#the fact he's 4 star vexes me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ppersonna · 4 years

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tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother. He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin. angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are. i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia so i blame her. as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes. fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao 🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy! feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you!

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word. Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no. He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon. Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second. Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since. Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line. Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin. He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter. Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension. All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever. Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime. You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most. You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch. Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows. It takes a moment to gather your surroundings. You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time. 5:34 pm. Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix. How had you fallen asleep for five hours? How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it. You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles. Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung. Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each. Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.” He pushes past you and into the living room.

Your mouth gapes open. Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this. Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure. “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff. “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam? What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado. “Obviously not anymore. We broke up, she kept the apartment. Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps? You clear your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen. “No, you’re not.”

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother. He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat. The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn. Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone. You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon. It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever. What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping. God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on. I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone. “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night. It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple. Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom. The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room. You’re not getting out of this. I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon. Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed. “I agree to your terms. Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time. 6:40. God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready. There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already? We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table. He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement. “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower. That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds. We’ll be waiting awhile.”

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants. You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage. Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.” Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face. “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening. You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone. And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin. You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas. He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.” Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory. Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other. Feels like old times. Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room. The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life. Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv. Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.

Why did he do it? You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning. Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off. He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing. Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now. Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again. While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow. You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep. If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved. But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems. You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught. You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable. You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day. Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol. Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. A nightcap. Of course. You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house. You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate. It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge. You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house. You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile. Liquid sleep. And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder. Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired. “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls. The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.

“Fucking help me! You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything. You did that on your own.” Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent. He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?” You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him. It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you. “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there. You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush. He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks. “We talked about that. Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own. He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.” His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle. “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan. “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth. He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more. His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs. You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused. His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure. He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free. Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.” He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts. You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime. You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.” Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut. Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.” His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat. You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his. Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life. You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet. My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you. Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!” You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.” He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you. He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix. This is surely what heaven feels like. It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity. He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung! You! Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks. He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises. “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”

“Yeah baby, cum for me. Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down. Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry. You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words. You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please. Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.” You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash. He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY! Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

#bangtanarmynet #maknaesmutsociety #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #v

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dawn-of-tomorrow · 3 years

Text

shoutout to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for this ask game!! (didin't expect to be tagged with one so soon lolol but i'm overjoyed~~ ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡❤️❤️)

1) What made you even think of trying Punishing Gray Raven? What made you stick with it?

Funny story actually-- I've long heard about PGR, way back when it was first released even, but I just didn't give it a chance back then mainly because it was in CN and I couldn't understand shit (rather ironic given how I am now lmao).

As for why I decided fairly recently, a couple of months give or take, to give PGR a shot? It's mainly due to the fact that I heard that the Global version would be out very soon, so I thought why not dive into what I've missed so far... not knowing that I'd become THIS obsessed with the game, aha~.

The most obvious thing that made me stick to this game are the interesting cast of characters, the "fun" story, the amazing yet simple game mechanics, and etc. etc.

2) What problems, if any, do you have with PGR?

Honestly speaking, the thing that most VEXES me at the moment about PGR, specifically PGR Global, is the wonky translations. It feels like a group of half-assed fan translators and one official translator who's not doing a good enough job with reigning everyone in instead of feeling like a group of professional translators who know what they're doing. Hell, I've seen better translations from some of my twitter mutuals!

3) Who is your favorite Construct, and why?

Lee. There's no question about it, Lee is my most favorite Construct at the moment (and forever perhaps ohoho~). As for why, god, hold that mic for a bit, I'm gonna go on a fucking rant. Ehem.

First of all, let's start with the most basic of things, like his appearances; As Palefire, he looks like this suave, very aloof, super serious, unapproachable, and "gets shit done efficiently" type of person, and while that description certainly isn't wrong, it's also hiding more layers of Lee's overall personality; as Entropy, he certainly looks and feels bit more casual than before, along with feeling somewhat more, even if a tiny bit, more honest with his feelings and easier to approach than before.

Despite being a serious, no-nonsense, grumpy guy, he's prone to occasionally quip and snark at anyone at their own expense especially if they get on his nerves (see his interactions with Kamui, not even the Commandant is spared from this!). He's also not as cold and distant as he may come across, given that, early on, he quite literally jumps in front of Liv to take a hit that was meant for her with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, he's almost always the first person to make comments on the Commandant's state as well as express his undiluted feelings (though not without hiding it on occasion behind anger/annoyance, thus making it a case of "anger born from worry").

You can also easily tell if you pay close enough attention to his dialogue and actions that he's not good with expressing his true feelings even to the people he cares about (thankfully Murray, Skk, Lucia, Liv, Kamui, etc. can usually pick up on what he really wants to say), is the type to often be misunderstood due to him being the kind of person who believes in "actions speak louder than words", that he's used to taking care of others instead of prioritizing himself even to his own detriment; while making it clear that he prefers to think and act in a logical and practical manner, he's not exempt to having emotions/feelings, as such, he can be pretty empathetic towards other people even if he doesn't look like it (he's even the first one in the Gray Raven squad to point out WHY EXACTLY the people they come across in Echo Aria refuse to leave their homes even with high risk of the Red Tide washing everything away, and fully understanding as well as getting it).

Alrighty I'm gonna cut that segment short now before this becomes too long for anyone to read through, ehe~!

4) What made you think of designing PGR OCs, instead of making yourself into a self-insert?

.... Actually, truth be told, both of my Skks are, in some way, self-inserts~. It's just that they start out as one before eventually developing into their own characters with only hints/traces of their self-insert origin. Though my Construct OCs are definitely not self-inserts, that much I can certainly say so!

I made them mainly because I really enjoyed the official cast so much I wanted to make characters that would get to interact with them somehow, though I take great care in making sure they aren't TOO out of character with how they're canonically portrayed.

5) What's your thought process behind creating your OCs?

Honestly, it usually starts of something like this--

"lol wouldn't it be funny if I made this type of character? Oooh, what if they interacted with this character? Or this character? Or that character? Let's see, what's missing... Backstory and profile, check. Appearance, I'll sketch one in a bit. Hmmm... I know! *drowns the OC in mountains load of angst*"

6) What's your favorite chapter from the main story?

If I'm limited to talking only about the main chapters currently released on Global then it would have to be Fallen Star, mainly because it's Watanabe's time to shine~. (*´∀｀*)

However, if we were to look at the overall chapters, then, I would have to say Imprisoned Sight.

7) What do you think of the new Liv shown in the latest stream? Where do you think the story is going with her? What do you think happened to Gray Raven?

With Liv, I have a really bad and somber feeling about what Kuro Game has in store for her, given how she looks almost complete different than what she's looked so far, as well as the vibe her new look gives off.

Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to thanos snap her memories away as well like they did with Lucia, or worse, infect her with the Punishing and turn her into an actual enemy (for a while before we get her back).

As for Gray Raven, considering what happened at the end of Evernight Beat, wherein the Skk is in a fucking coma with a chunk of the Mother Structure lodged in their abdomen, while Lee and Lucia are in repairs along with Liv, and, if I recall correctly, the Merciful One managed to reach Babylonia and is now onboard the space station as well-- I have a feeling that the despairing Liv will be approached by her and be given a new frame.

8) Have you seen the animated shorts? What do you think of them?

If you're talking about the Panini anime then yes, I've watched them already! Still ripping my insides open from laughter everytime I watch them lol. Favorite episode has got to be the toilet episode, next to that would be the episode where Chrome takes Kamui to Karenina and Liv for training.

9) So do Constructs eat or not? (I'm really confused, especially since I saw Karenina sipping a drink in one of the shorts)

Oh they most certainly can! Fuck, it's even explicitly stated that Camu likes to eat and sample foods whenever he can (revealed in his secrets, as well as his affection stories).

As Camu explains, while they don't get nutrients from human food, they most certainly can still enjoy them and use them as a type of fuel.

10) Do you think Kamui and/or Camu will be a really pivotal plot device at some point, considering how the information on Kamui is so top secret?

Hmmmm.... unless the story at that point is revolving around Kurono Ops and how shady they're being, then personally speaking, the chances are slim.

11) Do you think, at any point, any of the Gray Ravens will die off?

Naaaaaah. They won't do that. Sure, they TECHNICALLY killed off Lucia, but she's still "alive" in a sense, so it both counts and doesn't count.

Besides, sometimes death isn't the worse thing you can inflict on someone/a character~.

12) Who is your least favorite Construct, and why?

I don't really hate/dislike any of the Constructs if I'm being honest. Though I hate how shitty of a unit Sophia is, and that it's kinda pitiful that she's become even more useless now that the new S-Liv is here; but I am in no way saying you should stop using her, keep using Sophia if you really like her! It's your choice after all, and I'm not about to contest you on that part, after all, everyone's enjoyment is subjective.

13) What part of PGR's lore really holds your attention?

The part of the lore that really holds my attention are the characters, and seeing how they react and act to the situations happening to and around them, especially concerning the Punishing and forces out of their control~.

#punishing gray raven #pgr #战双帕弥什 #戰雙帕彌什 #パニシング #パニシンググレイレイヴン #mun speaks #mun yasu #mun ramblings #ask game #ask #ask box #ask box open

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

saving grace | 2

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 5.2k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

three days later, you’re stuck in the garden, holding a teacup in one hand and an unsettling urge to let a vexed frown make home on your features. as soon as yoongi’s letter arrived the morning after the last day of the celebration, your mother had speedily organized a tea party. invitations were exclusively sent to a selected few - namely those with an uncanny ability to light the matchstick of rumors throughout the city.

“lady ___, you’ve grown into a fine woman. when i last saw you, you were but a child crying over the countess forbidding you from having another cookie!”

“it’s been two years since you debuted into the society, hasn’t it, lady ___?”

“oh my, that’s an important time span between being legally introduced to the society and finding a marriage prospect, speaking of which, is it true? that the duke of cralon has taken a liking to the lady?”

“well-”

“of course,” your mother speaks over you, a pride-ridden smile gracing her lips, “only my ___ would be able to tame the beast of war though i was quite worried since there hasn’t been an official proposal from the duke but alas, he must’ve been busy attending to matters after returning from the war - in fact, he’s coming today to discuss arrangements about moving into the house of min and starting lessons as the future duchess.”

the ladies begin to whisper among themselves in pairs or groups of threes while your mother hides her satisfaction behind the cup of tea she brings to her lips. in truth, yoongi never mentioned anything about moving into his manor nor was there any talk of a ring - since it’s a faux engagement, you would feel enlightened if there weren’t any extravagant spent on you only to blind the eyes of others.

“lady ___ is quite lucky to have her face as a saving grace and capture the duke’s eyes,” krystal’s modulated tone sends the ladies quietening down.

if she hadn’t been the daughter of a marquis, her brusque nature would have landed her at the far end of the table where those with a lack of influence and benefit to the hostess, would be arranged to sit.

while she praises your beauty, she criticizes it being your only good fortune.

you catch a glimpse of isabelle’s apologetic smile from next to baroness armwell. only a few of the ladies are here with their mothers while the rest are acquaintances of your mother and noblewomen you choose to avoid in a social setting.

“i have my mother’s genetics to thank for that, lady krystal.” with that, a disarming smile blooms on your face. having nothing to argue after your plain admittance, she reverts her attention to the stirring the cup of tea in front of her.

“oh my, not only is lady ___ beautiful but she’s also humble!” one of the ladies chirp while the others chorus in agreement.

it is a few empty praises and gossips later, almost as though the stars and planets have aligned for this exact moment, the raucous of reigns and wagons echo from somewhere outside. that must be him.

you’re about to stand up and excuse yourself to welcome yoongi when the familiar heat of watchful eyes makes you turn to the one person you know would be sending telepathic messages to stay put, let him come to you.

the deadpanned expression that slips on your face is unconcealable but not at all effective in telling your mother how unnecessary and subtly rude it is to have yoongi come all the way to the garden and become a showcase to these women.

nonetheless, you sit with your back straight and ready to bolt as soon as the butler announces yoongi’s arrival. clad in his black and yellow uniform that reminds you of shimmering gold underneath a moonlight, yoongi’s naturally expressionless face lights up into the most amicable smile when he sees that you’re not alone, “ladies, apologies for intruding your tea party.”

“oh my,” marchioness seastein, lady irene’s mother, murmurs from next to you.

judging from the woman’s fixed gaze - as though she can see nothing but yoongi - you doubt she’s aware of her blatant ogling. not that you have any right to stop her.

“your grace, it’s been awhile,” you dip into a curtsy.

when you let go of the fabric of your dress, a gloved hand slips into yours before a pair of warm lips presses against your knuckle. this time, it’s not just marchioness seastein that starts fanning herself.

“___, it seems you forgot about what we talked about that night at the palace,” yoongi’s crimson eyes find yours with a sort of melancholy but as the duke owns two sides - one for the public and the other for when you’re behind closed doors - you’re unsure whether he’s truly saddened by the formal unfamiliarity you display.

regardless, you weren’t that flustered girl from that night. and you can’t let such scandalous intonation leave this place.

“my, how could i call you by your name so freely when we’re not even officially engaged?” throwing your gaze to the golden encrusted teacup, you shyly pull your hand to your lips and in the midst, catching your mother’s approving smile at your delicate front.

sending prayers to the goddess to be whisked away from this unbearable atmosphere, you almost let out a sigh of relief when yoongi chuckles, “i did not know my ___ harbors such worries. shall we go look for engagement rings now? i’ve made a booking at whitlace.”

that warrants a round of whispers from the ladies and a pleasant nod from your mother. nobody in this kingdom hasn’t heard of whitlace. it’s a boutique that sells only the high quality jewelries and are frequented by only the richest of nobility.

“your- yoongi, you didn’t have to!” your exclamation may have been dramatic but perhaps that is what saves you from spending another minute in the eyes of these noblewomen.

the elation coursing through your vein after finally being able to leave, clouds your better judgement. it is only once you’re in the carriage that bears the house of min’s double dragons and the carriage begins to shake gently five minutes into the ride, do you finally come to your senses, “where... are we heading off to, duke?”

the aforementioned man is already staring at you, wine red eyes piercing through your soul as he sits across from you. arms crossed over his chest, “you used me.”

it doesn’t take a genius to understand what he means, “it was my mother’s idea to have you come and meet me in the garden but yes, i did use up one favor that you owed me.”

when his stare doesn’t lighten, you find yourself involuntarily lulling your head to the side as though looking at him from a slightly different angle would give you the answer you’re looking for.

he must have noticed too when his stiff shoulder line finally sags, eyes fluttering shut as he exhales silently.

“it seems i finally understand why you wish so strongly to be consulted beforehand,” the confession hovers in the air like the white clouds that dots the sky. plainly meant without any hint of malice. and perhaps, it’s the never-before-seen innocence that urges you to explain yourself.

“if you think i’m punishing you, your- i mean, yoongi,” you correct yourself at the faintest pout that appears on that gentle visage, “then you’re mistaken-”

“i know,” he throws a troubled gaze out of glass window, “you’re not that kind of woman.”

in the midst of the gentle shake of the carriage and his hair swaying to frame his features, you wonder what exactly the type of woman he sees you as.

but you swallow the question that teeters on the tip of your tongue as you too, avert your gaze to the moving scene on the other side of the window, “very well.”

for the first time, the silence you share with another person does not make you want to barge through the door and escape. since you could walk and talk, your mother has been hiring tutors to help you with academia and etiquette lessons as well as host garden parties to help you make acquaintances with the other ladies of the noble households.

before you met the crass boy that talks too much and lack the refinement of a noble, you did think that those ladies you gathered with were your friends. but you couldn’t raise your voice at them without being branded rude. couldn’t talk about the state of other kingdoms without being side glanced as if you’re teetering over areas of interest that doesn’t suit a lady of a noble house.

but seokjin was inevitably a boy. you appreciate that what you couldn’t mention to the ladies, you could talk freely with him.

secretly, you yearned for a friend who you could rave about the latest fashion and jewelries without being shut down and revert the attention to what high-end dress their father and mother bought for them.

that is, until you met isabelle. she did not share your sentiments about how repulsive and superficial these gatherings were. that they were mere means to survive in this social world. without an influence, one is regrettably nothing. but she wasn’t one to jump in on the bandwagon of badmouthing one of the ladies behind their backs when they’re not there. though, she did nothing to stop it either. unlike you, she had no stance in anything.

perhaps that was why you wouldn’t allow yourself to become more than acquaintances but less than friends to her. but if and when yoongi acts and baron armwell is exposed for his crimes, she would be done for.

perhaps it’s the guilt that eats at your conscience. perhaps it’s the part of you that values the camaraderie formed between you and isabelle. but either way, you say, “yoongi, the warrant for baron armwell’s arrest should be ready right about now, yes?”

his stare remains indecipherable but his lack of refute gives you confidence in your assumption, “i’d like to use that last favor you owe me.”

if baron armwell is caught, then the warehouses would be seized by the king in compensation for the losses incurred from his thieving. then, the armwells would have nothing to sustain them. and their gambling-addict son can’t be relied upon to do something about it.

