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sailtoafarawayland · 4 years ago

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Through the Window (Entwined Series)

Summary: Stilling his own breath, Hook disregarded the rustle of the trees in the wind and listened more intently, straining to hear what he thought may have been the dulcet tones of – a slow smirk pulled at his lip, the rogue in him stirring, and his gaze swiveled back toward the grey house behind the white fence, the sound drifting toward him from an open window near to the ground.

Series Information: A series of connected one-shots following the polyamorous relationship of Emma, Killian, and Hook. Each piece can be read standalone and is non-linear, but together will reveal some backstory and how these three came to be. Tags/warnings that are specific to each piece will be posted at their heading, but it is safe to assume all of them will contain both M/F/M and M/M (unless otherwise noted in the tags). If this is not your thing, carry on. If you would like to be removed from my tag list, please let me know. Keep in mind, I maintain one list for all of my work.

Rated: Explicit

Relationships/Tags: M/F, Emma/Killian, Voyeurism, Voyeur!Hook, Canon Divergent

AO3 - FF

Through the Window

Despite his many years spent aboard a vessel at sea, Hook still hadn't adapted to the strange unsteadiness and disorientation that portal travel entailed, stumbling a bit as the spinning vortex heaved him forward, his boots catching on rough ground and nearly sending him to his knees before he managed to find his balance once more. He darted behind the nearest cover as soon as his head ceased spinning, scanning the immediate vicinity to ensure he hadn't been seen.

Behind him the portal had already blinked out of existence, any chance Hook had of returning to his realm vanishing along with its light, but the moon was full and bright overhead, making it easy to discern that he'd traveled into some sort of town. Buildings as large as manors faced one another along a street composed of a flat stretch of odd, black stone, and ahead of him squatted a white fence that bordered a small length of it. The gate was open, and beside it loomed the dark shadow of a tree, adorning the corner of the yard that boasted a large, grey house with white columns.

From within its lower windows came the soft, steady glow of a lamp.

Though he'd traveled between several realms in his many years, this place felt entirely foreign to him, every turn of his neck giving him yet another strange contraption to ponder – but through it all, the wind was still carrying the smell of the sea to him on its back, and that would always be a small comfort that reminded him of home.

Standing in the darkened street, he was left wondering just what in this realm was supposed to lead him to a cure for his poisoned heart – back to his Alice – as the Seer had promised. With no direction or further knowledge to guide his choice, he decided to follow the road between the rows of houses until he met something more like a tavern or market, perhaps there he would be able to glean some useful information.

He was about to set out when a sound caught his ear and he paused – uncertain that had heard correctly.

Stilling his own breath, he disregarded the rustle of the trees in the wind and listened more intently, straining to hear what he thought may have been the dulcet tones of – a slow smirk pulled at his lip, the rogue in him stirring, and his gaze swiveled back toward the grey house behind the white fence, the sound drifting toward him from an open window near to the ground.

The logical part of him was chiding that there was no purpose in lingering in this place, but something in his gut urged him closer – besides, reminded the half of him that would always be a pirate, it wouldn't hurt to gather some information on the locals. If anything were true of each port city he'd visited, no matter the realm, it was that illicit trysts were quite common, and what sort of pirate would he be if he were to pass up an opportunity for a little blackmail – especially if it might be the change in winds he needed to get back to his daughter.

Not much of a pirate, and not much of a father.

His mind resolved, he disappeared through the open gate and sidled closer to the house, the sounds from within growing louder as he neared. Testing his weight on the first step and finding it sound and sturdy, he took each one slowly and carefully, advancing toward the turreted portion of the house where a window had been opened to allow the breeze to enter. He pressed the leather of his greatcoat against the wall of the house, making certain no portion of his body would be visible from within should the moonlight be enough to illuminate where he stood.

There was a long moment of silence when he feared he'd made noise enough to be discovered, but then the sounds began again and his eyes closed of their own accord, something about the timbre of the woman's voice cutting through him to a place he hadn't wanted to admit he still possessed.

“Oh, god,” she whimpered, drawing in a sharp breath before more words fell from her, “fuck...just like that...oh, god, don't stop, please, don't stop...”

Hook's fingers clenched at his side and a shaky breath slid from his throat, the woman's pleas burning like a flame along his skin, his cock stirring to life. Then came the sound of someone moving and another moan drifted toward him, the woman's voice rising into a broken cry as her lover played her beautifully. Beyond the blissful moans falling from her lips, he could just barely hear the wet sounds of her pleasure – most certainly the music of someone feasting on her delicate, pink folds.

His own cock was rock hard in his leathers as the soft moans and pleas continued from within, a pang of guilt stabbing through his gut as he listened to the lovers together, wondering whether or not he was truly standing here eavesdropping with an intention to use any and all means he had in order to get back to his daughter, or for his own self-indulgence – it had been years since he'd felt even a stirring of longing for another, since the witch deceived him, and yet...

He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line and jaw clenched, preparing to quietly take his leave. Whoever this woman was, she didn't deserve to have her intimacies defiled in this way, no matter what she had woken in him that had been long dormant. Though he was desperate, he still believed in good form, or at least the shadow of it. He was carefully finding the most trustworthy planks on the deck when the next words from the the house made his blood run cold, his heart tightening in his chest and a shiver of something unknown racing up his spine.

“Killian, please...need you in me already...”

His breath left him on a shudder, something between adrenaline and fear pumping through his body as he tried to decide whether to flee or press himself closer, to look through the glass and see...after all, surely he couldn't be the only man bearing that name – it must be nothing more than an eerie coincidence.

“The things hearing you beg does to me, love...” a familiar voice rumbled, its timbre just offset enough that Hook was certain he was learning what he himself sounded like to others.

Heedlessly, he leaned into view of the window and peered through the glass, needing the confirmation that only his eyes could give him.

Half draped across the back of a settee was a woman, her hair falling in a golden tumble over her face, hiding it from his view, but clear enough was the dimly lit form of the man leaning over her, his chest bare save for a familiar brace that circled his shoulder and traveled the length of his arm, the remainder of it concealed by the delicate arc of the woman's back – but Hook didn't need to see what rested at the end of the man's arm, he knew, just as surely as he knew that the strong line of the man's jaw, the dark brows and disheveled mop of black hair were the same as those he's seen in the looking glass for years – well, perhaps some years younger, as there were no silver streaks such as the ones he had earned for himself.

Unable to look away, unable to truly understand what he was seeing, Hook watched as the man – Killian, she'd called him, and how long had it been since someone had called him that – dragged his hand across his mouth once to wipe her arousal from his lips, and then once more, rings glistening, as he licked every remnant of it from his fingers.

“Tell me,” the woman purred, sweeping a delicate hand over her face and drawing back the curtain of golden tresses, tossing them over her shoulder – everything stopped.

Hook's lips parted and his gaze focused only on her as the movement revealed the most stunning woman he'd ever laid eyes on – her high, rounded cheeks flushed with color, pink lips swollen from where she'd caught them in her teeth. Her eyes flickered open briefly, settling on the window, and for an instant he feared she may have seen him, but she was too far gone in her pleasure, granting him only the smallest glimpse of emerald green before her lashes fluttered shut once more.

He needed to see them again.

“What does it do to you, hearing me beg?” she whispered, rolling her back and pushing the rounded swell of her bottom more firmly against where she was held anchored. “Tell me...”

Her body shuddered, lips opening on a silent moan, the pale swell of her breast and its rosy nipple peeking over the edge of the settee as she writhed, and Hook could only assume it was due to whatever this other version of himself was doing with his hook below the graceful bend of her stomach.

“Emma,” the man – Killian – spoke in a strained whisper, Hook only just able to hear the words he murmured against her skin as he bowed himself over her back, painting the slope of her neck with soft kisses. “It makes me want to stroke every inch of your skin, to wring every breath of pleasure from your body until you've no words left to beg, until there's no wanting left in you...until I've given you all you need and more...”

“Just you, Killian,” she breathed. “I only need you.”

Heaviness settled in Hook's chest like a storm pressing in from all sides as the woman – Emma, her name was Emma – shifted and reached beneath her, a moan of startled pleasure falling from Killian's lips as she grasped his length and guided him into her body, the glow of the lamp within shimmering on their skin as they began a slow, languorous rhythm, her body undulating beneath him like the sea itself.

“It's always been you, Emma...” he breathed, her lips framing the most beautiful sound Hook had ever heard as she keened beneath her lover, desperate to have him as close and deep within her as was possible.

Words broke amid the moans and pants rushing from her lips, but they were soon lost in the slap of their bodies together as they sought their peak, silver flashing through the air as he rose and grasped her hips, the furniture shaking beneath them as he drew back and thrust himself into her over and over, each drive harsher than the last as curses fell from her lips, her fingers digging into the dark fabric beneath them as she clung to it like a woman drowned.

“God, fuck, oh my god...” Emma whimpered, “I'm so close...so full...”

“Aye, you take me so well, love,” Killian panted behind her, his hair damp with sweat and falling into his face, the blue of his gaze startling vivid for only a moment before his head rolled back in ecstasy, the lamplight glancing off the sharp bob of his throat as he swallowed. Hook's eyes traced the movement, his own body echoing the younger version of himself as he inhaled and swallowed heavily.

Barely aware that he'd moved at all, Hook palmed his own cock in his hand, his leathers straining and painful over his swollen flesh as he watched them both, rooted to the spot though he knew he should leave. It would be so simple to tug free his laces and take himself in hand, to relieve the burning need that would otherwise remain unquenched as he watched his twin bed the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but the heaviness that lingered in his chest reminded him that this wasn't meant for him. This moment wasn't his, and nor were the words traded between them as he carefully slipped from the porch and melded back into the shadows.

“I love you,” she said, her words lost in the wind just as they reached his ears, and like a dream he let them pass, holding onto only the memory of something beautiful he couldn't quite keep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

He shouldn't have returned, but days spent lingering around the outskirts of town had done little in the way of providing information, and given what – or rather who – he'd seen the other night, there was an added risk to showing his face among the townsfolk for any longer than a brief glimpse. Only now he was left with a narrowing path forward, the words of the Seer echoing in his mind.

His feet had carried him here just as surely as the heavy longing still lodged between his ribs, and though the morning was still young, he'd learned enough of the man and woman who lived here to know they would be gone for the rest of the day, so he would indulge his curiosities – the persistent feeling that this was where he needed to be – and perhaps he would find his heading.

In the light of day it was easier to take in the details of the abode, the walls a calming grey-blue that recalled the sea on a cloudy morning, the whitewashed columns and woodwork pristine and ornate. Making certain no one had spied him, Hook passed once more through the gate and headed quickly around the house, ignoring the steps he'd climbed only a few nights earlier. It would be far better to gain entry away from the sight of prying eyes, even if he did hold more than a passing resemblance to the Killian who lived here.

His clothing alone would set him apart, and it certainly would not go unremarked upon.

His spirits were lifted when he saw yet another set of stairs leading to an entry at the secluded rear of the house, and knowing that Emma and Killian – the names he'd heard fall from their lips in moments of passion – would be gone, he hurried up the steps without worrying about making too much noise. As he suspected, the door was locked, but a quick swivel of a lock-pick within the mechanism and some pressure applied with his hook was enough to gain entry.

Easing the door closed, he found himself in a hall that led toward the front of the house, several pairs of shoes and boots lined nearly in a small alcove, jackets draped above them from wrought iron hooks. A doorway to his right led to some sort of privy, though for the life of him he couldn't identify the other strange equipment within. Though from the heaped piles of clothing atop them – the red fabric of a sweater Emma had worn only the day before and several black shirts drawing his eye – he imagined they were some sort of contraption for laundering clothing.

He passed through the hallway into the main quarters quickly, not wanting to waste what time he had sifting through their linens, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the settee he'd watched them make love on the other evening – for there was no mistaking the way in which they'd moved and claimed one another, the words they whispered into each other's skin. It was a feeling he remembered from long ago, from the woman etched onto his own skin, but it was also something he'd long ago given up hope of ever finding once more.

For a time, he'd had Alice, and she'd been more then enough – she'd been his everything – despite the trickery that had led to her birth, but now he'd lost even her, and the pressing loneliness he'd felt watching Emma and Killian – this strange, otherworld version of himself – make love had been a reminder that she was why he was here.

He needed to do as the Seer had directed, only then would he be able to cure his heart and find her.

Pulling his gaze away from where he could still see gold hair tumbling and the slick roll of two bodies together, Hook turned toward the stairs. He was uncertain what he was searching for – though his instincts told him there had to be a reason why the portal had chosen to land him here, immediately outside the home of a man who was his twin – but whatever it was, he was sure he would not find it in the main living area.

He rounded the corner of the banister and ascended quickly, hissing at the sharp squeak that sounded from one of the steps near the landing for the next floor, but relaxing when he remembered that he was alone. Both Emma and Killian would be doing as they did every other day, patrolling the town, and the boy who sometimes resided with them – perhaps a son, and that was just one more knife in his heart – would not be returning until this afternoon, if he did at all. Most nights he seemed curiously missing, and Hook had tracked him down to another home with another woman who also seemed to mother him.

Strange and curious.

He bypassed a room that clearly belonged to the young lad, heading instead toward the end of the hall where the edge of a curtain whispered in the breeze from an open window, the movement catching his eye. His boots echoed as he stepped off the edge of the carpet runner and entered the room, his gaze sliding to a large, four-post bed set against the wall to his right, its crisp, white linens made with a fastidious hand, recalling to mind how he used to tuck the blankets into his own berth when he'd had one. White fabric like gossamer or the finest silk hung from its canopy, tied neatly around the posts, and he found himself running his hand along the edge of the sumptuous bedding before he'd even realized he'd moved to its side, imagining their bodies stretched across it in the throes of pleasure.

He swallowed heavily, reminding himself that he was not here to pine over things he couldn't have, but instead to find what information he could about this other version of himself and the woman he loved. Perhaps if he only knew more about them, he would know whether or not they could help – whether they would when he had nothing to offer in return.

A familiar sensation at his throat stilled him before he could turn from the bed, the sharp prick of heavy metal and the press of another body against his back – his own hand knocked from his sword before he could act on the instinct to pull it free. He silently cursed the distraction his weakness had created, keeping him from hearing the man sneak up on him – then again, it was his house. Surely he knew how to move about it quietly, missing the squeaky stair and gaps of wood in the hallway.

“You'd better have a bloody good answer for just who you are, and why you're in my home, mate,” the younger version of himself hissed in his ear, the tip of his hook digging in deeply enough to his skin that his intentions were clear, a small trickle of blood running warmly down his neck.

“I assure you, I mean no harm to you or your family,” Hook sighed, knowing he'd gone and made a mess of things, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He was lost with no idea of what he was supposed to do in order to achieve what the Seer had seen, and for some reason, he'd been drawn back here.

