do that before I go home. Thanks for the heads up, Carson. You two stay out of trouble now, you hear me? I don’t want to get any calls out there.”

“That wasn’t our fault!”

“I don’t care who starts the fight, I’m the one that has to pull pants on to come finish it. I’m looking to not leave the house again tonight, so. Behave.” Lincoln jabs a bony finger at them.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Eddie parrots, “yeah, man, whatever.”

“Maggots, the both of you,” huffs Lincoln, but he makes sure to pull away slowly so as not to splash them in muck.

They get about ten steps before Eddie asks, “so, uh, you worried about him?”

“I mean, yeah. Sort of.”

“Ain’t he a jerk?”

“Sure. But like, not all the time. And it’s weird. He’s always at the docks. Like, I’ve NEVER not seen him at the docks, Eddie. I dunno. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this.” Carson shrugs.

Maybe it makes Eddie a worse person, but he’s not too concerned about Clancy one way or the other.  The guy has a mean streak the size of the Grand Canyon, and a habit for acting like he’s the boss down at the docks. He’s not, clearly, but the guy has been working there forever at this point, so everyone mostly just ignores it.

Silence falls over them. The sloshing of Eddie’s boots is the only thing between them, until the shoddy looking wood building of The Hunt Shop comes into view. There’s a massive concrete raccoon statue out front. It gets decorated every time a holiday comes around. Right now, it’s got a massive yellow tarp wrapped around it in lieu of a rain coat.

The front door is propped open, the heavy twanging bass of the radio thudding out. Eddie ducks in first, glancing around.

For the most part, the hunt shop hasn’t really changed in...well, ever. There’s an old singing bass above the gun rack, and a mounted deer head on the wall just behind the front counter. Red is stretched out on a chair behind it, booted foot flung up onto the counter next to the register and an open can of beer.

“Lincoln was right,” says Eddie. “You look pissy.”

“Ey, if it ain’t my favorite scarecrow.” Red thunks his boot back down onto the floor. “Lemme guess, the power’s out.”

Eddie finger snaps at him. “Bingo!”

Carson stomps in just behind him. “Cat broke our damn window.”

“A cat?” Red snorts. “You know, I think you might have worse luck than I do.”

Eddie hops up onto the counter, next to the register. He helps himself to the open, half-warm beer. “Lincoln says you’re in a pissy mood. What’s up?”

“Ugh. This damned weather,” says Red. He uses his foot to push the wheeled chair away from the counter, and then spin around so he can slap a hand against the calendar hanging up behind him. “Look at this. I’ve got two days, and then I’m supposed to be going on my hunting trip.”

“Damn, is it that time already?” Eddie passes the mostly empty can to Carson.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Thanks.” And then, “isn’t that storm supposed to hit this weekend?”

“I’m thinking about just hunkering down out there,” says Red.

“That’s stupid,” says Eddie.

Red slaps the calendar again. “I’ve never missed a trip. I’m not gonna let it get passed over because of some rain. It’s, what, a cat two? I’ve spent worse storms out on the swamp. I figure there’s no power out there anyway, so what would I be missing?”

“The sun,” says Eddie.

At the same time, Carson says, “the hunting.”

Red scowls at them both. “Neither of you know the meaning of the word fun, you know that? I swear, I don’t know when you guys got so boring.”

“Around the same time we started dying from hunger,” quips Eddie.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go get something to eat. C’mon. I was gonna close up anyway.” Red hauls himself out of the chair and around the counter. He leads the way out of the shop – Carson closing the door behind them when he brings up the tail – and around to the back of the building where his camper’s parked.

The radio is already on inside, a woman’s voice, “and as if the predicted overly active storm season isn’t enough, we’re having more and more cases of this unknown virus showing up. We actually have managed to get an interview with Charlie Santero, the governor of Florida, where we get his personal thoughts on the situation.”

“Ugh, shut that off. I hate that guy,” says Red.

Eddie slaps the radio off. “So, food?”

“Chili,” answers Red. He grabs a bowl out of the fridge and shoves it into the microwave.

“Gross,” says Carson.

Red flips him off. “You’re the ones that came over.”

The microwave beeps. Red pulls it out and tosses it onto the little table on the other side of the kitchenette. He grabs three spoons and drops them down, too.

“Alright. Dinner’s served.”

* * *

It’s dark by the time they leave Red’s, all three of them loading up into Red’s old wood backed pickup. They roll the windows down, letting the stiff Florida air into cab.

Eddie sits on the far end, arm flung out so the mosquitoes slap into it as they rush past. “So, think we’re gonna get hit bad this summer?”

Red groans. “Do we have to talk about the storms? I’m trying to think happy thoughts about this week.”

Carson says, “I’ll check up on the shop for you.”

The tires catch in one of the ruts, splashing mud up onto Eddie’s hand. “Gross.” He pulls it in, wiping his palm off on his shorts. “I’m thinking it’s gonna be a small one. Just because it’s always small when the people on the radio talk about it. They’re always wrong and stuff.”

Red whacks the back of one hand against Carson’s shoulder. “Smack him for me, will ya? You’re gonna jinx my trip if you keep talking like that, scarecrow.”

Carson shoves at the back of Eddie’s head, pushing hair into his face. “Don’t jinx him.”

“Ow!” Eddie rubs over dramatically at the back of his head. “Fine, fine, I won’t – hey, knock it off already!”

They pull all the way through town towards the trailer park and are almost at the chain link fence around the place when the flash of red and blue lights come into view. Red cuts the engine. “Alright, nope. I’m checking out. Whatever you two did - “

“We didn’t do nothing,” says Eddie, the words a low sort of whine. “I’m telling you!”

“Looks like you did something,” says Red. “And I’m not interested in being involved. Sorry.”

Carson grunts, giving Eddie the stink eye.

Eddie shakes his head. “I didn’t. I’ve stayed outta trouble and you know it, man. I’ve got – fuck, nothing on me right now.”

“Whatever,” says Carson, slinging open the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Red doesn’t have a record, per say, but he likes to steer clear of the local officers all the same. The moment that Eddie and Carson are out of the truck, it peels into reverse and vanishes, a squeal of tires on the pitted pavement and a spray of muddy water up onto the other side of the road.

Carson says, “you’d tell me if I’m about to walk into something, right?”

“Yeah, man, I’d tell you,” says Eddie. “But I swear, this has nothing to do with me.”

“Ugh,” says Carson, and Eddie totally agrees with that. They head up into the trailer park and true to their luck, the sheriff’s car is parked right outside of their little hovel, along with a little shiny black car that doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of Hi Banks.

Sheriff Bianca is sitting on the hood of her car smoking a hand rolled cigarette, short black hair pushed away from her face, the thick scar over her cheek visible even in the wane light of the street lamp. “There you are. We were waiting for you. This is - “

“Agent Smith,” says another woman, long blonde hair pulled back away from her face and an ashy pallor to her skin. “and my partner, Agent Russo.”

“We didn’t do shit,” says Eddie, lower lip jutting out.

Carson shoves him. “Idiot. Stop running your mouth.”

The corners of Bianca’s mouth twist up at the edges, just a little bit, and then instantly take on that hard slant again. She slides off the car, putting the cigarette out on the bottom of one mud caked boot and then tucking it into the front pocket of her uniform shirt. “Boys, they’re here about the Mulborne Case.”

There’s a beat of silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, just can’t help himself. “What, really?”

Smith asks, “does that mean you know the man?”

“Of course I do. Everyone knows Benny,” says Eddie, with a shrug of his sharp, bony shoulders. “Ain’t this thing solved?”

“Yes,” says Bianca, a little tersely.

“On a local level,” answers Russo. “But we’ve recently been informed of something that’s brought the case into a larger light.”

Carson squints. “You two aren’t cops.”

“We’re with the FBI,” says Smith.

Eddie snorts. “Bullshit.”

That takes Smith off guard. “Excuse me?”

“The FBI out in Hi Banks? Yeah, I don’t buy it,” says Eddie. “This town’s barely on the map. What the Hell would send you people out here, huh?”

“We’re not allowed to discuss that information while the case is still under investigation,” says Russo. “You’re - “

“Eddie, yeah, and he’s Carson, and I’m sure the sheriff’s gone over all’a this with you. You realize how late it is? Some of us actually have to work,” says Eddie.

Smith gives him a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry about the time. We got a little turned around on the way out here.”

“Not my problem,” says Eddie.

Russo says, “it might be. It’s been brought to our attention that you had contact with the men who were murdered.”

“They went missing,” corrects Bianca. “There was no proof of foul play.”

Eddie juts out his lower lip. “Yeah, sure. I fixed up their van when they came through, big fucking whoop. How about I just make this real easy and tell you exactly what I told her?” He jerks a thumb at Bianca, who rolls her eyes. “Their van was trashed. I fixed it. That’s my job, okay? That’s it. They paid in cash, big bills, and then they left and I never saw them again. End of story.”

Carson says, “you should try and find someone smarter to ask about it.” He slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and hauls the other man up against his side. “Eddie’s got a brick for brains. Even if something weird was going on, there’s no way he would’ve noticed it.”

“Bitch,” mutters Eddie, but he doesn’t protest. Easy out’s, right?

A phone goes off, some lame shrill tone. Russo excuses himself and steps away from the group and Bianca asks, “did you figure out where the machinery went?”

Carson grunts. “Probably Milo hawked it. Pretty sure his ma’s rent was due this month. We didn’t really look that hard.”

Smith questions, “machinery?”

“Carson works at the docks,” says Bianca. “A few parts went missing earlier this week.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” says Carson, gruffly. “Look, no offense but we’ve already done this once. We don’t know anything else about it, and I’ve got work tomorrow. Can we wrap this up?”

A car door clicks open behind them. Russo, still on the phone, waves Smith over. Smith nods and then excuses herself, all polite, “thank you for your time. I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” before heading over. They climb in their little black car and leave.

Carson scowls at Bianca. “Seriously?”

“Trust me,” says Bianca, dryly. “It’s not my idea of a good time, either. I thought that we were done with this.”

Eddie snorts, already heading towards their trailer. “Yeah, fuck off about that. I am done with it.”

He’s pretty pleased when Carson just goes on and follows him, not so much as a goodbye tossed Bianca’s way.

[oatsn-honey]

fragile

ao3

masterlist

summary: 

Zelda just doesn't understand why he can't admit that it's his fault they're in this whole "Calamity Ganon" mess. But, maybe she just wants someone else to blame.

or: Link and Zelda get into a fight, both running off into separate directions. Eventually, Zelda seeks to find him and apologize

notes: i'm rlly hesitant about posting this, just because i worry it won't be well received, but i figure i need to share it at some point.this is a vent-fic, so it is technically me projecting onto a character, so if you have a problem with the sensitivity to the content, i ask that you please simply stop reading instead of coming for me. thank you. for readers who are sensitive, this does contain references to self harm (although none actually occurs).

Turning the fish skewer absently over the open fire, Zelda observed the lake in front of her; Link leaping in and out of the frigid water, still fully clothed. His head bobbed up and down as he swam, dashing towards fish and capturing them in swift motions, securing a hearty lunch.

She would’ve found the sight amusing, had it not been for a single thought plaguing her mind. That, and the fact that not even Link himself was smiling — not even in the slightest. It was annoying. It was annoying that he could look regal and refined when doing something so seemingly foolish (any other person would’ve looked either insane or ridiculous). It was annoying that she could never do that.

“Link! I think we have caught plenty!” She called, eyeing the pile of assorted fish at her feet with disdain — just another reminder of her own incompetence. He nodded, lips still that hard line, rising out of the water, catch in hand. Zelda sighed, turning back to the flames and adjusting her grip on the stick.

She could hear his sloshing steps as he approached, clothing dripping and hair soaked, and feel the splash of water when he sat down. “Here,” She thrust the skewer out to him, giving not the briefest glance upwards, before puncturing another fish. “Take it. After all, you were the one to catch all of them,” She could hardly keep the indifference from her voice.

She had to refrain from rolling her eyes when she received no answer and her arm continued to hang in the air, food still very much held in her fingers. The softest touch met the back of her hand — he wanted her to look up. “What?” She hissed, launching up, the contempt too obvious to miss or cover up.

His hands stopped, suspended in the air, ready to sign, fingers curled back in resignation. His expression remained neutral, flat as ever, but there was a flash of hurt across his ocean eyes. Barely detectable, his shoulders drooped, and his hands went limp.

Zelda ran a hand down her face, harshly blowing air through her lips, before asking more gently, “What?”

He pushed the skewer toward her and began to move his hands slowly, carefully so that she understood, “It’s for you, Princess.” The words were kind, but she felt no different. This was probably just another ploy — a way to make her feel guilty.

She narrowed her eyes at him, yanking the fish away, sinking her teeth into it in a single aggressive bite. “Fine by me,” She growled. And he had the gall to continue on with that straight face. Had she been paying any attention, and she wasn’t, most definitely not, she may have guessed there was a small smile on the corner of his lips.

Link grabbed a sharpened stick of his own, sliding a large Hyrule Bass onto it and roasting it over the fire. Zelda slowed her bites (she reminded herself to remain calm), watching the flames lick the food as Link turned it in his hands. He seemed fairly satisfied when the fish reached a golden brown, taking a mouthful of it.

Zelda finished her own meal, stabbing the skewer into the soft ground. She wiped her hands on her dark trousers (her father would’ve been mortified), shifting to rest her elbows on her knees. The princess placed her chin in her hand, blankly watching her knight  — within mere moments, her teeth were already grinding in unfounded anger.

“You know, Link,” she started, voice too innocent and unassuming, “Why does everything come so easily to you?”

She waited for a response, the moment only filled with the sounds of the lake’s water stirring and the creatures flitting about the area. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Well?!” She snapped, face filled with annoyance, “You don’t know how to answer?” She stood up, clenching her fists in rage, “You’ve probably never known what it’s even like to work hard, or to not excel at something! Because you’ve never had to try at anything, right?”

She gave a hysterical laugh of repudiation, “You are the chosen one, after all! It makes sense, you were able to become a knight as a child, no effort, no sweat! You pulled the sword from its pedestal as if was hardly a stretch!”

She turned to fully face him, eyes misty but harboring a deep animosity, “I bet you look at me and laugh, ‘Why is everything so hard for her? Why can’t she just figure out how to unlock her blasted powers? Wasn’t she supposed to be born with them?’”

She gave him no room to argue, her fury passionately forcing his protests back, “I wouldn’t doubt it if you’re sick and tired of waiting around for me. I bet I just slow you down and annoy you to no end!”

“That’s probably why you never talk, right?” Zelda insisted fervently, “Because there’s no way that you could ever say anything to me without insulting and breaking the knight’s code! I’m sure that you say horrid things behind my back.”

Each assumption stung like a poisoned weapon slicing through Link’s skin, but he had already lost the right to fight against her.

“Nothing to say, chosen one?” She sneered. “Well, I’ll have you know, it’s your fault that we’re even in this mess! This mess of Calamity Ganon, this mess of unlocking some accursed sealing powers. If you hadn’t pulled that glorified blade from its resting place, none of this would be happening!” She waved her hands around emphatically, every word stressed by the motions, “That’s right! Maybe you should tame your foolish avarice and realize that not everything is some childish game that can be easily conquered!”

Her final words were accentuated with a sob and flying tears, “This is your fault!”

Zelda heaved, still reeling from her outburst of raw emotion. “Well?” She cried breathlessly, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Link’s jaw quivered, expression withdrawn and head hung in surrender. His knuckles had grown a bone white from the force of his clamped fists. Silently, he made his way over to discarded weapons — “that glorified blade.”  

“Where do you think you’re going?!” She demanded, foot stamping in agitation. He didn’t respond, continuing to sling the sword across his back. There was a quiver in her voice as it bellowed after him, “Link!”

Her response was boots pounding on the ground, drifting farther away.

With an infuriated huff, she turned on her heels, her arms crossed and teeth grinding in agitation. “Fine then-! If he wants to be immature then so be it!” Scooping the discarded Shekiah Slate into her hands, her thoughts escalated, “Just wait until Father here’s of his behavior — he will no longer think so highly of a knight that can’t handle the truth!”

The princess stamped out the remainders of the fire, each stomp in time with a jab at her ‘protector’. With fire burning at her tongue, waiting impatiently to be released, she mounted her steed, urging it forward. A speech of malice was already racing through her mind, only pushing her onward towards the castle. She didn’t even look over her shoulder to ensure that Link’s own horse was following her.