“isabelle has been learning the ropes of managing the warehouses,” with hands crossed over your chest, you lean back against the carriage, the picture of the timid but apt lady’s smile flashing behind your eyes, “if baron armwell is arrested then most likely, the warehouses will be seized but if isabelle or the baroness confess to the baron’s crimes...”

“-then they might be able to keep the warehouses and only source of income,” the man finishes for you.

“yes,” you find yourself nodding, “she may not know what her father’s been up to but she’ll learn to accept it to save her poor mother and get the king to send her brother into a rehabilitation center so he won’t continue gambling what’s left of the money they have.”

you can’t be the one to tell her because it would be oddly suspicious that you’re the friend she told her family secrets to and your supposed fiancee is the one who will be arresting her father. and there’s no telling which path she’ll take even if it was you who told her. but, it wouldn’t be a problem if one of your vassals is the one to approach her.

“could you give me time to make her come to you instead of arresting the baron?”

the moment that he takes to ponder on your request sends tremors down your spine. no matter how many times you force yourself to meet those calculating scarlet eyes, you can never get used to the feeling of having your dress stripped off to expose every part of you.

“you wouldn’t accept my help even if i offered, would you?” he finally says - unexpectedly so.

something tugs on your conscience as isabelle’s azure blue eyes flash at the back of your mind - those same eyes will be filled with tears because of you, “no, i have to do this myself.”

“very well,” he nods, a trace of reluctance clouding his eyes, “but you don’t win wars alone.”

it takes a moment for you to register his words and the warning that comes with it. politics is a different kind of war with words as weapons, “you don’t win wars through brute force either.”

the silence that befalls the carriage not unexpected. there are few people who’s ever seen holding a conversation with the duke. though he’s accrued a large sum of inheritance from his title, enough to threaten the royal family, his family’s lack of interest in the throne has allowed the previous king to turn a blind eye to the ducal house’s lack of presence at important events. or rather, that was exactly the reason the previous kings sighed in relief when they heard the min family.

“...quite a formidable opponent.” it’s not the untimely untterance after the conversation has ended that catches your attention, but it’s the faintest trace of smile on his face that makes your eyes widen in surprise.

“your grace?” you almost regret speaking at all because the smile disappears into a frown for the longest moment before the realization hits you, “sorry, you told me to call you by your name, yoongi.”

“as long as you know,” he doesn’t seem as displeased but the smile is gone as he shifts his eyes out to the window.

the carriage has come to a trot. the sight of the street and vendors lined up along it coming into view. though you’re still sitting across from each other, the invisible distance seems to evaporate into thin air. and for some reason, though you don’t notice how or when the silence’s changed into something comfortable, you find yourself wanting to break it. just so he’d look at you - he always does when’s speaking to you. and perhaps that smile you’re starting to think is from your imagination, would come back.

and what’s better than to blurt out a mindless wonder as to why he led you to his carriage where the footman who stared at you with mild surprised. greanted, his master came back after not even 15 minutes of being inside the manor. yoongi’s answer is a straightforward one - as the man himself.

yoongi doesn’t mean to steal you away from your home nor does he actually have a slot booked at whitlace.

“it looked like you were suffocating in there,” he simply says, wine red eyes fixed at the window, but a heartbeat later, he turns to you with wide eyes, as though he’s just thought of something, “unless you wish to go there - i’m sure count wynver wouldn’t have any objections to a duke dropping by without notice.”

“actually, there’s somewhere else i wish to visit but never got the chance to,” you divulge, the smile on your lips somewhat freer than you expect to be.

“alright,” lifts an eyebrow, that faint smile on his lips making him appear like a playful youth than a feared overlord and confirming your state of sanity, “but you’ve used up all your favors, this time you’re owing me.”

“fair enough,” the line of your shoulders jolt in a shrug, your much noticeable smile on your lips.

just as the palace holds a celebration for the returning knights, so does its people. the streets seem livelier than ever with merchants busily trying to attract customers, laughter echoes from every corner and knights bearing the royal family’s uniform clicking their heels together and standing in salutation until yoongi gestures for them to be at ease.

“the crown’s changed but it doesn’t seem like anything else has,” you assert, returning mrs. rutherson’s smile. it’s been three years since leslie’s introduced you to these people who cared for her before she came to serve you.

“you would think riots would be breaking out all over the kingdom but because of seokjin’s status - a maid’s son, the people seem to be more accepting of the ‘half-bred prince,’“ that’s the name the aristocratic faction calls him and sometimes the royal faction as well, “granted, the first thing he did as king was distribute seeds to the people to prepare for winter.”

seokjin rose to throne by taking his father, the previous king, and his brother, the crown prince’s lives with the help of bonyth, the rival kngdom of cearis. the two have been in a tense political relationship since the last twenty five years due to their similar economic backgrounds.

and because of that, his position is vulnerable as the royal faction must feel that they’d been betrayed by the sudden siege while the aristocrat faction has been divided into two sides. one sees this as a chance to strengthen their influence by supporting the new king and the other is wary of his connections with the outside world - some believes he’d sold the kingdom to bonyth and that cearis is now an unofficial territory of the bonyth with seokjin acting as the puppet king.

a familiar voice rasps, bringing you back to the present, “you spoke as if you detest the king for blackmailing you yet you say his name so naturally. i’ve also never heard of you praising someone so generously”

it doesn’t take a genius to know the unspoken words that comes with his assertion: it makes one wonder what your true relations are with each other.

you don’t know where yoongi’s loyalty lies. in the beginning, making seokjin think that you have the upper hand to crush his already vulnerable position by pretending that yoongi likes you, seems like an easy task. all you needed was to gain yoongi’s trust that you can attain any kind of information he needs in exchange for his presence. the matter of why seokjin is offering a marriage with the 12th prince of aflar was buried by your tip off about baron armwell but it all goes to naught because of one slip of tongue.

out of all the time you could say that foolish king’s name, it had to be when you’re with the duke. the knight who slayed thousands of enemies on his own in the battlefield. yet also the same man who listens to you while you talk with a faint smile.

and perhaps it’s because of that side of him that allows you to find the ease you need to respond, “the house of ___ has never chosen sides and because of that, i grew up learning to give credit where it’s due but criticize what is ordinarily wrong. as for my using his majesty’s name...” you pause, shifting through the possible excuses that could be of use until you find one.

you could tell him that you couldn’t accept seokjin’s rise to the throne so you’ve been using his name when talking about him in private and only now did it slip up. or you could tell him you’ve been head-butting since you were sixteen and him, eighteen.

but a considerable amount of time must have passed while you ponder on your reasons to make yoongi clear his throat, “it seems you too, have your secrets.”

at that, you crane your neck in search for his eyes, only noticing now that you had your head lowered in reluctance.

“raise your head, i’m not going to force you to tell me,” the gruffness of his voice is strained, “and people are watching and i’d rather not have my name slandered by another one of those baseless rumors. grim reaper and beast of war is enough.”

so he knows the versions of him spoken from people’s mouth. without realizing it, you find yourself gazing into a pair of distraught crimson eyes. except this time, they’re glancing around warily and not gazing into the windows of your soul.

“then, yoongi,” when they do capture your gaze, they’re not as terrifying as you found them to be but the idea you’re about to propose is absurdly embarrassing, “since we’re already rumored to be engaged, you should hug me to show that it was just a small quarrel and that we’ve settled it peacefully.”

a dust of pink spreads across the man’s face and ears as you watch his eyes widen in surprise once your suggestion registers. but your own cheeks are not without their own heat.

his arms that band around you are strong yet gentle. it takes you back to the first dance you shared at the palace. he holds you as he did before, like a porcelain doll that would break under the slightest pressure. except this time, there’s no music and the distance between you is nonexistent as you tell yourself that there’s no other way to hug without having your cheek pressed against his chest.

when you return, your mother swings the door open at the clamorous sound of the hooves and horses neighing. yoongi escorts you to the door, dipping into a bow with a hand on his chest in greeting to your mother and in parting to you. neither of you say a word but your face still burns like the sun is blazing inches from you and yoongi still sports a faint shade of pink.

“so? how was it? did you get the most expensive jewel in the store?” the question your mother shoot as she follows you into the hallway is met with a meek, “we didn’t go whitlace.”

unbeknownst to you, after you retreat to your room, your mother and leslie share a smile. though one is of utmost delight, the other is glad that you’re home. it seems you’ve been out for too long.

“did you see that?” your mother quizzes, “they may not have gone to whitlace but something must have happened to make them act bashful and shy to each other when they pretended to be so at ease this morning,” her lips curl at as a thought crosses her mind, “perhaps, they-”

“madam,” leslie smiles, “it’s time for dinner.”

that was a week ago.

“it was just a hug!” you cry out, cheeks warm like the sun that shines over the mansion and pours through the window of your room, “and it was to help him mend his reputation even just by a little, why do i have to get so worked up over it?”

“oh my, i was about to wake you up but it seems you don’t need my help, my lady,” a fluttery voice echoes from next to you.

it takes a moment for you to take in the woman’s unfaltering smile and her round brown eyes. another moment to register that perhaps the reason you couldn’t hear yoongi’s footsteps the first time you met wasn’t because he had inhumane strength but because you’re terrible at noticing your surroundings - because you’re so sure you’ve been awake for ten minutes and if she’d walked in any earlier, the normal thing to do was to announce once’s presence... no?

“leslie!” this time, the cry that escapes your lips is of a different nature. namely a chilling kind of surprise, “when did you get here?”

the woman’s head lulls to the side, searching through her memories. “since thirty minutes ago, i stepped behind the curtains to wipe the window because i didn’t want to open them and disturb your sleep until it’s time for you to wake up.”

“i-i see,” you assert, cheeks hot from the embarrassment of getting caught venting into nothing but the air.

“oh, and congratulations on your engagement with the duke, my lady,” her voice echoes off the walls whilst her body disappears into the closet, “his majesty is terribly kind as to let you throw the engagement party at the palace. or could it has something to do with the fact that it’s his cousin’s engagement?”

nodding mindlessly as you rub the sleepiness from your eyes, “yes, he’s very-” your mouth clamps shut, “wait, what engagement party?”

a letter arrived just this morning bearing the golden crest of the crown. rather than a notice to let the lady who’s getting engaged, know that she may hold the engagement party at the palace - it’s an invitation to said party dated three months from now as if he was hosting his own engagement party. seokjin, that good-for-nothing king. he’s done it this time.

begrudgingly, you trudge towards the carriage you told leslie to have ready by the time you’re done with breakfast.

“good morning,” the coachman shoots you an unsuspecting smile, “to the palace then, my lady?”

his voice echoes from the small window across from you. a compartment that allows you to slide open and make communicating with the coachman easier. it seems your visits to the palace have been so frequent that even the coachman would expect you to head there whenever you’re not out with leslie.

sighing, you internally put a stop to the war waging inside you. if it had been a month ago that’d he’d pull something like this, you would have marched straight to the palace and into his office, demanding him to retract the invitation.

but then, a month ago, you weren’t caught up with the rumor - which you suspected to be spread by seokjin - about marrying the grim reaper of the kingdom.

“no,” with a hand on your throbbing head, you recall the conversation you had with yoongi in his carriage - to consult before one of you acts, “to the duke’s residence.”

“the king has stirred quite a mess,” yoongi asserts. the golden engraving of the same letter lying in your drawer lying on top of the mahogany table he’s at. his office is as big as your room with a wall-sized window behind the table, allowing the rays of sun to pour into the room and cast a halo over him. somehow the sight of his wine red eyes glowing sends a hot shiver down your spine. the urge to hurl yourself away is still present but your shoulder line is at ease and so is your heart.

“i’m sorry,” your head hangs low in, eyes unable to meet his. not after you’d been the sole cause of this, “this is all my fault if only i hadn’t asked you to pretend to be my lover. i’ll go to the royal palace and-”

“___.” yoongi’s voice slices through the otherwise silent room. you can see him stand up and step out of your periphery.

his voice had always been chillingly cool. it’s impossible to tell how he feels. the first time you met him, you thought he would be the kind of man that spoke with swords and listens less to reason but the more you got to know him the more far off your assumption seemed to be.

a man who conceals his emotions and strikes when you least expect it, is a much dangerous adversary.

a pair of polished leather shoes comes to a stop just inches from your knees, the owner’s legs crossed as he leans against the edge of the table, “i can’t let you do such a thing. do you know the law states that a lie told to royalty sends you to lifetime imprisonment?”

the bottom of your lips begin to feel sore from having trapped between your teeth as worry flood your bloodstreams. a whole different riddle all together would be seokjin. just when you thought you have him figured out, he pulls out a wild card that gets you biting your nails while anticipating his next move. yet mortifying as the circumstances has turned, if you were to go back in time in the alley next to the orphanage, you would without a doubt, take the hand that asks for your support.

“i’ll be fine but you won’t,” you meet the steel gaze of the duke’s but instead of feeling like you’ve been stripped naked of your clothes, you see the curious wonder in those eyes. as though his search for the deepest part of your soul has come up tails, “he’s going to use this as a chance to show them that you’re on his side - it’s not a matter of who’s pretending to be whose fiance anymore. the day you step into politics may come but not because of.”

the silence stretches on as his eyes pierces into you when you’d looked up in the heat of the moment.

“if we don’t go, it’ll give the opposing faction a reason to start a riot because it’ll be direct indication of the house of min standing against the crown but...” he states smoothly before trailing off. as though he already knows the workings of politics despite spending a portion of his lifetime on the battlefield.

“since he rose without any noble house’s help - not those publicly known at least - we don’t know which one is the opposing faction.”

“for a king who didn’t receive any education to prepare him for the throne, he’s quite aggressive with his assertion of power.” you can’t help but raise your eyebrows at the complimentary tone that wraps around yoongi’s words.

but you push away the thought of him being one of those unknown households that supported seokjin in the background - if he was seokjin’s ally, it would make better sense if he stayed in cearis instead of joining to war.

“but if we attend,” those red eyes captures yours - it’s no secret what he’s thinking because-

“the house of ___ will be indirectly announcing its support for the king as well.”

judging from the long standing reputation founded upon by your great ancestors, you attending your own engagement party held by seokjin would be equivalent to chopping down the ancient tree of impartiality towards the crown and its fellow nobles. but if you didn’t nip the seeds of war at its bud, there’s no telling what would befall the kingdom if riots begin to break out, orchestrated by a faction with less to lose.

“neither option is favorable. if se- his majesty is dethroned and another puppet king is placed from either one of the factions, it’ll only showcase cearis’ political vulnerability to the whole world and give other nations a reason to wage war against us. not to mention the civil war that might break out beforehand.”

it is a second after you finish, do a sigh leaves yoongi’s mouth. a hard line gracing his lips but his eyes softens with something unfamiliar.

“somehow i hate the fact that i knew you’d decide to choose the peaceful way out even if it meant sacrificing yourself,” a gloved hand slips under yours, thumb grazing your trembling knuckles.

the lips that presses against your skin sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. but more than anything, your heart swells with a sort of emotion you don’t dare speak of - the implications of his words are as clear as your reflection in his eyes.

but i won’t let you hurt yourself in the process.

note. shout out to the realest @fanfuckingfic for hyping up this series i lov you b!! also taglisting @mingrasschoi (can’t tag) and @ayujmi!!