“I'm sure you'll understand that it's a little hard to trust the words coming from someone who looks exactly like me – especially since you broke into my home and here you are, in my quarters.”

“Not exactly though,” Hook chuckled dryly, “a little more grey on top of my head, but I've not been magicked to look like you, if that's your concern. If I had, I certainly wouldn't have aged myself unnecessarily.”

“Aye, well, it wouldn't be the first time some witch has made an error – who are you?” Killian growled.

“It appears I'm you, mate, though I've only just traveled to this realm from my own.”

“Is that so? And what realm might that be?” Killian asked, grabbing his greatcoat suddenly and dragging him across the room, jabbing him roughly in the back as he shoved him toward an upholstered chair sitting opposite the bed and near a window.

“I'm from the Enchanted Forest,” Hook sighed, easing himself into the chair and raising his hand and hook in resignation before placing them both down onto the arms of the chair where his twin could keep an eye on his movements.

“That's a lie,” Killian retorted, a look of annoyance crossing his features as he pulled a small, black box-like object from his pocket and opened it, glancing down at its surface before snapping it shut. “You see, I'm from the Enchanted Forest – and I know for certain that they're weren't two of me walking about, so I'll give you one last chance to answer me truthfully. Where are you from?”

Hook sighed, his fingers reaching to scratch behind his ear before he caught the tension in Killian's body and lowered his hand once more.

“Perhaps my world is known as something else to you and your people, but I wouldn't be privy to what that is – I only know that I was born and lived there, and I spent the last years of my life in a kingdom called Misthaven, ruled by Queen Snow White and her consort.”

A look of something Hook couldn't decipher flashed across Killian's face, and for a moment he had hope that his twin did know something of his world, that perhaps he even believed that he was no threat and would be able to aid him in his quest.

“I see you're less a hand,” Killian gestured, “just as I am, so tell me...Hook...what happened to the Crocodile who took it? Were you able to exact your revenge?”

Memories of his duel with Ahab resurfaced, the barely noticeable heat as the bullet grazed his arm, the thrill of winning only to find that in the end he had truly lost.

“Alas, I did not,” he spoke, looking ahead but seeing only Alice. “I gave up my revenge, and as for the Crocodile, well he suffered a far worse fate than I would have been able to deliver to him.”

“What would be a fate worse than death for the Dark One?”

“He's trapped in a cell of Snow White's making, his powers useless, stuck for an eternity with only his madness and scheming.”

“And that's why you gave up your revenge?”

“No,” Hook breathed, knowing that saying the words aloud to another would simply rip the wound wide open once more – he'd never forget the pain of having to leave her side, to abandon her until he was able to find a cure. “I have a daughter, and she was taken from me. I need to get back to her...I tried for years and failed, but then I chanced upon a Seer, and she promised a solution was within reach...”

Hook finally shifted his gaze to meet Killian's once more, a heavy sigh leaving the other man's lips as he walked to the bed and dropped onto its edge, a pained look flitting across his features.

“I think you may just be from a realm we call the Wish Realm,” he began, “but you're not...you're not as Emma described from her time spent there.”

“Emma's been to my realm?” Hook questioned, unable to hide the flash of something akin to envy on his face as he imagined a time where perhaps he would have crossed paths with her.

“How do you know Emma, mate?” Killian hedged, his tone suddenly cooler and eyes sharp once more.

Hook swallowed the sense of loss in his throat and raised his hands once more, arching a brow and throwing a smirk at his twin that he hoped might allay his worries.

“I may be older than you, but I've not lost my edge – I've been watching and learning about this town since I came through the portal, and Emma, she's spoke of often.”

“This portal, did anyone else come through with you?”

“No, it was only myself. I don't – ” I don't have anyone else. “I swear.”

There was a moment of silence in which Killian weighed his words, considering each of them, but perhaps being able to sense through some familiarity of their pasts that he was telling the truth, he continued.

“Emma has traveled to your realm, briefly, but she said when she crossed paths with you, you were quite a bit...older – far more than a few grey hairs, mate – and perhaps...not as trim as we are now. She may have pressed a bit more water and a bit less rum on me after that.”

“And you're certain this was my realm?”

“Aye, the Wish Realm is the only one we know of wherein the Evil Queen wasn't able to cast her Dark Curse and Rumplestiltskin rots, imprisoned.”

“That is indeed my realm then, but I don't know...” Hook muttered, his fingers running through his hair as he tried to consider a reason for the differences. “I've no explanation of how time works between realms, wish or not, but I can assure you it's the truth that my age is as it seems. It took me years to find the Seer who set me on my current path, who gave me hope that my curse would not last forever and that I could get my daughter back.”

“What's your daughter's name?”

“Alice,” he whispered, his eyes falling closed as the sound passing his lips brought to mind her sweet smile and warm eyes. “I named her after – ”

“Our mother, aye,” Killian finished, his own words weighted with the sadness and longing of a past long gone – a past they both shared. “Well, what is it this Seer has prophesied you are to find here? What will aid in breaking your curse and returning you to your daughter?”

“She looked into my future and claimed there were many branching paths, but that there was a land called Storybrooke, and in that place waited the cure for my cure – that I need only find a magic bean and think of my happy ending, and then I would find it...”

Killian's head shot up from his hand as the words left Hook's mouth, a flicker of true fear passing over his face as he met Hook's gaze, the color from moments earlier drained from his cheeks.

“Your happy ending?” he rasped, and the tightness of his jaw did not go unnoticed by Hook. “And where did this portal leave you, if I might ask?”

“In the street outside, a few days past,” Hook admitted, hoping that his twin wouldn't put two and two together and realize he'd been witness to their more intimate activities, that it would ruin any chance he had of gaining their help. “Might you know – ”

“You'll need to speak with Emma then,” Killian nearly whispered, the tension from his jaw carrying through to the rest of his body as he stood, his eyes focused somewhere else as he gazed past Hook into some distance only he could see.

“And Emma will know how to help me find it, my happy ending, so that I might break this curse?”

“Aye, mate – your happy ending's always been one thing...”

“What is it?” Hook asked, desperation coloring his voice as he gripped the arm of the chair fiercely, hope flaring in his chest for the first time in years.

But his twin merely shook his head and rose, gesturing that he should wait where he was before turning and leaving the room, his boots muffled against the carpeting as he disappeared from sight, and though Hook could just barely catch the faintest whisper leaving his lips, he was too far to understand the words that Killian had exhaled like a dying breath – one person.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo

#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #entwined #wish hook #voyerurism

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lailannajacobs · 5 years ago

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A Prince’s Perspective and a Midgardian’s Perplexity | Counterfeit Criminals pt. 5

Pairing: loki x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: You get the ship up and running again. Loki watches as you drive.

Warnings: A shameless amount of angst

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: As always, I like to slip in one or two chapters of Loki’s perspective and here it is!! Hope you enjoy it! Always love to know what you think! <3

Counterfeit Criminals | Part Five

Loki had to stop staring. It would be a test of his self-control, but he had to stop. Any hopes he’d had that YN wouldn’t want to kill him had vanished the moment she’d glared at him with nothing but contempt and betrayal in her eyes. And any thoughts he’d had about telling her what had happened on Asgard had died just as quickly.

Whatever she might have felt for him a long time ago - if he wasn’t deluding himself into thinking that there had been anything there at all - was gone now. He, unfortunately, couldn’t say the same for himself, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. But she didn’t need to know that; she couldn’t know that. He hadn’t been able to tell her while they were still on Asgard - hadn’t been able to admit to himself or to her how much he cared. Loki wasn’t any closer to being able to now. Especially not when he knew she didn’t care for him. He knew deep down, from years of experience and disappointment, that she never would. Not with the way she was glaring at him now.

“What?” She snapped.

He raised a brow, and echoed, “What?”

“You’re staring.”

“Was I?” He leaned further back into his chair, lazily putting on a smirk just to piss her off.

If that anger was the only thing he’d get from her, he’d take it. It was better than the glazed, emotionless look she’d been giving him since they’d crash landed.

She rolled her eyes and faced the front, too pissed off to remember what she was annoyed about in the first place, which was his staring. Which he had to stop. Ignoring the frustratingly, irritatingly, miserable ache in his chest, Loki turned his attention back to the front of the ship. He’d been impressed by how quickly she’d gotten the ship up and running again, moving with practiced efficiency and incredible strength, working herself to the bone over the past four days. Loki had been relieved when she’d agreed to let him help, comforted by the fact that, at least with his help, she wouldn’t work herself to the point of fainting. He wasn’t entirely sure how fragile Midgardians were, but he should have known that YN wasn’t going to break easily. She never had.

The blur of colours flashed by as they passed through a jump point. Loki kept his eyes out front, forcing himself to remain aloof. She would be fine, he told himself as she let out a shaky breath, it was one jump point, she could handle it. To keep himself from staring, he watched the passing stars and the colours of the galaxy blend together like ink spilled on paper, until he found himself beginning to relax. He could see why she liked being out here; the freedom, the lack of expectations, the beauty of the chaos, and its simplicity. He understood the appeal. He wanted to ask her if those were the reasons she’d decided to do what she did or if there were other reasons. If she was lonely. If, like him, she enjoyed the solitude. Well, usually he preferred the solitude. Being with YN…it was like having the peace of solitude with the comfort of having someone at your back. Or at least it had back on Asgard. It was all gone now.

It was never meant to last, not for someone like him. Loki was destined to be left behind, never a first choice. He didn’t know how many times he’d let the poison in, the hope, before that lesson sunk in. But he was here with her, so obviously he hadn’t learned his lesson yet.

Not realizing what he was doing, he stared at her, memorizing every inch of her profile as she focused on steering the ship through an asteroid field. She looked no different now than she had then, but the differences to him were extraordinary. When he’d first met her, he’d been impressed by her bravery and her tenacity, even after she’d been thrown in the dungeon. But she’d still been a prisoner, everything about her muted by the fear of death and the desperation of having crashed her ship. The woman he’d seen steal the Wand was beautiful, powerful and everything else he’d found himself drawn to on Asgard. But from the moment she’d seen him, it had all disappeared. If he wasn’t half as selfish, he would leave because that was what she wanted. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do so.

“Whatever you have to say,” She sighed, her eyes never leaving the front as she maneuvered the ship, “Just say it.”

He almost smiled, comforted by the fact that, despite everything, she seemed to be as aware of him as he was of her. Almost as if they could feel each other’s gazes like it was a tangible thing. Maybe it was. Maybe that was why, when what was between them had broken, there was no putting it back together.

“Who says I have anything to say?” He drawled, never one to give a straight answer, especially when it hid something as important as the truth.

“I do,” She stated firmly.

“I don’t believe that’s a very reliable source,” He tsked, knowing the further they strayed from her question, the less she’d want the answer he couldn’t give her, “The inner workings of my mind aren’t exactly public knowledge.”

“Did you know that there’s such a thing as a straight answer?” She countered, swerving so suddenly that he had to put a hand out to steady himself.

He smirked, “Isn’t that the only kind of answer?”

“You’re infuriating,” She shook her head, though Loki had the impression that maybe she wasn’t as quite as upset as she’d first let on.

The light inside him begin to burn again with hope but he snuffed it out before he could get caught up in it. There was no use grasping at illusions. He knew that. He stayed quiet, drifting in and out of thought as they floated slowly through space. She’d warned him before taking off that they’d be going slower for the first few jumps so she could make sure everything was working correctly, telling him that if he so much as commented about the speed that she’d float him off the ship, their deal be damned. He’d been tempted to say something earlier, just to see that firecracker temper, but he hadn’t. He knew how far to push her, and he knew now wasn’t the time. The ship’s crash landing had taken far more of a toll on her than he’d realized, so he’d given her her space as soon as she let him help.

Although he tried to remain focused on the front, he couldn’t help but notice that she couldn’t seem to sit still. Her hand would slide over her jaw or massage her temple. She’d readjust her seat, then readjust it again moments later. It was only when he looked at the time that he realized she’d been steering the ship for over seven hours.

He opened his mouth, shut it, then decided the moment her eyes closed for longer than a blink, that he had to say something.

“Did you know that the elite on Asgard still believe that Midgardians are only awake for two hours a day?”

She stilled for a moment, then a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. It was barely visible from where he was sitting, but the sight of it made him feel triumphant nonetheless.

“Of course, they would believe almost anything,” He prattled on, though choosing his words carefully, “But they would still talk about you even after you were no longer the ambassador.”

Her smile faltered but it didn’t vanish completely, “What do they say about me?”

“They were impressed that you could do your job all day long and attend those parties without falling asleep,” He said, returning his gaze to out front.

Her voice only held a slightly bitter edge when she said, “Who knew all I had to do was stay awake to impress them.”

“If they saw you now, they’d be blown away.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked warily.

He sucked in a breath, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say, “You’ve been driving for almost eight hours, Midgardian. I doubt they would even imagine that to be possible.

Her brows furrowed as she looked at the time.

“I think you should take a break,” He continued before she could say anything else.

Her expression froze over, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe her for a second, “Are you?”

“Not that I need to explain myself to you,” She snapped, that icy anger coming back, “But we’re almost at the third jump point. We’ll stop once we cross.”

He scoffed, “You’ll do it, but you might not be conscious on the other side.”

“I’ll be fine,” She growled.

“Doubtful,” He tried his hardest to keep the emotion from his voice though he knew he wasn’t doing a decent job.

She cut him off when he was about to say more, “I’m getting us to that jump point, Wolf.”

“You don’t have to,” He snarled, “Please, Midgaridan, let me drive.”

She stilled and so did he, realizing what he’d just said. Realized that his words sounded very close to begging, and Loki didn’t beg. He didn’t ask. He found a way to take what he wanted. The ship slowed to a stop and she stared at him, eyes narrowed as if searching for a trick or an illusion. He didn’t blame her. He would have assumed it was a trick also if he hadn’t known better. He tried not to fidget under the weight of her gaze, feeling exposed as if she could see right to his very core; afraid she’d see past whatever facade he had left if he tried to recover with some sort of quip. She had this uncanny ability to see beneath the mask he wore in public and he couldn’t bear the thought of being at her mercy - at anyone’s mercy. His instinct was to lash out, to turn the tables on her, to make her feel as powerless as he felt in the moment, but he couldn’t. Loki didn’t want to hurt her. Not anymore than he already had. Yet, he hated every second of the growing silence that she sat there, staring at him. Conflicted over a single word - one he’d said a million times in his life, only never in this context - he waited to see what she would do next.

“Okay, Loki,” She whispered, never dropping her gaze, “You can drive.”