Foreboding clouds formed only 2 minutes into her journey — or perhaps they had been there the whole time, unnoticed and overpowered by her boiling temper. The promise of a storm only served to further damper her mood.

When the first drop splattered across her nose, she wanted to scream, “Well isn’t this just my luck!” Instead, she dug her heels into her horse’s sides. Galloping towards the castle, Zelda anticipated her arrival, her anger coiling painfully in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, when Urbosa hears of this…”

By the time hooves collided with perfect stone slabs, the storm had begun, water flooding Zelda’s vision and thunder peeling through the sky. Without a thought, she leaped from her horse, leaving it to the guards, and took long, heavy strides towards the gates.

Bursting through the door, she dismissed her father’s reprimanding comment, quickly scanning the room for a single person.

“Ah, little bird—“ Her strong voice rang before she caught sight of Zelda’s expression and stiff body language — the girl was nearly boiling over. “Please excuse us, your highness,” Urbosa apologized. The king waved his hand, using the other to rub exasperatedly at his face.

Steps confident, Urbosa followed after Zelda, peridot eyes cold and calculating as she observed the young princess. They ascended several flights of alabaster steps, twisting through familiar corridors, illuminated by flames and adorned with ornate tapestries. When they reached Zelda’s quarters the princess heaved open the unwieldy doors, her lacy top nearly ripping at the shoulders with her impassioned strength. The blonde stomped into the room, furiously tugging her braid from its place. The Gerudo woman followed her, curiously cocking a sharp eyebrow at the girl’s huffing and agitation.

“Ugh, Urbosa!” Zelda groaned, hands tensing as she began furiously pacing the room’s length. “I just can’t believe him -- the audacity!” She turned to her friend, who had taken a seat in Zelda’s plush desk chair. “He’s just so, so,” she stuttered, mind muddled by her fury, “so irresponsible! And disrespectful! I am the princess, I am royalty, he can’t just ignore a question!” She let out a choked scream, “And he has the gal to just leave! How unbelievable!”

Urbosa’s face remained calm as she began to speak, relying on her intuition to fill in the blanks in Zelda’s ranting, “Now, little bird, please take a moment.” Zelda shot her a deceitful glare, but Urbosa simply raised her eyebrows, unintimidated. “I don’t see why royalty matters in this instance. Isn’t your anger caused by the envy you feel towards his ability to discover his foretold destiny when you have yet to?” Zelda stuttered, forming a rebuttal that had no chance to surface, “In that case, shouldn’t you treat him as an equal, and give him the respect that you desire from him? Besides, his whole life has been respecting others, and you are no exception to that.”

“W-Well, I--” Zelda stammered, hands clenched as she hoped to conjure a response.

She wasn’t given a moment to try, “You know, that boy hasn’t quite had an easy life either. There’s no plausible way a child could’ve advanced the ranks to knight without grueling training and  a strict upbringing -- I’m sure he has struggled. Being the “Goddess’s Chosen Hero” is certainly less than it is envisioned as, and I doubt it’s what he wanted from his life. Just as you despise being the Goddess Incarnate. Trust me, I’m certain there is more to his silence than timidity and conduct procedures -- he’s probably seen his share of the world’s darkness, just as you and I.” Zela hung her head as Urbosa continued, “We do not possess the knowledge of what plagues his mind and heart, the burdens he carries -- for all of our ignorance, and who’s to assume differently, his lively-hood could be dangling above destruction, and it could easily be caused by what others, or even you or I, say.”

“Urbosa, I apologize, I spoke out of m-” Zelda started, before a harsh glare from Urbosa caused her to teeter out. After a moment, the look softened out.

“Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets.”

“I understand…” Zelda resigned in defeat, hands limply clinging to the sides of her dirty trousers.

Catching her off guard, Urbosa commanded with a thunderous voice, “Now! Go find that boy!”

Nodding determinedly, Zelda snatched a coat on her way from the room, heart beating with the pelts of rain against the castle. She set out on horseback, galloping across the plains and forests of Central Hyrule.

An hour of searching, soaked to the bone by the frigid rain, all to no avail, left her feeling hopeless. Steeling herself, guilt still rampant in her spirit, encouraged her to begin again.

She found herself drawn to the Applean Forest, the small wooded area beckoning her towards its trees. Zelda was certain that he was there. Dismounting from her horse, she hesitantly approached the wood, her clothing and shoes plastered in mud from the wet ground.

After weaving through the trees, a soft sounds piqued her attention, and she sets out to follow it. She rounded a tree carefully, eyes coming to rest on Link (as she had suspected and hoped) huddled up against it, his knees pulled close to his chest and arms cradled between them.

“Link?” She asked ever so quietly, moving so little that she refrained from blinking. He made a muffled, surprised noise, choking on his cries, before backing away from her like a frightened animal, avoiding her eyes.

Then, she saw it. A knife to his side, cast away, glistening with rain water.

“For all of our ignorance, and who’s to assume differently, his lively-hood could be dangling above destruction, and it could easily be caused by what others, or even you or I, say.”

“Oh, Goddess, Link!” She collapsed before him, praying that he didn’t have so much as have a scrape, forcefully grabbing his arms and pulling them forward for her to see. When she threw the dripping sleeves forward, she was met with… smooth skin, untouched.

He gazed up at her, hot tears still trailing down his face, before he looked at the knife. His voice wavered as he spoke, “I couldn’t do it.”

Zelda’s heart swelled with tumultuous relief, “Thank Hylia,” She breathed before dropping her head and lightly kissing his arms in a beholden act.

“I’m sorry,” She heard him mumble, soft voice bubbling with emotion, tears blurring is vision. “You’re right, it is my fault, if only I hadn’t--”

Throwing her arms around him, Zelda refused his admission, “Shut up, you dummy! I’m sorry! What I said was so, so wrong. It’s never been your fault, ever. I’m so sorry, I just wanted someone else to blame, and I never, ever should’ve said that. I was so wrong, I know that life hasn’t been easy for you, either. I never should’ve assumed that. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Link.”

He didn’t return her embrace, but he eased into her hug, his crying slowing to gentle sniffles. She mumbled apologies repeatedly, tears soaking into his uniform.

“Link, can you forgive me?” Zelda pulled away from him, looking into his swollen, but brilliantly blue eyes. The knight nodded softly and she pursed her lips, hoping to hold onto the memory of his voice, for she had never heard it before. Why is he so silent, the princess asked herself.

Shrugging the thought off for later, she stood, extending her hand down towards Link. “We should probably head back now.” He hesitantly accepted her offer, hand cold in her own. “It’s late and you’re shivering quite a bit.” His lips pressed together in embarrassment, a vain attempt to quell the chattering of his teeth.

As she helped him mount her horse, this time the role of guard belonging to her, Zelda felt her stomach knot with apprehension and her senses overwhelmed by a strong bout of protectiveness. She smiled up at him briefly before grabbing ahold of the reigns. As they set out towards the castle, the rain still bombarding the earth, her eyes set with cold conviction. She would come to understand him.

“I am fragile. He is fragile. All of life is fragile.”

sorry >< i know that it's not the best and that it's probably not everyone's favorite topic,,,,

but, since i did mention that this was a vent fic and that i was projecting onto a character, link in this case, i would like to let anyone who is curious know that i have been doing much much better (and that this is from a couple months ago)

thank you sm for reading! i love all of you! please stay strong!

[jbrokayakfishing]

Made a little trip down to Lake Seminole for some pre-fishing for the Hobie Bass Open Series coming up in February. Despite post cold front conditions, a couple good ones decided to open their mouths. Looking forward to kicking off the tournament season, how about you? #lakeseminole #florida #largemouthbass #kayakbassfishing #bassfishing (at Bainbridge, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKK3z13Lxit/?igshid=1e2mjidjufy5s

[philipronans]

go where you breathe free [2/7]

so i know it’s been eight months since i last posted anything fic related and i highly doubt anyone cares anymore but. here i am anyway. for anyone who needs the reminder here’s part one

the second week

Sirius still isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here. Oh, he knows the particulars – that Remus drove (and waxed poetical the entire time about what he’d do if they had to park two streets over), that Lily was the one who essentially had dressed him, and that all it had taken for his protests to crumble down around him had been that one particular look from James. The look that always reduces his moral fortitude to the consistency of wet cardboard. Not even good quality cardboard, either, but that flimsy shit they shove the cream cakes into at Sainsbury’s.

No. By ‘this situation’ Sirius means this bathroom. With its mould spots in the corner over the toilet and the shower curtain that is always damp, no matter how long it’s left untouched. There’s also the girl bent over the toilet – and whilst she’s probably not a permanent feature, she certainly adds to the ambience. Initially he’d wandered in here looking for a place to piss. Not an unreasonable request of a bathroom, really. But now he’s trapped, because the tiny little scrap of conscience that managed to survive his parents is telling him to make sure doesn’t die. Or something equally horrendous. Mostly, though, he just doesn’t really feel like wading back through the drunken mob outside in search of another toilet. If there even is one; they are in a student house.

He leans against the wall by the door, idly twisting the string of the light switch around his fingers whilst his bladder stages an angry protest at being ignored. He hasn’t quite reached being desperate enough to clamber into the shower – clingy curtain and puking girl be damned – but he’s not far off. The girl retches and he sighs so hard his shoulders slide down the tile. His trainers squeak against the water damaged, peeling linoleum as he readjusts his weight. For a blessed moment it’s the only sound in the room, other than the distant thumping of bass from outside. Then his phone starts vibrating against his thigh.

“Lo?” Sirius croaks into the receiver once he’s managed to fish his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Evans was correct in saying they do wonders for his arse, but that is one of the few benefits of wearing them.

“Where are you?” Lily’s voice crackles through the speaker. Speak of the devil.

Sirius swallows around a dry throat and belatedly mourns the drink he’d lost half an hour ago. The girl slumps away from the toilet and swats at the flush as she leans against the dented side of the bath. She stares up at him through clumps of dirty blonde hair and she reaches up a hand to scrape it out of her face.

“You’re not James.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

He can hear a smile in Lily’s voice and there’s something about it that makes his stomach go a little funny. That could, of course, be the tequila shots finally catching up with him.

“Where are you?” Lily repeats.

Now that he can see her face properly, Sirius inspects the girl more closely. Familiarity taps at the back of his skull like that old cartoon woodpecker Peter was obsessed with when they were kids.

“With… Bertha?” He says, raising an eyebrow at her.

She nods as she pulls a hairband from her wrist with her teeth and pulls her hair into a ratty ponytail.

“That clears that up. Thanks.”

His laugh is low and intimate. It’s the one he uses just to make Lily’s eyes light up or to get James to crack a smile, and maybe it’s because of the alcohol or maybe it’s just because he misses them. They haven’t gone anywhere but there’s a sudden pang of loneliness scratching at his conscious like an animal trapped in a cage.

“Where are you?” He asks instead.

He pushes off the wall and lets the light switch bounce off the tile. The battle with his bladder is temporarily forgotten as he toes the bathroom door open and squeezes out into the hallway.

“Front… door…” The music is a lot louder now, the bass steady and pounding, and it makes Lily hard to hear.

For a moment he considers just going back into the safety of the bathroom. But then Lily huffs in his ear and laughter that can only be from James echoes in the background. Resigning himself to the fact he’s going to have to deal with the dregs of humanity, he starts off towards the stairs. Neither of them hang up. It’s strange, in a way. The knowledge that she’s there on the other end, even though she remains quiet.

He, however, makes his presence known quite loudly when he trips over someone who was smart enough to pass out on the stairs. The curse he lets out would be enough to make Remus blush were he within hearing range. Lily cackles into his ear as his free hand shoots out to grab a spoke of the bannister. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s holding on.

“You okay?” Lily asks once she’s finally stopped laughing.

“What’s a little near-death experience between strangers?”

There’s a burning in his lungs that he ignores in favour of getting his breathing back under control. One thing at a time, and all. He starts back down the stairs once he’s convinced he’s not about to drop dead, and digs a palm into his chest to try and ease the discomfort. Probably the tequila again.

“Sirius!”

He swivels his head around. no doubt looking like an idiot in his searching. Eventually he finds them; James, Lily, and an unhappy looking Remus (as if there’s ever any other kind of Remus) standing just inside the front door. James is swaying on his feet, head tipped back so he’s staring at the overhead light. Lily raises her eyebrows and makes a show of hanging up and shoving her phone back into her pocket.

“You took your time.”

“May I remind you that I almost died a minute ago.”

Lily smiles, a mischievous little thing that promises trouble. She reaches for him, taking him by the forearm and pulling him under the light. She twists his arm back and forth, nose inches away from his wrist.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!”

Sirius shoves at her hands, a smile of her own making his mouth twitch. “We off?”

“Please.” Remus says, eternally longsuffering.

Sirius looks up at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Alright, grump.”

Remus shrugs and scratches at his chin. “I didn’t want to be here in the first place.”

“You just don’t know how to have fun.”

“Maybe if someone else drove from time to time I would.”

“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but we’d probably best get a move on before someone passes out.” Lily interjects, and Sirius hurries over to help her balance James’ weight.

“You’re here!” James says, eyes focussed on Sirius’ face.

“Where else would I be, mate?” Sirius shares an eyeroll with Lily over James’ head.

James squints at him. “You disappeared for a while.”

“Me?” Sirius scoffs. “You should know by now there’s no getting rid of me – I’m like a bad penny. Or that sock with a hole in the heel you always put on by accident when you’re in a rush.”

 He wakes up five hours after crawling into bed – although given how long it took to get a very uncooperative James into his own bed, it actually works out being closer to four – and is immensely grateful he doesn’t suffer from hangovers. Whilst some might call it a superpower, it does nothing to help him get back to sleep. After a fitful twenty minutes of tossing and turning he lets out a frustrated huff and pushes himself up. The duvet is already halfway to the floor, so he kicks it the rest of the way as he paws at his cluttered bedside table in search of his phone. Once he’s found it – under an ice cream wrapper that’s been there for at least three days – he squints at the screen. Just gone eight. He throws his phone back in the general direction of the table. There’s a low thud as it hits the carpet and he rolls his eyes as he looks for his water bottle instead. The plastic crinkles under his fingers, the mouthful left at the bottom swishing around when he holds it up to his face. He briefly considers not getting out of bed to refill it.

Eventually, though, common sense wins out and he struggles to sit up properly. It takes several tries because his chest aches as he moves. He’d had the sense to strip down to his underwear before sleeping and he’s surprised to see there isn’t any kind of mark on his chest when he glances down. A hiss escapes through clenched teeth when he pokes at his ribs and is met with pain. It’s tender, almost like a bruise. He takes several deep breaths and waits for the pain to fade enough to pull himself to the edge of the bed. Once on his feet, the pain is a lot easier to manage and it takes very little effort to pull on a pair of jogging bottoms.

He wanders out into the hall a few minutes later and shuffles past the living room on his way to the kitchen. The water bottle dangles from his fingertips and he accidentally smacks himself in the thigh when he pauses in the doorway. Remus is on the bigger of their two sofas, his stupidly big feet hanging over the armrest. It cannot be comfortable, but Remus is deeply asleep judging by the obnoxious snore rumbling in his chest. Sirius watches for a moment longer, his mouth curling into a small smile that sticks with him as he enters the kitchen.

There’s a jug of water in the fridge, he knows. Lily had brought it with her when she’d ‘officially’ moved in; something about filtered water tasting better than tap? She may have a point, but Sirius has made a career out of being a contrarian. So he ignores the fridge and heads straight for the sink, letting the tap run for a few seconds before he uncaps the bottle and shoves it under the freezing cold water.

A noise behind him has him spinning away from the sink. James stands in the doorway, his dumb hair even more mussed than usual and circles under his eyes so dark they could one day rival Sirius’. He offers Sirius a very small smile, barely more than a twitch of the lips, and Sirius returns it. Then he curses because the water overflows onto his fingers. He flicks the tap off and glares at James when he laughs. He wipes his hand off on his waistband and takes a quick sip before twisting the lid back onto the bottle.

“You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“I’m never drinking again.” James says, rubbing a hand against his eye and visibly fighting at yawn.

“Says everyone before drinking again.” Sirius snorts and moves over to the cereal cupboard. He roots around inside for a moment and then lifts his head to find James watching him. He clears his throat. “You want anything?”

James shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.”

He pulls out an unopened box of rice crispies. By the time he’s opened the box and managed to wrestle the plastic packaging into behaving, James has placed a bowl and the bottle of milk at his elbow. “Thanks.”

James nods, and his silence would normally be freaking Sirius out a little. But he’d seen at least a fraction of how much James had had to drink. James goes back to the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice (with bits, because James is an animal).

“How’s the headache?”

He rifles through the cutlery drawer in search of a spoon and doesn’t care about how loud he is. Remus sleeps like the dead, and Lily wears earplugs when James has been drinking. When he turns back around, James is lowering himself into a dining chair. The carton of juice sits on the table.

“Pounding. Don’t suppose there’s any paracetamol left, is there?”

“It’s on the list.”

“Great.”

James sighs. Sirius wanders over to join him at the table and hisses as he sits down. James frowns.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

[montyrakusen]

Bad weather in Jaywick

Ray lifts his stick slowly and pokes at the body of a young man asleep under the lee of a boat on the beach. There is no response. Ray is a little unsteady on the wet sand and in the rain and gusts of wind he is finding it hard to walk on his baker’s van accident in Pimlico leg. Joan had always wanted them to retire to Jaywick, she had friends there and it was beside the sea and Ray wasn’t one to argue. He’d only come out on his early morning walk for some Danish bacon and the News of The World and now there was a body. He continued prodding with his stick and the young man sat up suddenly and asked Ray what he wanted. Ray explained that this was no place to sleep especially at this time of year and it was bad weather in Jaywick.

The young man is grateful for Ray’s invitation to drinks at the pub later. He brushes his teeth in the vandalised public toilets and with his little silver camera takes pictures. He walks the deserted streets and photographs the run-down huts with evocative names like ‘Y Worry’, ‘Dun Roamin’, ‘Osocosy’, ‘Rest Awhile’, and ‘Denise n Babs’. Between the rainstorms, when there’s a glimmer of light, he takes photographs and then shelters under the awnings of closed seaside shops when it’s wet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his old army jacket, the rough horse-hair lining pricking his hands. He has tea in a cafe, all red plastic and wood, the windows steamed over. There is no one else. Joan watches him from a crack in the lace curtains and in her living room her china animals stay silent. Ray goes to buy bread and Brillo pads and he watches the young man down the road from afar. The wind picks up and the rain comes down and it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

The young man can hear the noise even before he has entered the ‘Never Say Die’ public house but as the doors close behind him there is silence. The bar is full of elderly men watching him, mostly smoking, playing dominoes, sitting on crimson velour chairs around tables full of ashtrays. It’s very smoky blue and it stings the young man’s eyes. Ray hobbles over and greets him with foaming beer. The old men gather round and ask the young man questions, leaning closer to hear him better. They buy him beer, he buys them beer. Time passes and then it is dark. The young man worries about sleeping out there in the beach wind and cold under the boat but soon he is invited to stay at Ray and Joan’s home. The two men bend into the wind and rain, in the darkness, the sodium lights glow orange reflecting on the wet ground in the beer light and the bad weather in Jaywick.

Joan, wearing her pink Terylene house coat and purple chiffon scarf greets them as they crowd into the comfortably small hut. They sit on the sofa in front of the orangey fiery fire effect fire and Ray kindly demands bacon sandwiches. Joan toasts Sunblest bread and fries up bacon in a bit of lard. She brings them bottles of Bass beer and they smoke and joke. Ray smokes Players No6 and the young man still has half a pack of St Michel which he bought just across the choppy channel in Belgium. The little party, warm and cosy-cosy in the hut, rises in noise and drunken friendliness until they run out of things to say. The room is full of souvenirs and bric-à-brac which looks on silently. Ray is working himself up to asking something. The beer and pleasant conversation has given him courage and when Joan is out of the room he leans close to the young man. His breath smelling of fags and beer is hot in the young man’s ear and his speech is slightly slurred. Ray asks if he could do him a favour of a personal nature, he’s having a bit of trouble, you know, in the bed department with Joan and could the young man do it for him? Joan returns to the room and starts to wash the dishes, her back to them, unaware, humming. The young man gazes towards her. The bric-à-brac looks on silently. The young man doesn’t want to offend anyone and politely refuses. After a few moments Ray is not offended in any way, standing, smiling he jumps up, snapping his braces and patting Joan’s pink Terylene behind he exclaims defiantly that, well then, he’d just have to do it himself. The young man is relieved, and thinking of the dark beach, makes his bed on the sofa. He looks out of the window at the dancing stormy branches and the rain drops streaking the glass because it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

The young man lies on the uncomfy uncomfortable sofa in the semi-darkness, he’s not very tired. Soon he can hear a rhythmical banging against the wall next to the sofa. In the gloom he sees the pictures on the wall moving and then on the shelf the bric-à-brac begins to dance around to the vibration. The trees form jumping shadows on the wall in orange and the wind whoops and roars. Then there’s the sound of dustbin lids and small dogs barking in the distance. The rain rattles the windows and it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

Later, in the orange glow the bric-à-brac is now still. The young man watches them with interest. On the shelf above the radiogram are a large collection of souvenirs and amongst them are: a model seal made of real seal fur, a goldfish held forever in a block of perspex, a red and blue glass Murano style Bambi frozen in a Bambi pose, a black china Manx cat from the Isle of Man, just one china 101 Dalmatians dalmatian, a shiny Jersey cow from Jersey, a china spaniel, an Amari tea cup, a bowls trophy and a dog completely made from Woodbine packets. They talk happily to each other, quiet at first then louder, about the days of summer, blue on blue skies, sunshine, seagulls, fish and chips, the smell of vinegar, visitors. The young man smiles and agrees, closes his eyes, dreams of better days while outside it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

Ray coughs, takes his tablets at the kitchen sink and puts the kettle on. Soon it starts to sing and then there’s the clink of teaspoons and the pouring. He takes a cup to Joan. He takes a cup to the young man who cradles it in his hands to warm them. Ray wonders if the weather will be any better today and the steam rises from the brew. The young man packs his things into an old rucksack and explains it’s time to leave. Ray says kind and happy words, there is some back slapping. The young man steps out into the rain, he doesn’t look back and walks down the street to the sea wall. Ray stands at the door watching as the hunched figure becomes more and more distant, Joan pulls back the net curtains and watches as he walks away. The young man walks south towards the estuary and Brightlingsea, he passes ‘Las Vegas’, ‘Club Morocco’ and the Martello tower, striding out onto the wild lands. The clouds part and the sun beams down on him warming his soul, the skylarks rise up and chatter above his head. He feels happy and purposeful in the sun. He turns to look back at the town and there the clouded horizon is still dark and black blue with rain and it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

Some time later and far to the north another young man is hitch hiking along the A133. He’s been waiting a while and he’s come a long way but now an old white delivery van is slowing down to pick him up. The driver is a big burly bloke delivering bacon from Colchester and asks the young man, where he is going. The cab is cluttered full of paper work and sweet wrappers, thermos flasks, Playboy magazines and a bunch of plastic flowers. The radio is tuned to BBC Radio One but it’s too noisy to hear it. The young man replies that he’s going to Jaywick. After a while in the noisy cab, travelling east towards the sea, the burly bloke shouts over the roar that he’d better wrap up warm because it looks like it’s bad weather in Jaywick.

The End

Editing: John Coombes, Georgia Rakusen

See the second set of images: https://montyrakusen.tumblr.com/post/622628454211485696/bad-weather-in-jaywick-part-2-in-progress

[largemouthbassnation]

GoPro Spring Post Cold Front Tips - Bass Fishing

GoPro Spring Post Cold Front Tips – Bass Fishing

In this video I explain how to catch fish after a cold front comes in during the early spring months, enjoy! *Check out Salt Life’s channel for more videos:

Check out my website:

Check out my other channel “Flair Fishing Reviews”

Add me on Snapchat: aflair430

Have questions? Kik me at: fishingwithflair

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[vincess-princess]

just another night

some people are interested, so here it is! i kinda experimented with sound and flow and am a little bit nervous how it turned out. also, do you think i should post it to rockfic too? also it’s kinda long so im putting it under the cut. as always, giant thank you to my lovely beta @polska-tankietka , without you this would be so much more trashy

Fandom: Motley Crue Pairing: Nikki Sixx/Vince Neil Word count: 1547

The bar is stuffy and smelly. Music roars in Nikki’s ears, light flounces before his eyes; red-yellow-white, red-yellow-white. Nikki can’t make out the hair colour of the boy who’s been looking at him for the last twenty minutes. Nikki looks back and taps on the counter. Bartender serves both of them Jack Daniels, and he senses an understanding soul.

The boy has a girlfriend, and at first Nikki wants to throw them the fuck out. After observing them a little, he changes his mind. The boy doesn’t even look at her; she sulks, drinks shot after shot, leans on the counter, finally gets up and totters towards the toilet.

The boy watches her until she closes the door. Then he looks at Nikki. And smiles.

Nikki smiles back.

The boy nods, shows him three fingers, empties his glass and disappears in the crowd. The music is so loud the air seems to be vibrating, Nikki will soon be able to see sounds.

Nikki starts counting seconds. The whiskey messes up his count, and he has to start again. He gets angry, starts straight from fifty.

One hundred seventy eight. One hundred seventy nine. One hundred eighty.

Nikki gets up, throws his jacket on the stool and heads to the men’s toilet.

Here, he can’t see well either, but he makes out that the boy has blonde hair. There’s barely enough room for two, Nikki almost knocks his head on the lamp. He still has to lean forward, the boy pulls him closer, his fingers gripping Nikki’s hair, his breath smelling of whiskey. Nikki closes his eyes and opens his mouth, his world is bitter and wet, tasting like cigarettes and smelling like cheap perfume, and the fingers in his hair are pulling demandingly, almost painfully, almost. Nikki’s tired of bending over, he grabs the boy under his thighs and lifts him up, his back against the wall, he laughs without sound, “what a strong boy”, and Nikki thanks someone silently for bad lighting in the room.

The boy accidentally bites Nikki’s lip and quickly apologizes, Nikki wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter, even the taste of blood won’t dilute the bitterness in their mouths, but he doesn’t want to stop the kiss, not now, please. The boy is a very skilled kisser, but it’s not a contest for Nikki: his hand feels the hotness of the boy’s skin, the part of his back right above the belt of his jeans, and he slides his whole palm under his tee, and he just can’t get enough of him.

“We don’t have much time,” the boy whispers in his ear, and Nikki’s mouth feels so cold and empty without the blonde’s tongue in it. The boy’s hands are cold too, and Nikki shivers a little when these fingers brush his skin right above his jeans. Nikki tries not to look, this is not his first time but he still blushes like a schoolgirl. Instead, he looks at the boy’s hair that is darkened at the roots, tangles his fingers in it and pulls him closer. The boy doesn’t resist - he doesn’t need to see what’s down there to handle it, his breath is hot on Nikki’s neck, his hair tickles his cheek. Only now Nikki notices he’s a head shorter than him.

“Are you even eighteen?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Twenty already,” the boy looks Nikki straight in the eyes, resentfully, almost defiantly. His eyes are dark, brown, maybe. “Do you really care?”

“Don’t wanna go to jail because of such trifle.” Nikki smiles insincerely while everything inside of him screams, stop it, he will leave, he will leave you alone here, do you want it?

“I wouldn’t tell anyone anyway,” the boy says indignantly, and for a second Nikki fears he’s too angry to go on. But they’ve already got so far, and the boy, too, feels this growing tension in his crotch, and he doesn’t want to stop.

Nikki can’t help moaning when the boy’s hand slips under his belt. Nikki strokes his head, he would never think such a non-sexual gesture would work, and the bleached hair under his fingers is stiff, a little bit damaged already, but not in vain, definitely not. The neck under the hair is sun-burnt to dark-red, and Nikki can’t understand whether pain or pleasure is behind the boy’s moans, but he doesn’t try to stop him, so Nikki hopes it’s alright. And those strong fingers down there move faster and faster, and Nikki accidentally bites his partner’s shoulder, but the boy doesn’t listen to his apologies, “let’s talk later, after we’re over”. Nikki puts his hand over his mouth to muffle his screams, there’s another toilet just behind the wall, what if someone will hear him? Yes, a silly concern, the music is too loud, but Nikki doesn’t want to give them out, they really don’t need to be interrupted right now.

And then the world explodes in front of his eyes, and everything goes black and white, and for a few seconds Nikki can’t breathe and only presses his face into the tanned shoulder with a white trace of a strap.

They should have probably brought tissues with them.

The boy smiles, teeth shine like pearls in a brown face. “Was it good?”

“…oh fuck yes.”

Nikki buttons back his jeans. “My turn.”

The boy’s jeans are easy to take off, very useful in a club. “Did you forget underwear on purpose?” They don’t talk – they whisper, soundlessly, the music doesn’t let them hear each other, but it’s ok, Nikki understands almost every word, as though he finally learned to read lips.

“Sure,” the boy blinks in surprise, “why would you need it here?” and Nikki almost laughs, almost, because he’s kind of right.

Nikki got told a lot in the past that he has calloused fingers. He usually shrugged it off - it’s the cost of playing the bass, - but now he’s worried the boy won’t like it. He is wrong. The boy tilts his head back and moans loudly, openly, shamelessly, as though there are no people behind this thin door, but Nikki doesn’t care, not anymore. Let them hear. Let them envy. Something cracks behind the boy’s back, and they clumsily move around to avoid knocking down the fragile sink, and Nikki is not afraid anymore to cling to him, because it’s much harder to knock down the wall, although they probably could do it if they had enough time. Now they have too little of it, but Nikki doesn’t care, he lives in the moment, in their broken breath and desperate moans, in the drops of sweat on a tanned forehead. He holds the boy with one arm while he scratches his shoulders and smears his lipstick on Nikki’s shirt, so submissive, so fragile, and Nikki loves it, and he knows it’s not true, he knows he’s wrong, but one can always dream. They won’t meet again anyway, will they?

The boy whimpers quietly, and Nikki’s palm fills with warm and wet. Nikki holds him so tight it’s almost painful, because if he lets him go, they will both collapse. They stand there panting and don’t look in the other’s eyes and don’t understand why it’s so hard to just release their grips, to just say goodbye. They don’t owe each other anything, right? Seconds are hours, hours are seconds, and time stretches like rubber and sprints like a leopard, and doesn’t obey any known laws. How long it’s been, a minute, an hour, a day?

“It was so cool,” the boy’s whisper breaks the fragile silence. “Are you a guitarist?”

“Bassist.” Shit, so he didn’t like it?

“Even better,” he looks Nikki straight in the eyes and a smile hides in the corners of his mouth. “I love musicians.”

Nikki pulls him into a kiss to not let him notice his blush. They kiss, and Nikki can’t stop thinking that it’s their last one.

“Alright,” the boy breaks the kiss a couple of minutes later. “I gotta go. You have magnificent fingers,” and he slips out of Nikki’s arms and almost turns the doorknob.

”Wait, tell me at least your name.” The last thing to ask in a gay club, but Nikki needs to hold on to something.

“Wharton.” The boy smiles, slyness in his eyes. Definitely lied. “Yours?”

“Frank.” Who could think he would use it again. “It was nice to, uh, meet you.”

“Same. Three minutes, as before?”

Nikki nods, and Wharton leaves. A few seconds that Nikki lingers for, his head still in a haze of his recent orgasm, are enough for Wharton to blend in with the crowd. Nikki looks for him until he’s dizzy from all the music and the lights but it’s all in vain.

He leaves the toilet and plods back to the bar. He wants to get drunk enough to pass out but so much alcohol is beyond his means. He grabs his jacket, and – a piece of paper flies out right under the counter.

It takes him ten minutes, two broken nails and scratched fingers to fish it from under the counter. There are some numbers on it. And a “Call me. W”

Nikki is on his knees, smiling like an idiot.

[magicalsalamander]

At Your Service

Pairing: BTS Suga  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Hybrid (Doberman Pinscher) | Bodyguard | Office | Fluff | Angst | Smut

Summary: Your Grandpa adopted him, ex-K-9 police dog hybrid, to kept the auto shop safe. He had to fulfill his vicious guard dog hybrid appeal, but he was putty in your hands. However, when an unexpected event happens you took ownership of Yoongi, your best friend…but when tensions build, will he want to stay with you?  