#bts smut #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts au #yoongi au #bts yoongi #yoongi

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blog-of-the-wildd · 3 years

Note

i’ll make it 4 words if you don’t mind <3

star of my heart with romantic revalink! thanks!!

Star of my heart

“I’m cold,” Revali said.

Even in Hebra, amidst the ever falling snow and the peaks of ice, the Rito remained warm, covered with feathers. However, Revali lied anyway, expecting Link to decipher the truth under his words.

The white, delicate feathers that hung over the roost tembled, signaling the beginning of a storm. The wood of the flight range creaked. It was an old structure, built by the Rito of a past long gone. Inside, quiet flames engulfed the cooking pot at the center, warming the place with a comfortable heat.

Link, making sure their meal cooked appropriately, didn’t reply to Revali, perhaps too absorbed in his task.

After a moment, he met his gaze, his far-seeing blue eyes unwavering.

Link had thin sandy hair and a small mouth. His face was dotted with freckles, product of hours spent under the sun. He was of juvenile features, though there was an edge to them. His boyish air hid the truth, for Link was the deathly Hylian Champion.

“Cold?” he repeated, slowly.

Revali looked away, tempted to hide his face under his wings.

“Cold,” he said.

Link’s gaze drifted to the pot. He stared at it for a moment, as if waiting for it to tell him what to do. Outside, the wintry gales howled, drowning the gentle crackling of the flames. Yet, as tempestuous as the weather was, the flight range was warm.

“I’m not,” Link said, gesturing to his clothes. He was clad in the snowquill armour, which was made of feathers. Revali scowled, for he understood what Link was alluding to.

Link sat next to him anyway and, in a gesture that was becoming more natural with every passing day, Revali wrapped a wing around his shoulders.

Link closed his eyes and leaned his head against his shoulder. Revali raised his wing carefully, caressing Link’s weather-beaten face. Neither said anything, too embarrassed (or comfortable) to shatter the silence. Revali melted into Link’s touch, letting a sort of peace take over him.

“This is nice,” Link said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, it’s decent,” Revali said

Link laughed. Revali felt the push of the boy’s giggles against his chest, which made him smile.

“You are decent,” Link said, lips curled in a goofy smile.

“Indeed I am, unlike some hell-raisers here--”

Link straightened up and looked at Revali with defying eyes. They stared at each other for a couple of beats, the tension purposefully building between them. Finally, Link poked Revali’s chest, eyes bright as if he’d come up with the best insult, “Oh really? Well, you’re dirty.”

Link hadn’t finished speaking when Revali burst into laughter. Link looked confused, expecting Revali to be deeply affected by his words (rightfully so; after all, Revali had a tendency to be offended by the faintest insult).

“I’m not,” Revali finally said, breathless from laughing, “You, on the other hand, smell unwashed.”

“Unwashed…” Link repeated, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Link looked at Revali, far-seeing blue eyes staring at him. Revali forced himself to look back. “Are you... asking me to take a bath?”

“Yes,” Revali replied mindlessly. Link nodded, eyes hard with resolution, and got up. Revali frowned, reaching a wing in his direction, “Where are you going?”

Link paid him no mind. He leaned over to check on the cooking pot. Satisfied, he turned to his sword and picked it up swiftly.

“To the lake.”

“Not right now, you dunderhead,” Revali snapped. “The lake is frozen. It's winter.”

Link’s resolve faltered. He placed his weapon where it had been and sat on the wooden floor, letting his attention slip back to the pot. Revali almost called him back, but he dared not. What would Link think? He would judge him needy and clingy, both adjectives that Revali did not want associated with him.

He didn’t want Link to know how much-- how important he had become in his life, which was ridiculous because, well, he had. Why hide such an obvious truth? He didn’t know, but when he thought about telling Link, he felt as if tight claws were clutching his heart.

Maybe he wasn’t ready, which honestly was stupid. Or maybe he was nervous. A love confession is a big deal, after all. It is giving the key of one’s heart to someone, being willing to be vulnerable, and that--

That terrified Revali.

So he said nothing, watching Link cook their meal with a gentleness he had just recently noticed. Despite all, Link wasn’t a man of war, or, at least, on occasions he didn’t seem to be. His eyes were soft in the quiet moments.

He was so caught in his web of thoughts he didn’t notice Link approaching him. He held out a bowl of soup, which Revali accepted after a brief hesitation. Link sat next to him, though this time their shoulders barely touched.

They ate in silence, watching the flames embrace the pot.

The soup had a sour taste. It was good, though never had Revali eaten something of similar flavour. Link sighed happily and placed his empty bowl on the floor, eyeing him curiously.

“This is nice,” Link said. Revali looked at him, and to his surprise, a bittersweet smile was curving his lips, as if he were already longing for the present moment. “I never get to-- the life at the castle is so hectic.”

He looked down at his intertwined hands, rubbing his thumbs together. They were calloused, scarred with traces of past battles. Revali wanted to hold them.

“I imagine,” he said.

“I like it here,” Link said suddenly. He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I like… I like Rito village.”

Even though his lips quivered with nervousness, there was nothing spectacular about his words. Rito village was a tourist attraction for Hylians. It wasn’t a surprise Link found its views fascinating.

“You like that everyone is willing to invite the hero to dinner,” Revali said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Link looked at him with wide eyes and laughed, the sound sincere and simple. Revali felt his chest tighten, overcome with emotion.

Eventually, the laughter ceased. An oddly peaceful moment followed. Link wore a loose smile on his lips, though it lingered only for a moment before setting into a neutral, tight expression. Revali ate slowly, savouring his meal. The sun was starting to set, descending into the horizon and casting dim shadows over the land.

Link extended his hands in front of the flames, seeking its warmth.

“Why did you hate me?” Link asked, voice small.

Revali looked up, astonishment contorting his face. He opened his beak to say something, but closed it again tightly. Even though he had written in his diary myriads of resentful entries about the Hylian Champion, he had never been asked to speak them out loud. It wasn’t as if-- Revali did not hate Link anymore. He wasn’t sure when his anger had dissipated, but it had.

It was weird. He knew exactly what had vexed him about Link, and in fact, he still considered his reasoning to be extremely sound. What Revali didn’t have was the drive to despise Link anymore. Instead of hate, a new emotion had found its way to his heart, even more passionate than anger.

“I did not hate you,” Even as the words left his mouth, Revali knew he was speaking bullshit. Link glanced at him, incredulous. Revali merely averted his gaze. What? Would he have preferred the cold, bare truth? “Do you really care about that when everything has--?”

“I do,” Link said in an outburst of emotion uncharacteristic of his stoic self. He glared at Revali, the icy stare penetrating. They stared at each other for what felt minutes; Revali trying to keep a neutral facade, Link scowling at him.

Link was the first to break eye contact. The spark of fury in his eyes dissolved, and an expression of dullness settled on his face.

“I do,” he repeated, quietly.

“If you started to hate me again I--” Link gulped and forced himself to continue, voice hoarse, “do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t--” Revali paused, thinking. There were a lot of things he could say to Link. He could apologise. He could open his heart and hope Link wouldn’t turn away in disgust. Or he could… say the truth, even if five words weren’t enough to convey the extent of his feelings. “I don’t hate you.”

Link looked down. There was no emotion on his face. “A hollow knight,” Revali thought, though he knew better.

“You are the star of Hyrule,” Revali said, for the sake of filling the silence. “Everyone speaks about how gifted and talented you are. The King--”

Link shook his head. He said something, but his voice was so faint Revali barely heard it.

Sorry.

“Don’t,” Revali said. “You work as hard as the rest.”

“I’m just-- an assbird,” Revali said.

Link snorted.

The knot of tension in Revali’s stomach became undone. The silence became lighter, more bearable. Revali finished his meal and gazed to the exterior of the roost, where ruthless gales howled as if they wanted to tear the world apart. Revali frowned, pondering if his gale would ever be as relentless as the ones of nature.

He was determined to make it so.

“I don’t know what Hyrule thinks of you,” Link mused. Revali was tempted to reply he wasn’t thinking hard enough. Hyrule viewed him as a sidekick, a secondary character whose only purpose was to make the leads shine brighter. Sometimes, he even thought Hyrule didn’t think of him at all.

Link placed his hand atop of Revali’s wing, letting his touch linger.

“I don’t know what Hyrule thinks of you,” he repeated quietly, “but… you’re the star of my heart.”

Link smiled nervously, averting his gaze. Revali couldn’t muster an answer, as much as he attempted to. What had that been? Link had never-- had that been a fucking pick up line? No. It must have been a compliment. Link seldom gave them, but it wasn’t discardable. After all, Revali was a skilled archer-- the most skilled of all.

“Was that good?” Link asked awkwardly. His face was beet red. He sounded nervous, anxious even. Link fiddled awkwardly with his hands, looking at them as if they were the single most interesting thing in the world.

Oh.

So Link had been flirting. The realisation didn’t scandalise him. It was as if he knew, not because he was arrogant, but because their relationship had been headed in that direction or a long time. Neither of them dared to admit it, though, and that was okay.

“Link,” Revali said, masking his emotions, “Why did you ask that? It ruined the moment.”

“The Rito don’t blush. How would I know otherwise?”

Revali stared at Link, raising an eyebrow. The Rito, contrary to Hylian beliefs, were an expressive species. If Link didn’t notice the small details, he would have time to do so. They would have time to learn to be with each other.

“It was good,” Revali admitted, almost begrudgingly.

Revali rarely allowed himself to think of the present. His entire existence had been aimed to the future. “Right now I’m nocking the arrow,” he thought to himself, “Someday, I will shoot.” He only marched forward, for if he looked back, he was scared to see nothing behind him. He had dedicated his life to a success he couldn’t yet grasp.

But for the first time in a while, Revali let himself just be.

Outside, the chilly currents blew. The sun had set, and shadows had spilled over Hebra. Link was by his side, looking at him with those piercing eyes of his.

Revali didn’t love Link, not yet. However, he could love Link. Tomorrow. Someday. The possibility was both exciting and terrifying. If he allowed his emotions to bloom, if he opened his heart, their relationship would flourish. There was no pressure, no goal other than to enjoy each other’s company. They could take it slow, opt for the small steps rather than a leap.

After all, they had time.

#revalink #botw #hwaoc #loz botw #breath of the wild #mywriting #im going mad i HATE tumblr formatting AAA

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (10)

Chapter 10: A Home Away | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Cal Kestis x Fem! OC

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

11 of ?

The maintenance droids only needed an hour to prepare a dorm for Irele within the command ship. Not that she would need a personal room in every ship she boards, but it would help if she did in the near future. The human guards did not need to wait for Irele to come to, they barged into the cell, pulled the poor girl by the arm to stand her up and then drag her out of the prison block while she could barely use her own two feet.

Irele’s eyes have not adjusted to the changing tones and gradients of lights of each part of the ship she passes through. She thought she said the question “Where are we going?” when the guards only heard an incoherent groaning at the throat.

The way from the prison block to her new chambers was a ten-minute walk, if one marched faster it would have been lesser. Upon reaching their destination, only one escorted her into her room and sat her down on the bed—to which she immediately fell limp and ended up lying down instead. While she was out cold, a nanny droid entered her bedroom to tend to whatever it can in the quarters; it took its time, in fact, until the girl came to. The droid’s sensors picked up the spike from Irele’s heart rate from slow to normal, it briskly turned around.

“It is fortunate that you’ve come to, milady. The serum from the probe has completely worn off. Should you feel slight nausea, do not be alarmed for it is normal as well. I can administer some painkillers to you with your choice of pill or syrup.”

The droid is programmed to speak in Basic and had a rather lulling, female voice—perhaps the most appropriate if you are to manufacture and program a droid for nursing.

“Milady? What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”

“You are here as a ward under the strict order of Master Vader. I am HY-L33, Nanny Droid,” it brought its head into a bow, “At your service, Milady Irele.”

“Why call me Milady when I’m kept hostage here?” she sits up and examines the room.

“Oh, you are mistaken, Milady. You are Lord Vader’s ward,” HY-L33 corrects. “And I have been tasked to take care of your basic needs and whims, if need be.”

“What I need is to go home! I don’t like being holed up in anywhere!”

The nurse droid lowered its head slowly, it stayed like so for a moment; with a rather sympathetic voice, HY-L33 responds, “I’m sorry, but I am incapable of fulfilling that whim, milady. I would suggest that you make yourself comfortable in this new one.”

Irele sighed, knowing that she’s talking to a wall here. She gave herself time to calm down and breathe. She passed her hands across her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be lashing out to you…” Irele inhaled. “What are you called again?”

“HY-L33, madam.”

Irele quietly parroted the name, “That’s a mouthful. How about I call you Haylee, is that alright?”

“If it proves to be more convenient for you, milady. Although personally, I do adore the name you’ve given me.”

Irele hummed as she managed a small smile, she hinted the chirp from the droid’s voice, relieved that she found some company out of the droid in this inorganic, cold room, she walked around to get a better feel of it now that the serum from the interrogation droid has worn off.

“Say, Haylee, do you know where we are?”

“We are aboard the command ship Anathema, the ship is within the Ulgoro system, and we are passing by the orbit of the planet Yelen.”

“How far are we from Tatooine?”

Haylee ran a quick scan from her processors, “We are approximately twenty-five parsecs away from the said Outer Rim planet.”

Irele breathed deeply, her heart sank, “That’s so far away…”

The droid’s photoreceptors picked up Irele’s increased heart rate and temperature. The girl was manifesting signs of anxiety: shivering hands, failing voice, and cold sweat.

“You are suffering from homesickness. Unfortunately, I do not have the appropriate medication for that, milady. Neither can I administer any medication for you. This is absolutely natural as you have been extracted from your real home to your current location.”

Irele took the deepest sigh and made a mantra.

Don’t lash out on the droid, you just screamed at it ten minutes ago.

She told this to herself mentally until she’s calmed herself down.

“Yeah, I am homesick. I left my family behind and…” she trailed off, realizing that the last people she was with were her friends. “My friends. They must be all worried sick about me.”

“You will be well taken care of here, Lady Irele.”

“Heh,” the girl huffed. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Irele.”

“As you wish… Mistress Irele.”

“Droids, gotta love ‘em…” she mumbled very quietly, knowing how acute droids’ hearing could be—depending on the model, that is.

–

Fortunately enough, Irele is indeed being taken care of.

Ever since she was moved to her own chambers in the Star Destroyer Anathema, she was thoroughly pampered—more or less—than anyone else in the ship, aside from Darth Vader. Never has she ever been well-fed in sixteen years! The serving portions were generous and they were quite tasty, but she had her moments where the food somewhat reminded her of home.

A uniformed officer enters Vader’s quarters to report of Irele’s adjustment to the new environment. Most of the officers feared that they’re speaking like a broken record, reporting the same thing to Vader every week—they had probably imagined it vexed him to be hearing the same thing over and over; it did them little comfort when adding their own personal observations of her such as asking for seconds with her food and interacting with the nanny droid, since she’s still shy and cautious from everyone else on board.Additionally, she was not yet allowed to wander off alone beyond her room. So, by all means, she is pretty much a hostage still—a rather pampered one, at the very least.

“Has she stopped her erratic behavior?”

“Fortunately so, Lord Vader, she has. Perhaps about a week and a half since her extraction, she had become somewhat… docile.”

Vader paused. He had presumed it was the effects of the interrogator droid’s syringe, but surely during the time the nanny droid was tending to the girl, the substance has flushed out since. Realizing that he truly knows nothing of what kind of person Irele is—compared from his earliest reference of her—he sighs with a quiet frustration under his mask.

“Very well. We are right on schedule. Carry on, captain.”

“Yes sir,” the captain bowed and dismissed himself militarily. His true posture showed when he rejoined his companion who had been waiting for him by the door. He hissed, “I didn’t conscript myself to the Imperial Fleet to be a babysitter!”

“Be more frustrated when Lord Vader does appoint you the official babysitter of the girl.”

“She’s quite a handful, don’t you think so?”

“Temperamental, to say the least,”

Only Vader and the droid, HY-L33, know what’s in store for Irele. Very soon, the plans for her life under the Empire’s wing—unknowingly under her brother’s care, or the walking shell of him perhaps—will be put into play.