He shivered, mesmerized by the sound of his name on her lips. He’d heard her say it less than a handful of times, and every time it was like she hit him with a burst of magic, dark and tempting and exciting.

Before she could wonder why he was staring like an idiot, he nodded and stood. In the close quarters of the helm, when she did the same, they were almost chest to chest. She tilted her head back, looking up at him, not with the usual contempt he’d gotten used to seeing, but almost like she did back on Asgard; like she actually saw him. The look made his breath catch and he realized he’d given up on not staring. He’d had no choice. All his energy was focused on not closing the distance between them. He’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until now. After she’d left, he'd found himself looking for her at parties and found himself walking by her door in the morning as if his feet had been trained to walk to her door to make sure she was the first person he saw in the morning. He’d known he missed her. He just hadn’t realized how much.

“Whatever you have to say,” She murmured, eyes searching his face, “Just say it.”

Maybe he could tell her the truth. Maybe he could fix things right here. He sucked in a deep breath.

Panicked beeping burst out of the dash console and YN sprang into action as if the ship was on fire. She was back in the seat, flicking the extra blasters on, the momentum almost causing him to lose his balance.

Loki sat down, “Are we about to die, Midgardian?”

“No,” Her eyes darted to the console’s tele-screen and back, “But I’ve programmed the ship to alert me when there’s another ship in the vicinity coming in our direction.”

He looked down at the screen and couldn’t find anything to be alarmed about, “And you think they’re here for you?”

“I have pissed off a few people recently, but no. I just like to be sure,” She flipped another switch, “The more distance I can keep between me and everyone else the better.”

“Then we’d better switch drivers now,” He said, not one to forget what he had been fighting for in the first place.

“Give me five minutes to make sure we really lose these guys and then I will. But I’ll sleep in the passenger seat in case anything goes wrong,” She kept her eyes on the front, not looking at him when she said, “Because I don’t trust you.”

He didn’t say that he was more than capable of driving the ship or that he wouldn’t let any harm come to it. It didn’t matter because she didn’t trust him. Instead, he nodded, glad that, despite everything, she’d agreed to let him drive.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #Loki Angst #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

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taerseok · 5 years ago

Text

— differences | j.j.k [hogwarts!au] (pt. 1)

pairing:. Ravenclaw!Jungkook × Slytherin!Reader

synopsis:. the girl who has never fallen seriously for a guy, now falls for the wicked, witty Jeon Jungkook. But it only happens to be that you, now believe, that you have given your heart to someone who may not take care of it as well as you thought he would.

word count:. 6.4k

genre(s):. romance, angst

warning(s):. mentions of sex, kissing, swearing

song rec(s):. renegade - Aaryan Shah, crazy in love - Sofia Karlberg (cover), promise - Joytastic Sarah (cover)

Differences: points or ways in which people or things are dissimilar.

"A great relationship isn't when a perfect couple comes together, but when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences."

You were never one to bend to the rules. You'd never let yourself lose. Not only because that hurt your pride. But that would also show people your weak spot; the one thing you hated to admit or reveal. But to disrespect authority, to bully others, to taunt them because of their weaknesses… is that really compulsory?

Stop it, Y/n, you're questioning too much.

You shut your thoughts behind a mocking grin, as you continued to check the board and put in the last of the ingredients. You were sitting near your cauldron in your Potions class, with Jimin on one side of you, and Yoongi on the other.

Your fellow Pureblood Slytherins were laughing and making jokes like usual, which made you burst with laughter.

"Okay, are we here to make jokes?" the Potions professor eyed the three of you sharply, his gaze literally poisonous. You were tempted to scream 'yes,' but Yoongi replied for you, knowing your nasty comebacks would, no doubt, leave you in detention. You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off by Yoongi, "we're sorry, we won't do it again."

Though his tone was surprisingly apologetic, the wide, mischievous grin on his face proved your already doubting suspicions true.

The Potions professor, though already very familiar with his N.E.W.T.s students - you, amongst many others - and already knowing you three especially well, because he was the house head for Slytherin, still could not tell why students as bright as you three were wasting your precious time on jokes such as the ones you made, instead of focusing on your last year at Hogwarts.

You could not think more differently, however, as you snorted under your breath and made other jokes, continuing the banter between you, Jimin and Yoongi.

Subconsciously, you turned your head around, only to lock eyes with a boy you were familiar with; Jeon Jungkook. He was a Ravenclaw student, exceptionally smart and talented at magic. Though a muggle-born, which did not make sense. How exactly did a boy with no magical heritage exceed at magic so much?

So much, that he got Os in almost all his O.W.L.s, which had truly came as a surprise to your group, considering how much you made fun of him, calling him a nerd and, at times, a knucklehead. He was truly an all-rounder, though, and you had to admit it once in a while, even though you hated admitting how good he was.

And you hated him.

His sarcastic, witty comebacks made you grit your teeth and infuriated you in the worst ways, even though he wouldn't speak often. It had you glued to him. You were drop-dead gorgeous, with all the boys trying to hump you all the time, forgetting there even was a school to begin with, but something about Jungkook was so intoxicating, it had you hooked.

Jungkook must have been lost in thought just as much as you, because the moment you were snapped back into reality, he was too. He went back to his Potions book, and tried to continue making his potion correctly, but it was evident with the way he frowned that he was clearly failing at the job.

You excused yourself from Jimin and Yoongi, and walked over sneakily to Jungkook, making sure the professor didn't see you. He was sitting on an empty table, all alone. It seemed his Hufflepuff friends weren't with him. Well, they couldn't be, anyway. Only Slytherins and Ravenclaws shared Potions.

"Sweetheart, are you facing some problems?" you frowned mockingly at him, batting your eyelashes in an innocent manner. Without even flinching, he sighed and turned to you. "What do you want, L/n?" he raised an impatient brow at you, to which you simply clicked at your tongue. Oh, how you loved getting under his skin.

"Why, I saw you frowning here, all to yourself and decided to offer some help," you shrugged, "but since you don't want it," you got up, and sighed dejectedly, slowly trying to make an attempt to escape. To your great astonishment, he didn't hold your hand and pull you to him, which made you groan with utter displeasure.

"For once, Jeon Jungkook, use your fucking brain. This was the part you were supposed to pull me back by my hand!" you whined, stomping as you walked back and sat back down, next to him. The black-haired, bunny-like boy did not say anything, which made you even more annoyed. "Can't you just play along?" you pouted, shifting your head between the gap of his gaze and the Potions book.

Your faces were so close, the world could believe it was a romantic kiss or something. Your lips were inches apart, and for a moment you felt like kissing them, but in that moment, Jungkook turned his head away, turning his body to the cauldron, which left you just gazing at his back, in shock, speechless.

You were so close. So close. What if your lips accidently touched his? You couldn't stop yourself from imagining what it'd feel like, his red, soft lips on yours. For a second, silence remained. But you reached your hand out to put it on his shoulder. "Hey, why can't you just play along?" you repeated, but your voice was faint, a husky whisper because of what just happened - what almost happened.

"L/n-" you interuppted him before he could speak any more, "Y/n is just fine, you know. I may tease you and get under your skin a lot, but we should not be on such formal terms," you rolled your eyes. "Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to call me 'baby', am I?" the statement left your lips before you could cover it up, and that resulted in more silence.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips twitch up into a grin, which made you bite your lower lip seductively. "That was just an example. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jeon Jungkook," you rolled your eyes, once again, and to your relief, Jungkook turned around to face you again. You smirked slightly.

He sighed out of annoyance, though it was clearly fake. He was bad at pretending something that wasn't there. Or maybe you just knew him too well. "Y/n, I don't have time for your games. You know, I need to make this potion work… besides, who's doing yours-?" he raised a brow, to which you simply giggled. "I'm already done with mine."

You shrugged, his face froze a little, but it wasn't long before it returned to its normal composure. "Right. So you were offering to help?" Jungkook turned to you and then the cauldron simultaneously. "Yes, dumbo! And, you just wait and see. It'll be the best potion you've made yet," you smirked, letting Jungkook take your seat and sitting on his.

You guided him through everything before you acted upon the instructions, and for a second, you felt yourself more as a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin.

The thought made you snort.

After the Potions class, you had Defense Against the Dark Arts, a long name for what you simply called, 'D.A.D.A'. This class, however, you did not share with Jungkook, which made you slightly bored, but you liked it anyway, because you were good at it.

You took your seat next to Jimin, Yoongi sitting behind you two with another Slytherin guy. You were studying theories currently. The whole topic made you groan and frown in every way possible. You hated this one. Thankfully, though, you had Seokjin. He was the real MVP in your, otherwise, boring life.

A Gryffindor, who had a nerve for flirting with every girl his eye caught. You were one of those.

While the D.A.D.A professor looked down at the book, a flying bird was sent your way. Not exceptional, seeing as you all were seventh years, but nonetheless, romantic. It made you grin. You caught the bird, unnoticed, and it stopped moving to let you open it.

'Hey there, little bird. ;)'

Iconic, wasn't it? You showed the note to Jimin, who snickered on the seat beside you. "I swear to Merlin, he's drooling over you. How can it be any more obvious?" he rolled his eyes, to which you giggled. "Jiminie, good things take time. I'm not going to give myself away just like that," you grinned at Seokjin's way, who looked at you with a glow on his face, "if he wants me," you winked at him, "he'll need to work for it," and you turned your head away sharply.

That afternoon, at lunch, nerdy Jungkook was reading his book once again, during eating. It made you frown with displeasure, as you watched him at his table from your own. "Does he do anything but read?" you asked your two friends, tilting your head. "Seems like the answer is 'no'," Yoongi shrugged, eyeing the male. "I'm going to go annoy him. You sit and watch," you smirked at the two boys and left for the lonely boy.

"Hoseok and Taehyung didn't join you today, hm?" you raised a brow, taking a seat next to Jungkook. You had realised his Hufflepuff friends were not accompanying him. He did not look up from his book. "Yeah... They wanted to research about some creatures in the library." Your chin falls down to the table. You tilted your head, your cheek on the cold surface. "That's okay. I'll give you some good time," you grinned.

"Oh really?" he smiled, finally looking up from his book. "Atlas'! He is interested, at last!" You exclaimed with exaggeration. "I can just look down and disappear into the book again, you know?" he said blatantly, and you groaned. "I know, sweetheart! But you have to realise there's more to the world than the books you read!"

"Right," he stretched the word, rolling his eyes. "You're so annoying, Y/n," he continued, shaking his head. "In a good way or a bad way?" you raised a brow, your eyes widened in shock as he got up from his seat, likely to escape. He smirked mischieviously.

"Very good."

With one wink, he was gone.

That was one reason why you hated him so much.

He always found a way to make your heart skip a beat.

It was rare for anyone to do that. But you couldn't help but let your heart race when he was in your vicinity.

It was evening when you finally finished with dinner and left to your dormitory, with the two boys, Jimin and Yoongi, tagging alongside. You reached the portrait, it opened as your lips uttered the password and you went inside. The Slytherins sitting in the common room eyed you cautiously. It pleased you. As soon as you reached the couch, the students sitting on it got off to go into their rooms, and you smiled as you sank down on the comfortable seat.

The smile lingered on your face. It made you excited to be seen as uncontrollable, as a threat. It pumped the adrenaline in your veins - it got you going, it was what you liked. You were hooked on the feeling of being feared, it was something you enjoyed a little too much. Even Jimin and Yoongi would tell you that at times, but you simply dismissed it as it was a part of who you were, your personality.

You looked over to the boys, on either side of you, they eyed you, raising their brows. Your mind zoomed into something else, your thoughts fluttered over to someone else.

Jeon Jungkook.

Why was he always reappearing? Why did you suddenly start to care too much? You put your feet on the couch. No one would mind it anyway, and even if they did, they wouldn't ever try to say it to your face. You were simply too intimidating. You hugged your knees. His mischievous smile, his wink - it all intoxicated you. You wanted more. Dare you say, you wanted him.

God, wasn't he just perfect? His poison was seeping into your bones, and you couldn't help but be addicted. Did you wish it'd end? Never. Did you wish you hadn't met him? Not once. You were hooked. But then you reminded yourself, as a fish in a vast sea, you were not the only one. He was the fisher and he'd catch every single fish he could, you knew he was smarter than to be pleased with only you. Just you.

You hated him, yes, but that made it so much more exciting. You wanted passion, you wanted his lips on yours, you wanted to feel his hands on your waist. Was it too much to ask for? A one night stand. That was all you wanted. You had heard the muggles did those things, and for once, you couldn't help but wonder how it'd feel. How he'd feel.

"Y/n?" Yoongi asked, his brows knitting together as he eyed you suspiciously. You were snapped into reality abruptly, it shocked you but you composed yourself. Or you tried to. But you had been with Yoongi and Jimin for more than seven years, you doubted they didn't catch on to it. And you weren't surprised to find your 'guess' more than correct.

"Y/n, what are you thinking about?" Jimin asked, worry lining his handsome features. It made you sigh. You were putting them through so much trouble over Jungkook. That made you even more regretful. But you wanted them to know. You had promised you'd keep no secrets from eachother - that you'd help eachother and share your feelings with one another.

"I…" you said softly, unable to find the right words. What would you tell them?

That you liked Jungkook?

That you were hooked on his bait and you wanted him? You were afraid of how they'd take it. Of how your little words could change their perception of you. You didn't want to be judged by your closest friends. They were like family. It scared you. It made you so scared. You couldn't find the words, no matter how much you wanted to tell them.

"I… I-I… it's Jungkook," you managed to say, afraid of what they would make of the statement. "Jungkook? Did he do something? Say something that hurt you?" Jimin frowned, still concerned for you and your unusual behaviour. You had never felt this way. It felt like it was eating you.

"If he did, you know, we can take care of him for you. You needn't worry," Yoongi said coldly, though you knew him well enough to realise the concern in his tone of voice. "N-No," you shook your head, then sighed again. Why was it so hard to explain it? "Can I get a hug?" you asked in a low whisper, but the two boys quickly caught on, and hugged you in unison. It felt good.

It felt like support and warmth. You felt better instantly. You knew they wouldn't judge you, they knew you too well for that. You smiled instantaneously at their touch. The two boys eventually pulled away, looking at you, hopeful.

"Right… so…" you took a deep breath, "I… I don't know this feeling," you bit your lower lip, mentally beating yourself up for the bad beginning, "but… like… I want him?" you cringed and hid your face with your hands, not brave enough to see your friends' reactions. "I'm sorry," you weren't sure what you were apologising for, but it was all you could mutter in the heat of the moment.

Silence remained, and you were choking yourself in your thoughts for being too blunt, for not sugar-coating it so they'd take it in an 'okay' manner. You wished you could dig yourself a hole, jump in it and stay there forever and ever, for you didn't wish to have the two friends, you cared for most, see your face.