Words:10 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Death of minor character, sexual content, knotting, oral (giving), switch/dom/sub, baby girl & baby boy, protection, explicit language, and dirty talk.

A/N: Hi…I wanted to release this one-shot as an intermediate while I’m working on another series. Thank you for being patient with me. This is supposed to be lighthearted~. Thank you for reading~ check out the other version to get a (slightly different perspective on this one-shot!

Masterlist |  Monsta X Shownu Version

The whine of drills and sparks singeing metal played in harmony with the sound of heavy rainfall. The toxic combination of gasoline, oil and fresh water bit at his sensitive nose. However, with the years spent in the auto shop, the familiar smells have become comforting. He leaned against the steel service door frame, watching and guarding the entrance protecting the mechanics inside. The rain was thundering against the rooftop and metal awning shading the service doors. He closed his eyes, resting them just for a moment letting his six sense take over, as he was lulled by the cascading waterfall off the awning.

Wet footsteps sloshed against the asphalt, a new sound against the normal industrial noises. The shuffling of a paper bag accompanied the hurried steps. Inconspicuously, a floppy ear perked up towards the sound and when it got closer he pried open an eye. She was wrapped up tightly in a hoodie with her arms struggling over a large bag in her hands. She ran through the parking lot like she was running away from rolling lava. She broke thought the waterfall, her hoodie getting drenched, and pulled the hood of her hoodie back breathing a sigh of relief. He watched the pink and rosy burn on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. A smile radiated from her at him momentarily stopping Yoongi’s heart.

He closed his eye again, but a huff left you noticing his passive attitude. You pulled out a smaller bag out of the bigger paper bag you were carrying with a sly smile. You approached the grumpy, but docile pinscher. He seemed like a quiet one with his stoic exterior, but he could yap at times like a chihuahua. Yoongi put of this pretense of being an aggressor, a force to be reckoned with, but he melted like putty when it came to pets. He was all bark no bite…at least when it came to you.

Grandpa ran this shop since his twenties proudly being open for almost fifty years. When he first opened the suburban neighborhood was nice, but as the decades rolled on the times weren’t as kind. He adopted Yoongi from the shelter after one too many break-ins and cranky customers. He walked into the shelter with his hands clasped behind his back browsing the different cubbies with hybrids in them. He pulled a sour face when the workers offered him a bunny or kitten that tried to drag him in personally with their eyes. He insisted to the workers he wanted an aggressive, vicious looking dog hybrid. They sided eyed each other attempting to catch up with him as he perused the isles. He stopped at the end of the aisle eyeing the back of a Doberman, who rested his head on the wall in the corner of the cage.

Grandpa tapped the window, but the hybrid remained motionless. He tried again, and the hybrid turned around squinting his eyes angrily at him for disrupting his sleep. The worker behind him politely attempted to redirect him again, but he didn’t budge, “This one. I want this one.” 

The angsty hybrids eyes perked up, even standing up to approach the glass between them. The worker tried to bargain again, “Yes, he used to be a K-9 for the police, but he doesn’t do his job. He’s too lazy.” 

The Doberman growled at the worker who curled away from the glass at the noise. With his eyes still razor sharp he turned to Grandpa, “You want to adopt me?” 

Grandpa didn’t lose his confidence; his smile was still intact. “Yes, if you’ll come home with me.” The workers fiddled with their hands trying to come up with a plan together to divert him, but the bond was set. Yoongi nodded, his expression softening for a moment. Grandpa looked towards the staff, “Well, what you are dilly-dallying around for, let’s get the adoption going whippersnappers?” He turned back to the hybrid, “What’s your name kid?” 

His floppy ears twitched along with his tail behind him, he’s never been asked that before, “Yoongi…Min Yoongi.”

Grandpa could’ve gotten a dog, but he wanted someone that could actually talk to him. When the family ran away from his lame jokes, Yoongi was the one who had to sit through them. He did it diligently though, he was patient and took everything. It was his way of paying Grandpa back. He did everything for the old man.

You squatted down next to your family guardian, setting down the larger bag on the dry cement fishing out the smaller bag again. With your free hand, you carded your finger over his bangs, brushing stray hair out of his eyes. You then scratched behind one of his floppy, black ears feeling his head lean into your touch. You were always glad that your grandpa decided not to crop his ears in efforts to make him look threating. You argued with your grandpa, the innocent fifteen-year-old when you first met eighteen-year-old Yoongi, “His eyes already are scary, just leave his ears alone.” Which wasn’t a complete lie, whenever he squinted and pulled that stoic expression it promised nothing but nightmares.

Even though Yoongi, a majority of the time, was docile, you’ve seen the aggressive side of him once.

About six years ago you were working, basically hanging out, as the receptionist for the shop during summer break in high school. Yoongi was outside guarding from his usual post by the service door. A middle age male customer came into the shop obnoxiously chewing gum, acting haughty from the get-go. His choice of car was clearly making up for something he lacked. The man leaned against the counter trying to court you, even before you got the chance to ask, “How can I help you?”

From the outside, Yoongi kept a close eye on the situation the whole time. Yoongi decided enough was enough when the man was breathing your air almost as soon as it left you. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood between the customer and you, blocking you from seeing the pervert. Yoongi’s eyes barely looked up as they glowed behind the brim of his baseball cap (which had holes for his ears). In a bass growl, falling near an impossibly low register, the words tumbled off his tongue, “If you don’t want your car fixed, I suggest you leave.” 

The customer scoffed leaning his head back chewing while he spoke, “Ho-yeah, says who buddy?” He tried leaning on the counter pushing past Yoongi to potentially pick up where he left off at. Yoongi’s nostrils flared and whipped around grabbing onto pervert’s arm and shoved his face down onto the counter. There was a resounding crack from the wooden countertop. The customer began shouting, even claiming he would sue if Yoongi didn’t let go. Your alarms went off, so you pulled Yoongi off doing your best to hold him back. The growling didn’t stop though. The customer stood up haphazardly pointing a finger at you both, “I swear when I come back I’ll…I’ll!” He couldn’t finish his sentence finding his anger get the best of him and just ran out the front door and zooming off in his red car. 

Yoongi didn’t bother looking at you he returned to his post carrying on with his job. You were left there questioning what happened, but your stomach was doing flips on its own accord.

The pervert never returned.

He breathed out something like a sigh of relief, enjoying the warmth from your hand. The cold was crisp, but you were a welcoming heat. When your hand stopped scratching, he wanted to whine out in protest. “I brought you something.” He pried one eye open again setting his sight on the familiar bag, then both eyes opened. His tail wagged behind him thumping against the metal frame. You couldn’t help but giggle and hand over the steaming goodies. Even when you didn’t have a reason to come over, you’d stop by just to see Yoongi, your best friend. Grandpa may have rescued him, but really Yoongi rescued you. He was always there for you, he was like a shadow preferring to watch from a distance.

He thanked you with a grunt fishing in the bag, biting into a hot one then immediately regretting it breathing out a billowing plume of steam. You lightly smacked his thigh then brought your thumb up to the edge of his lips wiping away stray crumbs. He stopped chewing as your soft thumb ran against his lower lip. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing in with the fresh rain. The sudden bite of gasoline seemed sweeter, he could get drunk off it. “Eat slow silly, I don’t have my CPR training yet.”  

His thumb swept across his lips before he took another bite. “Why do you need CPR training to be a secretary?”  

You brought an arm up resting your head in your hand, “It’s a—don’t speak with your mouth full—requirement and new law.” 

He watched a soft smile graze your face as your hand went back to swipe more crumbs off his face, but his hand encased around your wrist. He gulped hard, “I can clean myself Y/N.” 

You pulled your hand away settling to ruffle his hair out of spite. You stood back up before he could bark at you. “I’m going to give this to Grandpa, I’ll see you soon Yoongi.” 

He snatched your wrist once more and with pleading eyes peeking through his bangs, “Just—just one more scratch before you go. You don’t have to…if you don’t want to.”

You set the bag back down, sitting across from him. In all honesty, you were the one who enjoyed petting him the most. It was sort of therapeutic and it gave you an excuse to spend time with Yoongi. He wasn’t much of talker, often opting out for a nap, but being in his presence was more than enough. Again, you carded your hand through his hair gently massaging and pampering him. Yoongi watched your expression carefully, the way your pupils dilated and how you breathed softly. He wanted to bring you in closer, hold you to him, but…he couldn’t. You were his best friend the family’s guardian, not ever to cross the line to…a lover.

Time blurred as the rain danced against the awning and the sparks never died out.

The rain eventually stopped and the seasoned changed, so did how cold this year’s winter felt. The news came unexpectedly, a grim chill crept into the family. 

You were the last one to enter the office. You squeezed Yoongi’s hand before you left the lobby, not sure if it was more for you or him. The lawyer offered you a seat across him, “Please, sit.” He cleared his throat, attempting some empathy for your situation. “Ms. Y/L/N I’m so sorry for your lost. It’s never easy to relay, but he left me with things to give you.” He opened a black case file, pulling out your grandfather’s will and testament. He slid a copy of the original over to you and spoke as you read it to yourself. “He left some of his assets to you, but the auto shop will be taken care of by your father.” 

You continued to listen politely nodding along, but really you were immersed in reading his testament. His voice rung in your head as you read, “Y/N, you have a heart of gold. You think of others before yourself, and I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but I trust you with this the most. I’m transferring the ownership of Yoongi to you as he legal guardian. Please watch over him like you always have, he will protect you now.” Tears stained the crisp, white paper you sniffled and wiped away the tears apologizing to the lawyer for getting emotional.

“Your grandfather set up a fund for Yoongi to take care of him.” He slid over a bank book with the name Min Yoongi scribbled on the top by your grandfather. The meeting was wrapped up shortly afterward, grandpa was always straightforward with his wants. 

Everything didn’t truly sink in until you made it back to the lobby. Yoongi stood up noticing a change in your scent; smelling the strong scent of salt and stress pheromones. It smelled like rotten eggs that were soaked in the sea. You stood before him with a lowered head and as a single tear rolled down your cheek, Yoongi caught it before it had a chance to gain momentum. 

You grabbed his hand lacing your cold one around his warmth, “Let’s go home Yoongi.”

Yoongi never had been to your new place. You had just barely moved into the two-bedroom townhouse unit about three months ago. You finally saved up enough to leave your terrible previous roommates and find a place of your own. Working as a secretary for one of the CEO’s for a major company allowed you to slowly build up savings. You wanted to leave apartments behind and upgraded to a house. However, that was still out of your budget, so you settled on a townhouse. It was narrow…and old, but it was still home. 

Yoongi’s eyes were busy looking around studying the street and the surrounding area. He blatantly narrowed his eyes at any pedestrians. He was nearly stepping on your heels, his instincts to protect you naturally taking over in this new environment.  

You walked up to your short staircase arriving at your navy-blue door with the golden numbers 45730. Before you left earlier, you forget to turn on the outdoor light, so you took your phone out to work as a flashlight. You jiggled the keys in the lock; since the lock was old, it wasn’t a direct turn-the-key-to-right or left. Yoongi loomed over you like a shadow, having already scouted out the area; his black tail was twitching back and forth, and his nostrils flared subtlety. After the typical three jerks of the key in the lock, it budged to the left and opened the door. 

You let Yoongi go inside first, then closed the door behind you. He lugged two suitcases with him setting them in the entry hallway. You took off your shoes placing them in the shoe rack next to the door. Yoongi watched everything you did and repeated after you. You flicked on the light, turning around with your cheeks flushed, “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

He turned around after placing his shoes in the rack following your lead taking in your sanctuary. The first thing he noticed was the dark wood staircase leading upstairs, then the small living room. All the spaces in your home were utilized strategically. The living room was composed of a couch, television and with knickknacks around to follow your personality. It was all tasteful a blend between comfort and contemporary. The kitchen was directly afterwards but before the transition of rooms, below the ascending staircase was a staircase that lead downstairs to a basement floor. 

“I planned to turn the other room into some sort of office space, but it’s yours.” He nodded not bothering to look at you, still looking around inspecting everything with his eyes. He wanted to learn everything, he couldn’t fully contain his excitement. He felt even more compelled to do so because this was your place.

You snapped your fingers at him already halfway down the stairs with a suitcase in tow, “Yoongi, come on follow me.” He followed with a suitcase in tow watching your hair bounce as you trotted down the stairs. You flicked on the light of the room. The decorating was simple a white desk with a table lamp, a twin sized bed with a fluffy white duvet. “The bed used to be mine from my last place, but if you don’t like it we can get you a new one.” His eyes were busy, not truly quiet believing yet that he was going to be living with you. 

You ran your fingers through your hair, “I’m going to make some dinner, feel free to look around and get comfortable. I’ll call you when it’s done.” 

He nodded still busy understanding his new territory. He liked this room, it was better than his old room at the mechanic shop which really was an office. On the outside, he seemed nonchalant, but internally his stomach was doing flips.

You turned around once more in the doorway, messing with the edge of your shirt, “Yoongi.” 

He turned around abruptly his wagging tail halting, taking in your sudden closed off language. With a bit of courage, you reached out and slid your arms around his sides to rest your head on his chest. He wasn’t built, but he was overall lean. He stood still, not quite sure where he should reciprocate or not, he wasn’t one for affectionate touches. “Are you okay? I haven’t’ had the chance to ask you yet.” 

All the muscles in his face relaxed and he slowly encased you in a bear hug. “I’ll be fine Y/N.” You stayed in his arms, his comforting scent of sandalwood and hints of floral tones instantly soothed you. You practically melted in his arms, but before you did you pulled away squeezing his hands and made your way back up the stairs.

He went into action immediately as you left inspecting everything in his new room. He brought the comforter to his nose, it smelled like detergent, but your scent was faintly still on it. His tail was wagging at a blurring speed. 

He left unpacking for later and decided to roam around the house. He bypassed you in the kitchen cutting up vegetables heading up to the second floor. He opened the first door in the hall finding a bathroom. He then moved onto the second room that was your bedroom. He hesitated but stepped in cautiously, not totally sure if he should be in your room. The set up was simple, similar to his room, but it had a touch of you and a queen size bed. 

He looked out the window inspecting what was in the area noting to himself the street was just below. He needed to know all the spots in the house to make sure he could protect you in any way possible. He may not guard the auto shop anymore, but he wanted to protect his new home with the same, or even more attentiveness.

He was about to walk out of the room, but he stepped on something. He pulled his foot back inspecting the object through the darkness. His night vision wasn’t great, tittering somewhere between human and dog perception, but he felt fabric. He bent down and picked it up squinting to take it in. When his vision finally focused he realized it was a black lacy bra. From his neck to his ears a hot crimson blush changed his tan pigment to a molten red tone. He dropped it back onto the floor as if he never touched it. He sped out of the room reprimanding himself and reminding himself you were his best friend and he had to protect you. 

You weren’t his…you weren’t his.

As he made his way back downstairs just as you were calling out for him, “Yoongi!” You were plating food but placed it on the coffee table instead of the two-seater dinner table. “I think it would be nice to watch some TV while we eat.” He sat next to you, opting to sit on the floor while you crossed your legs sitting on the couch. You turned and changed it to a channel you’d both enjoy. 

You ate slowly eying Yoongi every now and then finding it difficult to bring up what you wanted to tell him. After swallowing a bite, he turned to you, “Spit it out Y/N.” 

You almost choked on a bite of your own needing to take a swig of water before you spoke. You pulled up your purse and fished out the bankbook handing it over. Yoongi turned to you as you set your plate down, the atmosphere felt thick. “Yoongi, I know grandpa switched ownership to me, but I don’t want you to think of me as your owner. You’re my best friend, not a…pet.” You spat out the last word, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “You’re equal to me and…and.” 

He set down his plate turning to you lacing his fingers in yours running his thumb over your knuckles. You nearly jumped back not expecting the affection touch. He continued to stroke your knuckles basking in the low hum of the TV. He always had a way of letting you know silently things were okay. You took a deep breath, “If you don’t want to stay, you’re not obligated to. You can claim independence and I will support you.”

His thumb stopped rubbing over your knuckles stuck in a divot. His eyes finding your trembling ones. You wanted the best for him and always wanted him to live the way he wanted. He deserved more than sticking by a service door and you wanted to give him the chance. His gentle stroking resumed, “I want to stay. I want to be with you.” 