For many weeks, HY-L33 patiently watched over Irele—especially in the medical aspect—and a mandate was programmed into her that once a diagnosis of the teenager would show optimum by the end of three weeks since her extraction from Tatooine, Irele would be considered physically eligible and be subjected to training. Eventually, HY-L33 was the only companion she has ever had in this ship since day one; so in exchange for medical knowledge and advice from HY-L33, Irele repays it with stories from her homeworld of Tatooine, but knowing that the droid is under Imperial property, she was cautious of what she ought to say, and rather told her adventures she had done on her own or with a friend instead of her family life.

“It seems as though your rigorous lifestyle has contributed to your increased stamina throughout your developmental stage.” HYL-33 commented once while listening to Irele recall one job she did where she would deliver goods door-to-door across the town of Mos Espa.

“Yeah well, I had to work. Because if I didn’t work, that just meant, I’ll be sleeping hungry—or if I’m lucky, with a half-full stomach.”

HY-L33, being the medical nanny droid that she is, went on to lecture Irele that it was ill-advised to sleep on an empty stomach for it will cause ulcers. The girl politely listened and heeded the advice, until she calmed down the droid that she had been fine for the rest of the time she was growing up.

She had only been staying for a week and a half. HY-L33’s sensors indicate a lesser trace of homesickness and anxiety within Irele, her body mass index has not changed drastically at all since her food intake was increased rather than imposing an eating strike—a few of HY-L33’s references cite that most human teenagers are more rebellious, especially when it comes to being fed after being thrown into a stressful situation. However, this was not the case with Irele, which made the nurse droid’s circuits cooler.

Eventually, the three weeks were over. Irele noticed HY-L33 seeming to be in full preparation. She did not mind this, but kept a close eye, until she could find the right timing to ask. After lunch, Irele went to the bath by rote, and quickly dressed herself in a dark gray shirt, black pants, and low boots.

Irele could truly sense something different in their routine.

“Haylee?”

“Yes, Miss Irele?”

“Is there something new added into the routine?”

“Yes, Miss Irele, we are about to perform a full health assessment on you. Please follow me and I will escort you to the medical ward.”

This was the first time Irele had been outside of her bedroom. For three weeks, she had been holed up in that metal room with no one and nothing else but HY-L33—to which she had grown fond of anyway—and then she finally comes out for a medical check-up.

Along the way, she could not look into the eyes of the crew, although she perfectly blended in with her gray and black clothes. She was nervous and afraid of what they’re thinking of her—because she felt like she knows what they’re saying about her, it’s a feeling that she can’t explain but it still manifests in her. Eager to avoid the stares and attention, Irele walked directly behind HY-L33 until they got to the said medical ward.

When they got there, the interior of the medical ward was a little bit brighter than most of the rooms in the ship. The walls were still metal, of course, but it was a cooler shade of gray which somewhat eased the people who are admitted and confined here—instead of the intimidating dark grays and blacks on other parts of the ship. At the center of operations was a 2-1B surgical droid stationed by a medical bed; it was approached by HY-L33 and Irele, when the droid’s photoreceptors saw the girl’s face, a deep male tone started speaking in a monotonous, continuous fashion.

“Irele Skywalker, human female, age is sixteen standard years, height stands at five feet and three inches…”

“Okay, okay, I think we got enough of my vitals already!” Irele interrupted.

“Were you briefed of your purpose here?”

Irele made a side-eyed glance at HY-L33, who didn’t move at all, “I was only told I was getting a check-up.”

“Correct.”

The surgical droid cleared out what HY-L33 failed to when they were still in the bedroom. It started with the physical examination—taking down her age, height, and weight, until it pored into analyzing the fluid levels and vitals of her organs to see if they were normal. It was all strange for little Irele, but she held up and did as she was told. She wasn’t getting hurt by the droids anyway, save the one pinprick that they had to do in order to conduct a blood test.

From Vader’s chamber, he was receiving real-time transmissions of the medical ward’s database. Whatever diagnosis the droids encode into the database under Irele’s profile, Vader saw it all firsthand—every revision, every new entry, every number.

Midichlorian count: 20,598.

Seeing this number and then recalling his impression on Irele baffled Darth Vader.

This child has lived sixteen years in a backwater planet, with a high midichlorian count… and yet her sensitivity is dormant.

13 notes · View notes

tardistimes · 4 years

Text

Knavish Knight

Summary: As soon as you woke up, quickly realising with a daunting chill what was happening, you had tried your best to explain to your kidnappers what an enormous mistake they had made.

Series: The Master’s Maniacal Misadventures Part 4 | Part 3 | Part 2 | Part 1

Word Count: 4177

AO3 link here.

No matter how much you tried, it seemed no one in the room was capable of rational thought.

“Look, I really don’t think you understand how big a mistake you’ve made here.” You implored, leaning forward as much as you could when your hands and feet were tightly bound to the chair. “I know you think you’re blackmailing some rich business guy, but you couldn’t be further from the truth! It was just an act. He wanted to get close to the mayor so he could steal something from his vault. Originally he was just got to kill everyone and go straight for it, he only changed the plan because I thought the hors d’oeuvres looked good and fancied a few dances together.”

They didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth.

“Seriously, it’s not too late! He might not even notice I’m gone yet. He can be easily distracted; he’s probably monologing to someone about his scheme right now. Just let me go before he realises, and I won’t even mention this. I’ll tell him I got lost on the way to the toilet or something. He’ll believe that. He thinks my species is so stupid.” You endeavoured. “Let me go, and you’ll all make it out of this alive.”

The man before you, who must be the one in charge given how often the others looked to him, scoffed. “You’ll say anything to save yourself. Well, your lies won’t work on us.”

“Yeah,” another man piped up, eager to join in, “besides, we already sent him the ransom demand. He’ll be giving us our money in two hours.”

Everyone surrounding you crowed excitedly at the prospect. You grimaced. You really had thought you might be able to save their lives.

“Okay,” you sighed, giving it one last try, “you at least took me far away from the party, right? I mean, you have time to get away before he arrives?”

You’d been unconscious for most of the kidnapping, barely realising someone was behind you before a syringe was stabbed into your neck and they whisked away you. As soon as you woke up, quickly realising with a daunting chill what was happening, you had tried your best to explain to your kidnappers what an enormous mistake they had made.

It was a pity. You really had been enjoying that party. It was so rare you got to socialise with other people. Usually, the Master started inflicting chaos as soon as you landed and everyone was too busy running away or screaming for you to strike up a conversation with them. Evidentially you’d both been defying nature by trying to have fun at the party – something like this had to happen to restore balance to the universe.

“We’re on a freight ship in orbit.”

You nodded. That wasn’t ideal, it meant there was nowhere these men could run to with breathable air, but it would have an engine.

“Right. So you’ll have escape pods? Yes? Good, stick me in one, blast it off, then start up the engine and get as far away from here as possible.”

The man in charge laughed, and, like sheep, the others hastily joined in. Your eyes rolled so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out their sockets.

“Yes, keep laughing. Go for it. You might as well spend the last few minutes of your lives having a good giggle. Keep it up.” You huffed, slumping back in your chair. No one could say you hadn’t tried, but what could you do if they wouldn’t take their own jeopardy seriously?

Their leaders laugh grew even more booming but one of his sheep frowned.

“Minutes?”

“Yes, minutes.” You emphasised. “Because when the Master gets here and finds me tied to this chair after you drugged me and took me here,” you glanced around at your dreary surroundings, the glitzy cocktail dress the Master had picked out for you looking ridiculously out of place amongst the squalor, “against my will, he will lose. His. Shit.”

You immediately felt the need to clarify as they slowly fell silent. “I mean, he already lost that years ago. But he’ll think this is a great excuse.” You groaned as you thought of what he might have planned. “I just hope he doesn’t make me watch you all die.”

“The Master,” one of them chuckled, glancing around at the others hoping they’d join in on the joke, “looks like we’ve found ourselves a real kinky bastard this time around!”

“The rich ones always are.” Their leader sneered.

You didn’t like the way he was looking at you now. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the Master was close to catching you up.

“What about you, darling?” He asked, moving closer. “What are you into?”

He trailed a finger down your cheek and you repressed the urge to bite it off. You were clearly outnumbered.

“You don’t know who he is.” You said lowly.

“He’s a businessman.”

“He’s a homicidal lunatic.” You corrected.

“What have you got against the man?” He grinned. “Thought you two were close? Saw you two dancing when I got to the party, you know? He looked ready to drag you right off that dance floor to somewhere a little more private. Hmm? No? You didn’t seem to think he was a homicidal lunatic then. In fact, it looked to me you were rather enjoying his company. Unless, like us, you’re only interested in the money and not the small talk?”

You snarled at the insinuation.

He laughed again. It was becoming rather vexing.

“Nah. I know you’re lying. Got your panties in a bunch ‘cause you think we’re gonna hurt you. Well, we’re not. Providing,” he stressed, “your homicidal lunatic keeps up his end of the deal. He gives us the money, we don’t cut off that pretty little head of yours and send him it.”

“He doesn’t deal with money.” You sighed. Like everything you’d said so far, that was true. As far as you knew, he’d never used money once since you met. “He takes what he wants and kills anyone who gets in his way. And right now? That’s you.”

“Will someone shut this bitch up?” The leader groaned.

A syringe was produced and, helpless to avoid it, you were drugged into unconsciousness again.

The drug, whatever it was, left you in a deep sleep. Nothing permeated through to you until someone roused you with a glass water thrown in your face. You had no idea how long you’d been unconscious for. The other men had left in the meantime, only one returning to wake you.

“Come on.” He said, untying you from the chair. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

While he freed your legs, your hands were still bound behind you back, and you struggled for balance when the man roughly pushed you forward.

You weren’t sure what you would find when they brought you to the ship’s bridge. The problem of the Master’s unpredictability combined with your active imagination. You’d pictured him dark with fury, teasing and difficult, calmly threatening. In hindsight, you should have known he’d decide to play a game.

“Oh, love. There you are.” He sighed in relief, his wide eyes locking onto you, shimmering with concern. His bow tie hung loosely around his neck, the tuxedo rumpled, his hair suitably messed, all to create the image of someone who had spent the last few hours without you fretting and restless instead of plotting murder.

Despite knowing better, it was hard not to buy into his act. Immediately, you longed to cross over to his side and assure him you were all right but, when your feet tried to take you there, you were swiftly grabbed and kept in place.

For a split second, you saw his eyes darken dangerously as he watched you handled in such a manner by those men, yet only you saw it. The others had already fallen for his latest performance, cackling over his perceived naivety. They weren’t really paying attention though, the bag overflowing with cash had captured their attention as soon as he had dumped it on the floor. The men hadn’t even thought to question his ship, which stood conspicuously in the corner as an antique wardrobe.

They never stood a chance.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked from across the room. His eyes darted everywhere to take in your condition, observing the slight rips in the hem of your dress, the damp strands of hair falling free around your face and the slightly glassy quality to your eye from being drugged.

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“Enough chit-chat.” The leader bit, getting impatient. “Give us the money.”

“And you’ll give me her back?” The Master asked with a wavering voice.

“Deals a deal.”

As soon as the Master kicked the bag to their side, you were shoved towards him. He caught you, quickly freeing your hands and pulling you into a tight side embrace. He was doing wonderfully in playing the part of a concerned lover. It was hard not to fall for it as he pressed his face into your hair. While the men crowed over their money, congratulating the Master for his smart decision to pay up, he dropped his head so he could whisper into your ear, still playing the part of your affectionate lover.

“I’m going to kill all of them.”

You shuddered even though you’d known as much. He would never forgive someone for blackmailing him.

He continued, “I will paint the stars with their blood. Make a mess so gruesome,” he breathed, his lips just barely connecting with your skin as he traced the shell of your ear, “that everyone in the known universe will know by tomorrow that you are off-limits.”

“Never again.” The Master promised. “You will never have to go through this again.”

Your heart thudded to a stop. Pulling back, you stared up at him with wide eyes, not sure if you’d just heard him right.

He stared back at you, the fire now openly blazing. “TARDIS is open, love. Close the door after you. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Stumbling slightly as you left, you did as he said, not sparing the men a last look. It would only haunt you.

As soon as you were shut inside, you fell onto the couch in the console room, your head spinning.

You should go back to your room, you reasoned. Get changed, drink some water to flush the drugs from your system, try to get some rest. Instead, you stayed on the couch. You had to know, to see what he had done. The thought terrified you, but you had to know.

You were waiting quite a while.

The only thing you could hear was the soft humming of the TARDIS. Although today it seemed a little louder than usual. Perhaps it was trying to shield you from whatever was going on outside.

You’d been with the Master when he’d killed people before, but it never took this long. Not for half a dozen men. Usually, he’d just zap whoever got in his way or annoyed him with his TCE and that would be the end of it. Quick and clean, a little figure left behind. Sometimes pocketed if he found it amusing enough. You wondered – worried, really – what on earth he was doing to them that could take so long.

Whatever it was, you knew he was doing it for you.

The TARDIS quietly admitted him once he was done. His footsteps were heavy as he walked towards the console and inputted a new destination. He realised quickly that you were there – despite him hoping you had disappeared further into the ship where he could avoid you until he was properly cleaned up – but he didn’t talk to you until the TARDIS was in flight.

“Are you all right?” He asked gruffly.

Your response came a little too quickly as you took in the sight of him. He’d left a trail on the floor, one you barely studied for a second before pointedly looking away. “Yes.”

The Master shot you a disbelieving look, his arched brow almost disappearing under the hair which had fallen over his face.

Under his heavy stare, you soon faltered. “A bit drowsy. They gave me a sedative.”

“They said it was a sedative?”

“Well, no…”

“Get to the medbay.” He sighed, turning away from you to look at the console screens. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Master, I don’t need to, I’m fine…”

“Go.” He commanded.

Rising from the couch on trembling legs, you hastened down the corridors. It took you a while to find the medbay, the TARDIS rearranging itself to buy the Master time.

He’d changed by the time he arrived to check on you, all remaining traces of blood wiped away. The mania had faded from his eyes and he was calm as he urged you onto a bed, treating you delicately as he took a blood sample and encouraged you to stay laying down while he ran his tests. The whole time he worked he barely looked you in the eye, only touching you with caution.

When he was satisfied there was nothing wrong with you, he told you to go to your bedroom and sleep. “I’ve taken us to a different galaxy for the night. Go rest up.”

You stayed where you were, even when he opened the medbay door for you. He gestured through it, trying to convince you to move.

His calm detachment faltered as he finally looked you in the eye. You weren’t sure what he saw there, you’d felt strangely removed from your body ever since you’d made it back aboard the TARDIS. It was clear the Master didn’t like what he saw though, as his gaze shifted, once again looking anywhere except at you.

His hands climbed up to tug at his hair, pulling at it harshly to ground himself. With a wrench of pain, he was able to force out his next words. “I’ll take you home.” He said, his voice leaden with defeat.

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

The Master repeated his statement.

“But I’m not meant to go home for at least another week.” You protested, mind reeling. Not half an hour ago he had killed half a dozen men for you, yet now he was trying to send you home?

You immediately took his reaction to heart, deciding everything was somehow your fault. You were the one who was captured, he must consider you weak. An inconvenience. No longer worth the trouble. You’d become a risk, something people thought they could use against him. Why would he want to keep you around? Forever having to go to the trouble of rescuing you. Easier to send a clear message that he had no weaknesses then dump you back on Earth, no longer burdened, no longer obliged to act as your protector.

Tears spiked at the corner of your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You’d caused him enough trouble.

“I see.” You mumbled.

The Master’s hands fell from his hair, harshly scrubbing against his jaw. “I’ll give you some time to gather your things.”

“Oh, okay.”

A permanent removal then.

He turned to leave, to head to the console, but your heart wrenched and you had to stop him.

“Master!”

Reluctantly, he turned back.

“I – I’m sorry.” You apologised, your voice cracking. You couldn’t believe how badly you’d messed everything up. The time you’d spent travelling with the Master was the best of your life. All the things you’d seen, everything you’d done together. The thought of returning home, to a place you couldn’t even consider your real home while you were still cocooned within the comforting embrace of the TARDIS, was horrible. Everything would seem so grey, so dull, so pointless without the Master there.