But a cold hand ran down your back, almost making you yelp. You looked up, your face not hidden by your hands anymore, to see that it was Yoongi. "It's okay, Y/n, don't beat yourself up for it," he muttered, nodding slightly to, what seemed like, the rhythm of an unheard melody. "Mhm, don't worry. I'll help, okay? It's just infatuation. You don't need the dude, anyway. I'll help you move on?" Jimin tilted his head softly to the side, his blond bangs falling on his face in the most handsome manner.

But the truth was, you didn't want to move on. Not until, you could taste the drug you were addicted to. Not until, you had him wrapped around your finger.

"But, Jimin… I... I don't want to move on?" you spoke whatever came to your mind, always remaining truthful with your dearest friends. "I know. That's just because… you are infatuated. You'll want to move on, as soon as possible, trust me," he smiled reassuringly at you, but you were sad to see that you couldn't return it.

You simply turned your head away, getting lost in thoughts again.

What if you could just tell him? Then again, you didn't want him to think funnily of you. What if he had a girlfriend? Why didn't that come to your mind? But then again, who'd ever like the nerd? Right?

Atleast, that's what convinced yourself with.

Getting up, you said your farewells to the two boys and left for the girls' dormitory, but you could barely sleep. You kept rolling around in your bed, your mind zoomed back to Jungkook. How he'd feel on your lips, how he'd kiss you with such passion, plant pecks down your body, mark you his. Maybe, you were infatuated as Jimin told you. Maybe, it was addiction.

But, when were you ever sure?

The next morning, you weren't surprised to find yourself the last person in the dormitory. It was only fair, you thought. You hadn't slept at all, it felt, but you must have dozed off at some point. Your head hurt, but you got up anyway and decided to leave for your classes.

The day was spent around Jungkook, entirely. But it wasn't until the evening, when you reached the last class you had. Astronomy - another class shared by Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

Climbing the Astronomy tower to its highest level, was hard work in itself, but the Astronomy professor had something else in mind.

"For today, I want to share with you all, information about your upcoming project. I think it'd be suitable if we worked in groups of five. I want you all to create a working model of the Solar System, and submit it by the next week. Are my instructions clear?" her eyes particularly fixated on your trio, which consisted of you, Jimin and Yoongi. You nodded, furiously.

You had great interest in Astronomy, whether you had admitted it or not, and you liked the subject too. It was fun, in your opinion.

The professor proceeded by making groups. You watched her, aimlessly trying to hope that you weren't in a group with Jungkook. If the situation ended up that way, you'd have to spend more time with him. Which, you liked by the sound of it, but the thought made you nervous too. Your eyes kept finding their way over to the dark-haired boy, the act hurt you, but you couldn't stop.

The students made their way to their respective groups, making clusters of several bodies in the classroom.

"Y/n, Lee Ara, Jimin, Yoongi, and…" you held your breath, "Jungkook," of course. You knew it too well. It had to end this way. And surprisingly enough, another Korean girl, specifically a Slytherin you had some bad blood with, ended up with you too. Ara - God, how you hated the egoistic, cruel bitch. You sighed, as Jungkook and Ara joined your trio.

"Discuss your plans and divide your works. Remember, this group work will affect your N.E.W.T.s. grades."

You groaned, which didn't go pass Jimin and Yoongi. Atleast, you had your friends. "You 'kay?" Yoongi asked, whispering into your ear, so you didn't disturb the obvious flirting between Jungkook and Ara. You frowned. "I'm not. But I guess, you can already see that, so why question it, huh?" you hissed, then crossed your arms.

"You know, this is work. Work is work, and don't you think it'd be better if we don't bring the dude up in it?" he asked back, not taken aback by you tone at all. He knew you all too well to think that you meant it.

"I know!" you whined, glaring daggers at Ara, and then pulling Jimin closer to you two. "Look, the girl is really getting on my nerves. Let's start discussing plans, okay? Keep an eye on her, always," you whispered like poison, and the two boys nodded sternly before turning to face the two outsiders.

Jimin faced you, signalling you to start. You looked down for a second, to see your slightly trembling hands. Goodness, what was wrong with you? Was it really just infatuation? You sighed unevenly, then cleared your throat to get their attention. Too much into the conversation, they didn't pay much of their conscious to it at all.

You cleared your throat, yet again. "Ahem, if you two are done, can we start discussing?" you said, rather harshly. Impatience lined your voice. Jungkook and Ara stopped talking, turning to your trio.

"Right," the brunette said sharply, you could see her frown to herself. "How about me and Jungkook take over the Sun and the first two planets from it?" Ara spoke again, and you really wanted to groan, but you dismissed the way your heart ached, or the way your hands started to shake a little more, or the way your palms started to sting as you digged your nails into them, or the way your knuckles turned ghost white, or the way you were turning red from fury.

"I don't think that's possible. Two people working on only three space bodies? It doesn't seem fair," Yoongi said, shrugging. Though you could see, the corners of his lips turning upwards as Jungkook moved in to agree. "True. I'll take the Earth, and I can make the moons for all the planets," he said reasonably. Your lips curled into a wicked smile.

"I'll take Mars and Jupiter, then," Yoongi said coldly, trying to seem as if he didn't like this game. But you knew him too well for that. "And I'll take Saturn and Uranus," Jimin said, enthusiastically, and you guessed it was your turn to speak next, "then, I am left with Neptune and Pluto. Ara will be able to handle the first two planets and the Sun, I'm guessing, all alone?" you asked, raising your brows as a sadistic smile, that no one but the brunette could sense, found its way to your gorgeous face.

"I will be able to, perfectly well," she huffed, rolling her eyes. You were thoroughly pleased.

"Good then, let's meet this Friday at the Slytherin common room, after classes."

The week could hardly await the project, because you found yourself in a fast-paced world, moving at the speed of muggle a sports car. Time just passed, as if nothing interesting took place. Life, sometimes, was never understood by you. Or perhaps, you didn't want to understand it.

But, something had changed in you. Jungkook made you so much more… happier. Looking at him dilated your eyes, it provided you warmth, it made you smile. You had been noticing those things a lot more often.

You had been seeing how your eyes always found their way to his, how you overanalysed his every word and action, how you would flush immediately when he came to you with a witty comeback, how you'd try to get his attention more often, how you'd just do unexplainable things around him, how your heart would love the feeling of being drunk on his poison, and how you'd try to find the best witty comeback to hit him back with.

You were falling for him. Deeper, and deeper, further and further, losing yourself in his spell, that he had cast over you. The world shone brighter when he was near. You began to admire his looks even more. You began to admire his personality. You began to see how much he effected your life, how he made you happier than anyone else.

You could gaze into his dark eyes forever, and still not mind it. You could talk with him for an eternity, and you would not be bothered. You could do anything and everything when he was around, when he was with you. He made you feel giddy, light-hearted and youthful. Like there was nothing stopping you. It made you euphoric. It made you excited and you loved every moment of it.

You even shared all of this with Jimin and Yoongi. But their advices remained the same as ever.

Time just seemed to slip away, just like that.

Either way, you found yourself sitting in the common room, waiting for Jungkook to show up so you could let him in. Ara hadn't arrived as of yet either, despite being a Slytherin. You chatted usually with your two bestfriends as you always did, but you couldn't suppress the feeling that something wrong was bound to happen.

And to your surprise, the portrait opened. The brunette, Ara, jumped in, giggling alongside Jungkook. Your heart paced faster than ever. Had the end of the world came, at last? Did it just dawn over you, how Jungkook smiled with her?

It was irrational, some would say. But you had come to realise, the whole concept of love was irrational. Giving your heart to someone, trusting them to hold onto it - it was all a matter of believing in someone. And you could never do that with someone - someone as clumsy as Jeon Jungkook - who wouldn't hesitate to drop it to the ground, step over it.

Your limbs felt numb. You felt numb. Tears just came to your eyes. You didn't know why - or how. But, you wanted to leave the common room that second. What had came into you? The girl who'd barely pay attention to the boys who were dying over her, was now falling?

Falling for someone who could never be yours.

Falling for someone who didn't care.

You wanted to shut the thoughts so bad, but you couldn't, not in this situation. You gripped onto Yoongi's sleeve, he could very well see what was happening, and so did Jimin. Your head hurt. You wanted it to stop.

"Hey, Y/n," Jungkook smiled mischeviously, sitting down infront of you alongside Ara. You felt so much hatred for the male, the male that you were on the verge of tears for. "H-Hi," you stammered, plastering a fake smile on your face. "Is something wrong?" Jungkook asked, raising a brow. You could see his expression of concern. It hurt you even more. Static sounds covered your brain.

"I-I… I'm just a little sick. And…" you bit your lip, "it's nothing. Let's start working."

The evening went as quiet as you wanted. You worked next to Jungkook. You tried to calm your racing heart. You had to pretend like everything was normal, like it was fine. "How're you doing?" you asked, self-conscious of your tone, which could give everything away.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me 'sweetheart' this time, hm?" he smirked, raising a brow, as his eyes wandered over into your direction. Ara could be doing whatever right now, but you didn't care. You were so glad Yoongi and Jimin were keeping her occupied by asking her for help.

You stayed silent, however, in response to Jungkook's question. "Cat got your tongue?" he grinned wider, turning to you completely now. You rolled you eyes. "Don't tell me you want me to call you 'sweetheart'. It's just a nickname, I don't have to use it all the time," you smiled mischeviously.

"But, I want you to call me by my nickname," he said, the smirk on his lips everlasting. "Oh, really?" you turned to him at last, your confidence back to you. It felt good to back. To be able to hold your head up high.

You could see the look in his eyes - filled with mischief. It made you grin alongside him. "I never knew you were this needy," you rolled your eyes, sarcastically, shaking your head.

"Let guys be guys, for goodness' sake," he said, making you laugh out. "I know, sweetheart. You needn't tell me," you smirked at him playfully, and through his dark bangs, you could see him grinning back at you. "What's with you and Ara, anyway? She's always bashing you for something whenever we talk," he shrugged, his expression one of disgust.

You rolled your eyes at the mention of her name. "A filthy, rich brat. Used to bully me back in the days," you replied shortly. "Really?" Jungkook turned back to you, raising a brow. You could see the affection in his face. He really worried for you. The thought made you smile.

"Yeah. No worries, though. I got my revenge," you smirked, which made him only more curious. "How so?" he grinned as he questioned.

"Stole her boyfriend, is all."

The statement made his eyes widen. His mouth basically dropped. "Stole?" he asked, his voice barely audible but you could hear it perfectly fine.

"Yup. Stole - it was not cheating, I promise!" you laughed, putting your hands infront of your chest defensively. "I told him about the way she treated me, and he agreed to act along for fun. She broke up with him, furiously," you grinned.

"Who was it?" Jungkook asked.

"Kim Seokjin."

"The Gryffindor boy?"

"The Gryffindor boy. Though, I think he fancies me now," you smirked.

"Oh."

You looked at the dark-haired male, amused. "Jealous?"

"Super," he grinned at you, lust filling his eyes. "Deal with it," you rolled your eyes, turning away and continuing to make Pluto since you were already done with Neptune. "When it comes to you, I can't deal with it," he said slowly, his voice breathy. You snickered. "Woah, there, that's a little too fast, don't you think?" you rolled you eyes.

"Since I told you about that, tell me about your relationships."

"I don't seek serious ones."

You looked up at him, suddenly a little too interested. "That's a surprise, coming from you," you said abruptly. "Yeah… I have some serious problems," he rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. "But, don't we all, hm?" you shrugged, and the two of you burst out laughing.

"No, but really. I'm serious," he said, after the laughter died down. "Tell me what it is, then," you said back, looking at him, your gaze fixated on his, locking your eyes with his.

"I'm…" he sighed. "Well, a commitment phobe." You raised a brow. "That's fine, you know," you smiled. "You're too good for your own good."

The statement made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed red. "What do you-?" you tried to ask, but he cut you off. "Don't play with me, please," he said, making you widen your eyes. What had came over him? "But, what do you mean?" you asked, your project completely forgotten. "I'm not playing with you! I-" and you almost said it. You almost said that you liked him.

Maybe you loved him.

But then again, when were you ever sure?

But, you couldn't said anything more as he abruptly took your wrist harshly, pulling you up and away. Jimin and Yoongi must have noticed, because they looked at the two of you wide-eyed, and so did Ara, as Jungkook led you to the girls' dormitory, which was surprisingly empty, and shut the door behind you.

You could only look at him, for once, in your life, you felt so helpless. Even, your confidence had vanished.

Your body shook violently, as he pushed you against the wall of the dormitory, and your hands turned cold, your body white. "J-Jungkook," you stammered, your voice a whisper. What was he doing? Your heart was beating fast, about to jump out of your chest.

You feared he could hear it, as your bodies crashed against eachother. You shook your head under his gaze. He was taller than you. His facial expression was affectionate - but conflicted. You bit your lip. "What are you doing?" you asked him, huskily, feeling vulnerable.

Yes. You had imagined this erotica, you had wanted it, but you weren't sure anymore. His dark locks fell over his face, blocking your vision of the room, your only view his handsome face. His red lips, his soft gaze, his freakishly intoxicating features - it all poisoned you to the core. And you liked it.

But you were never this vulnerable with anyone before.

"Y/n," his equally cold hand caressed your cheek, making you yelp. "I-I-I'm so sorry, what are you doing?" you asked, your eyes filled with tears. Goodness, why did it hurt?

"Tell me, you're not playing with me," he asked back, his expression somehow hurt. "I'm not! I-" you stopped. Biting your lip, you debated on whether you'd be this close with him ever again. "I'm not playing with you. I…" you said softly, "I am not playing."

You couldn't say it, you couldn't tell him, but before you said anything else, the gap between your faces closed. Your mind ran wild, it was everything you had imagined and more. Cold but passionate, it drove you crazy. But you were confused as to what was happening, as to why it was happening.

It stayed like that for several seconds. But you wished it stayed that way for a millennia. That it never ended. Eventually, he did pull away, caressing your face in a gentle manner. You looked at him, tilting your head at his touch. Now was the moment. He liked you too, didn't he? You wouldn't be this close if he didn't, right?

"I really…" you said in a whisper, "like you."

His hand stopped moving. The world froze in that second. You opened an eye to see his handsome face. It was lined with worry. He shook his head, his hand dropped down and he stepped away, leaving your breath caught up in your throat.

What had you done? The tears in your eyes came back. Your mind went crazy with presumptions. So, he didn't love you? It was a one night stand? Or maybe just some sort of sensual pleasure? But why? Most importantly, how? How could he do this?

"We can't," his reply was simple. It made you slip down to the ground. You should've listened to your two bestfriends when they told you that it was for the best if you moved on.