The double meaning of his words went over your head, so instead, you scooted towards him. “You want to stay?” 

He smiled brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face, “Yes.” 

You encased his hand with both of yours, “We’ll figure it out things…together from here on out.” 

He looked up to your face, finding himself in the reflection of your eyes. He didn’t know where he’s going to end up, but as long as it's near you, he knows he belongs there.

Together.

The sun and moon rose in intervals and before you knew it a month had passed by. Yoongi slept at dawn and woke up at noon, he found it hard breaking the old habit of staying up at night to guard. He would sit in the living room with the TV on low as he watched the windows. He felt at ease when he knew he was doing something for you. You sometimes would wake up and find him asleep on the couch. You’d always coax him to sleep in his bed with pets and as time went by he became more relaxed. You even took a few days off to spend time with him. The two of you had a rhythm and life went about as usual. You had to admit though, it felt nice coming home to someone. From the moment you moved into this house, it felt bare like it was missing life. It was something you couldn’t put your finger on, or fulfill. He filled a whole you never knew you were missing until happiness was overflowing. Yoongi was home.

Your keys jiggled thrice before the lock gave way, “Yoongi, I’m home.” The house was quiet, and you saw why immediately. Yoongi had headphones in as he was watching some videos on your laptop. You hooked your house keys on the key rack and gently closed the door behind you. You tiptoed your way over to the back of couch approaching the clueless Doberman. You’re truly surprised he hasn’t noticed you yet, he was really into the video he was watching. You stretched your neck to gander over his shoulder noticing what seemed to be a 90’s rap video. A cheshire grin grew as you slowly leaned from the back of the couch, almost resting your head on his shoulder. “Yoongi, what are you watching?”

A shiver ran down his spine setting each pore on alight from your hot breath on his cheek. He turned to the side immediately, instincts switched back on. You didn’t realize how close you were to his face, because as he turned his smooth, pink lips skimmed yours. Even though they were thin they still left a lasting effect. You pulled away slightly, not completely sure what to do. However, to egg on your confusion you felt a sense of regret. The tingle of his lips felt like pop rocks on yours. His eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

His pupils dilated, and his irises were engulfed black. Afraid to speak above a whisper, his tone came out more sultry than he wanted to, “Y/N?” His eyes darted down to your lips once then back up to yours, “When did you get home?”

His words were like a gong in your ear, a reminder that this wasn’t okay. He was your best friend. A swift kick of a reminder that best friends don’t brush lips or made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. You don’t exactly remember when this feeling bubbled in your gut. Maybe after he rescued you from the pervert, maybe you recognized earlier that he was handsome and smart. It was hard to put a finger on it. You stood back up hurriedly and pointed to the door, “Uhmm, just a moment ago…I’ll go make something to eat. You must be hungry!” You ran into the kitchen holding a hand to your lips. 

Yoongi sat there, the headphones around his neck softly playing hip hop, in a daze not truly understanding what just happened. However, he knew…he wanted it to happen again.

You both sat at the dinner table silently nibbling on dinner. He was okay with the silence, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to stay in this awkward phase, but you found yourself at lost for words. You wanted to feel his lips again. You wanted to inch closer until his breath sent nothing but electricity up your spine like a paralysis. A million and one thoughts were running through your head.  He deserved better than you though.

He knew you even better than the back of his own hand. He could tell you were tiptoeing around, acting like what happened earlier didn’t. He could smell the anxiety leaking from you. His heart was still racing from it, and he was more than grateful that you didn’t have hearing like a hybrid. However, if you listened close enough you could probably hear it.

He could admit that living with you for the past month has been the happiest time of his life. He found himself when you left, the first few weeks, marking his scent around the house. He listened to his instincts and acted upon them, telling him to leave a bit of claim of himself on you. He continuously did it because when you came back it would wear off after a few days. It was like he had no control over himself when it came to you.

After swallowing a bite, “How was work today?” 

Your fork in your hand clattered against your plate not expecting him to break the ice. You cleared your throat, “Good, my boss has me running around doing extra work because of the upcoming office party this weekend.” 

He raised a brow, “Do you want me to bite him for you, maybe that’ll give you more time?” 

A huff of a laugh left you, then you couldn’t help the breathy laughs that followed. “Only if you’ll bite him in the ass?” 

His face scrunched up in disgust, “Look Y/N, I’m not into those kinks like you are.” 

Your mouth fell into an “O” shape, so you bunched up your paper napkin and threw it at him, “Yoongi!” 

He rolled his eyes teasingly and you both naturally fell into line again, running parallel to one another again.

You brushed the hair curtaining in your face to set behind your ear. He licked the sauce accumulating at the corner of his mouth. “Yoongi, can I ask you a favor?” Your eyes peered over to him with glossy, puppy eyes. His pointed tail thumped against the wood of the chair, snapping sideways enjoying the submissive look in your eyes. He nodded waiting for you to elaborate, both set of ears open. “The office party is this weekend,” you pushed vegetables around on your plate feeling oddly nervous to ask him. He continued to chew staring at you, so you set down your fork feeling more stable that way. “We’re allowed to bring a guest. Would you come with me Yoongi? I would really like it if you could join me.” 

He didn’t mind being in crowds, but he wasn’t the type of person to really go for it either. He swallowed thickly nodding, “As long as we don’t have to stay the whole night.” 

You sighed in relief, “Yeah, yeah, I just need to be there for a few hours. Thank you, Yoongi.”

He was fusing with the buttons of his black button up. You bought it for him the day before, so he wasn’t sure the shirt fits. It seemed to fit and he could maneuver around comfortably, so that’s all that really mattered. He walked up the steps fixing his cuffs and looked in the mirror one last time fixing his hair. Surprisingly he felt a bit nervous, he’s never been to a party especially since it put on more pressure on him because these people were your peers. He was going to be on his behavior for your sake, or as you put it, “You don’t need to protect me here, so relax and enjoy it okay?” He scoffed thinking over your words again, how could he not protect you. That’s all he knew.

He heard your bare feet prodding down the staircase. You rounded the banister fixing an earring then smoothed out your dress, “How do I look?” 

Yoongi lifted a brow looking you up and down, he wired his jaw shut willing it to stay that way. Your dress didn’t leave much to the imagination even though it was a modest bodycon. His eyes trailed the curve of your silhouette catching himself licking his lip. He bit it slightly to bring himself back to reality. “You look pretty.” 

You were going to tease him, but you didn’t have much time left to get to the office. You thanked him and checked him stepping close to fix his shirt. “I’ll keep in mind to get you more black button-ups, they look good on you.” A blush threated to burn on his cheeks feeling the soft pads of your fingers brush against his chest. In an inhale out of reflex he caught your scent as well mixed with a floral perfume. This night was going to be difficult considering your visuals were enough to have him wanting to brush your lips again. Patience, he was the master of that….but tonight you were pushing his limits.

Yoongi felt out of place at your office, he opted to stick close by you the whole time. The party was held on one of the rooftop lounges. When he walked in everyone was dressed to the nines, he felt underdressed. You let him know that these people overdo it all the time, it’s a competition between themselves. You even winked at him, “You’re the best dressed Yoongi.” 

When big executives came into the room you dismissed yourself for a moment to help your boss remember the faces and names of these people. “Save a dance for me later Yoongi.” He rolled his eyes, but you knew that was his way of sealing the deal. 

He kept an eye on you the whole time you worked your way around the floor. You radiated a different glow amongst the crowd, so it was easy to find you. He sipped on the flute of whatever was in the glass. It was mostly in his hand to blend in. He brought it up to his lips gazing over the rim watching you. The way you stood with your shoulders back and the way your smile reached your eyes he could see why people gravitated to you.

His aura turned from a calm blue that bled into a tangible emerald green. He watched as your boss slid a hand around your waist and you didn’t even flinch. He began making his way through the crowd, excusing himself at people who had their noses in the air, wanting to break that very arm. As if you could sense Yoongi’s approach, you looked over to him and your expression towards him said it all: stop, don’t. 

He felt everyone blurring fast around him as you went on smiling to the people in front of you…and your boss. He set the flute down on a passing waiter’s tray and faded away.

You strategically removed your bosses hand off your waist. In the aftermath of his unwelcomed touch, it felt like a greasy mark was left where his hand once was. His touch was cringeworthy, an act he put on in front of his colleagues to seem like a dominant male. You kept your eye on Yoongi, but when he approached you had to let him know you had everything under control. He needed to trust you, but when you looked for him again he vanished from your sight. 

You excused yourself with a polite nod and went to look for Yoongi. He was all the way downstairs in the lobby, sitting at one of the many tables. You approached him cautiously, the click of your stilettos letting him know you were near. When he didn’t answer you calling his name you sat across from him, but he didn’t spare you a glance. His anger only boiled more when you didn’t smell clean anymore, but a rancid males scent…that wasn’t his. “Yoongi, what’s wrong? Why did you leave?” 

He propped his chin on his hand, “I want to go home.” His tone was strict and a command, not a request. 

You felt a twinge of hurt, but you didn’t want to force him to stay for your sake. “Okay, let’s go home.”

The car ride back was deadly quiet, the only sounds were the low hum of the radio. Halfway through the drive home, the clouds started rumbling. You stole glances at Yoongi to make sure he was okay. Normally he was fine with rain, but thunderstorms threw off his senses. However, his continuing odd behavior seemed to override it. When you open the door to the house he brushed past you and descended into his cave. You barely racked your keys before you heard the slam of his door. You stood at the entrance, contemplating what to do. Would it be too much to let him mull it over on his own, or should you help him? 

You decide on the latter, things don’t solve themselves. Whatever this fit was it’s better to face it head-on. The descending staircase didn’t hold the same calm presence that you associated with Yoongi. You held onto the railing, your heels thumping as you walked down each step carefully before you stood in front of his door. Clenching and unclenching your fist you rasped your knuckles against the cold, hollow wood. He didn’t respond to you, so you carried on with persistence. “Yoongi, open the door…please.” When the sound of your heartbeat is the only thing you can hear, you bit back the feeling of disappointment. You tested the handle and it opened to a dark room.

He sat on the edge of his bed that was up against the wall with his head hung low. The moonlight that seeped through the equally as volatile clouds covered the room with a pale light. Blinking slowly, he brought his head up, the friendly brown warmth in his eyes toiling and swirling like thick tar. A flash of lighting broke through the cloud lighting up the room for a split second. His eyes were swimming with something dangerous. 

His black bangs hung over his eyes, you finally understood the fear of those on the receiving end. “Y—Yoongi, what’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?” For the first time, you saw his sharp canines as he pulled back his lips to growl. You took two steps back towards the doorway bracing a hand to your chest, you didn’t understand the change in his behavior.

“Talk to me Yoongi, what’s wrong?” Waves of fear and anxiety rolled towards him, along with the scent of…your boss. It makes him antsier, not sure where to displace his anger. 

He gripped the sheets tightly in his clutches turning away from you. “I want to leave. I can’t stay here anymore.” 

Your knees felt weak, it was like he bit a chunk out of your heart and spit it out. Stinging tears welled up in the corners of your eye, but you found your voice, “Why?” 

He sat up passing you to go into his closet lugging out a suitcase. 

You walked slowly over to him testing the waters and wrapped your hand around his arm, “Yoon—.” Your hand was an epicenter of warm ripples sending goosebumps to rise on his skin, an instant calming effect. His emerald marbling with yellow again to a tolerable color. He caught it again, your boss’s scent and it was like someone poured black into the cauldron again; an irreversible acidic green. 

With more force than necessary, he ripped your arm away. “I can’t stay y/n.” He fished around his closet pulling clothing from the hangers and stuffed it into his suitcase.

The sounds of your choked tears made him freeze. He rubbed his forehead letting a growl of frustration leave him. Another crack of lightning lit up the room as he chanced a glance over his shoulder, “Is that all I can ever be to you…just a friend?” He didn’t want to come across this aggressive, but he couldn’t play ignorant anymore. He couldn’t just brush these feelings under the rug anymore. You were his best friend, but he wanted more, always have and always will. 

He turned to you and it gleamed at him, a single tear fell from your eye. “Yoongi—what are you—what’s gotten into you!” 

His resolution didn’t break no matter how much he wants to bring you into his arms and forget it all. He had to be rational, rationalize his jealous by distancing himself. He spun around on the ball of his feet, the feral side of him take over. All rational out the window, when you raised your voice at him. He was done with tiptoeing like he was walking on eggshells. He was listening to his beast, each step he took towards you was like a predator closing in on its prey. The air around you thickened like you were drowning in molasses. 

You almost tripped stepping backward, not sure how far Yoongi was going to go. Your heel caught on the edge of the rug and you slipped backward trying to catch onto anything before you met an end. Yoongi caged you in his arms, one wrapped tightly around your waist and the other slammed against the wall bracing the both of you. His head hung low with his bangs brushing against your cheek. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly feeling your stomach in your throat. 

He lifted his head gently brushing his lips on the outer shell of your ears, “I’m not one to share Y/N. I want you, more than a friend. All of you or nothing.”

A soft mewl left your lips without your control and a satisfied non-threatening growl left him, happy with your responses. The way his low growls sent vibrations to your core was sinful. “Yoongi, no, you don’t. You should find a mate, I can take you to a shelter or find someone online.” With every word it felt like you were swallowing hot coals, so you ignored the burn of your thoughts. “You deserve someone better…then me.” 

He brought his head back slightly his gleaming eyes still hung low, “No. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“Yoongi, please, think—,” you couldn’t find the words as his canines nibbled roughly on your ear lobe, then he licked affectionally afterward. He was teasing you, playing with you, it must be the weather. His arm tightened around you when a new scent was introduced to him. He’s never smelled this on you before, but it was absolutely delicious. It urged him on further, he wanted—no needed—to drench you with his scent and mark you as his. He couldn’t stand it, you being touched by someone else, or you smelling like someone else, because you were his, his mate.

He flatted his tongue licking the exposed skin of your neck that your dress let him reach. Your arm latched onto his bicep squeezing it tight, a mix of a whine and yelp escaped you. “Yoongi, look at me please.” 

His tongue took a trail upwards towards your jaw, leaving kisses in its wake. He leaned his forehead against you with his eyes glued onto yours. He could see the flexions of your pupils, the windows to your souls laying everything on the table for him. He wanted to be let in. 

You brought a shaky hand up to his cheek, “Do you mean that Yoongi?” 

Your soft touch made him close his eyes asking, pleading, his beast to wait and control itself. He nodded rubbing your foreheads together with a sound mixed between a hum and a grunt. He was never good at expressing himself, never finding the right words or expressions. He was always characteristically cold, but it wasn’t intentional. At this moment he didn’t need much of that, he didn’t need fancy words or lengthy monologues…things should be simple. Love is simple. He opened his eyes slowly then licked his lips, “It’s always been you, baby girl.”

Like a reflex, your hand on his arm clenched at the nickname. Softly chuckling he returned to his new favorite spot, nuzzling against your ear again, “Do you like that nickname…baby girl?” 

You nodded lightly afraid to commit to the name, afraid of the power it held over you. 

He bit teasingly on your ear, his voice in the deep register and commanding, “Use your words baby girl.” 

Your back inclined off the wall feeling his hand on your waist trailing down to latch onto your hip. Through a shaky breath, you lost your train of thought as his hand traced random patterns and massaged at your flesh. “Yes, I like it...I like you Yoongi.” 

His eyes took a deeper turn, taking you into the abyss that was him. He couldn’t bite back the smile threatening across his face. A sense of relief flushed over him, finally.

He leaned in captured your soft lips with his. He felt like his head was swimming he wanted to swallow you, taste you, mold together. He held back his urge to take you right then and there wanting to coax more out of you. He never thought he’d live or see the day where you returned his feelings. His hands took a mind of their own, sliding and taking home all over you. 

To stabilize yourself your hands tangled in his thick black hair. Your hands found purchase finding his floppy ears caressing them softly. A mewl escaped you as you pulled away for a moment trying to find air, but he wasn’t having it. His lips caught yours again, a rumble erupting out of his throat. He felt like he couldn’t get enough, you tasted so sweet. He backed you flush into the wall and his kisses went from hard and passionate to soft and savoring.