Everything he’d given you would be gone forever as soon as you stepped outside, and it was all your fault.

“Sorry.” He repeated dumbly. “What are you sorry for?”

“Getting taken.” You said thickly, head falling with shame. “I should have been more careful. I’m sorry.”

“That is my fault, not yours.” The Master said, suddenly thunderous. His voice took you aback, and you stared at him. “I was the one who placed you in danger. Which,” he clarified, stalking towards you, “I have taken care of. I promise you, no one in the known universe would dare…”

His ear-splitting yell made you flinch, and he immediately dropped his voice, “no one would dare come after you again. I made sure of that.”

The gaze he fixed you with made you shudder delightfully as you quickly realised your real error.

“I’m just sorry you had to… go through that.” The Master said carefully. “I should never have allowed you to be put in such a position.”

“You think I want to go home?” You asked incredulously.

He blinked at you. “Of course.”

“No!” You insisted, scrambling off the bed to meet him in the middle of the medbay. “Never. I never want to go home again. I want to stay here.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you realised you may have overstepped your place somewhat and retracted some of your sentiments. “Well, I mean. As long as you want me here. I can still go back to visit so I don’t get under your feet. But. Well. I want to stay. Here. With you.” You clarified. “If that’s okay?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to stare at you searchingly, still waiting for the repulsion he expected to erupt across your face when it finally dawned on you what he had done.

Feeling he needed some help, you lightly took up his hand in yours and pulled it close to your body. He’d missed the blood underneath his nails, which he only noticed when you raised his hand, lifting it higher until you could press a kiss to his fingertips.

“I never thanked you.” You mumbled into his skin.

“For what?” He breathed.

“Protecting me.” You answered. “I should have thanked you when you came back.”

The Master’s face contorted with revulsion. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. You shouldn’t have been there. You should have come here or gone to your room. You – you should never have to see me that way.”

“I’ve seen you kill people before.” You pointed out.

He was quick to argue with you. “Not like that.”

“You did it for me.” You said, not needing to ask for his motives.

“I should have spent more time on them.” He said, closing his eyes as he thought longingly of even worse things he could have subjected those men to. They deserved every one of them for the crimes they committed against you. “I didn’t want to leave you for too long though. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you, Master.”

He became even more confused as you closed the remaining space between you both, pressing yourself into his chest. His hand was still clutched against your face and you nuzzled against it, not caring about the residual blood. With your free arm, you loosely encircled his waist and hugged him as best you could while he was so unresponsive.

When he didn’t respond, you pulled away nervously.

“Sorry?” You said, unsure of his response. His face seemed so uncharacteristically blank. Usually, you could tell how he felt just by looking at him. He was an expressive person. Now, his eyes seemed hollow as they stared at you.

“Master?” You prompted.

He sighed, roughly rubbing at his head. “Didn’t it repulse you?”

“That you murdered those men? I’ve already told you, I’ve seen you kill…”

“Not like that.” He repeated. “Doesn’t it offend your moral principles that I caused such torment? I didn’t use the TCE, pet. It went on a bit.”

“I know.” Even though you hadn’t been able to hear what was going on outside the TARDIS, you knew how long the Master was gone for. And you saw the state he was in when he got back. You had some idea of what he had done.

“Doesn’t it repulse you?” He asked incredulously.

You thought about it – your imagination, unfortunately, pulling out all the stops in recreating the ways he could have killed them. You had tried to save those men, but they hadn’t listened.

“They weren’t good people.” You said. “They were going to hurt me if you hadn’t paid the ransom.”

“I would never have allowed that to happen.” The Master insisted, stepping slightly closer, emotion briefly flickering behind his eyes.

“I know.” You assured. “I knew you would come for me. I think that’s what kept me so calm throughout it all. I was never worried about dying. I knew you’d save me.”

“I could have been too late,” he tried to argue, “you shouldn’t have so much faith in me. You still need to be careful or one day…”

“I trust you, Master.” You told him, watching him fall silent again. “I wouldn’t want to stay if I didn’t. And I wouldn’t want to stay if I thought you’d gone too far today. I – I understand why you did it. I know you want to keep me safe.”

“Travelling with me is dangerous, love.”

“I know. You’ve told me every day since I’ve come aboard.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Luckily for both of us, I like a little danger.”

“I’m more than a little dangerous.” The Master said darkly.

You laughed again, nervously this time. “Luckily for both of us,” you said, trying to seem confident, “I like you too.”

Pressing yourself into his arms again, too anxious to see his reaction to your words, you exhaled in relief when he finally reciprocated your embrace. The Master rested his head against yours and, so quietly you barely heard it, he confessed, “I like you too, pet.”

Speaking louder, he told you, “All right. You need to get some sleep, love. Long day for the human.”

As you were still cocooned in his embrace, you felt confident enough to ask, “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

He didn’t answer right away and you worried you’d crossed a line again. He had let you do so before in the past after that mysterious stranger had invaded the TARDIS, but perhaps those had been exceptional circumstances.

“Sorry,” you apologised again, “I just…”

“Don’t apologise.” The Master said. “You shouldn’t be afraid to ask for what you need.”

Tilting your head back, you looked up at him. You knew full well what you wanted, but what you needed at that moment: “I just, I don’t want to be alone.”

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll keep you safe.” He promised.

Scooping you up, despite your protestations you could walk, he started carrying you back to his room when he suddenly realised you were still dressed in the cocktail dress you’d been taken in.

“Let’s get you some clean clothes first,” he encouraged, detouring to your bedroom. You tried to get them yourself but he batted away your hands and picked up your pyjamas for you, tossing them on your stomach as he carried you back to his room.

He dropped you into the bathroom first, where you were unable to resist a quick shower before changing. Much like all the rooms he had designed for himself, including his bedroom and library, it was a stunning space. While you’d never complained about the rooms you’d been assigned on the TARDIS, after seeing his you decided you’d have to ask about an upgrade. His bathtub was the size of a pool.

He was waiting for you outside, sat in his desk chair. He hopped up as soon as you walked in, taking you by the shoulders to guide you towards the bed. Everything inside was as beautiful as you remembered. The dark panelled walls, leading your eyes up towards the vaulted ceiling. His large bed, its pale gold sheets, which felt soft on your skin as the Master settled you down. It smelled of him and you felt all the remaining tension in your body disappear as he pulled the blankets over you.

“I’ll go get you some water. It will help flush the drugs out of your system.” He offered.

“No,” you protested, catching his arm as he tried to move away, “it’s fine. Can you just lay here with me, please?”

The Master seemed to have overcome some of the boundaries he’d tried to impose the first time you shared a bed, immediately pressing into your side instead of trying to maintain space between your bodies. Brushing the hair away from your face, the Master gently petted you until you fell asleep, promising over and over again until he was confident you would believe him that he would never let anything happen to you.

“I promise, pet. You will never have to go through this again.”

Seriously, why did I make all these titles alliterative! This ended up longer than planned, but I'm quite pleased with it. I hope you all enjoyed reading!

N.B. I've now made a Discord group for Master fans (and other Dhawan characters like Orlo, Davos etc). If you're interested in joining, message me for the link!

#dhawan!master #doctor who #dhawan!master x reader #The Master #master x reader

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ceaderblocks · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s in the Details, Chapter 8

the final chapter

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 //

find on a03 here

Scar was in the End. He had never seen the End like this, an empty stretch of End Stone that went on in every direction with nothing else in sight.

“We had a deal.” Oscar snarled, and Scar turned around to face them. They stood a few meters away, a gleaming diamond sword in their hand.

“You were going to build those damn towers, and I’d give your Vex power back.”

“You said you weren’t going to hurt my friends. I was building the towers, and you hurt them anyways.” Scar said. He reached into his inventory to look for a weapon. There was nothing.

“You were taking too long. People kept interfering.”

“You were never going to leave us alone, were you?” Scar said, coming to a realization. Oscar snarled, their eyes glowing in the dark of the End. “You were just using me as a cover.”

“Congratulations,” Oscar spat, gripping the sword tighter. “You figured it out. Unfortunately for you, there’s no prize.”

“Are you even part of the Void?” Scar asked, trying to delay the inevitable fight. He had no armor or weapon; he would be killed in an instant. He needed a plan.

“I’m worse than the Void,” Oscar stalked forwards, and Scar tripped on his feet walking backwards to avoid them getting closer. “I’m the pure magic of the Vex and the End. I’m the worst of both in one form. I’m going to rule them both, and I am going to rule you and your stupid, bullshit overworld too. I don’t serve anyone but myself, unlike you weak players, who are subject to the whim of magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Scar said, still backing up. “Why didn’t you just take over?”

“I needed that Void Walker and ConVex to disperse of their human vessels. You were the perfect opportunity when Void and Vex met to interact with the over-world.”

Scar tripped on a rock, falling onto his back. Hitting the ground hard, Scar found himself straddled and a sword to his throat within moments. Breathing heavily, Scar turned his head away, trying to avoid its sharp point.

“Xisuma will be here soon,” Scar said. “My friends will help me, even if you kill me.”

“They won’t be coming,” Oscar hissed. “There’s no magic here. They can’t find us.”

Scar’s eyes widened. Oscar was a being of magic. If there was none here, that meant that Oscar was as tangible and vulnerable as Scar was!

Scar took in Oscar’s being for a quick moment. There was sweat on their brow, and they were breathing heavily. Scar noted that Oscar was shaking ever-so-slightly as well. Scar quickly made his move, elbowing Oscar in the face as hard as he could and then shoving them off his body. Oscar cried out, clutching their nose and crumpling to the side, leaving Scar to escape. Stumbling to his feet, Scar snatched the sword from the ground, spinning around to face Oscar. His doppelgänger was still on the ground, their lungs heaving with pain and anger. Wiping the blood from their face, Oscar stood, scowling. They drew a secondary sword from their inventory, just as sharp as the first. Oscar readied himself, shifting his balance to be sturdier. Blood streamed from their nose, and Scar was sure he had broken it.

With no warning taunt, Oscar flung themselves towards Scar. The flat edge of the sword

hit Scar’s ribs, knocking the breath from him. Still standing, Scar swung his own weapon, cutting across Oscar’s chest.

“Shit!” They gasped. The wound was shallow but long. Scar winced. He hadn’t seen that much blood in a long time.

Despite this thought, Scar didn’t pause for long. Lunging forwards, metal sung against metal as the swords met. The weapons locked in an cross shape, Scar could see the fear in Oscar’s eyes.

He’s never been vulnerable before. Scar realized. Remembering his promise to Cub, Scar grit his teeth. He hated to admit it, but he’d rather see Oscar bleeding then see Cub injured.

Oscar broke the crossed lock and thrust forwards, making a wild stab at Scar. Scar easily sidestepped the attack, bringing his sword down and lunging forwards, this time slicing Oscar’s right arm.

Crying out in pain, Oscar made another unhinged swipe, missing completely. They stepped forwards, lunging again, and Scar parried his attack.

“Fuck you!” Oscar said, panting heavily. The two wounds they had sustained were bleeding heavily. Scar suspected they wouldn’t stop bleeding without medical attention.

“I can get you medical help, but you have to promise to leave us alone.” Scar said. “You’re really injured.”

“I don’t want your help,” Oscar scowled. They were pale. “I want you dead.”

Scar inhaled sharply. He didn’t want to kill anyone, especially when there was no resurrection out here. He didn’t have much of a choice.

Oscar swung his weapon desperately, missing Scar again. Scar stepped behind Oscar, shifting his stance to ground himself. Oscar turned and laughed.

Scar took a steadying breath, inhaling deeply.

“You really think you can stop me?” Oscar screamed. “I am everything! I am the Void! I am the Vex! I am everything you pathetic hermits want to be! I am the sun, I am the stars-“

Scar exhaled.

“-I am the source of all magic! I am in your dreams; I am your future! I am the End! I am- “

Oscar choked as Scar’s sword ran through him.

“Sorry.” Scar whispered.

The sword in Oscar’s chest made a disgusting noise as it was pushed further. Oscar didn’t make a noise when they fell to the ground, the sickening thump ringing through Scar’s head. Scar had been expecting some dramatic speech, or a curse. He had expected screaming or sobbing or <em> something </em> when Oscar was defeated, not a quiet, dead body. The lack of retorts and breath made the silence of the End much more unnerving then it used to be. Scar decided he hated it, and the bloodied sword slipped from his hand.

< BadTimesWithScar was slain by GoodTimesWithScar >

< XisumaVoid teleported to GoodTimesWithScar >

“Scar!” Xisuma cried out, racing towards his friend.

“You know,” Scar didn’t take his eyes off Oscar’s body. “I kinda expected them to respawn. It’d be just my luck, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you hurt?”

Scar shook his head. Xisuma noticed he was pale.

“Are you alright?”

Scar shook his head again, ripping his eyes off the lifeless form. Stumbling a few steps backwards, the gravity of what he had done finally settled in Scar’s mind. He vomited onto the ground, tears rolling down his face.

“Oh my God,” Scar dropped to his knees. “I killed them.”

“Scar, it’s okay.” Xisuma dropped to his side, wrapping his arms around Scar and gently turning him away.

“I killed them! I killed-“ Scar took a heavy, shuddering gasp.

“Scar, you had to. There was no other way.” Xisuma said, pulling Scar in close. “It was self-defence.”

“Please don’t ban me!” Scar begged. “I didn’t mean to kill them!”

“I won’t.” Xisuma said, “You’ve done nothing wrong. They were going to kill you.”

“I killed them.” Scar said, his breath heaving, and Xisuma began to realize that Scar wasn’t really listening to him. “I killed them.”

Xisuma turned his gaze to the corpse lying on the ground a few feet away, blood staining the EndStone.

“I killed them.” Scar said again, as if repeating the words would make them hurt any less.

“Yeah,” Xisuma agreed. “You did.”

Scar leaned into Xisuma, falling quiet. Xisuma wanted to get out of the End as soon as possible, but allowed his friend a moment to collect himself. A loud crash made Xisuma and Scar jump.

“They’re back?” Scar said, scrambling to his feet.

“No,” Xisuma said, inhaling sharply and pointing to a spot a few meters away. “The End is falling apart!”

Where there had once been endless endstone there were now gaping holes in the land. The void could be seen through it, as unforgiving as ever. Loud crashes and bangs filled the air as the ground beneath them began to crumble away.

“Scar, we need to go! This section hasn’t loaded, and now it’s falling apart!” Xisuma shouted, running to his left to avoid falling with the ground.

“Xisuma-“ Scar reached out, and the Admin watched in horror as the ground beneath Scar fell out. The builder didn’t scream as he plummeted, to sheep shocked to do anything.

“Scar!” Xisuma shouted, and whipped out his administration screens, quickly typing in a command. He then jumped into the Void, praying he’d catch Scar. His armor was heavier than Scar’s clothing, and it allowed him to sink faster.

“Scar!” He shouted again, reaching out. “Grab my hand!”

Scar shouted something back, tears flying from his eyes. The builder reached forwards, and their fingertips brushed. The cold of the Void was starting to sink into Xisuma’s skin, and he knew Scar was hurting worse than we was. A few more moments and they’d both be dead.

“Dammit!” Xisuma cried, reaching out as far as he could. Scar tried to reach out as well, ice creeping over his fingers. Xisuma fired a rocket from his belt and—

< XisumaVoid and GoodTimeWithScar teleported to Cubfab135 >

---

Cub, by some miracle, was not dead.

Sure, he had died, but he wasn’t dead, which was surprising. With Oscar’s weird-ass abilities and the fact that he had bled Cub thought he perma-died. But he hadn’t. And now Cub didn’t really know what to do.

“I even had cool last words,” Cub huffed, not really annoyed he was alive.

“Cub?” A voice yelled from outside. “Yo, are you alive?”

“Ex?” Cub called out, sitting up. He winced, phantom pain throbbing where he had been stabbed.

Not dead, Cub noted. but also not unscathed.

“Holy shit! You’re alive!” Ex threw open the front door, racing in and grabbing Cub roughly by his arms. “Wow! Thank God! I don’t know how to plan a funeral.”

“I believe we have bigger problems than a funeral.” Cub said, wiggling his way out of Ex’s grip. “We need to find Scar and help him.”