Why in the fucking world did you fall?

Why did you love this man?

"But… why?" you didn't look up as your hair fell down with you, covering your face. He bent down at your level, pulling you closer to him.

"We just can't..." his reply confused you. You were conflicted. It broke your mind. You pushed him away from your being, not able to bear his touch.

"Y/n," he said, trying to come closer but you wouldn't let him.

Damn it, Jeon Jungkook.

Damn you.

"I loved you! I was ready to take everything as long as you loved me back, but you clearly didn't." His eyes widened, but he stood up quickly, looking down at you. "And-! And I… I didn't listen to Jimin when he said it was better to move on! That… That… maybe it was infatuation."

He hated seeing you like this, he wouldn't lie, but he was no good for you. And he knew that all too well. "I'll just break your heart, you know that," he said quietly, it hurt him to see you so broken.

"Well, you broke my heart, so you achieved your goal, you heartless motherfucker!"

You got up, wiping the tears that had been falling rapidly down your cheeks and facing him. His eyes widened when he caught your eyes. You moved the strands of hair away from your face. "Good job, Jeon Jungkook. Shooting another heart in the dark. Feels so good, doesn't it?" you sniffed, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from crying more, but you couldn't help yourself at this point.

"Y/n… I…" he tried to say, but you were quick to interrupt. "I don't need your explanations. Moreover, I don't need you. I think you understand the statement well enough, hm? Or do I dumb it down even further?" you hissed at him, moving closer till your faces were inches apart. Your eyes softened.

"You disgust me, sweetheart."

And you turned away, leaving the dormitory.

You left, and you did not look back. Anywhere was better than where he was. You ignored the blank stares of Jimin, Yoongi or Ara as you stomped away, sternly, through the portrait and out into the corridors.

How could he? The situation angered you. How could he do all of that, how could he just use you like a piece of shit, like you were garbage being treated like you deserved, when in reality, you didn't deserve the mistreatment you were given.

You walked forever, thinking of it all, bumping into no one, to your slight surprise. You had feelings, you wanted closure, but you didn't want it right now. Right now, all you could bear to think of was how broken you were.

How he broke you.

He had no rights to do that. He couldn't have. He didn't even give you a straight reason. Maybe he didn't like you, maybe he knew it wouldn't work. Maybe he had someone else on his mind even if he was trying to hump you.

But would that make sense?

You shook your head. Guys were guys, and you wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. He wasn't seeking serious relationships anyway, and you hadn't seen him with some girl, but even if he was with someone, it didn't matter to him. And the thought hurt you.

So, if you were with him, if you were to be with Jeon Jungkook, you'd expect him to come to you with hickies you hadn't given him, with pleasure you hadn't provide, with kisses that weren't planted by your lips?

Maybe it was better, maybe it was for the best that you didn't get together.

That he didn't like you.

A/N:. so that marks the end of this part! Tumblr hates me :) so I had to split it into two parts, but whatevs. Hoped you enjoyed, loves. <33

#jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts #fanfic #hogwarts #au #bts x reader #rm #jin #jimin #taehyung #suga #jhope #fic:differences #differences

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cupofteaguk · 6 years ago

Text

all too well | 01 (m)

summary: you and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. but two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: idol au, makeup artist au, exes au | angst/smut

warnings: rough & unprotected sex, vague descriptions of the kpop industry that may not be accurate!

word count: 6k

You suppose that it all starts and ends with a letter.

“Dear Mr. Min Yoongi,” Your boyfriend reads across the kitchen counter, fingers curling tightly around the paper in his hands, eyes blown wide with a gaze depicting such rare intensity that you’ve actually stopped fixing your morning coffee just to catch a sight of his expression. You can’t entirely place the feeling weighing itself into your stomach, so you settle with staring at him and trying to keep your own facial features as neutral as possible. “We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the final audition at our label and therefore are officially recruited into our newest group Bangtan Boys. You are going to be one of seven other boys joining our label as trainees and we are excited to finally bring everyone together to prepare for debut. Although training won’t officially start until next week, we ask that you come to the studio tomorrow morning to meet the other members as well as be prepped on our expectations and scheduling. We wish to congratulate you on your hard work and look forward to getting to know you more in the coming years. Sincerely, Big Hit Studios.”

When Yoongi doesn’t react immediately to the positive news, you flicker your gaze up to study him. His eyes, once again, are scanning the paper, quicker and quicker with each line as if he didn’t read it or hear it correctly the first time around. His eyes have grown to the size of saucers at this point, and you would have thought him to be a statue had it not been for the rather loud inhales and exhales coming from the boy. The sight itself would have been rather comical had it not been for the context behind the stare.

So you try for a gentle smile, leaning a little on the counter to try and further gauge his expression. “Yoongi?” You inquire softly, reaching a hand across the space to run your hand along his shoulder blade. “Baby, are you alright?”

Yoongi blinks, snapping himself out of his trance as he shifts his gaze from the letter to you, back to the letter, and back to you. “I did it?” He whispers, the statement sounding more like a question above anything else and you find your lips curling up into a fond smile in light of Yoongi’s confusion—even though he was the one to read the letter multiple times, running over the words in his own mind repeatedly.

You bite your lips and nod your head. “Yes, you did it.” Even though there is a sensation of… something lingering in the pit of your stomach, the pride in your voice and in your heart is practically unmatched now. Because at once, the memories of the past few months come flooding back to you in the moments leading up to this very second, of Yoongi standing before you, letter in hand, basically telling him that all those past months of sacrifice and worry have paid off and he would finally have the opportunity to make something of himself. And who wouldn’t be proud of that?

Min Yoongi has always worked incredibly hard for everything in his life. In all your 19 years of living upon this planet, never once have you stumbled across someone else who shared the same dedication for passion and ambition as Yoongi has. It’s probably his deep craving for music that first drew you to him, his affection and his dreams keeping you close even after nearly two and a half years of maintaining a relationship.

You’ve always found his perseverance admirable, even when he was just coined as the underground rapper, the boy who performed demos of his personal music on the street. In the very beginning, you use to pass him every evening on your way home from work until one of his lyrics struck a chord inside of you and you found yourself growing more and more curious about him with every passing day. In the end, much to your surprise, it was him who approached you first, stating with a smile that he had been seeing you around a lot and if you would be interested in getting some coffee with him. It would be the first of many sessions in which you came to learn about the genius that was Min Yoongi, how each hardship he had to endure only adding to his determination to prove everyone wrong.

You feel like no matter how long you’ve been with Yoongi, and no matter how many secrets he dares himself to share with you (and vice versa), he always says something, does something, or desires something to make your heart spin with surprise.

Learning about his dream to become a Kpop star has definitely been one of your biggest surprises through the duration of putting the puzzle together that was Min Yoongi—although now that you think about it, it’s not something that you should really have been surprised about. Not really. After all, the boy’s lifeblood is music—he lives and breathes it, and he’s good too. The way he strings lyrics together has such a magical quality to it that more often than not you would find yourself looking at the boy and wondering just how on earth someone like him could possibly exist in a world of evil intentions. The passion he has for what he does is virtually unparalleled. It’s one of the many things you love about Yoongi, and you would never ask to trade that away for anything.

But again, it’s not like the Kpop industry is always the best place to let a free angel spread its wings and fly. You’re not an idiot, you’re constantly surrounded by the talk of small people with big dreams to participate in the industry—how it chews people up and spits them out dead or alive, how it could take and take and take and not necessarily give anything back in return. You’ve acknowledged how thick-skinned a person would have to be to take on the industry, and came to the realization a very long time ago that it could never be the place for you. It always fascinated you to an extent and how you know that perhaps you’ll never truly experience hard work unless you were apart of the culture; yet firmly believed in your heart to swear away ever considering the possibility of trying out.

Yoongi has always been a different story entirely, yet you still worry for him. If the auditions to even get a consideration to a label is anything to go by, you can only guess about what the training life will have in store for your boyfriend.

“I did it!” Yoongi repeats, a little louder this time, shaking the letter back and forth as his face breaks out into a beyond breathtaking grin. Something about it is so genuine that you momentarily forget your own troubling thoughts before shooting him a smile of your own. “I really really did it!”

“See, Yoongi, I told you that you would be able to accomplish anything you set your mind too,” You say to him, taking the letter as he offers it out for you to see and read for yourself. Your eyes skim over the words yourself, although you’ve already heard them once. But this time, you really let yourself soak in every word that runs across the paper, the realization dawning in your mind and in your heart what Yoongi was really just about to get himself into. What if they hurt him emotionally? What if they said something he couldn’t take? What if they told him his best was no longer good enough? What if they overworked him? What if—?

A gentle finger running down the newly formed crease in between your eyebrows, pulling you from your thoughts as you look up to see that Yoongi has rounded the counter to face you completely. His grin of excitement has diffused entirely from his expression, and you momentarily hate yourself for being the reason behind his frown. “What is it?” He inquires suddenly, craning his neck slightly to level his gaze with yours. “You’ve got that look on your face. You’re thinking about something.”

You shake your head immediately, averting your gaze to focus your attention on setting the letter down on the counter. “No, it’s nothing—I promise.”

He flickers his gaze over to the letter on the table. “Is this about the recruitment thing?”

“No,” You protect immediately, retracting a little when Yoongi raises an eyebrow questioningly at you. “Okay… maybe, yes.”

“Was I supposed to understand that?”

You bite your lip, internally debating whether or not it would be appropriate to share these thoughts with your boyfriend, given they did have a poisonous sort of background in regards to your own personal beliefs. You would never ask Yoongi to give up his dream for you.

Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to at least share these thoughts, knowing that Yoongi would never let you hear the end of it otherwise, you take in a breath and look back over at him. “I just… I’ve heard about what this industry does to people—people like you with big dreams and passions. It chews you up and spits you out, especially if you’re not strong enough to handle all the pressure.”

Yoongi snorts a little. “Are you saying that you don’t think I’m strong enough for that?”

“You know what I mean,” You cut back in. “All I’m saying is that it’s a tough industry. You’re absolutely brilliant at what you do, Yoongi, but what if it’s not good enough for those people who think they’ll know what’s best for you? What if they tell you to do something you don’t want to do?”

“Those things will only really mean something if the group can actually survive past debut,” Yoongi drops, the light-heartedness in his tone clearly trying to keep the conversation casual.

The thought of Yoongi’s group not thriving past debut, in spite of your worries, is enough to get you to shake your head furiously at that. “Don’t say things like that,” You interject. “It’s not an if situation. It’s a when. When your group makes it past debut.” You sigh. “I don’t want you to lose sight of who you are, or lose the passion that makes you so lovable. I just, I don’t want you to lose your way.”

“Hey…” Yoongi says calmly, resting his hands on your shoulders, continuing to maintain that eye-to-eye contact before his lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles when you turn to look at him. “I won’t lose my way, okay? In a year, I’ll be the exact same person I am right now. I’m always going to love music and I won’t forget that. You’ll still be my number one priority—don’t forget that.”

As soon as he reaches out to press one hand against your cheek, you close your eyes to lose yourself in the gravity of his touch. Just like when you accepted his first offer for coffee, you dare yourself to believe in the hopefulness and the promise of another person. “I won’t.”

When Yoongi unlocks the door to your apartment the following day, you’re in the middle of cooking dinner—his favorite, to continue the celebration of his recruitment acceptance to try and keep the atmosphere light—and he looks positively ecstatic. “Baby!” He greets cheerfully, kicking the door shut and immediately making his way towards the kitchen. “Babe!”

Before you could call back to him over your shoulder, you find yourself being whirled around. Wooden spoon still in hand, apron tied across your waist, you barely catch sight of Yoongi’s eyes glinting with excitement before he leans in to plant a firm kiss against your mouth. Much like most kisses you share with Yoongi, it makes your head spin and you can’t suppress the hum of surprise.

He pulls back way too soon, but he looks like such an uncontained puppy that you have to laugh. “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh Y/N, it’s great!” He breathes out. “The label is great, the guys are great, everything is just… it’s so great. Everyone is super nice and friendly and funny—I think we’re all going to get along fine.”

“Well, that’s really awesome to hear,” You return, turning around to flip off the shove. “I want to hear all about it.”

So Yoongi talks, talks much more and strings together way more words than you’re ever use to hearing from him. He tells you about Big Hit studios and the manager and the friendly and positive energy everyone seemed to give off.

He tells you about the boys as well as all their backgrounds—one a student at University to study acting, another with the same background of underground rap but with a few tracks to add to his name. There’s a boy with a heavy influence of street dancing, another in school with a top mark in modern dance. One boy auditioned in the same city as Yoongi—the stage name takes on a singular letter of the alphabet you cannot remember—while the youngest member was casted by multiple agencies before finally settling on Big Hit. It’s an impressive track list, you won’t lie, but it’s his smile and the enthusiastic pitch in every drop of word coming out of his mouth that washes away a good portion of your original worries and doubts.

And besides, you trust Yoongi a lot more than you would ever even begin to trust yourself, and you believe that if things would go bad with his career, he would definitely find a way around that situation in whatever form that could take.

“It sounds like the group definitely has the potential to do some amazing things,” You say, stirring the stew in your bowl before taking another spoonful.

“Mm, I really hope so,” Yoongi exclaims, finishing up the rest in his own bowl. “Everyone is super talented. I can’t wait to get started.”

You stare openly at him across the table, subjecting yourself to a brief flashback of the auditions just weeks before. Yoongi had sacrificed a lot of sleep, a lot of missed meals, a lot of time away from you to make sure everything he did and everything he could possibly show to the label would be enough. You don’t even want to begin about what the next few months could possibly have in store for your boyfriend.

Training for debut starts the following week, and it’s like all those auditions are virtually nothing compared to the life a trainee goes through—everything seems to be increased tenfold and you think a large part of that has to do with the contract Yoongi signs at the beginning. Instead of seeing him five days a week, you only see him two times—on the weekends. And even those times are set aside for Yoongi to sleep or eat something of substance. He refuses to tell you his diet throughout the week, although you can only assume it cannot be good.

For first two weeks go by without too much trouble. Yoongi tries his best to text you throughout the day to update you on every little thing and activity he’s subjected to, whether it be hours of vocal training or dance practices—the latter of which he insists repeatedly are the hardest, although a few of the boys pick up choreography a lot quicker and are very open to the request of teaching him.

His once positive attitude diffuses into something you’re not entirely sure how to categorize yet. It feels a bit like normalcy with a mixture of exhaustion and acceptance that this has now become Yoongi’s life. He’s never been too vocal about his thoughts, only when he’s too angry, too happy, or too depressed about something—only this time it leaves you with a much more worried combination brewing in the pit your stomach. You long to say something to him, even though it’s only been a few weeks and you know Yoongi would simply brush you off with the assurance that he was doing fine, and all of the things his label was putting him up with was nothing he couldn’t shoulder on his own.