You took this chance to switch things around and pushed him back until his calves met his bed. He pulled you down with him his arm was still tightly wrapped around your waist. You quickly adjusted yourself to straddle his thighs. He chased your lips, but you held a finger to his lips sitting patiently. Your eyes were half-lidded, lips were swollen and bruised from kissing. God, you were a goddess to him, but you were a succubus in disguise.

He sat up groaning in protest, “What?” You snickered at his eagerness taking the liberty to grind against his already taunt crotch. You raised a brow at his whine as he threw his head back in lust. 

He stopped you for a moment, “Y/N?” 

An airy laugh left you, so you leaned in, traced the edge of his outer ear with your tongue like he did early and nibbled on the fleshy lobe. “You made me really worried earlier Yoongi and you refused to speak to me. Do you think you deserve me going easy on you? To be easy and cave to the big, bad, wolf?” 

A whine left his lips at your clean words, but they held such filthy, he loved it. He pierced his lips together thin with a sultry exhale. You liked the sound of it so gyrated your hips over his feeling your panties soak up your essence. “Use your words…baby boy.” You breathed roughly into his ear with another swivel of your hips, “You’re going to listen to me baby boy, can you handle that?” 

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His nails dug into the sheets feeling his thighs and senses losing it to you, “Yes, I’ll be good.”

You slithered off his thighs, kissing a trail down his neck then to his collarbones as your hands were busy unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. You expanded your fingers letting them graze over his thigh. Just as you wanted, a needy whine left his lips, “Don’t tease me Y/N.” 

You smirked against his neck and brought down your hand on his thigh in a swift reminder who was in charge. “What was that baby boy?” He bit his lip holding back a snarky comment, so rewardingly you rubbed his thigh and kissed his lips once before moving away. “That’s what I thought.”

His mind was spinning, yes, he’s pictured you before in similar situations, but this threw everything out the water. The way your hands danced across his skin pleased his inner beast. Just you existing made him embarrassingly submissive, pliable to anything you wanted. Something about how you took control out of his hands and into yours was the biggest turn on. The big, scary guard dog was a puppy on a leash.

The sound of the zipper unraveling overpowered the sound of thunder. You continued to tease him further by reaching into his pants but not into his underwear, just placing your hand over his thick, hard cock. Shamelessly you already imagined him stretching you out. You reached in further towards his balls feeling a bulbous base to his cock. You wanted to ask what it was, but you didn’t want to take him out of the moment. He seethed through his teeth, biting back all his moans. “Don’t hold back baby boy, I want to hear you.” You gave a squeeze before you finally pulled down his slacks and underwear in one go.

His cock slapped against his stomach, the red tip was leaking precum rolling down the shaft. You looked up to Yoongi who was watching you with hooded eyes. You leaned in puckering your lips blowing air on it to elicit another whine from him. It caused a soft moan to leave you, his tight expression turned to a smirk. “I can smell you, Y/N, you’re so wet…just for me.” You didn’t want him to see the blush forming on your face, so you inched closer to him taking his thick cock in your hand over the bulbous end working your way up. His expression scrunched up in pleasure loving the feeling of your hand on him.

You started from the base leaving kitten kisses all the way up to the tip and swirled your tongue around the tip. You trailed your tongue between the slit collecting salty pre-cum. He attempted to thread a hand through your hair, but you held it down then trailed kisses down the side again. “You promised to be good? Do you want me to stop?” His eyes widened feeling your threat was very real he clutched at the sheets again. You encased your lips an inch around the tip, not wanting to waste any more time. Your hand was placed over what wasn’t in your mouth. You slid down slowly then back up to get used to his length. Each time he squirmed, moaning and pleading for you to not stop and how good he felt.

You felt proud that you were able to make him like this…you wanted to be the only one to make him feel like this. You glanced up and his half-lidded eyes were watching you. You dove deeper on him taking him as far back as you could giving yourself a moment, then swallowed. You could hear the sheets rip as a loud moan tore through the air. “Y/N, ah! That feels so good. If you keep doing that I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

You pulled off his cock with a string of saliva and a mix of him on your lips. He picked you off the floor pushing you to lay on the bed and before you could adjust yourself his hips were already cradling in yours. His lips found yours again, but with a renewed passion. This wasn’t how you planned for this to go, but you couldn’t really complain. You liked this side of Yoongi.

He could taste himself in your mouth and his tail wagged behind him overzealously. He was halfway through with marking you. His lip caught your bottom lips in his sharp canine nipping at it and pulling it back. His lips trailed down again your neck again leaving his collage of marks each mark fulfilling him a little more. He licked at your sternum, but your dress stopped him. He grew impatient and brought his hands up to your breast squeezing them once before his hands found the dress’s neckline. With barely any effort he ripped your dress and sat up when he continued to rip it until you were completely exposed. The black lacy bra (he stepped on was finally modeled) and matching panties were on full display. “Yoongi!” 

He leaned his head back taking you fully in his hands exploring over your sides and abdomen. “Do you want me to stop baby girl?” Your mewls and moans were caught in your throat as you shook your head feeling embarrassed about how much you wanted—no needed him.

He pulled down the straps and cups of your bra exposing your taunt buds to the cold air of the room. You gasped when his fingers pinched a bud and his tongue lapped at your other. He was intent on tasting everything. You weaved your fingers through his hair to run over his ears gently taking them between your fingers. A shiver ran down his spine and he nipped at your bud, you smiled to yourself, but it was wiped off your face when you cried out in pleasure.

You bucked up to him feeling his raw cock against your clothed core. Your jaw dropped when his thickness slid against your folds, your panties soaked up more of your lust. “Yoongi, please.” You clutched onto anything and everything, you’ve been prolonging the building climax that it felt like you were going to explode. He reached down over your underwear circling two fingers over your slit, but never truly touching your clit. He was soaking up all your sounds as if your mewls and moans were his life source. He needed more. 

You groaned desperately and pulled him down crashing your lips onto his hoping he would get the message with your urgency. He did when he put a thumb into the band of your underwear and pulled them off hearing the fabric rip and stretch at his aggressive yanking. Your scent hit him like a cement truck. “Yoongi, please, give me your cock. I can take it, please.” He believed you, you were soaking wet, your essence coated your upper thighs like a highlight. 

He rested his head on your chest willing the fog in his mind to dissipate so he could think rationally. He wanted a taste at the source, but he needs to be inside you.

He yanked off his pants and underwear in one go and fished in his underwear drawer for a condom. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, “You have condoms Yoongi?” 

He wiggled his eyebrows, “We’re all adults here Y/N.” Before you could question him further he distracted you with kissing while he skillful rolled the condom on.  

Your breast was sore from his teeth marks and tight squeezes you felt raw but you liked it. The throb was addicting. He pulled away resting your foreheads together, “You’re so beautiful.” He stole your breath away again kissing you passionately. 

Silently he asked looking between you and his cock for permission. “Yes, Yoongi, please!” You bucked up against him one last time before he slid into you inch by inch. He shivered to feel your tight walls swallow him, encourage him to give you more. He pulled out then shallowly thrusting back in until he sat deep within you. 

His voice was raspy breathing raggedly, but he reminded you, “Breath Y/N, breath for me love.” 

You let out a shaky breath, but in turn, you clenched around him. Just as you imagined, the stretch was painful but pleasured soon followed. He groaned in your ear, “Relax for me.” You nodded against him and when you were ready you bucked against him with a mewl. 

He pulled almost all the way out and slowly slid back in. It was like you felt him in your throat, his heat rolled up from your center all the way to your ear tips. His thrust was slow and rhythmic until he couldn’t control himself anymore. He brought one of your legs from his waist hoisting it over his shoulder. He peppered your calf and knee with butterfly kisses, “You’re doing so good for me, you’re going to be so full of my knot.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant, you were trying to hang on against his snapping hips.

He flipped your leg over and then you on all fours, stopping his thrusting momentarily. “Yoongi please, don’t stop.” He was so clouded your words went in one ear and out the other. He was focused on the expanse of your back, so beautiful and he wanted to mark it up. His hands found their way up the shaft of your spine and went around to cup your breast groping and fondling with your nipples. He began thrusting into you again mumbling sweet confirmations into your ear. You could barely keep up with this pace his hips were snapping into yours, but you fought to stay up on all fours. “You going to take my knot, hmm? I’m going to come all over this pussy, this pussy is mine and only mine. Mine.”

His word riled him on, even though he wore a condom, he wanted nothing more than to fill you up with his seed and watch you swell. His cock rubbed against that sweet spot every time he pumped himself into you in the new position. With every thrust his bulb inched further in, stretching you out further to mold to him. 

You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last, “Yoongi…I’m.” 

He didn’t need you to elaborate, the hand on your breast shimmed down with purpose and rubbed rapidly against your clit. The coil in your stomach kept compressing, tighter and tighter. He whined into a growl feeling you squeeze him for all he was worth and with one last hard thrust you came. Your vision was spent, eyes rolling as your body shook until Yoongi was the only thing supporting you up.

Your velvet walls pulsed in waves around him, it was so good he didn’t want it to stop. He couldn’t stay in this euphoric land when you were milking him for all he was worth. “I’m—I’m cumming. I’m going to cum baby girl.” His thrust became sloppy and you could feel your walls stretching with his cock. You fisted the sheet the stretch was painful. You were still sensitive from cumming, but jumping over the edge couldn’t have been sweeter.

The stretching stopped as he pulled out before the condom busted from the expansion of his cock. He pulled it off and came on your back, the hot, thick ribbons painting your back. You laid flat on your stomach trying to catch your breath. He loomed over you caging you in doing the same catching his breath. That was the hardest and most he’s ever come in his life. His tongue lapped up his cum on your back cleaning you up, while he waited for the knot to settle, but that would be a half hour from now. He wanted to go again, and again, but he didn’t have any more condoms.

He plopped beside you when he considered you clean enough and looped his arm around you to pull you towards him. You felt like you were burning up, but somehow his warmth wasn’t unwelcome. You lazily brought your hand up to his cheek stroking over his sweaty temple, “Wow.” 

He laughed leaning in to take your lips again, you could taste him on his tongue, but it wasn’t repulsive. His taste was bitter, but the aftermath kept you coming back for more. You pulled away from him breathless for the countless time.  

He brushed hair out of your face, “Y/N…I don’t like you. This was a mistake… I don’t like you.” 

The once harmonious, comfortable atmosphere shattered. Thunder cracked through the clouds again, reminding you of the world outside these four walls. You looked him in the eyes searching them for mischief, but there wasn’t any. Panic set in. Was this only one sided? He never told you he liked you back. Your stomach sank to your feet and a sense of nausea sat in. You just threw away years of friendship, for a fuck? 

You tried wiggling out of his hold, but his arms circled around your waist tighter. “Yoongi, let me go!” 

You flipped onto your other side, but he brought your back into his chest. “It’s a mistake because I don’t like you…I love you.” 

Your efforts to runaway halted, you wanted to turn around, but he held you securely. 

“Don’t turn around…I’m too embarrassed to say it to your face. I don’t know how else to say it. I’m not one for fancy things or shouting it from the rooftops, but I love you Y/N. I have and always will.” 

You shifted around against his will turning in his arm finally seeing the normally pale cheeks turn a rosy red. You stared at his lips then his eyes leaning in, “Yoongi.” 

Then a thunderclap sounded within the room. You smacked his bare chest hard, leaving a red handprint. His eyes grew a thousand times yelling out in pain, “Y/N! The fuck! What was that for?” 

You laughed faux attempting to sooth it, but truly wanting the sting to set in. “You can���t give me a heart attack like that, I did that so you know how I felt!” 

Enough though it hurt, and your handprint felt like it could blister into a scar he wiggled up and pounced on you leaving butterfly kisses all over your face. You giggled like a school girl and when he pulled away catching the way he looked down at you it was full of adoration and love. It made your heart squeeze impossibly. 

You repeated after him, “I love you too.”

The kisses went from innocent to passionate again. His knot settled down and he was ready for round two, and so were you. He pulled away from your feverish lips, “We don’t have another condom, we can’t.” 

This time around you wiggled your brows, “I have one in my purse.” 

This time his eyebrows shot up to his hairline and you giggled, “Shut up and kiss me.” 

He laughed, more than happy to oblige, “At your service, baby girl.”

Copyright 2018  © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[e-namor-a]

Masked Pt. IX

WHOOO I’M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS

It took forever, I know and I’m so so sorry, depression and ADHD are a goddamn bitch. 

Also shoutout to @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen for reading and helping me figure out my messy af story. thank you elle <3

Come scream at me later, I have some more tidbits that didn’t make it to the story! and some backstory on Mariah I can post if yall want me to! 

So without further ado, here we go!

You were walking towards your favorite hunting ground, having stopped at all your other regular haunts for drinks. It was a club currently called Exposure, though it had changed names several times in the time since you had found. To you and the people who frequented it though, it would always be called the Church. The original owner had spent a small fortune renovating the buildings interior into something hauntingly beautiful, with al grand descending staircase, pillars, and high domed ceiling. You adored it. It’s the only place you worshipped. 

It usually had no cover charge for women, so men lined up hoping to get in and get lucky. Just thinking about it made your toes curl in anticipation. You relished the opportunity to drink and dance until you were slick with sweat and then end the night lost in some strangers bed. You had made your way to the front of the line, pushing through the line and smiling at the bouncer. He winked and mouthed a hello while opening the big carved wooden for you and ushering you inside like a VIP. You stood on the balcony of the grand staircase staring down at the crowds below you, grinning and letting the lights flash on your skin, feeling the bass reverberate in your bones, and breathing in the sent of sweat, booze and sex. 

You fully relaxed for the first time since your session with Daniel. You were ready to shine. You stood tall, with your shoulders back, chin held high and descended the staircase with a regality that caught several people’s eyes. You got to the bottom and looked around fully in your element. You strutted to the bar, swinging your hips, enjoying the eyes you felt on you. You grinned at Lucy, your favorite bartender, and held up Tony’s card between your index and middle fingers. She waved back in reply and got your usual drink. You grabbed your mojito, and sipped while leaning against the bar, looking at the crowd trying to find your prey for the night. When you didn’t find someone suitable, you turned again holding up a hand at Lucy and downed the four shots she brought you in quick succession, before grabbing your last drink and heading off immediately to the dance floor.  You wiggled your way to the center and grinned at the security guards guarding the entrance to your favorite part of the dance floor. They smirked at you while they moved to the side to let you pass.  You blew them a kiss as quickly climbed the stairs until you got the elevated part of the dance floor directly under the high domed glass ceiling. The full moon glinting brightly and it shed light on the dancers. The people around you were cast an ethereal glow that seemed all the more magical with the pulsing club lights. You gulped your drink down, the heavy alcohol leaving a warm sensation in your stomach and threw yourself into a frenzy on the dance floor. You forgot all about everything and just let the music envelop you, dancing without a care in the world.

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“Sabrina! Hurry. The Fuck. UP! We’re already late!”, Iris yelled while rummaging through the fridge and triumphantly pulling out a half filled bottle of tequila.

“I’m going! I’m going!”, Sabrina stuck her head out the bathroom head and flashed a grin at Bucky who amusedly watched Iris sitting next to him on the couch, take deep swigs out of the tequila bottle. She pointed a ringed finger at Bucky and told her girlfriend, “You gotta make sure that  Barnes’ drinks too.” Bucky snorted, “You know I can’t get drunk, Rina. ‘Sides tequila is disgusting. Gimme a good strong whiskey.”

“Christ, you’re so fucking predictable. Babe, grab that flask in my purse and hand it to him. Bottoms up, my man. I had Nat ask around for some super-soldier worthy booze and she delivered. That should be enough to fuck you up, so I recommend diluting it with some of that ‘disgusting’ tequila.”

Bucky watched suspicious, as Iris mixed his drink with a heavy hand and held it out to him. “Bucky, take the fucking drink, like Iris said we’re already late”, Sabrina snapped, “Besides, my neck is starting to hurt from standing like this.” Bucky just looked pointedly at Sabrina, until she rolled her eyes and marched over snatching the drink from her girlfriend and shoving it into Bucky’s hand. She waited, arms crossed while Bucky just glared at her.  She raised a brow and cocked her head, waiting. Finally Bucky cracked and muttering a quiet curse, gulped the drink down. “Fuck, that was gross guys.” Bucky gagged, “So what does the drink that Natalia gave you do?” “Basically it inhibits your cells from processing the alcohol as quickly as they normally would due to the serum.  For something like, 30 hours? Though it’ll still take a shit ton more alcohol than the average person. It basically breaks down your cells and turns them normal-ish. Something like that. I got a bit lost during the explanation, I just remembered the important parts.” She grinned excitedly at him, to which Bucky grinned and tilted his head back on the cushion. She had been so very determined to have him enjoy himself and relax after the day he had had. “Oh!” She snapped her fingers, “Nat also mentioned that it’ll take like 40 minutes to begin affecting you, so you got some time to kill…” Bucky glanced up as she trailed off, watching her smile turn wolfish as she watched her girlfriend bent over trying to fish out a half empty bottle of vodka from a cabinet. He saw Iris smile seductively back at Sabrina over he shoulder and knew what was gonna happen. 