“Yeah, so small problem,” Ex said. “Dickface took Scar to some remote corner of the End, and then cut out all magic… which includes any Admin abilities.”

“Xisuma can’t get to him,” Cub said, inhaling sharply and throwing his feet over the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, Scar is on his own.” Ex frowned. “Where is Xisuma? He was right behind me.”

A loud ping from the communicators on their hips drew their attention.

< BadTimesWithScar was slain by GoodTimesWithScar >

< XisumaVoid teleported to GoodTimesWithScar >

“He survived?” Ex said, sounding impressed.

“He killed Oscar,” Cub said, breathless.

Cub’s eyes widened, horrified. Was he bleeding out? Almost dead? Trapped in some weird, End induced coma that he would never be able to leave?

< XisumaVoid and GoodTimesWithScar teleported to Cubfab135 >

The train of thought was Interrupted with Scar and Xisuma crashing from a portal into the room.

Xisuma was carrying most of Scar’s weight, the builder awake but unresponsive. The were both shivering, and Cub could see the ice from the Void melting on Scar. Cub inhaled sharply, seeing that Scar was covered in blood. Cub stumbled from his bed and opened his bedside chest, pulling out potions of healing and bandages.

“Put him on the bed Xisuma, I need to bandage his wounds!”

“I’m not hurt.” Scar said quietly, refusing to look at anyone while speaking. He rubbed his hands along his arms, trying to warm himself up.

“There’s blood on you,” Cub said frantically, “Are you sure-”

“It’s not mine.” Scar mumbled, and the room froze. Even Ex was at a loss for words, looking uncomfortable with the idea that Scar had actually killed Oscar. Blood wasn’t present unless it was permanent.

“We should sit you down anyways,” Xisuma said gently, breaking the silence. Scar nodded, seemingly off in another world.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Cub quietly put the bandages and potions away while Ex and Xisuma had a hushed conversation, something about restoring the balance and a deal they made. Cub didn’t really care, his friend being the main concern.

“Scar,” Cub said, sitting on the bed. Scar blinked a few times, and turned his attention to Cub. “Thank you.”

Scar’s eyes welled with tears, and a few slipped down his face. Cub pulled his friend into a tight hug, letting his friend cry. There wasn’t much else he could do.

---

Settling back into routine took a long time. Explaining to the other Hermits what had happened was an ordeal in itself, filled with questions and many, many concerns.

(Doc had asked Xisuma to bring Oscar back so he could kill him again. Xisuma had declined.)

The mood of Hermits had changed as well. The idea of someone being permanently offed made them all more cautious to death. Inventories were always stacked with potions, and rarely was anyone alone.

Scar, however, was never alone. After sleeping for an entire week, he began building again. Xisuma and Ex had cleared the dark buildings that Oscar had made, doing their best to avoid leaving gaping holes where they had once been.

Cherry was still non-existent, and Scar had been finishing fixing his portal when Cub had dragged him to the shopping district.

“Cub, why are we here? Do you need help building a new shop?” Scar asked, walking alongside his friend.

“No, I just want to show you a new one.”

“Oh, whose it is?” Scar asked, confused. “You don’t usually show me new shops.”

“Actually,” A new voice said, and Scar frowned in confusion as Grian came up from behind and threw an arm around his shoulders. “It’s yours!”

“Tada!” Grian said, spinning Scar around to face the newly built Cherry.

“Oh my gosh.” Scar said, covering his mouth as Iskall and Mumbo lit a concerning amount of fireworks.

Before him stood Cherry, identical to how it had been before it had been destroyed. Scar walked up to the entrance, running a hand along the wood.

“We even restocked it for you!” Iskall said, patting Scar on the back and then walking past to open a chest. Peaking into it, Scar saw that it was filled with redstone.

“This is amazing,” Scar said, breathless. “Thank you.”

“And the best part,” Grian said cheerfully, “is that the only payment is that you have to shop at Sahara for the rest of your life!”

“Grian!” Mumbo scolded. “We talked about this!”

“Dude, you were the only one who said we should do it for free! You were outvoted.” Iskall said.

Scar burst out into laughter.

“Hey! I’m not joking.” Grian chided, failing to keep a large smile off his face. Mumbo looked horrified.

“He’s joking,” Mumbo said, turning to Scar with a worried look on his face. “You’re joking, right?”

Scar smiled as Cub laughed as well.

Despite everything that had happened, Scar was going to be okay.

#ditd #my writing #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #xisumavoid #grian #mumbojumbo #hermitcraft #the devil's in the details

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

About a boy (Part-11)

Word count: 2.8K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking, kidnapping, child-violence, bullying.

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: Okay, I really hope you all like this chapter! <3

Thanks to my lovelies @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“You know what would help? Lightsabers!” Will proclaimed.

Dean laughed and Cas gave Will an amused look.

“You guys think it’s funny, but we sneaked a Star Wars tape last year- you remember that, don’t you, Cas?- and those sabers could light up the whole place,” he reasoned.

“You know Lightsabers aren’t real,” Cas said patiently.

Will rolled his eyes at that. “Of course they aren’t real. I know that! But they must be using something similar during the filming. That’s what we need. We could light this whole place up. No need for dumb flashlights that give out in the middle of creepy staircases.”

Dean smiled indulgently. “That was one time.”

“And one time was enough,” Will said decidedly, his tone effectively dismissing the matter.

It sure had been a struggle, sneaking each night into the record room without letting anyone know. Even more, it was a task to smuggle and return Will from and back to the 4th floor. But if Dean was honest, Will kept them going. He had the sort of brightness and enthusiasm that never gave out… even on the dullest of nights.

It had taken Will a few days to come back to himself, but after that, Will was the driving force behind the ‘Sam search mission.’ In fact, he seemed too bright sometimes. Dean worried if somehow Will was overcompensating, thinking that it was his job to find Sam before he left with his adoptive parents at the end of the month. That was another thing- No one was to bring the adoption up. Dean wasn’t sure it was denial. It appeared more like Will was pushing it deep, deep down. His anxieties only surfaced sometimes in the dark when it was just him and Dean, with their backs to the grill. He would suddenly go quiet and Dean would just know.

“Found another!” Cas announced. “Matt Wilcox. It says he was transferred to Missouri, but no paperwork to prove it.”

“We have twenty-three now,” Dean said, grimly.

They hadn’t found many leads on Sam. Will had suggested that they go by the law of omissions. Eliminate those files that had no chance of being Sam’s. Like all kids who hadn’t been admitted around the age of 6 months, or whose physical descriptions were way off. It was time consuming, but it was still something. Meanwhile, Dean used the same idea to look into Stynes. In the past three weeks since Dean had actually started investigating the matter seriously, they had come across multiple instances of paperwork that wasn’t just shoddy but didn’t make any sense. Most of these were kids who had been abruptly displaced. Dean didn’t know if bad paperwork or a complete lack of follow-up would be good enough for Jody to make a case out of it, but if they found enough files, maybe some other link could be found.

It was serious work, and Will’s periodic complaints about the lack of good flashlights- which had become an essential commodity at this point- was the only entertainment.

Dean stashed his files away and checked his watch. It was just past 4 am.

“We should get back,” he suggested. “You don’t want to fall asleep in the class again, Cas.”

“It’s what the English Lit class is meant for,” said Cas, getting up anyway and stretching his arms. Beside him, Will nodded in agreement.

Dean smiled fondly at him.

Quietly, they made their way back to the left wing under the light of a single flashlight. It was little help, but too much light could attract attention. It was vexing to crossover from the barren left wing each night, but it was much better than risking being sighted.

Just as they landed on the fourth floor, a weird creaking noise came from the further left part.

“What the hell?” Dean scowled, pointing the flashlight. There was nothing there. Acting on an instinct, he shut the light off completely, gesturing with his hands for his other companions to stay put.

As if on point, a dark figure emerged at the very end of the corridor. Dean’s breath hitched; behind him, there were similar gasps of shock.

“Shhh…” he said, pushing them back into a deeper corner. The figure at the end was well-built and tall, and was looking straight at them in the darkness, as if suspecting their presence. After a few moments that stretched too long, the figure disappeared into the hallway ahead.

They stayed put like that afterwards for what seemed like ages just to make sure that they weren’t caught; then at Dean’s signal, took another flight of stairs and reached the 5th floor, opening the door and crossing over to the dorm side of the building.

Cas sagged against the rusted iron door, with his hand over his chest. “What. The. Hell was that?” he gasped, breathing heavily. Will was looking wide eyed, completely silently now, waiting for Dean to answer the question.

“I don’t know,” Dean finally said. “Whoever it was, wasn’t scared of being found, that’s for sure.”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Cas asked, brow sweaty and furrowed. Both Dean and Will nodded.

Neither of them said it out loud, but if whoever it was didn’t care about being spotted, it was because they thought they had the upper hand. Almost like… they owned the place.

The Stynes.

“Tomorrow,” Dean said. “We find out what the hell is happening there tomorrow.”

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

All through the day Dean couldn’t concentrate. It didn’t help that Cas kept falling asleep in every class. Maybe it was the complacency from staying in a place as dangerous as the bellstone orphanage for so long, but Cas was taking their impending adventure in stride. He was behaving ordinarily. In fact , he had even prayed like he usually did in the morning.

Cas’s calm energy gradually caught up with Dean and by the time they got back from school, his nervousness was almost ebbed. It was ticking in the back of his mind that Will and Barry hadn’t joined up with them after school as they usually did, but he didn’t pay much heed to it. Lately, the school was conducting weird psych analysis on Will to determine if he was all set for the adoption and subsequently the move to New York.

Dean couldn’t think about it without feeling a punch to his gut, so he pushed the thought out of his head.

“Hey,” Cas whispered as they reached the entrance of the boys home. “I’m going to go see if I can pick some more flashlights out of Garth’s supply closet. Meet you in the dorm room later?”

“Alright.”

They had put their heads together and deduced that there was no way Garth was involved in any of the stuff going around here. As Dean made his way to the shower room, he thought to himself that it may very well be possible that Garth was completely unaware. He lived down in the town, a good five miles away from the orphanage, and rode on his decrepit motorcycle every alternate day to do the essential maintenance or janitorial stuff that boys in the home couldn’t take care of. On occasions, he had stayed over late, but it was plausible that he didn’t know that there was something sinister going on here. Besides, anyone who had met Garth knew him to be absentminded. Good, but lost in his own tune.

Somehow the thought was uplifting for Dean. Not everyone in the staff was horrible. He hadn’t given the cook and the two henchmen like dudes that seemed to hang around with Andy the benefit of the doubt yet.

The shower did its work and Dean felt alert as he made his way back to the dorm room. As he reached the 5th floor main corridor, he saw Will.

Will was white. His forehead was clammy with sweat and his eyes were wide in horror.

Every thought abandoned Dean except for a nameless alarm over Will’s horror. Was he hurt?

Before Dean could utter another word, Will came barreling forward, almost tripping over his own shoes.

“Dean!” Will said, the name falling out of his lips like both a call for help and a prayer of relief.

“What happened?” Dean asked dreading the reply

Tears Swam in Will’s eyes. Tears of helplessness and fear. “They took him, Dean,” he sobbed. “They took Barry.”

With that, he collapsed on the floor, his knees completely giving out beneath him.

Dean rushed to him, falling on his own knees. “Barry?”

Will’s lips were quivering, but his voice was surprisingly strong. “I saw him at school in the morning, but he said he was feeling sick, so they let him go early. I-I just had a bad feeling about this so I skipped the class and came back here, but Barry was just gone.”

“Hey, maybe he’s just hanging around somewhere,” Dean tried to rationalise. “Maybe he went into town instead. It’s just 6 in the evening. You don’t know that he’s decided to play hooky and be somewhere else.”

“No-no,” Will shook his head. “Barry isn’t like that. You know him! I’m his only friend and he always sticks by me. Besides, I asked this other kid who had stayed back from school today, and he said Barry had definitely come back.”

“We need to ask Andy,” Dean said. “He’ll-...”

“I asked already!” Will cried. “He said Barry was transferred.”

Shit!

“I- I,” Will said, looking around wildly. “We need to go to the left wing. I know that’s where they are keeping him. They have to be!”

Dean didn’t think it was possible to be more horrified… but somehow he did.

“Will!” Dean shook his friend by the shoulders to get him to snap out of it. “Listen to me! We will find Barry. We will go there tonight and bring him back, okay?”

Will’s eyes stilled, the black pupils were so dark they overpowered the hazel around it.

“You promise?”

Dean cursed internally, but outside, he said, “I promise.”

So fast that Dean didn’t have time to react, Will flung his arms around Dean’s middle and hugged him hard. Dean’s own hand instinctively came to rest over Will’s head, his fingers weaving into the soft brown. He could feel Will’s sobs wracking his own body, the tears staining his shirt, but Dean held on, tightening his grip on the boy, as if by sheer willpower he could fix everything that was wrong.

A part of him did not want to let go. Something deep inside was just screaming at Dean to hold on to Will and make a run for it. Leave everything behind to just protect this kid. But there were lives at stake here. He could picture Barry’s crying face when that bully at school had raised his arm at him, then the absolute faithfulness with which he looked at Will.

Dean ran his hand over Will’s shoulders, over and over till his heaves subsided.

He moved back ever so lightly to look Will in his tear stained, anguished eyes. “You listen to me now, Will. Go back to your room and wait for us to signal you at night, okay?”

Will nodded,with implicit trust in his eyes and Dean wanted to kick himself for lying.

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

Dean sprinted all the way back from Will’s room, after having walked him down there, and skidded to a halt in his dorm room, almost banging into Benny. He let out a yelp of surprise at the intrusion but then gave Dean a brief, hesitant smile. Benny had been trying to be nice after his blow out almost a month ago. Sometimes Dean could see he was struggling to say the words, to make it okay, but hadn’t been able to.

Today, he actually tried. “Hey, Dean-,” he started to say but Dean cut it off quickly.

“Where’s Cas?”

“He’s not back yet.”

Dean turned around and kicked the foot of his bed. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Dean!”

Behind him, Cas had just entered the room, slightly sweaty and breathless, two flashlights clutched to his chest.

“Barry-”

“I know!” Cas said, forehead crumpling. “A couple of kids were talking about it.”

Dean gave another frustrated yell.

“What? What happened?” Benny asked, vigilant now, all awkwardness gone.

Hurriedly, in a low voice, Dean repeated everything that had happened with Will. When he was done, both Cas’s and Benny’s faces were identical masks of horror.

“We have to go to the west wing, Dean!” Cas said decidedly, his voice grim.

“Yes,” Benny agreed.

Dean sank down on his bed with a thud. “You can’t come with us, Benny.”

“What? Why-” Benny started to protest but Dean cut him off. Again.

“You can’t come with us, because I want you here, standing by the door, making sure no one knows or follows us.”

“I don’t see the need,” Benny reasoned. “No one will be up at night.”

Dean exhaled, slowly. “We are not going to wait for nightfall. We’re doing it now, in an hour.”

“But Will? You just said that you promised him we’ll go after the lights go out...” Cas trailed off.

“This is because of Will,” Dean said through his teeth. “I lied to him. He’s just a kid. Sneaking into the record room at night is one thing, but dragging him into this? When even I don’t know what’s waiting there? I can’t do it. Better for him to be angry with me tomorrow than risk his life. Besides, he is in no shape to go anywhere. He’s scared out of his mind for Barry.”

Dean knew everything he was saying made sense, but the real reason behind lying to Will was that Dean knew he'd be himself paralysed with fear for Will, if he was to go anywhere near whatever crap was happening in the west wing. The mere thought of Will being in danger made Dean’s knees give out.

“In fact, Cas,” Dean said slowly, “I can’t ask you to risk your life for this either.”

“Oh, shut up, Dean!” Cas sais, exasperated. “How old do you think I am? 12? I can make my own decisions and I’m coming with you.”

Dean felt his body loosen slightly with relief. While thinking of Will in a dangerous situation filled him with dread, knowing that Cas was going to be with him, made him feel relieved. Friendship was unpredictable like that… you couldn’t guess how it would make you feel.

“Alright, then,” Dean said, “This is how we do it.”