So you let it go, pretending it doesn’t hurt you when you cook Yoongi’s favorite meal, only to be told that it was something he couldn’t consume anymore, or when you would stay up late to hear about his day only to get a text that he had to stay late for additional dance training the label insisted he needed. You use to think that there was no possible way dance and vocal training could be enough weight to fill the gap of a 24 hour day and yet here you were, living through it every time he dropped by late or just didn’t even bother showing up.

But it’s not until he goes through a full week of not texting you that you start to latch onto the fact that there might really be a problem going on with your boyfriend. You’ve counted out the two months since training started, refusing to hide behind the mental excuse that Yoongi was ‘just busy’ all the time—too busy to eat or sleep or text you back or return any of your calls—no one could be too busy for a priority. And even though you don’t want to be the type of girlfriend who went mad or over thought everything from a simple text message (or lack thereof), you needed to hear something from him. Anything. Just a hi i’m doing ok would be more than anything to reassure your anxiety and worry.

So when Yoongi goes to your apartment (or, more like stumbles through) at 6:00 on a Saturday morning, you bolt up from the couch so quickly that Yoongi actually jumps up in surprise. “Y/N, hi,” He greets, and you frown at how dry his voice sounds.

Without a word, you go into the kitchen to grab a fill of mug. You return back to hand it to him. “You look like you didn’t sleep last night,” You say, trying to keep your tone light-hearted although you realize for the first time that it hurts to have to report these things so casually when all you really want to do is just tell Yoongi to take care of himself. You’ve trained yourself through the years to keep your mouth shut in fear of saying something that wouldn’t report back well, but you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

“I didn’t,” He answers back, taking a drink of the water before letting out a relieved ah! He puts the mug down on the table. “What are you doing up so early anyways?”

“I was waiting for you,” You reply softly. “I needed to make sure you were doing okay.”

In spite of the exhaustion so clearly eating away at his features, he takes in a breath and it’s enough for him to muster the smallest of smiles. “Thanks,” He grumbles, curling an arm around your waist to pull you in, hug you tightly at you relish at this. It’s been weeks since he’s let down his walls around you, remained awake long enough to hold you so softly and you return it with as much force as you could possibly give back. “It’s just tiring—but I can handle it.”

“You know that if something goes wrong, you can always talk to me about them,” You whisper, craning your neck up to look at him. “I really don’t mind. I want you to talk to me about this kind of stuff.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He says, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead before pulling back and staggering his way to your room. You watch him so, agreeing to keep your mouth shut as you return back to the kitchen and you wonder how long it’ll take before you finally snap.

Frustrated and angry Yoongi is definitely a force to reckon with. You like to think you’ve known the boy long enough to understand the degree of which certain episodes could drive him to a state of complete and utter madness. Sometimes, it’s always frightening and so uncharacteristic where his irritation could take him—his mind could take him to a variety of different shades of unfamiliarity that you’ve learned to either stay away from or just take whatever he’s throwing at you. Figuratively, of course, you know Yoongi would never start throwing physical objects out of anger.

When Yoongi is suffering from his sessions of impatience and annoyance he can either get really quiet or really assertive—the latter of which could take on a variety of different forms, whether it be during arguments or work outs or other means of blowing off steam. Much like today.

“Y-Yoongi!” You cry out, gripping the blankets underneath you with one hand as Yoongi drills into you from behind, both of you laying on your side as he takes your leg with one hand and lifts it higher into the air to reach deeper into you. The sensation has you rolling your eyes in ecstasy as he hits the part inside of you that he knows will get you to whine and buck your hips—which you do. “Oh god, Yoongi, that feels so good.”

The boy behind you doesn’t say anything, he merely grits his teeth and focuses on pounding you, the sound of skin on skin making your toes curl up and you feel the release approaching quickly. Yoongi can probably tell where you are, because he grazes your ear with his teeth. “You close?” He whispers, the breath against the shell of your ear sending shivers up your spine. “Are you gonna cum all over me? Clench your walls around my cock?”

“Oh my god,” You whimper. Although you aren’t entirely use to his filthy talk, you find that you take a lot of pleasure in it when he decides to play that card. “Yes—yes—I’m close, I’m so close—mm!”

In the haze of pleasure swimming around in your mind, you almost forget that this is what Yoongi does when he’s upset about something, or irritated about a problem not going his way. Most of these things never directly involve you, which is why he always deems is appropriate to take certain frustrations out on you and your body. Usually, you never mind the roughness that comes with an assertive and more dominate Yoongi, you actually find it a major turn on and you’ve reported that to him before.

But it still doesn’t remove the fact that there’s something wrong, that Yoongi is hurting underneath all those layers of passion and aggression.

Your release hits you the way it usually does when Yoongi is this way—full force in a way that gets you to writhe in front of him, trying to pull yourself from Yoongi to ride out the rest of your release. But Yoongi doesn’t let up. He tightens his fingers around your ankle, the other hand remains firmly planted against your waist as he desperately attempts to chase his own high. He ignores your screams, your cries, your pleads to stop until he feels his white seeds shoot up into you.

He pulls out of you with a groan and you find yourself sighing in content, mostly because it’s been way too long since you’ve had Yoongi to yourself for an entire night, and a Thursday night of all times. Maybe he just missed you as much as you had with him, and wanted to take the first ten minutes of seeing you to showcase that. Maybe this has nothing to do with his irritation and the group, given that’s all what seems to be anything from Yoongi for the past few months—!

“Hey, I have to go.”

You feel your heart drop at the statement before your mind can process the implication of what Yoongi is telling you. “W-What?” You say, craning your neck back slightly to look at the boy behind you.

At least Yoongi has the decency to look apologetic, furrowing his eyebrows together as he just starts to catch his breath. “I have vocal practices.”

Without bothering to offer last minute words of comfort to your suddenly aching heart, he pulls away from you, taking all his warmth away as he rolls across the bed to the other side to grab his clothes.

Even though you try to reason in your mind that this most certainly couldn’t have been Yoongi’s fault that the time he gets to spend with you is always cut short in light of his training and preparation for debut—which is fast approaching. But given the content of the situation, in which he has essentially only returned back to you with the promise of quick and consensual sex, leaves you feeling numb and used. “O-Oh,” You manage, fully aware of the tightness in your throat. “I didn’t know about that.”

“S’okay,” Yoongi says, his voice slightly muffled by the t-shirt. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” You press, not wanting to sound like you’re expecting too much out of him, but you’re tired of smiling and pretending like nothing has changed between the two of you—like he hasn’t changed. You follow after him, throwing on a shirt and your underwear. “If you told me I would have… we could have done something different.”

“I said it’s fine,” He interjects. “I wanted to come over. Besides, we haven’t… been physical in awhile.”

“Yes but you just came back to me for sex!” You exclaim. “Something’s bothering you, Yoongi, and I want you to tell me what it is!”

“Why would you automatically assume that something is wrong with me so that I have to come crawling back to you?” He asks back, voice rapidly approaching the sort of tone he only reserved for cases in which you wouldn’t dare ask another question or else. “Do you really think so lowly of me?”

“Of course not,” You say. “You just, you haven’t been yourself for the past few weeks. I don’t want to just let out your aggression on me and walk away like everything is perfectly fine. I want you to talk to me about things like this! I’m your girlfriend, I want to help you!”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your help!” He snaps, and you sharply inhale a breath—eyes widening because Yoongi ever snaps at anyone, much less snaps at you and it feels like a sting in your heart. All the previous casual bantering has immediately faded from the room, leaving only the suffocating air of tension behind. “You think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t okay? Stop pretending that you do! Don’t you get it? I need to do well with this group, it’s the only thing I have to succeed! I need this, okay? I need this so bad—I want it so badly, okay? So stop acting like all high and mighty like you’re some fucking saint or something—!”

“Get out.”

He blinks, straightening slightly. “What?”

You grit your teeth together, eyes hardening in spite of your own vision becoming blurry with tears of sadness, hopelessly, and frustration all meshed together in one form of liquid humiliation. “I’m telling you to leave—you don’t have to fucking yell at me to prove a point, okay? I’m trying to be understanding about what you’re going through—I’m trying so fucking hard to understand. But if that’s not good enough for you then get out. If that group is what you need to be happy right now then go! I won’t stop you.”

Yoongi is quiet for a moment, you can see him clenching his grip around the jacket bundled up in his hands before he turns on his heel very slowly to reach for the door to the bedroom. But he whirls back around to face you quickly. “No way,” He says. “I’m not leaving—we’re mad at each other, we need to sort this out.”

“What’s there to sort out?” You snap, refusing to let down your defensive walls in spite of Yoongi trying to go back to being the understanding boyfriend. “I want you to take care of yourself and you want to be happy—god forbid those have started to become two different things entirely!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what you want me to do. This is my job, Y/N, I can’t just start changing things around! I could lose everything!”

“You’ll still have me!” You exclaim wildly, throwing your hands up in the air as you desperately wedge out the only argument you could possibly have against Yoongi’s mindless following of these stupid rules for stupid trainees in this stupid industry. “You’ll still have me, you fucking moron! Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He’s quiet for a beat too second, but it’s more than enough for an answer for you.

“Get out.”

“Y/N, of course it does, it’s just—!”

“Get—out!” You snarl. “Clearly this isn’t as important as your stupid vocal practices, okay? I get it. Just leave.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Fine—you’ve never listened to anything I’ve had to say since this whole thing started anyways.”

It’s a low blow, a really really low blow on Yoongi’s part, taking your gentle ‘sounds like they’re putting you through a lot’ comments from previous conversations a bit too far. Still, he ignores you as he makes his way to the living room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

You run a hand through your hair, wondering just what on earth you were going to do with this stupid boy your stupid heart still longed for in every possible way.

Six months later finds you sitting on the couch, a nice dress resting upon your figure as you idly run the heel of your shoes along the carpet underneath you. You’ve long since lost your appetite for the meal you’ve made a reservation under—not like they would have kept your table after so many hours anyways.

However, in spite of this, you find yourself unable to move to change out of this humiliation of being stood up. By your own boyfriend. On your three year anniversary.

You blink away the next ongoing tears of frustration building up behind your eyes, the hopefulness you felt in the beginning of the evening and the foolish reassurance you tried to build up for yourself going down in flames as you check the clock resting upon the wall. It’s nearing midnight now, meaning that Yoongi should be returning back—you know, if he even bothered to care anymore.

You’re just beginning to slip out of the high heels before you can hear the unlocking of keys in a lock on the other side before the door opens to reveal Yoongi. The boy looks even more beat up and exhausted than ever, his hair sticking up in all directions and eyes small with tiredness. For a moment, you still and you find that your heart longs for him. You almost think it won’t be too late, that you could try to rewrite the speech you’ve had planned in the very instance that Yoongi showed up at this hour.

The words, however, slip out before you could even bother to try and stop them completely. “You’re late.”

Yoongi stills, turning his head and his eyes still momentarily to drink up your figure in a tight black dress—just the way you know he likes it. With a groan, he turns and bumps his head against the door. “Shit. Y/N, I’m just… I’m—!”

“You’re sorry?” You fill in, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

He slams the door shut with more force than necessary. “Fuck Y/N, what do you want me to do?”

You take in a breath. “Yoongi, I’ve tried to be understanding about this whole thing. I told myself it was okay when you stopped answering my texts and calls. I told myself it was normal when you started coming by only to have sex with me before running off again. I told myself that somewhere in the busy life you attend to now, that I was still your number one priority and even though you stopped having time for me you still thought about me in that beautiful, brilliant mind of yours. But not today. All I wanted from you was this one evening—and I told you weeks in advance. I took charge of everything, I made the reservations and asked your label for the day off early. But you still didn’t show up.”

Yoongi sighs because he knows what you’re talking about. During the past few months, you have been nothing but understanding and patient, never asking for anything in return for all those moments he treated you like absolute shit. All you wanted was one evening. And he couldn’t even give you that.

He loves what he does a whole lot—just as much as he loves for you, even though they take up such opposing sides of his life.

He suddenly becomes outweighed by exhaustion, leaving behind only a shell of Yoongi. “I’m sorry Y/N,” He whispers, sounding so genuine and real and pained for the first time in months that you still. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a dick to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” You say back, not stopping Yoongi when he crosses the room to take a seat on your couch. “Just… promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Please.”

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small groan but you can feel the resistance starting to tug back up in his mind. “I—I don’t know Y/N.”

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe maybe it still won’t be too late. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “What?” He whispers, a sudden longing his voice that implies he has already heard you loud and clear—but wants to make sure you’re certain.

And even though you really aren’t certain, because you know you would always have a Yoongi-shape cutout in your heart, and he’ll always be apart of you, you swallow thickly to give yourself some courage. “I said I can’t do this anymore. I can’t just sit around and watch you torture yourself this way.”

“Y/N, I—what? What are you trying to say?”

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

The silence is so tense that you could probably grab a butter knife and still have trouble cutting through the air as you stare at Yoongi and Yoongi stares back at you and it feels all wrong and it hurts and aches inside of you. The last thing that you’ve ever wanted to do was end things with Yoongi, especially in such a messy way, especially when you still love him and your heart still beat for him, but while it hurts to try and let go of him, it hurts a hell of a lot more to watch him subject himself like this to a life he couldn’t even guarantee yet.

And Yoongi is quiet, so very quiet and unsettled, his eyes blow up and wild as he stares at you like he is a lost and lonely puppy who no longer knows who he is or where he is going. You try to plead with him with your eyes, you try to tell yourself that this might just be for the best.

“Fine,” He says after what you think is the longest minute of your life. He straightens off your couch, and you try to pretend the night is too palpable that you can’t see the tears foaming in his eyes—that he can’t see your own tears, and you let out a choked sob as soon as Yoongi shuts the door quietly behind him.

You press your hand to your mouth to muffle the noises escaping the back of your throat, trying to tell yourself over and over again like a mantra that it’s for the best, that this pain will learn to fade away.

You never thought it would ache this much to try and say goodbye—where’s the good in it?

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | epilogue

#yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi x you #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts smut #traci writes #repost: workofteaguk

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mercyprevaild · 3 years ago

Note

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep? 💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with? 🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

🌺 HIBISCUS - do they have any allergies?

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favourite season? why?

🍃 FALLING LEAF - do they enjoy being in nature? what is their favourite outdoor activity? 🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

👊 PUNCH - are they quick to violence?

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

Fight mode typically but sometimes he does neither. He freezes.

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

Depends on the day. Peace and quiet helps him sleep, as well as having someone beside him, and having his hair played with.