“Go. Get out. Go have fun somewhere else”, Sabrina mumbled distractedly, waving him off with her hand. 

He stood up hastily, grabbing his jacket and somewhat awkwardly made his way out of the room to the front door, glancing quickly back as he heard someone hit the coffee table All he saw, were the women kissing passionately, making their way into the bathroom. He flushed, and hustled out the door, huffing heavily in the hallway. 

They were not getting out of here anytime soon.

Letting out another slightly louder sigh he put on his leather jacket and walked out into the cool New York night heading towards a liquor store in search of some decent whiskey. If he only had a night to enjoy alcohol and its effects then he was going to drink some good shit. 

While he walked he started thinking back to earlier. About Y/N. His Y/N. God, seeing you again was a kick to the gut. He had missed you so much that there were times, usually when the sky had barely started lightening after another sleepless night, when he felt there was an actual part of him missing. He thought that you were a mirage when you had appeared in the park, that he had wished to see you again so badly that his mind had finally snapped. He had felt his heart start beating faster as he laid eyes on you. You were breathtakingly beautiful, you always had been, and all he wanted was to hold you tight. To murmur your name like a prayer. To press gentle kisses on your skin and just hold you forever. But then he got a good look at you. And his blood ran cold. 

You were still so beautiful but there was a weariness in you he had never seen before. Hard lines of rage on the planes of your face, a sort of coldness in how you held yourself, a sorrow in your eyes. The woman in front of him, she was someone he knew yet didn’t. And so he had reacted on instinct when he had grabbed you. He had wanted to make everything ok. To carry your burdens and help. To explain what had happened with Mariah and go to your old apartment. He just wanted to go home with you. Because home was with you, wherever you were. But he had ruined it; it was over so quickly. And now, all these hours later, pieces of the encounter kept replaying in his mind. How skin soft as silk under his fingers, the icy cold fury on your face, the small tightening of your lips when he called you beloved, the unending turmoil in your eyes, how you felt on top of him… All Bucky wanted was to to fix your problems and be there for you. But, Sabrina was right, he had no right to do that. He had lost that right years ago. From the moment that he started to pull away from you. From the moment that he hadn’t noticed that you were drowning, he had lost that right. 

He heard your giggle grow louder as you walked down the hallway. He put down the magazine he had absently been turning, grabbed your coat and turned to meet you, looking curiously at the very good looking woman towering over you that you were laughing with. He cocked his head, smiling softly as he noticed that you looked a lot more at ease, more at peace. “Hi honey, this is Mariah, the therapist I was telling you about,” you said, mirth coating your voice, “I’ll let you two get acquainted while I go over there to make another appointment and sort out some insurance stuff.”   You walked away as Mariah got closer to him, her predatorily bright amber eyes scanning him up and down. He shifted on his feet nervously, glancing over at Y/N in hopes that she would come over and save him from this uncomfortable situation. He was looking down at his shoes when he sensed the woman, Mariah, about to move, looking up quickly, startling her with her hand outstretched as if to touch him. He angled himself away from her, and looked at her, confused and a little peeved. 

No one was allowed to just casually touch him, just Y/N. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was trying to get your attention but you seemed lost in your own head”, she let out a shy smile and tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear, “I asked how you are doing? I know Y/N was gone for a while and I know from experience with other couples, that that reintegration back into civilian life isn’t always smooth for either person.” She cocked her head to the side, looking warmly and deeply into his eyes and Bucky felt himself start to relax. He had been having a hard time since Y/N had come back. It felt like she was there but distant and despite how warm and affectionate he was, he felt incredibly alone. He opened his mouth to respond when he saw that Y/N was on her way back so instead he just smiled and held out his hand to Y/N. “Ok, done. Let’s go honey. We can get something to eat and then go back home. Bye Mariah, I’ll see you next week!”, Y/N tugged on Bucky’s hand as she waved over her shoulder at her therapist. “Bucky, wait.” He turned to face the blonde woman who was holding out a thin card, “Here’s my number. If you ever need to talk, at any time of day, just call.” Bucky reached out and grabbed it, letting out a brief smile and following his girl out into the street. 

                                                      *********

Bucky had fiddled a lot with that card in the weeks since Mariah had handed it to him. By now, it was dog eared and worn, and though he had dialed the number but always hung up before it had rung. 

But he had finally hit his breaking point. He was fighting with Y/N again, for the third time in the past 7 days and he couldn’t take it any longer. He  didn’t want to stay out on the cold roof another night, alone. He had to talk to someone.

Anyone. He dialed the number and held his breath as it rung. “Hello?”, a sleepy voice murmured. “Uhm, hi. Is this Mariah?”, he heard a slight shuffling on the other end and only then realized that it was 2:41 a.m. and most people were asleep at that time, “I’m so sorry. I just realized that it’s really late. I’ll call at another time. Sorry.” “No, nononono, it’s ok.” Her voice got more alert as she fully woke up, “Truly. I’m used to receiving calls at odd hours of the day. How can I help you? Would you like to come in for a session?” Bucky paused, unsure, before breathing out, “Yes. Please.” “Ok,” Mariah said gently, “the door will be open, let yourself in. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Bucky made it to her office in record time, feeling desperate to not feel lonely if only for a little while. He silently opened the door, peering around it and making eye contact with the blonde who was looking at him curiously. 

“Uhm, hello, you gave me your card a couple weeks ago and I just… I just finally needed to talk,” Bucky quietly trailed off as he stood in the doorway, fiddling with the card still in his pocket, “I just didn’t know who else to turn to. Or who else to try.”

There was a pause, as Bucky wondered if he should bolt when Mariah stood up and walked toward him, hand extended.

“I thought I would never hear from you,” she smiled as he tentatively shook her hand, “come in, sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

                                            ***************

They had talked for hours that initial session. All the feelings and doubts he had just bubbled out of him and for the first time in months, he felt like he was being seen. 

Like he mattered. 

Like he existed. 

They didn’t start sleeping together till later, after another particularly nasty fight with Y/N. She had been cruel and he had just snapped. He loved her with everything in him but he was so tired of being shut out. He loved her but he wanted someone who was willing to let him in. 

To open her heart fully to him and let him love every part of them. He had ended up at Mariah’s office that night, after hours of wandering around the city and without any prompting he had kissed her. Instantly, he felt guilt surge through him, he thought he would vomit at her feet, stain her ridiculously expensive red bottomed shoes, but instead he pushed it aside and kissed her deeper, closing his eyes tighter. He had imagined that he was kissing Y/N, even though Mariah’s lips felt different, he imagined that he was holding Y/N’s soft waist, even though Mariah’s was ensconced inside a tight binder, he imagined that it was Y/N letting out the soft moans underneath him, even though Mariah’s were louder and less breathy.

At the end of it right before he opened his eyes, he begged whatever Gods were out there, that Y/N would be under him gazing at him with a loving intensity in her eyes, but instead he opened his eyes and there lay Mariah, her blonde hair fanned out, amber eyes shining in an unknown emotion. She had reached up and kissed him, pulling him to her and rolling him onto his side, twining her legs between his. She had laid her head in the crook of his arm and kissed his chest softly, giving him the affection and attention he had craved for months. In that moment, his guilt subsided and he let himself enjoy the moment. He closed his eyes again, and let her soft kisses and gentle fingers lull him into a soft sleep. 

Bucky was so lost in memories that it took him a moment to recognize where he was. He checked his watch and realized he had been walking around for like 40 minutes. He checked his phone and saw a  missed call from Iris. He clicked on the notification while walking to a store, and grabbing two bottles of whiskey. He paid and made his way outside while he heard Sabrina tell him to hurry his ass up, they were getting pretty tipsy and wanted to dance. The voicemail had just ended when Sabrina’s special ringtone had started sounding. Mildly annoyed, he had glared at her contact picture for a moment before answering. “What the fuck? I had just gotten rid of your last annoying ringtone, Sabrina.” Buck grumbled while trying to unscrew the whiskey cap. “Oh shut up Barnes, BTS is a goddamn gift.” Rina scoffed in his ear, “Besides, I know your password, it’s Y/N’S birthday, so nothing can keep me out. Anyway, where are you? We want to dance!”

Bucky gave her the address, as he took a couple of swigs out of the bottle and recapping it. “Ok, wait for us on the corner we aren’t that far away. Thankfully you aren’t that far from the club we wanted to go to. See you in a bit.” He had just hummed in agreement before ending the call and going to sit on the stoop of building. He drank a little more, letting more memories run through his mind as he waited. He remembered the time there was a spider in the bathtub and he had let out a small scream. You had burst in with his knife, on high alert. He smiled as he remembered how you had collapsed on the floor laughing so hard you were crying, while he grinned sheepishly in a towel.  

He took another swig, feeling the alcohol in the edges of his mind. He remembered the first time you had cooked Sunday dinner for your little family. You hadn’t cooked a day in your life before then, both of you living off of what Buck could cook and take out. You had been researching for days and had started cooking at 6 in the morning. The kitchen a complete mess and you were covered in ingredients with a smear of tomato sauce on cheek. You had been so proud, even though the food a little dry and a little burnt, but Bucky felt his heart swell as he remembered the smile that had stayed on your face the entire night. He remembered how it felt to feel you straddle him at night, your lips pressing open mouthed wet kisses on his neck. How it felt to nip your throat and feel you shudder as your skin became sensitive. How it felt to hold you tight as you moaned his name and cried out in pleasure, clawing his back. He remembered everything and Bucky wished, not for the first time, that he could turn back time. Instead he shook his head to clear it, and looked up to see Iris leaning out of a cab waving at him. He stood and dusted his pants, getting into the cab and finishing his first bottle of whiskey. “I never figured you for a maudlin drunk, Buck,” Iris’s small feminine voice stated. “Chin up Barnes. No sad drunks here. We haven’t let loose in ages and it’s the first time you can do it properly. Besides, the goal is to find someone for you to take home. No one wants to sleep with a sad drunk,” Sabrina said loudly leaning in closer and putting her hand on Bucky’s knee, “In all seriousness dude, Im not letting you drink anymore if I see you start to going your head. As much as I’d love to see you let loose, we both know drinking in that state of mind is dangerous. So I need you to be honest with me, tell me where your mind is at.” “I’m ok. Thank you,” Bucky let out a small smile, “I’m just thinking about Y/N and everything that’s happened. I’m not gonna disappear into my head. I’m sick of being in it. I’m gonna let loose, and I give you my permission to call Steve or Nat if I’m not.” Sabrina smiles back and grabbed her clutch, “That’s my boy. Now drink up, we’re almost at the bar and that entire bottle isn’t gonna fit in the flask I brought you. ” She grinned and watched as Bucky started chugging half the bottle before stopping and letting out a small burp. She handed him the flask and laughed as he tipsily poured it in sloshing it on his dark jeans. “We’re here! Ready to go to Church guys?,” Iris clapped her hands excitedly. Sabrina gave the cabbie some money, grabbed her girlfriends hand and pulled her out of the cab, motioning excitedly at Bucky. “Church?”, Bucky asked curiously. “Yeah. Church,” Iris pointed at the throng of people outside club at the end of the street as they started walking towards it, “It’s an old unfinished church that was abandoned in the late 80’s. It has the original pillars, domed ceiling and stained glass windows. Some trendy hipster gutted the inside and made it into a club. A close friend of ours is the bouncer and told us about it. It’s been our favorite ever since.”

“Hey Tommy!” Sabrina called out to the man in black in front of the doors, embracing him, “Long time no see! How you been man?” “Hey Rina, Iris. I’ve been good thanks. Me and the Mrs. went to the Bahamas for vow renewal ceremony a couple weeks ago. “Oh my God! Congratulations! Give Wren our love, we need to do dinner soon. I’ll call you to set something up tomorrow. Sounds good?”, she moved back as Iris hugged Tommy. Tommy smiled and nodded moving to the side and opening the doors to the little group. The girls grabbed Bucky’s hands and pulled him with them, turning and waving at Tommy as they entered the darkened club. Once inside, they all paused at the top of the staircase, Bucky’s mouth opening in awe as descended the stairs he took in the room. The room was regal and haunting. He trailed, lightly dazed, behind the couple as they made their way to the bar, chattering between themselves. They squealed as they saw a ginger woman waving at them from behind the bar. They had a round a shots on the bar top by the time Bucky got there. He got handed two and downed them without thinking, gagging as he realized it was tequila. He frowned lightly realizing that he was definitely starting to feel the alcohol. His mind was getting a little fuzzy and he was feeling free. Sabrina and Iris were right. 

He really was enjoying himself. Bucky leaned against the bar, and wait and see who approached him. It didn’t take long for a blonde bombshell walk up to him and wink coyly, motioning him to dance. He shook his head softly, all the while letting his eyes roam over her, checking her out. She smiled over her shoulder, and walked onto the dance floor, her hips swung invitingly. Bucky just smiled wolfishly, and went over the bar and signaled the bartender, downing the drink she handed him as he walked over to a giant stone pillar by the edge of the room. 

Another woman came up to him, a complete vision in a vibrant yellow dress with her skin glinting in the lights, and he let himself be led onto the dance floor. She twined her fingers in the hair covering his name and pressing herself against him as she started to dance. Bucky brought her closer, putting his hands right above her full ass as the music swelled around them. The woman pressed her full lips to his neck and he groaned, breathlessly. She nipped and licked his exposed skin as let his hands roam her body. She moaned and smirked, as she grabbed Bucky’s hand, turning and leading him quickly across the dance floor to bathrooms. They were nearly there when Bucky abruptly stopped. His muscles locked down and the woman in the yellow dress was pulled backwards onto the floor. She looked up at him, her confusion morphing to fury as she realized he wasn’t going to help, and stalked off. Bucky didn’t even notice. 

He didn’t even notice because there in the middle of the room, dancing under the full moon without a care in the world, was Y/N.

And without realizing it, he started moving towards you. He was going to… he wasn’t sure what he going to do when he reached you. He just knew that that’s what he wanted. He was almost to the edge of the stairs that led to the elevated dance floor when he veered to the side suddenly keenly aware that he needed a little liquid courage. He pulled out the little flask Sabrina had given him earlier, and took a couple of heavy swigs. 

Feeling fortified, he took a step towards the stairs and felt the room spin in a way he hadn’t since he was teenager, drunk at the small bar near the docks he worked. He steadied himself on a nearby pillar and closed his eyes for a moment.

Bucky realized he was extremely drunk, and he knew that he should go home. He knew that he shouldn’t go to you. That he should absolutely not get any closer to you than he already had. He knew the rational thing to do was to go find Sabrina and Iris and tell them he wanted, no, that he needed to leave. He knew that nothing good could come from this drunken encounter. But still, he found himself climbing those stairs, his blood pounding and his body hot. 

It was instinctual at this point, his need to get to you, like a moth to flame. It didn’t make sense, none whatsoever but that’s what he was going to do. And fuck, he was tired of thinking, he was tired of hiding, he wanted you so bad and he should’ve been better, he should’ve been there for you. He should’ve done more. He shouldn’t have been such a goddamn selfish coward. And suddenly you were right there. 

And you took his breath away.

He stared, dazed, starting forward abruptly when he realized that you were dancing in someones arms. The man was leering at you while you danced on him and the entire sight made Bucky’s stomach ache. 

He had to stop it.