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

It was as dark as it always was in the west wing, despite it being just over 7 o clock, and the lights in the compound still on. Both Dean and Cas had their flashlights throwing lights into the far end of the corridor as they made their way through the stinking, grimy passageway. Benny had deftly taken his place next to the door, without any hesitation. Dean had handed him the set of keys and decided on a certain knocking rhythm so he would know it was them when they returned and opened the door for them. The door opened easily from the outside, and unlike the long nights, today Dean didn’t have the luxury of trying all the keys in the dark till the right one fit.

With precise coordination that only came after weeks and weeks of sneaking around in dark decrepit places, Dean and Cas moved along the decaying wall towards the end of the corridor. From what Dean knew of the building footprint, having extensively inspected the form from the outside, the corridor should lead into something of a hallway. Even as they rounded the corner, a sense of foreboding gripped Dean. In all of their nightly excursions, they had never ventured this far into the west wing. The hallway opened up into another short corridor that swiftly made a left turn, blocking all view.

Dean quickly exchanged a look with Cas, confirming that they both agreed upon continuing further ahead. The swift left turn wasn’t in fact a turn, but a narrow, crooked staircase. What was more? There was light emanating from the bottom of the stairwell. It was dim and threatening, but there was definitely something going on there. With another cautious look, Dean started descending the staircase, now switching off the flashlight. Behind him, Cas did the same. Together they climbed down, clutching the wall for support.

The staircase led all the way down till what would be the first floor. The passageway ahead was lit with less wattage bulbs emitting a dull reddish light. It was menacing. The floor itself was like the dormitory wing he slept in. Rooms on one side, next to each other, all connected by a single, small passage. But unlike the dorm, the wall opposite the rooms didn’t have a line of windows; it was blank and solid.

Suddenly there was a banging noise. Without thinking, Dean dashed ahead, passing small rooms with grilled iron doors. His peripheral vision caught something and he came to a skittering halt.

One of the rooms was unlocked and the rusted, the metal door swaying off his hinges. Inside, hanging from the ceiling were long chains that ended in shackles. What was worse? There were dark splashes on the wall- dark brown in colour- of what suspiciously looked like blood.

Dean’s stomach turned and he looked away. If there had been anything in his stomach, it would have come out now.

“Is that… is that…” Cas was too disgusted to even complete the sentence.

The banging echoed again and Dean rushed towards the door it was coming from. That particular room was in darkness as the light within had been turned off. However, there was movement in the shadowed corner.

“Dean?”

The voice was muted and hopeless… but it was definitely Barry’s.

Dean banged against the door. “Barry! Oh thank God you’re okay.”

But he had said it too quickly. For Barry’s small figure dragged its way across the small room towards the door, and in the little light reflecting from the bulbs above, Dean could see the dark wetness of blood against his face. Barry’s spectacles weren’t on him, and his leg was twisted in a way that was anything but natural.

“My God,” Cas whispered, and fell against the grill, trying to shove his hand between the rod to get to him. “Barry!”

Barry broke down completely. His face was bloodied and bruised but the most horrifying thing was the hopelessness in Barry’s eyes. He had given up.

“Barry!” Dean reached out so the tips of his fingers touched Barry’s brown hair. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Barry just shook his head. “They’re coming for me, Dean. I heard them, the car is right outside,” he cried, in a dead voice. “You can’t help me.”

“I’m not giving up, Damn it!” Dean said fiercely. “I’m going to get out of here and inform the police. I have a pager stashed under my clothes. They’ll free you.”

They had to free him.

“Cas,” Dean said, “Stay here and raise a riot if you see any movement or hear anything, okay? I’m gonna head up and contact Jody.”

Cas’s chin jerked up in quick acknowledgement and he shuffled closer to the grill.

Dean turned to Barry, his eyes stinging at the corners. “You hold on, Barry. Cas is right here with you. I’ll be back in a moment.”

At long last, Barry nodded, a small light of hope in his pained eyes. With one last look, Dean bolted back towards the hallway, and up through the staircase. Nothing seemed real to him anymore. He banged three times as they had decided, and within seconds the door opened. Dean stumbled out and onto the floor.

Benny was next to him in a flash. Maybe it was the look on Dean’s face or Cas’s absence, but Benny stiffened.

“I- I need to get to the pager,” Dean heaved breathlessly.

Benny didn’t ask for an explanation or even what had happened. He moved quickly and helped Dean to his feet which were starting to feel like the bones were beginning to melt. Somehow, Dean managed to stand straight and reach his room. Once there, he hauled his duffel bag from under the bed and yanked the zipper, frantically digging into the base of the bag to find the rolled up wad of socks in which he had hid the pager.

Soon, his hand wrapped around the small plastic object and he pulled it free of the clothes. He hurriedly turned it on. It seemed like an eternity before the pager beeped to life and the small line blinked on. With shaking hands Dean typed-

EMERGENCY. COME NOW.

He hit send and the pager tumbled out of his shivering hands. It would take Jody at least an hour and a half to get here. And Barry had said that the car was already here to take him. Till then Dean had to do all he could stall them.

“Get a grip!” Benny said, laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder. His voice was gruff, but kind. Dean felt a welling gratefulness towards Benny.

“Benny,” Dean said, getting to his feet. “We have to hurry, but there is one more thing I have to do.”

“What?”

“Hide Will here!”

There was a sick feeling in his stomach that refused to go away, and it only multiplied whenever he thought of Will. “I’m going down to fetch him, and then we’ll lock him in our room. I know it sounds stupid but I just… I…”

“You don’t need to explain, brother,” Benny said. “I understand how you feel. I would have done the same for Jaime. I’ll go find Castiel in the west wing, you find Will.”

Dean quickly explained the location of Cas and Barry, and then Dean was running again. It was dinner time so he rushed to the dinning hall first, but in all the crowd, he couldn’t spot Will’s particular mop of brown hair. With rising alarm he looked in the library, the game room, even the godforsaken record room, but his friend wasn’t to be found anywhere. Finally, almost on the verge of nausea, Dean reached Will’s room. His sandy haired roommate was sitting on the bunk bed, shuffling through laundry clothes.

“Will?” Dean asked, throat parched. “Where’s Will?”

The kid gave Dean an odd look. “He’s not here,” he said. “Left with Andy a while ago.”

The blood in Dean’s veins seemed to go cold.

“Andy?”

“Yeah,” the kid shrugged. “Andy said his adoptive parents were here for him, for some urgent formality. That their car was waiting outside. Will wanted to say goodbye to you, but Andy said he could say it when he came back.”

The car was waiting outside.

Blood thundered in Dean’s ears, and without his mind directing, his body moved, taking him upstairs in a desperate numbness.

Outside, his body collided with Cas’s.

Castiel was crying. There was a thin stream of blood trickling down the side of his face, along his ear and neck.

“Barry is gone,” he said, voice completely hollow. “I was waiting there, but something hit me hard on the head and I clocked out. When I came to, Benny was standing over me and Barry w- was... gone.

From the grounds, there was a sharp sound of an engine revving, and all three of them turned to watch through the north windows as two cars drove away from the fence… their tail lights becoming pinpoints as they disappeared into the night.

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

A/N 2: Man, I am soooo sorry for the cliffy! If it helps, the next chapter is written. I’ll post it within the week!

Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cosicas-cuquis @chalicia @anathewierdo @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectteamfreewill @firefly124-writing @spnbaby-67 @hoboal87 @rizlow1 @donnaintx @starmission @gh0stgurl @tftumblin @emily-a-c11 @ericaprice2008 @jotink78 @charliebradbury1104 @ohgodwhybloggg @i-dont-get-cold @bobbie3939 @samsexualdeancurious @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @cookiechipdough @wildfirewinchester

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn au #weechesters au #aab 11 #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes Dean #Ana writes aab #q

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aro-throughyourchest · 4 years

Text

VARIAN’S GOT A CRUSHHHH

CHAPTER 2

LINK TO BEGINNING CHAPTER

Go read my previous chapter before you read this

WORD COUNT: 1,253

Probably MORE grammatically errors and unchecked mistakes than last time

SPLASH!

Varian coughed and tried to reach for the dock, but a hand grabbed his instead. They pulled him up, and he coughed up more water.

“*cough* Thanks.”

He looked up to see Vex and really wanted to throw himself back into the freezing water. He stood up, shivering, and held out a hand. “H-Hi, I’m V-Varian-”

Vex ignored the handshake and snatched the collar of his cloak, pulling him close.

“Why are you out here in the middle of the night?!”

Varian’s cheeks turned red from being so close to her, but he answered anyway.

“I- Um- C-couldn’t sleep.”

Vex let go of him, and he stumbled back. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and held her hand out.

“I’m Vex.”

He shook her hand, pretending he didn’t already know her name. That sounded weird and creepy-

She helped the heavy cloak off him, and he sat down on a crate while she leaned against a post.

“S-so, why are you out here?” Varian asked, pulling at his hair to get the water out.

“Same reason as you,” responded Vex blankly.

“Oh. Insomnia sucks,” Varian replies which Vex chuckled to.

Varian looked up at the stars, leading Vex to do the same.

“We don’t get stars like this where I’m from; you guys are lucky,” she said not taking her eyes off the stars.

They sat in silence, staring at the sky. Soon, Varian spoke up. “What’s it like, where you’re from?”

“It’s a fixer-upper city to say the least.”

She blinked and wrinkled her nose.

“Can’t believe I said, ‘fixer-upper city.’ “ Varian laughed while she muttered, “I’ve been hanging around Quaid too long...”

He asked, “Who’s Quaid?”

She turned her head back to the sky. “Oh, he’s the sheriff of Var- where I’m from.”

Vex grinned and pointed towards herself, “Not to be conceited, but I’m deputy.”

He smiled and declared, “I’m, heh, the Royal Science Engineer...”

She looked him up and down, grinning. “That explains the nerd get-up.”

“Nerd? I thought it was more-“

A gush of wind blew by, and he shivered harshly. He was so deep in conversation, even *he* forgot that he was soaking wet.

Vex stood up, concerned. “We should get you inside...”

Varian got up, himself. Dammit, no! He wanted to spend more time with Vex...

“Pfft, it’s fine. I’m-“

A harder gust of wind hit as if to say, ‘IT’S FREEZING OUTSIDE, GO HOME!’

He shuddered, and Vex grabbed his cloak for him. He sighed and looked down; she was right.

“Yeah...”

Vex took him by the hand, flustering Varian. “Now, where’s the science chamber thingie?”

“Uh- um- Just drop me off at the castle..”

Vex nodded and, well, didn’t drag him, but she did pull him along.

After a few minutes, Varian broke the silence with, “So, how long are you going to be staying in Corona?”

“Until after the princess’s birthday.”

“Oh...”

Varian did feel a tad disappointed she wouldn’t stay longer, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

They arrived at the castle and stopped.

Varian politely asked, “So, wanna meet-up again tomorrow?”

Vex looked at him, confused. “Hm?”

“Why don’t we meet up at 3:00 or 4:00 tomorrow? Back at the dock?”

She thought about it for a minute before shrugging, “Sure.”

“R-REALLY-“ He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, sure, that’s good, see you at the dock!”

She laughed in that huff sort of way and opened the castle door. “Alright, alright, get in there, ya knucklehead,” proceeding to shove him in the castle before quietly shutting the door.

Varian grinned and tried to stop himself from laughing with delight. He talked to Vex, and it went well! It didn’t end awkwardly, and she wanted to meet up again too! He gave himself a silent cheer before shivering again and heading back to his lab.

A warm shower and sleep first, cheer later.

<•>

Safe to say, he *still* didn’t sleep a bit that night, but this time it was out of excitement. He had spent the entire rest of his “morning” back on the [name not yet given] experiment. Which surprisingly actually DID make him tired, causing him to collapse into bed at around 7 am. (Hey, this was not a planned falling-asleep so it doesn’t count.)

5 more hours passed, and a knock was heard at the door. Again, Raps let herself in.

Varian lifted his head off the pillow and squinted as Rapunzel lit a couple candles.

“Raps..?”

Rapunzel giggled and sat down. “Someone slept in again.”

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “How do you keep with Daily Check-In’s if you still have princess duties?”

She smiled and shrugged, “As princess, I do have many duties, but my duties to my friends are more important.”

He groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. “God, that was really cheesy.”

They both laughed before Raps added in a silly tone, “Besides, we don’t want you kidnapped by any bad baddies!”

They laughed harder, despite the fact they agreed that it wasn’t really that funny, considering their trauma....which is why humor exists!

She tilted her head and asked, “You seem more cheerful and awake, what’s up with that?”

He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject, “I’m gonna get coffee; I’m actually feeling more tired!”

Raps narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Varian, we both know caffeine doesn’t work for you...”

He chugged a cup of coffee that he somehow made within the time he Raps’ said anything. Raps walked cautiously up to him.

“Varian, did something happen last night?” She asked with a smirk. Varian placed the cup of coffee down and took a deep breath. He settled down and leaned against the table, smiling.

“Yeah... But you have to promise not to tell Eugene or Lance. They’d never let me live it down.”

Raps nodded and sat down; she grabbed a packet and started to make warm cocoa for the both of them. Varian told her what happened last night, excluding the falling into the water and the contents of their conversation, getting happier as he spoke. “...And we agreed to meet up later.”

She handed him a cup of cocoa and drank her own cup.

“Varian...”

She responded with a smile.

He gently hit her in the arm.

“Ah, be quiet.”

They shared a chuckle, and Rapunzel asked, “So, you’ll be headed down to the dock at 4:00?”

Varian nodded and looked at the clock. 12:30.

Raps did the same and pouted. “Guess I should go.” She bowed and announced, “That is all the time we have today, my good man, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Varian laughed and waved goodbye as Raps left. He flopped on the bed and couldn’t stop smiling about what happened last night.

<•>

Varian got to work, but he couldn’t really focus that day. He tried to stay focused, but he was too busy dreaming up hypothetical situations for what could go wrong on the meet-up and preparing for them.

As he was working on his experiment, he

“Okay, so, I could possibly slip and fall into the water again,” he snorted. “That would be embarrassing...”

He stopped pouring the liquid into vial for a second. “But not implausible,” he mumbled, going back to the task at hand.

CHAPTER 2’S END

#tangled the series #tangled #vex tangled #rapunzel #varian #fic #fluff #varian has a crushhhhh #vexian

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rorynne · 5 years

Text

Time Lost Chapter 10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: Emotional pain.

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

Sticks snapped under Bucky's boots as he walked through the forest, distracted. He was supposed to be on patrol alongside Falsworth, who was currently the only one of the pair actually doing their job. Bucky was far too focused on the last few weeks to really be of any use.

You had been acting strangely, distantly even, but only around Bucky, or more specifically, only to Bucky. You refused to call him by any of the nicknames you had for him. Trying to get you to even stay in the same room as him seemed impossible. Bucky rubbed his face, frustration setting in. Asking you was met with the same few denials and excuses. Had it not been for the subject matter, he would have found your horrible attempts at lying to be hilarious coming from a trained spy.

"Had I known you were going to spend the entire patrol pining, I would have requested Jaques to come with me instead," Falsworth said pulling Bucky out of his stupor.

"'M not pining Monty." He grunted stubbornly, this hadn't been the first time Falsworth had accused him of pining, but it was largely a topic he didn't want to think about. It was no secret that he had a thing for you, but he didn't want to admit it was anything more than that when you were suddenly acting like you hated him. The last thing he wanted to do was make you hate him more.

"Right, which is exactly why you've been staring into space for an hour." Falsworth countered and Bucky shot him a look. Bucky honestly didn't mind Falsworth most of the time, but God he was more of a busy body than Bucky's sister.

Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes. "You knew her from before the Commandos, didn't you? Why do you think she's acting like this?"

Falsworth shrugged, "She sacrificed her mission to help me survive a Russian winter after my plane was shot down." He explained to Bucky, stopping to state at him. "We were forced to get comfortable with each other's company out of necessity. I would hardly call that 'knowing her'." He patted Bucky on the back. "Out of all of us, I would say you know her best. Well, you and Agent Carter."

Bucky stopped in his tracks as a lightning bolt of an idea struck him. He hadn't even considered asking Peggy. God, he felt like an idiot, no doubt Peggy would know why you were acting the way you were. "You're a damn genius, Monty." He beamed before sprinting off towards camp, ignoring Falsworth as he yelled obscenities at Bucky as he left Falsworth behind.