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

All... all of them to some degree. Except happiness. But his negative emotions are difficult to deal with. Anger and sadness have always been a struggle for him but he became pretty disciplined in handling those two things specifically, especially his anger. He got it under control and learned how to express it correctly and to harness it. Sadness though? He's never been good with it.

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

His temper can be really bad, but it usually takes certain situations or certain triggers. If he's been taking on a lot of stress, then his anger can be pretty explosive but otherwise he's in control of it.

🌺 HIBISCUS - do they have any allergies?

Not really anything he has to worry about? But I like to think he's super allergic to poison ivy and oak and stuff like that.

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favourite season? why?

Rick loves spring and summer. He is at his happiest when nature is in bloom and everything is warm and green and he can be outside.

🍃 FALLING LEAF - do they enjoy being in nature? what is their favourite outdoor activity?

Answered!

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Answered!

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

Emotional pain makes him cry. Whether it be born of anger or fear or sadness, if it hurts him emotionally then he will likely shed tears. I wouldn't say he cries all the time, but during the most stressful situations, especially if they are prolonged then he might cry more often.

However, he does try to keep this to himself and he doesn't cry like an infant. It's just tears and he does everything he can to get himself under control.

👊 PUNCH - are they quick to violence?

Sometimes, yes. But Rick honestly believes that violence is not the answer to most situations so even when his first instinct is to punch someone, he will try a different approach. Unfortunately, it's pretty often that his first instinct is to punch someone who pisses him off.

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Answered!

#thanks!!#✪. character study

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chinamimiyanagi · 8 years ago

Text

Dahlia and Iris: A look into sibling relationships, trust, & secrets.

Dahlia and Iris are some of the most infamous twins in video game history. They’re commented as “partners in crime,” while Iris blindly supports Dahlia in everything she does. They’re seen as polar opposites, or simply put, evil and nice. However, that is not the entire story.

People seem to think Dahlia Hawthorne hated Iris. She’s portrayed as someone who simply uses her sister as a pawn in her game. She’s portrayed as despising her sister, treating her badly, and sending her off because she’s a nuisance. Yet, a simple play through of the third game can prove this as incorrect.

So why is Dahlia portrayed as hating her sister? Why is Iris constantly painted as jealous, and vengeful, not forgiving her sister? And what’s the truth behind their relationship?

This is a two part post, which will be exploring:

Dahlia’s Views. Dahlia never straightforward says how she feels about her sister, however, while she’s in disguise as Iris, she reveals more than she would as herself.

Iris’s Views. Iris straightforward admits how she feels about her sister. Why she helped commit the murder, how she felt about Dahlia as a person, and how she felt she could have helped.

A note: This is my second Dahlia meta, I explore Dahlia’s motive, reasoning, and life of abuse in a previous post, which can be found HERE.

I also understand that this is not everybody’s interpretation, however, I feel it is important to realize that Dahlia willingly admits how she feels about Iris, yet she’s still written off as negligent and selfish, not caring about her sister. I’m here to explore that. This is not a debate, but simply my interpretation of evidence found in the actual gameplay.

Part 1: Dahlia’s Point of View.

In order to understand what Dahlia says about Iris, it’s important to first understand the timeline of the game. During the second day of investigation, there is an earthquake and in Edgeworth’s short moment of weakness due to PTSD, Iris immediately goes to the inner temple to make sure it hasn’t collapsed and Phoenix shortly follows. Here he runs into, who the player and he both believe, Iris. However, later in the game it is revealed that during that time, Iris and Dahlia (inhabiting Maya’s body) have changed places- Dahlia is now speaking to Phoenix, while Iris is the one locked inside. Now that the timeline is established, we can now see Dahlia is the one who speaks to him about her and Iris’s relationship, not Iris.

Dahlia admits in court that she only ever cares about herself, and in the end died for herself as well. However, this contradicts what she says to Phoenix in the Inner temple that day.

Dahlia begins by explaining the fake kidnapping plot. She talks about how they established this plot as a way to get back at their father who doesn’t care about them. In fact, it’s stated plainly within the game, “Dahlia did not steal the gem for the money. She did it to get revenge on our father and the way he treated us.” Simply stated, Dahlia herself admits to the way she was abused and treated at home, and how Iris agreed to help her get back at both their father, and Terry Fawles, a pedophile. Dahlia then goes on to talk about how their mother didn’t care about them, and instead planned a plot for revenge for the main family. This is then repeated in court once she’s shown to be inhabiting Maya’s body.

She then goes onto explain how she felt betrayed. The quote from the game is, “[Iris’s] betrayal is the reason [Dahlia] started this life of crime, if [Iris] didn’t let her down then…” Don’t forget that Dahlia is pretending to be Iris here. This simple sentence reveals a lot. Dahlia herself admits to Iris being a cause of all the crimes she committed. She feels that Iris betrayed her, and that if they had communicated better, than she would have never began this life of crime. She also states during this time that, “My sister always does the right thing.” While Dahlia is upset that Iris betrayed her, she doesn’t have any ill will toward her. She knows what Iris did was right, and honestly believes that.

It’s possible to be mad at your sibling while still loving them, in fact, this isn’t unusual. While Dahlia feels like she was betrayed by Iris, and knows deep down that if the kidnapping at the bridge worked out correctly, or even didn’t happen in the first place, Dahlia would not have had this string of crimes.

Dahlia being dressed as Iris allows her to become vulnerable, and truthful. She knows Iris is very open and honest, unlike herself. She uses the opportunity in the Inner Temple as a way to explain to Phoenix, and almost pseudo apologize for what she’s done.

Later on in the game, Dahlia also admits more telling things while she’s on the witness stand as herself. While yes, she is selfish, she’s proven to not actually only care about herself. While talking about her mother, Dahlia begins to talk about how she felt about Pearl, she states, “Morgan Fey heaped all of her broken hopes and dreams onto that poor child’s back.” If Dahlia truly had no morals and didn’t care about anybody but herself, she wouldn’t have felt sorry for Pearl Fey. While this doesn’t seem to have much relation to Iris, it’s important in showing that she cares for others, even if she won’t willingly admit it.

The most important aspect to consider when realizing the way Dahlia felt about Iris is to examine the way that Dahlia sent her away. When Mr. Hawthorne remarries and gains Valerie as a stepchild, Dahlia admits to sending Iris away because “she’s a nuisance” however, shortly thereafter she states, “My father had absolutely no interest in children in general.” Did Dahlia truly send Iris away because she was a nuisance? Or was there a truly deeper meaning? Later on Iris admits she’s not only thankful to Dahlia, but how she felt sorry for her and was glad to have Bikini in her life, otherwise she wasn’t sure if she would end up like Dahlia as well. I’ll explore this later when we talk about how Iris feels about Dahlia.

Even as Iris is in Hazakura, Dahlia is shown to keep in contact with her. Iris, while on the witness stand, admits that the only time Dahlia had not contacted her with one of her plans about her crimes was when she met Phoenix in order to kill him. If Dahlia truly considered Iris a nuisance, and wanted to get rid of her, isn’t it strange that she would keep contact with her? Especially to talk about something that requires that much trust between the two of them? Dahlia knew Iris could have easily turned Dahlia in because of her confession, yet, she continued to keep in contact and talk about her plans with her, which obviously shows that Dahlia trusted her sister. Iris later admits that she was pretending to be Dahlia for eight months. In order to do something like that, they would have to remain in contact. If Dahlia truly didn’t care about Iris, she would have acted on her own, leaving out her “partner in crime.”

While Dahlia is not good at admitting her feelings, and is a cold, closed off person, a simple look at the dialogue within the game can show that she truly, deeply, cares about her sister.

Part 2: Iris’s Point of View.

Iris’s view on Dahlia is much easier to see. In fact, Iris admits very plainly and honestly, “I’ve always loved her.” Yet, she’s still painted as hating her sister and holding vengeance.

This is strange, because before that she even states, “I felt sorry for her. She was abandoned by our mother and never got any love from our father either.” Phoenix then goes onto ask her why that mattered, when she had the same situation, and her response is simply explaining that she had Sister Bikini, who always treated her like a mother – a true mother, one who spent her time supporting Iris. This is interesting, because like stated above, Dahlia is the one who sent Iris off to Hazakura to begin with. It could be argued that in doing this, Dahlia saved Iris from ending up as a revenge driven, bitter woman like Dahlia was.

Either way, Iris plainly admits to not only feeling sorry for Dahlia, but loving her. She also says that “Dahlia was always so smart, so strong… She never complained about a thing.” She idolizes her sister, and looks up to her as strong. She seems to hate the environment Dahlia was raised in, lost and confused, or even abandoned in a sense. Iris is optimistic and kind to Dahlia, who’s trapped in her constant cycle of loneliness and maltreatment.

Iris also admits to always talking to Dahlia about their plans. The kidnapping on the bridge, poisoning Terry Fawles, poisoning Diego Armando. Iris herself states that the only time Dahlia hadn’t contacted her about one of her plans was the time that she was willing to kill Phoenix. She admits that Dahlia was ultimately trying to keep Iris safe in doing so, because if she knew Dahlia was planning on killing Phoenix, Iris would have stopped her and it’s “her life or mine.” Meaning, Iris and Dahlia knew each other well enough for Dahlia to pick up on not only the fact that Iris had grown to fall in love with Phoenix, but that she would hurt herself in the process of trying to protect him. So, she did a first, she carried out a plan on her own, without telling her sister, just to keep her from getting hurt.

It’s also strange that Iris, who “always does the right thing” never once turned Dahlia in when she came to her with her plans. If Iris truly didn’t like her sister, she very easily could have turned in Dahlia when she admitted all of her plans to Iris. Yet, Iris didn’t. She cared about Dahlia enough to listen, and to simply support Dahlia. Also important to note is that Bikini admits to Iris having a cell phone, even though the mountain doesn’t get great signal. Dahlia calls Iris on a cell phone, even though they’re quite a distance away. Iris and Dahlia keeping in contact after being separated is interesting, because it shows that not only did they want to stay in contact, but that they trusted each other enough to do so.

Even the simple fact that Dahlia allowed Iris to see Phoenix for eight months is enough proof that they cared about each other. Dahlia isn’t patient, she’s selfish, and vengeful. Yet, she allows Iris to see Phoenix for eight months. Especially since Iris states that she had things prepared for a while. If Dahlia could have killed Phoenix so quickly, and so effortlessly, why did she seem to wait for so long? She trusted Iris, she wanted to give her a chance to redeem herself, after she felt so betrayed from the fake kidnapping.

Iris is much more open with how she feels about Dahlia. She feels sorry for her situation, and cares about her sister. She even simply states that she loves her. Iris’s entire personality is kind and caring, even going so far as to treat Phoenix well for those eight months that he knew all along Dahlia and Iris were different people. So why are people so quick to write her off as hating Dahlia?

Closing, or, TL;DR:

While Dahlia isn’t a very open person, it’s obvious she cares about her sister.

Iris is Dahlia’s support in a world that constantly seems to be out to get her. Yet, despite all this, Iris keeps her head high and does her best to remain optimistic and help be the light Dahlia needs. The two have a symbiotic relationship, while Dahlia is given support, Iris is given the comfort and safety that things could always be worse.

The two of them have an interesting dynamic that seems to be overlooked, even though Iris has a large part in Dahlia’s childhood. Dahlia sent Iris away, and as a result, Iris remained kind while Dahlia’s paranoia and lack of a support caused her to spiral deeper and deeper into crime.

Yet, despite all this, Iris looks up to Dahlia, calls her strong, and smart, and even goes on to admit that she always loved her. Dahlia says Iris always does the right thing, and while she felt betrayed, she knew deep down how much Iris meant to her.

#dahlia hawthorne #ace attorney #iris fey #iris hawthorne #sister iris #mine*

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kpopfanfictrash · 8 years ago

Text

Addewid (III)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,779

Summary: “You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

Her words nearly make me drop my clothing - I catch it just in time. “He… what?” I sputter, not sure I heard correctly.

“He healed you,” she says, looking over at me. “You’re lucky not to have lost a foot. Healing is a power I haven’t seen the Master use since… well.” The woman falls silent. “It’s been a long time.”

A long silence settles over the room. “Dinner is in two hours?” I manage.

The woman’s smile returns as she smooths out the comforter. “Dinner is in two hours.”

III - The Dinner

There are doors everywhere. The door to my room. The one at the end of the hall. The ones I stand before now, struggling to gather courage to enter. My hands smooth the cerulean dress I’ve been forced to wear, frowning at the way my fingertips flutter.

I can do this. I can walk into this room, face my captor and … then? I don’t know what happens after. The concept of eternity isn’t something I’ve ever had to think about. Or rather, only as a far off concept which never applied to me. Before today, time was not something I could touch. Not something which could touch me, snaking cold fingers around my spine.

Now that it can, I can’t say I find its notion altogether pleasant. I’ve heard stories about poor humans who’ve wandered into Faery and never returned. Eaten alive or dissected, some gone mad in seconds. Then there are those who’ve managed to leave Faery only to end up leaving something of themselves behind. Their sanity, their being, themselves.

The stories of humans in Faery never end happily. Sometimes the human returns only to find time has not passed in the human world. Or one hundred years have gone on and they’re still the same age they left at. Either way, I’ve never heard of a happy ending to a Faery tale.

I suppose I’ll have to add my own story to those ranks now.

Which is why I continue to stare at the doors. My hand won’t lift to open them which may be stupid, considering I’m already inside. I’m already deep in my own story, no foreseeable way out. Why should opening this door change anything? And yet I’m terrified of what comes next.

Prince Kai, an Unseelie Lord – at least, I presume this based off title and everyone here calling him Master. The Unseelie are known to be cold, ruthless beings – the Lords and Ladies especially. It’s why I’ve called Kai an it in my mind since our first meeting. Or have I? It’s all a bit confusing since he decided to save my life.

Something he didn’t have to do, but did anyways. From what the woman in my bedroom said, him healing is a bit of an unusual occurrence.

Why did he, then? Why would this otherworldly creature kidnap me, only to save my life? The question brings to mind only terrible conclusions, so here I stand. Pausing before heavy doors.

Door which fling inwards without my touching them. I stumble backwards, seeing Prince Kai on the other side. “You’re late,” he says, turning abruptly to walk away.

The doors are left open, and I stand awkwardly there before gathering my courage to enter. They shut when I step inside, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet space. Kai looks up as they close, features lit by the fireplace behind him.

The table he sits at is long, elegantly set. I understand now why the woman insisted I wear a dress. It occurs to me then that I never asked her name – an oversight I’ll have to fix later. The room is warm despite the night outside being thick with frost. It ghosts the window panes, crystallizing the view and enclosing me even further in this strange place.

Slowly, I step forward.

“Sit.” Kai looks up from the head, hand snaked loosely around the stem of his goblet. His face is immobile, though he continues to stare in my direction.