 Bucky knew he had to but had no right but he just couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t handle the sight of the man touching you, his intent so very clear on his leering face. He grabbed the other mans arms and lifted him up and away from you, effectively placing himself between the two of you. The brunette man, that Bucky thought looked vaguely familiar, glared back at him, yelling something at him that he couldn’t quite make out.  Bucky just gave him the best Winter Soldier glare he could, which much to his surprise worked, despite the fact he was sure he was getting more drunk by the second. Bucky turned, clumsily, to face you only to find you looking curiously at him.  He took a small step forward, standing just a few inches away and raised his hand, wordlessly asking for permission. You stared at him for a moment longer before stepping forward ending up pressed against him, and tenderly placing his hand on your cheek and covering it with one of yours and reaching up with the other to stroke his cheek. Bucky stilled, everyone around them vanishing as he looked at you with an intensity that would’ve set the world aflame. He watched as you stretched upwards toward him, entwining your arms around his neck, gently closing your eyes and pressing your lips to his parted ones. 

Tag List:

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[wonwoosthetic]

Jealous Of The Winter Soldier || Jake Gyllenhaal

Firstly I want to say, that I’m really sorry, that I didn’t post this request yesterday, but my internet wasn’t working and I couldn’t post anything, not even without Wifi (no idea what happened). BUT I’m still happy with how this imagine turned out and I even got to edit it a bit more :)

I also feel like this one is quite long, do you like imagines at that length or would multiple parts be better?

A Masterlist is going to come soon, probably today - I’ve been wanting to make one, but I never thought that I would have so many requests and imagines, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Thank you for this request whoever you were, I hope you and everyone else enjoys it! :)

Request by Anonymous:  Can i get a jake gyllenhaal one where the reader and him have been dating fpr awhile but he gets jealous of readers friend sebastian stan since he’s around her all the time

Warning: none

Pairing: Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader, Friendship with Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 3,308 (My longest imagine EVER! :))

Jealous Of The Winter Soldier

You were slowly waking up with the sun shining very brightly through the window. The moment you opened your eyes you groaned and shut them immediately again. Assuming it was very early due to the light having an orangey colour, you got your left arm out from under the chunky blanket and reached out to your nightstand, where your phone should have been – but it wasn’t. You moved your hand around on the surface trying to find it, without opening your eyes, but that try failed – your phone was not there. You got annoyed thinking about having to get since your friend Sebastian Stan was coming over and you were still not sure about the actual time. Turning over onto your left side, you tried opening your eyes once more and got a good look at the sleeping figure of your boyfriend next to you.

A smile started to spread on your lips gazing at the peaceful look on his face. The small smile he held, made you even happier, but then you remembered you weren’t going to spend a lot of time together today because he had an audition for a new movie and you had a photoshoot for the Avengers: Infinity War poster, including a magazine cover and an interview with your co-star Sebastian Stan.

You turned around again onto your right side and slowly got up properly that time, trying not to wake Jake. You slid the covers to your left and stood up, turning around, you placed the blanket back, making it look somewhat neat. Next to your nightstand was the door which led to yours and Jake’s walk-in-closet – you opened it, got in and started looking for a comfortable sweater and deciding on taking one of your partner’s after only a couple of seconds. Men’s sweaters are just WAY comfier than women’s and that’s a fact. After putting it on, you exited your wardrobe and the bedroom, trying to close the door as quietly as possible. You went down the stairs and started to feel a bit chilly already. When you entered the kitchen you saw, that Jake had left one of the big windows ajar

“Of course, he did”, you mumbled under your breath. You got easily cold, but Jake loved the chilly feeling and tried to always leave a window or a door, that leads outside, open without you noticing and he got home a bit later the night before, so you hadn’t been able to check if they were all closed. You started looking around the room searching for your phone and found it on one of the counters, wondering why you had left it there. Turning it on, you saw it was only 6:30 a.m., but since you didn’t feel very tired you instantly decided to stay downstairs and maybe start a bit of cleaning. Starting with wiping the counters, to removing some of the soot on the stove, over to the dining room, cleaning the table. Lastly, you placed all the pillows on your sofa into the position, you wanted them in, making it look nice and homely, and quite a bit more.

After catching up to all those chores, the time was 7:50 and footsteps could be heard from upstairs, signalizing that Jake woke up and would be downstairs any minute, so you decided on starting to prepare breakfast. About ten minutes later the footsteps got louder, indicating your boyfriend was walking the stairs. While you were standing at the stove working on some scrambled eggs, strong arms wrapped around your hips and a kiss got placed on your shoulder

“Good morning, gorgeous”, Jake’s voice was still deep from his good night sleep.

“Good morning, handsome”, you smiled, moving your head into his direction over your left shoulder to place a kiss on his lips. He released his grip on your sides and looked at the stove

“What can I do?”, he proposed helping.

“Ehm…”, you started thinking, ”you could put some toast in the toaster and maybe roast some tomatoes?” He nodded “Thanks for that difficult task.” You started laughing and proposed something new, letting the sarcasm in your voice be heard “Alright, take the fish out of the freezer, start making some Blackened Bass, cook potatoes, turn them into a mash, go outside get some oranges in the freezing cold and press your own orange juice. Oh, and don’t forget to go the shop around the corner and get some dragon fruit from China.”

Jake’s hands flew up in a surrendering manner “OK, OK, I get it. Put some toast in the toaster.” The both of you were laughing at this point. That was one of the many moments you lived for – making breakfast with your significant other, laughing and making stupid jokes. You could do this every minute of the day, only to hear his laugh and see that bright smile.

You put the finished scrambled eggs on two separate plates and went to the dining room to place them on the table. When you got back into the kitchen, you saw Jake holding your phone and reading a message

“Found anything interesting?”, you asked playfully.

“Sebastian wrote you a text. Be ready at nine, I’m picking you up. X Seb”, his voice was deep and didn’t sound even a bit amused “Why is he sending you an X?”

You knew Jake was a bit jealous of your co-star and on-screen love-interest -  not because he told you, he probably never would, but because his mum told you, that he informed her about his concern. It did hurt you a bit to know that Jake thought you were cheating on him with Sebastian, even though you assured him every day how much you loved him, by telling him and every other time by showing him.

“Because it’s Sebastian and he thinks he’s funny”, you walked over to him, wrapping your hands around his waist and hugging him tightly, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Don’t be jealous.”  Jake scoffed and moved away from you “Pfft, I’m not jealous, are you kidding me? If he was Brad Pitt, maybe.” His comment made you laugh, yeah sure, he was NOT jealous. He put your phone back on the counter and got the rest ready for breakfast, taking the toast to the dining room. 

You snatched your phone back and sent Sebastian a quick reply “Very sweet of you, thank you – I’ll try my best 😉”, he always made fun of how long you took getting ready, so you decided to joke around with him a bit. After putting the phone back, not waiting for a reply, Jake came back to grab two glasses and some orange juice from the fridge. Before joining him, you got two mugs from one of the cupboards and filled them with coffee, which you brewed earlier and put a bit of milk in Jake’s – you drank yours black. 

You sat across from your boyfriend and tried to start another conversation

“What are you up to today?”, you already knew the answer, but he seemed very tense and you wanted to make him possibly think about something besides your co-star. Jake answered, not looking up from his breakfast 

“I have this audition for a new movie, but I’m not too sure about it. Evelyn and Kim say it’s gonna be something big – I doubt it.”

He had always been very careful with his choice of movie, but his manager and agent were pretty much always right about upcoming roles for him. You started eating 

“Oh yeah, that one set in the 1850s, right?”

Jake gave you a short and silent hum of a yes. Alright, you thought, he’s really mad and doesn’t want to talk to me – well done, (Y/N).

The both of you finished your breakfast in silent and cleaned everything up afterwards – you took your plates, and now empty coffee mugs and stayed at the sink, starting to wash them, while Jake went back and forth between your kitchen and dining room to put back everything you used to put on the toasts and your glasses, which had been filled with orange juice. When Jake was done and made sure everything was back in place, he walked up next to you, gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and went back upstairs to get ready. 

Right after you finished cleaning, again, you shot a quick glance at the big clock on the wall behind your sofa in the living room – 8:38 – oh no, Seb will be here in twenty minutes, you thought and said out loud “Dang it!”

You rushed upstairs and quickly made your way to your shared bedroom to get dressed as quickly as possible, not really caring, what you picked out since you were going to get outfits to wear. Jake just got out of the bathroom through the door next to his nightstand, on the right side – you passed him and closed the door behind you. Walking over to your sink, you took your toothbrush and started brushing your teeth, right after being followed by putting on a bit of make-up, just to make you comfortable. After opening the door to walk back into the bedroom, your boyfriend wasn’t there to be seen anymore, but a knock on the front door from downstairs was able to be heard.

You ran down the stairs again, while hoping Jake wouldn’t get the door and would have to see Sebastian, but you were too late and he was already greeting the Winter Soldier that stood outside. You got to the middle of the stairs and shouted

“Good morning, Seb!”

He started smiling and Jake moved out of the way, positioning himself next to the door “Hey, how are you?”

You hugged him and gave him a little peck on the cheek as a welcoming and greeting manner, before moving towards your significant other, who stood next to the shoe rack, to quickly put on your shoes, but you realized that you had left your phone on the counter

“Babe, could you get me my phone from the kitchen”, you asked Jake, since you were ready to go and didn’t want to make a mess with your dirty shoes. He nodded “Sure”, and got your device within a couple of seconds, making it for Seb and you not possible to start a proper conversation. He handed it to you and you reached for it, but he pulled it away in a quick move while having a cheeky smile on his face – he was asking for a kiss and you knew it. You slightly got onto your tiptoes and placed a loving kiss on his lips, he was definitely in a better mood

“Have fun”, was the last thing he said to you before looking at Sebastian and nodding towards his direction “Good to see you, man.” 

Seb returned it with a “Good to see you too.” 

You were still smiling, whispering another “Bye” to Jake and closed the door after exiting your house. After reaching his car, he got in the driver’s seat, obviously not before opening the passenger door for you in a polite manner and you sat in the seat next to him. 

During the short drive, you laughed and joked about what was going to happen today, until he got curious as to why your boyfriend was acting a bit weird before

“What was going on with Jake today?”

You decided to tell him the truth, knowing he would totally understand, besides probably finding it a bit amusing

“I think he’s jealous of you”, you told him shyly. He started laughing

“Jealous of ME? Jake Gyllenhaal is jealous of me? Oh… wow.”

“Oh please, come on, you know, you’re not that bad looking”, you defended him because Sebastian was good -looking, but everyone knew, that you just didn’t have that kind of relationship with each other and never would have, including Seb and yourself.

The male actor next to you was then wearing a jokingly cocky smile on his face “Uuuuh, you think I’m good-looking? Maybe Jake should be jealous.” The both of you were laughing and you hit him playfully on his right arm. Him being Sebastian, he became the drama-queen he secretly was and acted as if you had just broken his arm.

A short bit later you arrived on the set, on which the photoshoot and the interviews were being held. After opening the door, you got up next to him and you started walking next to each other

“Remember, Seb. No spoilers”, you warned him beforehand, knowing very well how he, Tom Holland and Mark were just not able to shut their mouths. He tried defending himself and put his right hand on his chest, where his heart was

“I am in shock, how could you ever think about me like that, (Y/N).”

Not laughing pretty much all the time, was purely impossible when being co-stars with the Romanian actor and doing all the press junkets would be even harder. You got into the building very quickly and after entering, a woman was waiting for you to lead you around – to your dressing rooms and the actual set with all the cameras and backdrop. Seb and you got into your Infinity War costumes and met again in front of a white backdrop

“I’m so happy they’re making them more comfortable each year”, he said, talking about your characters outfits – and he was absolutely right.

“Yeah, I remember my first one being an absolute nightmare, I couldn’t even use the toilet.”

The photographer behind you started to laugh and told you and Sebastian to stand next to each other at first in poses he wanted us to and then in some, which we thought would be good. After that, we had to get pictures individually while each of us was trying to make the other one laugh behind the camera. 

The shoot was done very quickly, due to the rest of the staff members staying very professional and you soon got to take the costumes off and were handed slightly more comfortable clothes which still looked smart – yours being a navy blue suit with a white blouse underneath and his was a smart black buttoned-down shirt, a black leather jacket on top, a pair of jeans. Sebastian got to wear some sneakers, while you had to walk in heels, making him drop some comments

“Oh, how comfortable my shoes are. What about you (Y/N)?” or “I could run a mile and you?” and a lot more – all of them being funny.

The two interviews were sadly over faster than you thought – you were having a blast. They asked some very typical questions, like “Where do you think your characters are going?” and “How much Taylor and Bucky will we see in Infinity War?”

Some of the more random ones though, were a lot of fun to answer and you even played Would You Rather in the second interview:

(I: Interviewer, Y: You, S: Sebastian)

I: Alright, would you rather be able to fly or be invisible?

S: Oh, easy, invisible.

Y: Yeah, I’m gonna go with Seb. I have quite a big fear of heights.

I: OK, fair, fair. Ehm… would you rather be the biological child of Loki or Tony Stark?

S: That one’s more for you (Y/N).

Y: Haha, I guess. I mean… playing the biological daughter of Loki is quite fun, but I feel like being the daughter of Tony would be too.

I: Well, you kind of play that, don’t you?

Y: Yeah, of course! So, I don’t know… hm. To be honest, I enjoy being the adoptive daughter of Tony as well, because I think-I think, he doesn’t really care, whether you’re his biological daughter or adoptive, he would treat you the same. So… I’m gonna stay with Loki.

I: Very interesting, and you Sebastian?

S: Oh, I would go for Tony.

Y: Really?

S: Of course! What the heck would I do with a frost giant as a father?!

Y: The same Taylor does, enjoy her life being adopted by Tony Stark, AND being bad and having powers like Loki.

S: Yeah, no, that’s not something for me.

I: Is it not?

S: No, I’d much rather enjoy my life, knowing I’m a human and being a spoiled brat like a very specific girl in the movie.

Y: She is NOT a spoiled girl, are you kidding me? (laughing)

Sebastian nodded his head secretly, acting like you wouldn’t be able to see him, making the Interviewer laugh.

(!Quick Note!: I’m thinking about starting to write a fanfiction/multiple imagine series about what they just talked about, would you be interested in that? Or do you maybe want to know a bit more about the idea? Please let me know 😊)

The day went by fast and before you even knew it, you were back in Seb’s car driving back home. You reviewed the day and laughed at all the things that happened. When he pulled up at your house to drop you off, you turned body towards him

“Do you want to come inside?”, but he shook his head politely

“No, thank you. I think you should talk to Jake again and assure him, nothing’s going on between the two of us. And also… I’m the last person he would want to see right now.” 

That made you smile

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You rose a bit from your seat to lean over and hug him “I’ll see you. Good night”

“Good night, (Y/N).”

After opening the door, getting out, and closing it again, you kept standing there to wave Goodbye. As soon as Sebastian’s car was out of sight, you started walking to the front door and since you forgot to take your keys, you had to knock, which you regretted the second you did it. Only a couple of seconds later, it got opened, revealing your boyfriend in only his sweats. While looking at him, a smile started to spread on your face

“What if I was a crazy fan?” That made him laugh as well

“Get in, it’s cold.”

“No way, Jake Gyllenhaal is cold. Wow, what happened while I was gone?”

He didn’t answer but walked upstairs to lay back down and try falling asleep again. You took your shoes off and decided to join him without eating dinner since you had already eaten something at the shoot. As you entered your bedroom, Jake was sitting on his side of the bed, waiting for you

(imagine him not having these wounds please (:)

“I’m sorry.”

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but stopped when you heard those words and slowly turned towards him

“What?”

He looked up into your eyes – they held a lot of grief and an apologetic look in them

“I’m sorry about earlier. About everything, everything I said… about Sebastian and thinking that there’s something possibly going on between the two of you.”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips – Jake was a very honest man, but he had never said sorry about something like that. Walking over to him, you placed both of your hands on either side of his face and made him look up to you

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s normal to feel jealous”, he rolled his eyes at your comment, “and yes, you are jealous – don’t try denying that.” You gave him an assuring smile “I just found it a bit disappointing, that you didn’t trust me.”

“I trust you”, he assured you. You nodded and placed a kiss on his forehead, which made him smile widely. As you turned away to take your make-up off and brush your teeth in the bathroom, Jake slapped your butt and smiled seductively at you

“Hurry up and join me in bed.”

You shook your head smiling and tried to hurry.

Wow, that was a long one :) did you enjoy it? How are the gifs? Too many? Not enough? Unnecessary?

Also, I’m really sorry for the delay, but I hope you still liked it!

Thank you for taking your time to read it! :)

I really hope you have/had a great day/night!