It didn't take long for Bucky to return to the camp, and it took even less time to find Peggy working away in the command tent. Peggy looked up at him as he approached, "If you're looking for Y/N, then you just missed her. She left about ten minutes ago " Bucky frowned, he wasn't surprised, just missing you had become something of a theme the past few weeks, as much as he hated it.

"I was looking for you, actually." He said, and Peggy raised an eyebrow. "To talk about Y/N." He admitted, scratching the back of his head. The last thing he needed was for Peggy to think he was trying to flirt with her again.

Peggy's gaze softened slightly, "I'm not one for gossip Sergeant Barnes, Surely you could ask her what ever it is that you wish to know?"

Bucky sighed, "That's the first thing I tried ma'am." He said, taking a step closer to her desk. "Hell almost all of us have, but she just denies everything." God, he wouldn't even be asking for Peggy's help if just asking you was working in any form. He carded his hand through his hair, "I just wanted to know if she told you if I did anything to upset her."

Peggy furrowed her brow, all work now forgotten. “What on earth are you talking about?” She questioned, although, with her tone, it was more like she was politely calling him an idiot. “Why on earth would you think she’s upset with you, of all things?”

“Because she barely even looks at me?” Bucky answered with a shrug. Did Peggy really not know? Of all people, Peggy was the one you spent the most time with. If Peggy didn't know, then who even would? “She… hasn’t said anything?”

Peggy shook her head, “When did this all start?” Concern painted her features clearly finding this to be much more of an issue than Bucky was expecting her to.

“Since the meeting, we had on the bell she’s been looking for.” He explained, and understanding and realization seemed to bloom on Peggy’s face. “The moment I walked in it was ‘Sergeant Barnes’ this and “Sergeant Barnes’ that, and she only does that when I annoy her or upset her somehow, but I… just don’t know what I could have possibly done.” He just wanted things to go back to normal for christ's sake. He would give you the world if it just meant you would call him Bucky again.

“You didn’t do anything,” Peggy said, pity and Frustration mixing in her voice. “I did.”

Bucky looked at her like she was nuts, “I’m not sure I’m followin’ you.” What could have Peggy possibly said that would make you hate him? Did she mention his flirting with her when they first met? But then, he wasn't exactly secretive about his tendency towards flirting with women, although he was pretty sure you didn't actually believe it.

"The idiot is trying to either prove me right or prove me wrong." She said with a sigh, standing up. "I'll talk some bloody sense into her." She stormed out of the tent before Bucky even had a chance to ask what she meant. Leaving him more confused and frustrated than before.

Sleep didn't come easily to Bucky that night, tossing and turning in his sleeping bag. He had somehow gotten even more restless over the last few weeks, but even then it wasn't exactly like he slept well to begin with. He groaned and sat up, it was pointless to keep trying to sleep. He crawled out of his tent with a yawn, hoping a walk would be enough to clear his head.

He didn't hear from you or Peggy after she stormed out of the Command tent, which he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing all things considered. That also meant all of his questions had gone unanswered, however. He honestly wasn't sure what to make of any of it at all. Peggy had acted like you being angry at him was unimaginable. He took a deep breath, he was supposed to be clearing his thoughts, not jumbling them more. The only thing this whole ordeal had made him realize just how badly he had it for you.

He stopped when he saw a figure sitting in front of the dying fire in the center of camp. He was instantly brought back to another sleepless night five months ago now. You had looked so beautiful in the firelight, surrounded by falling snow. The sight of you that night had made that entire weekend of hiking and camping worth it. Even having you in his arms felt so right that he didn't even realize you were there until he saw your eyes looking up at him in surprise. He wanted to kiss you right then and there. It wasn't until you said something that he snapped out of your spell, and let you go. He still wanted to kiss you.

You were still beautiful in the firelight. You stared up at the sky, mouth agape as you counted the stars. He considered leaving you there, letting you be to enjoy your stargazing. He swallowed, steeling his nerves, and took a step forward. "The stars are beautiful tonight." He said awkwardly. He didn't even look at the stars to actually know the sky could have been completely overcast for all he knew, but he had to say something.

You yelped in surprise, turning to see him, "Jesus Christ Barnes, warn a girl before you sneak up on her next time." You said, a hand on your chest trying to steady your heart. Bucky smiled inwardly at your reaction, like a child vexing a crush.

His courage slowly took hold of him as he stood in front of you. "Didn't expect you out here to warn you." He said softly. "Can't sleep?"

You scoffed, "Are you kidding me? Peggy just got done chewing me out." You said as he stepped closer. "You really had to rat me out didn't you Sarge." You sounded tired, but god did Bucky's heart leap at the nickname.

"You've been avoiding me for weeks Doll." He said as he sat down next to you. "I thought I did something to make you hate me."

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "Leo is out tonight." You said pointing upwards. Bucky followed your hand as you traced out the pattern in the stars. He always liked stargazing when he was a kid.

He looked at you, wondering if you just intended to avoid the subject completely. Really, he just wanted to know why. Why would you suddenly just start avoiding him? Why were you calling him Sarge again? Just, why? He decided not to push the issue, instead, deciding to savor the fact you were sitting next to him at all. He looked back at the sky, tracing out a pattern, "Hercules is over there."

“I’m not going to be here when the war is over.” You said unprompted. Bucky didn’t look away from the stars as he tried to process what you had just said. Were, were you planning on dying or something?

“If you think I’m not going to move heaven and hell to get you out of this war alive, Doll, then I-”

“That’s not what I mean, Bucky.” You interrupted. You were silent for a few beats before you spoke again. “When the war is over, I’m being reassigned. I’m not going home.” Oh. “After all this,” You gestured to the camp with your hand. “I’m going to be reassigned somewhere far away. Probably Russia if the current political climate says anything.”

“Is, Is that what you want?” He asked looking over to you. He watched you carefully, unsure of what else to do or say. For the first time in weeks, things were starting to make sense to him, and it hurt. No part of him liked where this was going.

You nodded, looking down at the fire. “More than anything Bucky.” Your voice was so earnest, it was as if you had told him some grand secret. “But after all this is through, I’ll probably never see any of you again.” You picked at your fingers as the last embers of the fire started to cool. “Peggy said… said I was going to end up hurting someone if I kept acting like I was, knowing what I know.”

“So you just started avoiding me?”

“I was trying to be more professional.” You explained. Bucky wanted to scream, professional was probably the last thing he wanted you to be with him. “And then Peggy came into my tent yelling that you thought I was mad at you or something.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place Doll?” He asked. He just… wanted- needed answers, after weeks of nothing. If anything, knowing he would likely never see you again after this hell of a war, he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could, not barely see you.

You shrugged, “I thought, Christ, I don’t know. I didn’t want you to take it the wrong way I guess.”

“What would have been the wrong way?”

You sighed, “Fuck, I don’t know. That we were anything more than friends?” Bucky frowned, his heart throbbing painfully. He had honestly thought, or at least hoped, there was something more than that between the two of you. To learn that you didn’t seem to agree…

Bucky shoved your shoulder playfully in an attempt to mask the pain he was feeling. “Next time Doll, just talk to me. Please.” He could feel his heart breaking as he spoke. This was not a good night.

You nodded, a forced smile on your face before pointing towards the horizon. “Cygnus is rising.”

@henderwhore4life @mysterieuselizeuze @mystifyign @part-time-prefect @walkingtravesty97 @geekofmanyforms @book-lover-like-no-other @thelibraryoffanfiction

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x y/n

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asacove · 4 years

Text

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon. He's a professional blogger. Onya Icha Ndambi manages the main websites in Cameroon. Onya Icha Ndambi

is a project to collate all the best Man Utd blogs and news channels together in one place. So there’s no need to search around for the best news and opinions about United, you can find them all here.

Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

The USA and Australia are probably the only countries left in the world where soccer is not one of the top-three most popular sports. As an Australian now living in the U.S., this has proven to be rather vexing over the years. It wouldn't be a stretch to go all John Lennon and say that soccer is more popular than God. But soccer is not just the most popular sport in the world, it is also the best. Like, objectively. Here's why. Onya Icha Ndambi

Simplicity

A few games are so overwhelmingly complex that it can take long periods of patient examination (or patient clarification from a specialist) to get your head

around it. I love NFL, baseball and cricket, however I'll likewise acknowledge that they are somewhat substantial on language, subtlety and profoundly specialized technique that can discourage the easygoing watcher.

Hello even the NFL officials themselves get somewhat befuddled here and there (see appended video).

Soccer, then again, is the sort of game you can get your head around after around two minutes of viewing. When you've made sense of the offside standard, that is about it.

Consistency in the Rules

A game has central issues if specialists need to change some part of the guidelines before each new season. The NFL is a steady offender, as of late wiping out its profoundly disliked fold rule while additionally every now and again adjusting rules overseeing physical contact (presumably to maintain a strategic distance from a claim one day).

Rugby is much more terrible.

Since the time the definition of the "back-pass" rule in 1992, soccer hasn't required any progressions to its standards, notwithstanding what a few numbskulls guarantee.

No Timeouts

Watch the most recent five minutes of any b-ball game and you realize that the break thing has turned crazy. It takes what feels like hours to overcome with the two groups freezing the clock at whatever point they have their hands ready, or deliberately fouling their rivals when they don't.

Onya Icha Ndambi

Notwithstanding dealing with the clock, breaks are additionally over and over again used to end the energy of your rivals, rather than compelling groups to happen of their funk. They're likewise used to give proficient competitors a rest that they truly shouldn't require in any case. Goodness, and they're likewise only a reason for sponsors to interfere with games all the more much of the time. Give me the free-streaming steadiness of soccer quickly

Poor Countries Beat Rich Countries

I despite everything left the Ghana versus USA round of 16 games at the 2010 World Cup and reciting with a portion of the nearby fans "Bye, bye, USA!" It struck me that just in soccer could a geopolitical and financial powerhouse like the USA be overwhelmed by an African country with very nearly 300 million less individuals and around 80 spots beneath it on the GDP list.

It Will Never Have a PED Problem

The Tour de France might be a wonder of physical continuance, however do any of us despite everything trust it any longer? So as well, it's difficult to appreciate a superhuman exhibition in numerous games in the Olympics without that bothering thought in the rear of one's head: "I wonder in the event that they're on something..."

There is no medication for expertise and judgment under tension, the twin precepts of any soccer champion. Maradona and Pele never had an indicator close to their name; rather we can simply kick back and make the most of their ability without stressing whether they were getting an unjustifiable substance advantage (in light of the fact that Maradona just took drugs for no particular reason Onya Icha Ndambi

Internationality

200 and three countries endeavored capability for the 2014 World Cup. There are less nations in the United Nations. Soccer is played completely all over the place; it crosses each national partition.

Is there another group activity wherein in excess of 20 countries are reliably serious? More than 10? Most likely not, which is the reason sports like the Rugby World Cup wind up being somewhat of a joke, as countries like Namibia scratch together a group of 15 individuals to get beat 142-0 by Australi

Magnificence

Soccer possesses a great deal of it. There is the undeniable magnificence of an all around planned bike kick, the jumping header, the 30-yard screamer. However, for the idealists, Spain's "tiki-taka" has been an update that dynamic cooperation can be as delightful as individual trapeze artistry. It genuinely is "the wonderful game."

Absence of Formula or Preordained Structure

While each game beginnings with two groups on either side of a line, starting there on it is a free-streaming meeting of capriciousness. Aside from set pieces, there's almost no predetermined structure.

Indeed, even the development of each group is not entirely clear from mentors, rather than fitting a set format. While NFL mentors must be aware of not handling an "unlawful development," their partners in soccer are allowed to pick a 4-4-2, a 3-5-2, or even a 9-0-1 in the event that they're playing Brazil.

There Is No Physical Size Advantage

The best player on the planet right currently is a weedy Argentinean remaining at 5'7". Aside from goalkeeping (where you'll in any event need to stand 6' to make it to the top), all men are made equivalent with regards to soccer. There are a few games where you'll never make it to the top without inclined hereditary focal points in regards to measure; soccer isn't one of them.

You Can Play Anywhere with Minimal Equipment

Have a go at mounting a vocation in any winter sport without forking out a weighty wad of money only for hardware.

In soccer, all you need is a ball (or any round article will do). In addition to the fact that this gives less fortunate countries all the more a possibility, some would contend it gives them a favorable position, with numerous a lifelong fashioned from the crude play of city ghettos.

Scale

In each nation, a group. What's more, inside those alliances, once in a while a few divisions (the Estonian third division, as should be obvious from the video, is as yet paid attention to very by a few). Furthermore, a huge number of beginner rivalries.

Soccer is played at each expertise level, age and sexual orientation (that's right, them two). In each nation on Earth. That is scale.

Physicality

Proficient soccer players are fit as a fiddle, because of a game which goes on for an hour and a half (and once in a while two hours) with no breaks. But at the same time it's the scope of wellness they need to show: cardiovascular perseverance, solid continuance, quality, adaptability, speed. While wellness needs can change from position to position, reasonably you have to have them all.

It's hard not to wonder about the physicality of a competitor who should have the option to run for two hours, wrestle an adversary at a corner and ace the bike kick week in, week out.

Energy

This is a twofold edged blade, obviously. For each brilliant festival of being a fan or national pride, there is frequently an appalling end product which shows through group viciousness.

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Be that as it may, enthusiasm produces energy and shading, as a matter of first importance. Soccer fans care more than aficionados of whatever other game, which delivers brilliantly serious live encounters. In basically some other game, the fans can be exceptional, however nobody's returning home also crushed if their group loses.

Strength

Some physical games definite a silly physical cost for their members, both by the harshness of the play and the way of life of playing through injury.

While a few yippees may contend those games are consequently prevalent, it's a disgrace that we can just appreciate a few competitors at their top for such a brief timeframe before injury dulls their capacities.

Then, some soccer stars don't arrive at their top until their 30s and can keep playing at the top level well past that. Furthermore, at the novice level, you can keep playing the game you love a ways into your sundown years.

Soccer Players Are Better Looking

Shallow, I know, however there's small denying that David Beckham and Alex Morgan wouldn't have made numerous magazine covers in the event that they were proficient fighters, making efforts to their gigantic cheekbones all the time.

Also, soccer players grow more appealing physical make-ups than most different games due to the requirement for balanced wellness, while any semblance of Prince Fielder can stack on the pounds since they don't should be trim to do what they do.

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Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon. He's a professional blogger. Onya Icha Ndambi manages the main websites in Cameroon. Onya Icha Ndambi

Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Simplicity

A few games are so overwhelmingly complex that it can take long periods of patient examination (or patient clarification from a specialist) to get your head

Hello even the NFL officials themselves get somewhat befuddled here and there (see appended video).

Soccer, then again, is the sort of game you can get your head around after around two minutes of viewing. When you've made sense of the offside standard, that is about it.

Consistency in the Rules

Rugby is much more terrible.

Since the time the definition of the "back-pass" rule in 1992, soccer hasn't required any progressions to its standards, notwithstanding what a few numbskulls guarantee.

No Timeouts

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Poor Countries Beat Rich Countries

It Will Never Have a PED Problem

Internationality

200 and three countries endeavored capability for the 2014 World Cup. There are less nations in the United Nations. Soccer is played completely all over the place; it crosses each national partition.

Magnificence

Absence of Formula or Preordained Structure

There Is No Physical Size Advantage

You Can Play Anywhere with Minimal Equipment

Have a go at mounting a vocation in any winter sport without forking out a weighty wad of money only for hardware.

Scale

Soccer is played at each expertise level, age and sexual orientation (that's right, them two). In each nation on Earth. That is scale.

Physicality

It's hard not to wonder about the physicality of a competitor who should have the option to run for two hours, wrestle an adversary at a corner and ace the bike kick week in, week out.

Energy

This is a twofold edged blade, obviously. For each brilliant festival of being a fan or national pride, there is frequently an appalling end product which shows through group viciousness.

Onya Icha Ndambi

Strength

Some physical games definite a silly physical cost for their members, both by the harshness of the play and the way of life of playing through injury.

Soccer Players Are Better Looking

#Soccer Players #Onya Icha Ndambi #Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

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