I remain upright. “I prefer to stand.”

Kai blinks. I assume this is the immortal equivalent to one rolling his eyes. “Must everything be a battle with you?”

“Yes.” I nod. “It makes me feel as though I have a choice.”

At this, his expression falters. This surprises me - I would have thought him immune to my sarcasm.

“Sit.” After a long pause, Kai adds, “Please.”

Without looking away, I sit.

“Thank you,” Kai allows, taking a sip of whatever’s in his glass.

I scan the table. It’s beautifully set – whomever did this has an incredible eye for detail. From embroidered napkins to beautifully polished silver, it’s extravagant to say the least. Reaching for my glass, I lift it to scrutinize its depths.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Startled, I look up to find Kai watching. I set the glass back down. “If there’s one way to convince me it’s poisoned, it’s to tell me that it’s not.”

Slowly, he smiles. “Interesting. Most humans labor under the impression that the Fey cannot tell lies.”

“Right,” I snort. “And most think that climate change is a conspiracy.”

Kai’s forehead wrinkles. “Climate change?”

“Ah. Never mind.” Raising the glass to my lips, I take a sip. The drink is wonderful. Fizzy and sweet without being overpowering. Though the glass is cold, the liquid warms my veins on the way down. The sudden sensation widens my eyes.

Kai watches me with raised brows. “Careful,” he warns. “Don’t drink too much. Humans have lost their minds for less.”

Eyes darting towards the half-drained glass in my hand, I swallow. “Noted.”

“So.” From the head of the table, Kai lifts his head. “You know we can lie. What else do you know?”

I set my goblet back down. “I know what was in my father’s anthology.”

Kai’s expression darkens. “So when I was taking your father away,” he says, voice dangerously soft. “When I left you behind, you actually had full knowledge of everything I was attempting to hide?”

At his irritation, I hide my smile. “Yes.”

The Prince mutters words I don’t recognize. He resumes his glare as a second door to the room opens, one I hadn’t noticed before. A new fairy enters - this one younger, male. He carries a giant tray which he sets on a smaller table, removing two plates for the table.

“Thank you,” Kai nods. Waiting until the man leaves before turning back to me. “I don’t understand you.”

That’s not what I expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

“You had the upper hand,” Kai explains. “You could have let me take your father and then done exactly as you threatened – used the anthology to hurt us all. Why didn’t you?”

His question hangs in the air, bringing me back to that moment. Bringing me back to Kai disappearing into the forest with my father, that moment when I saw the panic in his eyes, the look of terror on his face and something inside me just snapped.

“I - ” The words stop, unsure how to proceed. “My father is gentle,” I end up saying.

This confuses Kai further. “And you are not?”

“Let’s just say I don’t labor under the the same disillusions he does.”

Kai considers this. “And you thought you’d be better able to bear this than he?”

Slowly, I nod.

“It seems we’re back where we started, then. I don’t understand you.”

I don’t know whether to feel amused or saddened by this. The Prince’s expression is confusing as well – longing, mixed with a blank sort of unhappiness. I end up leaning forward in my gilded chair. “I love my father,” I say. “Enough to want to spare him, even if that means harm to myself.”

Kai blinks, though this time I don’t believe it’s in place of rolling his eyes. “Ah.”

Not knowing what else to say, I take a bite of the food before me. It’s hot, almost scalding as it passes my lips. I keep my eyes down as I chew, swallowing around the lump in my throat. Now that I’ve started I can’t stop thinking about my father. I wonder where he is, whether he misses me. Whether he’s taking care of himself.

I’ll likely never find out the answers to these questions. The thought turns the food to sandpaper in my mouth.

“We should discuss your living arrangements.” Kai’s tone is back to his usual brusqueness.

Midway to mouth, my fork freezes. “Are these not my living arrangements?”

“Yes,” Kai agrees. “And no.” He fails to meet my gaze. “I meant we should review the rules.”

“Rules?” I set down my fork. “There are more rules than: you are my slave, now and forever?”

Kai’s brow lowers. “I resent that,” he breathes. “This is as much a burden for me as it is for you.”

I lay my hands flat on the table. “I doubt that very much.”

Something shifts in the air, though the Prince doesn’t remove his gaze. “Perhaps,” he allows. “But now you are my charge. My ward. How, exactly did you phrase our deal? You would ‘follow me and never return’?”

Blushing, I look down at my plate. “My father phrased things that way, not I.”

“Well, he certainly had a flair for the dramatic.” Kai frowns. “Because of his words, you’re just going to follow me around Faery forever. Like a puppy.”

Adopting a simpering smile, I glance up at him. “You should just change the promise then. Release me and make another.”

For a second, you think he might. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes before Kai exhales a laugh. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’m not an imbecile. If I were to release you from your promise.” His eyes narrow. “I know you would not make another.”

“You never know. Try me.”

“I’d rather not.” Kai leans back in his chair. “You began the promise you offered and therefore cannot break it. Only the one you made the promise to can – and I won’t.”

I know this, yet it still churns my stomach. “Why not?”

“Next question.”

I glower at his annoyingly calm face. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Kai blinks back at me, surprised. “No one has ever called me that.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The corner of Kai’s mouth twitches, as though remembering the motion of a smile. One doesn’t appear on his lips though, and I quickly sink into my own thoughts.

“You can break the promise?” I ask, sorting through his words.

“There are certain... consequences attached to breaking Addewid.” Kai’s expression is somewhat cryptic.

“Like what?” Though I ask, I’m almost certain he won’t answer.

I watch Kai’s fingertips flutter over the utensils in an almost nervous gesture. I don’t think he’s going to continue but then he sighs, suddenly adding, “Any fairy who breaks Addewid is forced to offer another in return.”

“Another... promise?”

Kai looks up at me. “Yes. Were this Addewid to break, you could demand a promise in return. Any promise, and the breaker would have to grant it.”

I stare back from across the table. “Oh.”

Then his moment of honestly is suddenly gone and Kai resumes eating. “So,” he says, cutting a vegetable on his plate. “Back to the rules.”

I sip from my glass. Unlike most beverages, this doesn’t seem to dilute with time. “Do enlighten me.”

“You are not to leave the manor grounds.”

I look around us and frown. “But if you leave – wouldn’t I be compelled to leave as well? It only took a few minutes in the forest before I found myself back by your side.”

“Ah, right.” Kai looks away from me, slightly guilty. “About that. I lied.”

“You…” You can’t believe your ears. “You what?”

“You were quite far from me, actually. I just said you weren’t because I was angry and wanted to discourage you from running again. Likely, we can be apart but you won’t find yourself able to leave Faery.” Kai looks up to find me staring at him. “What?”

For a second, I’m too angry to respond. My hands tremble at my sides, useless below the table. “You lied?” I hiss, enraged.

“What did you expect?” His eyes glint in the firelight. “I’m Fey.”

The stoniness of my previous silence returns. “Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “A fact I won’t forget again.”

Silence falls, unbroken as we stare at one another. Kai doesn’t blink until I do, grasping my fork tightly in one hand. “I’m not hungry,” I declare, shoving my plate aside.

Kai’s lip twitches. “Because I lied? Odd, human.”

“One incident is not related to the other.”

He continues to seem amused. “No? And yet there’s a correlation between time and anger.”

I force my expression not to change. “I’m tired,” I say flatly. “It’s been a long day of humiliation and I’d like to go to sleep.”

The expression on Kai’s face disappears. “Fine,” he shrugs. “The rules. You are not to leave my grounds. You are not to answer the door. You are not to speak to anyone but the servants of my household.” His expression darkens as he stands. “You are not to go into the East Wing of the house. Those are my personal living quarters.”

“Fine,” I nod, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that all?”

Kai keeps his face carefully blank. “That’s all.”

“Good. I’ll leave, then.”

As I stand, the corner of my dress catches on my chair and I trip. Righting myself quickly before hurrying towards the door with crimson cheeks. From behind me Kai remains silent, politely ignoring the fact that I’m a clumsy human in a house of immortals.

I pause at the door, though. Debating with myself for a long moment before I turn to face him. “Prince Kai?”

Kai starts from where he stares at the fireplace, flames dancing across his porcelain features. “Yes?”

My hand falls from the door’s handle. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

Kai can no longer his his shock and turns, surprise evident on his face.

“Yes.” I nod. “You didn’t have to save me but you did. For that, I thank you.”

He blinks, unsure how to react. “I – you’re welcome.”

The moment feels uncomfortably warm and I force myself to turn away, opening the door to disappear down the hall. Kai makes no noise when I leave, either in protest or encouragement. For all I know he’s still standing there, staring into the flames with that unsettling gaze of his. Climbing the stairs to my bedroom, I’m unable to quell the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Don’t leave. Don’t speak with others. Don’t go where he says I can’t. Is this what the rest of my life will be like? The rest of my life. That thought is terrifying. I will be here for the rest of my life. Live, die. Never again seeing anything beyond these stone, cold walls.

My breath catches as I reach my room, choking me with heaviness. I collapse face first on my bed, hiding my body in my sheets as the first sobs find me. I know it’s cowardly, know it’s pointless but it’s also unavoidable. I find myself facing a void so deep, so dark there’s nothing to do left but cry. I no longer have the option of a happy ending.

It’s strange how most of the time we assume things will work themselves out. Resiliency, stupidity – humans are full of both. We tend to assume the world will go on turning, the sun will continue to rise but the end of the world can only happen once.

The end of my world is now.

Most people don’t wake up with the thought that this morning could be their last. At least, I didn’t. I woke up thinking that day what a bother it was to go to school. How dim-witted my fellow students were. I wished time would go faster, life would pass quicker. And now I’m realizing how foolish that was.

It’s striking how little attention I gave my world. Now that I’m trying, I can’t recall a single thing about my drive on my way to school. I took it all for granted. I suppose it takes losing things to see what you had.

Right now I have nothing. Nothing but the tears in my eyes and sheets on this bed. I suppose this is my bed – Kai said that it is. It doesn’t feel like mine, though. This is Kai’s, just as this deal is Kai’s. I do this only so that my father can be free – not so I can.

I belong to the monster now.

These are the dim, dark thoughts which run through my mind as I cry myself to sleep.

The next few days are spent in my room. Cooped up, staring out my window. This little window seat is one of the few places I like here. My room overlooks the gardens – if one can even call them that. Right now they’re slick with ice and snow, glimmering delicately as far as the eye can see.

There’s no movement in the gardens. Though I watch day and night, no one seems to walk in them. At least the snow there is always pristine, white and unbroken by footsteps.

The woman who dressed me that first day is named Muriel – she seems to be in charge of the general household. Taking care of everything Kai can’t be bothered to.

The male servant in the dining room is San. Or at least, that’s what I hear others call him. There’s a dozen or so servants living in Kai’s manor but most of them ignore me. They look but say nothing and I wonder if that’s because they’ve been told not to speak with me.

Or maybe it’s just they see what I see. Which is: a sullen, angry slip of a human whose eyes are red and whose hair falls limp and lackluster around her face. One who can’t be bothered to smile, let alone speak. I’m a ghost. Formless, thoughtless, floating between notions of my former self.

Kai doesn’t send for me after that dinner. It’s not that I want to see him, exactly – it’s just that he’s the only form of contact I have. It hurts, in an odd way that he avoids me. He wakes every morning and leaves for somewhere, returning each night well after nightfall. I only know this because I hear the occasional murmur of servants going to greet him. The stomp of his boots on the stairs, him hesitating outside my door. Each time I stare at the frame, wondering if he’ll enter - but he never does.

On my eleventh day in Faery, Muriel snaps. “Get up,” she says, bursting into my bedroom.

I squint from my bed, not moving. “No.”

“Get up, put on clothes and get out of this room. I need to clean.”

Glaring, I wrap my sheets tighter about myself. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Her eyes blaze as she snaps her fingers. “Yes, I can.” I yelp when my sheets lift, tumbling me onto the floor. “Now please,” she sighs. “Just get dressed.”

There’s compassion in her eyes, which makes me guilty. Muriel has been nothing but kind to me and slowly I stand, untangling heavy limbs from the floor. “Sorry,” I say as I push myself upwards.

Muriel shakes her head, though not in a mean way. “Get dressed,” she repeats, pointing towards the bathroom.

An hour later, I emerge feeling more human than before. It’s strange how just the getting dressed can make you feel alive. I remember reading a study once on how smiling releases dopamine in your blood stream. The conclusion being that just the act of happiness can make you happy.

I decide to test this. Tying my hair with ribbon when I can’t find a hair tie. Tugging a dress free from my wardrobe. It feels like I’m acting but somehow this makes it easier than before. At least now I can pretend I don’t have a past life. I can pretend not to have family. I can pretend I live here, in this mysterious manor by myself.

I step lightly traveling down the hall. Each room explored is similar to the last. Light, airy and completely at odds with my captor. I shake my head at each one, continuing on through the household. Wandering aimlessly until I find a set of closed doors.

I pause, studying their make. Pale wood of a kind I don’t recognize. The color is bone white and for a second I consider the morbid notion they might actually be bone but no – running my fingers over them, I feel the soft grain of wood. The doors are carved into patterns with no logical flow or movement. It creates an atmosphere of chaos and I stand there staring at them for more than a few moments before pushing inside.

The hallway beyond is quiet and as I step though, the doors shut behind me. I stare back before turning around, aware as I walk that I probably shouldn’t be here. The rooms are too still, the air too stifled. The whole place has the feeling of a museum, as though someone closed the doors once and locked the past inside.

I don’t look in the rooms, drifting aimlessly down the hall. Moving towards the one, very dark door at the end. It stands ajar, almost begging for someone to open it. There’s a light flickering from within which casts strange shadows on the walls.

I’m suddenly reminded of a story my dad used to tell. The legend of Bluebeard and his many wives. He was a noble who married many times, each of them disappearing one after the other until Bluebeard finally appeared on the step of a peasant’s home. He asked for the hand of his youngest daughter and refused to leave until he got his way.

Though the girl was terrified, Bluebeard turned out to be kind. Gentle. He gave her the keys to his castle and told her to go anywhere she liked – except for the cellar, which was forbidden. At first the girl was happy like this. Playing wife and enjoying the luxuries a noblewoman’s life had to offer. But day in and day out, the thought of the door gnawed at her, demanding until eventually she could bear it no longer.

The next time her husband left, she slipped down to the cellar. The door there was ajar so she held her breath as she pushed it open. The girl recoiled in horror when she saw what was within. There, hung from the walls, were all the bodies of his previous wives.

The girl screamed, tried to run - but Bluebeard was already there.

This is the story which comes to mind as I push open my door. My own scream dies when I recognize the shape of what’s inside.

A girl.

[Master List]

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