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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months

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Comet Donati [Chapter 8: Fool’s Gold]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Aemond being very horny for one person in particular, mental health struggles, pregnancy, bodily injury, illness, death, a Targaryen family reunion, the tragedy of a hammerhead shark.

Selected Chapter Quote: “Do you love him?”

Word count: 9.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n @seabasscevans @tsujifreya @helaenaluvr @hiraethrhapsody

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“I could love you for more than a day,” you tell Aegon, smiling, drowsy, sipping you blush-pink Salty Dog at the rooftop bar in Kansas City. It’s June, tornado season: a clashing of contradictory air currents, quintessentially American destruction.

“Yeah?” he says, daylight spilling out of his gaps under the night sky: the gleam of string lights reflected in his cobalt eyes, the white of his teeth, the eternal-summer warmth of his voice.

“Yeah. Not on this planet, maybe. But on another, very similar planet.”

He clinks his glass against yours; grains of salt pop off the rims and land on the table like snow, like infinitesimal diamonds, carbon shaped by pressure and time and deadly heat into something cherished. The wind tears through his nearly shoulder-length blond hair. “To other planets, and other lifetimes, and other dimensions where we are all the least-damaged versions of ourselves.”

“Aegon,” you say, and you wait until he’s done downing his Salty Dog and is looking at you again. “Someone’s inability to love you has nothing to do with your merit to receive it. It’s about them, it’s not about you. And that’s especially true when it comes to parents. If your father can’t be there for you in the way that he should, that’s his deficit, not yours. He’s the one missing pieces of himself. He’s the one who has failed. You can’t use his inadequacy to measure your worth. You should be proud of yourself for succeeding in spite of him. You should be proud of the person you are.”

He’s spinning his empty glass between his palms, amused, perhaps somewhat anxious; he is afraid of the answer. “And what kind of person am I?” He waits for one of those familiar soulless tropes to resurface, the disaster playboy, the hot loser, the paradoxically remiss eldest brother, the addict, the slut, the comic relief.

You say instead, somehow knowing that it’s true: “A good one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Takeoffs and landings, highways and streetlights, tarmacs that stretch into the hallways of five-star hotels. You order virgin drinks when no one else is around to hear you do it. You buy prenatal vitamins and stash them in an Advil bottle. You sneak off to see a doctor while Comet is in Boston; yes you’re pregnant, yes everything looks good so far, yes you need to stop eating sushi and lifting heavy luggage. You stay out of hot tubs. You try to dodge secondhand smoke. You follow the band from city to city like children hopping on couch cushions strewn across a floor they say is lava. And now: cold porcelain, too-bright lights, crumpled on the bathroom floor of your suite in the MGM Grand. Sin City, they call Las Vegas. Like it was made for you.

You hear the swipe of a keycard and approaching footsteps, clop clop clop. When he appears in the doorway, you moan and try shield your face with your hands. You finally got your splint off last week in San Diego. “Please go away. Please.”

Aegon doesn’t listen. He gapes at you, chomping noisily on cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum. You can smell it; the sickening sweetness twists through your guts. “Damn, Stargirl. You look terrible.”

“Thanks.” You retch unproductively into the toilet bowl; there’s nothing left in your stomach to rid yourself of.

He’s wearing khaki cargo shorts, a neon green tank top, and—eternally, faithfully—matching Crocs. “Is it food poisoning? I don’t remember you being fucked up last night.”

Not that he’d know; he spent most of it snorting lines with Cregan. You lower the toilet seat, cross your arms over it, and take a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to tell you something. But you have to not panic.”

“Sure.”

“And you have to not get wasted and accidentally announce it to everyone either.”

“That was not me talking. That was the Icelandic beer. And we’re not in Iceland anymore, so, yeah. Problem solved.”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you say weakly, haltingly. “Not yet. Not like this. But I need somebody to help me hide it.” Just like Cregan needed someone to tell about Iris. And he chose Aemond. “Baela’s working on her ballet school applications, and I can’t burden Rhaena with something like this, and…wait…one second…” You yank up the toilet seat and heave into the bowl until the wave of nausea passes.

Aegon rubs your back, gentle and sympathetic. “Would weed gummies help?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Percocet? Oxy? Valium? I know where to get heroin in Vegas, but I wouldn’t want you mixed up in something like that.”

You gaze pathetically at him. “I’m eight weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, fuck,” Aegon gasps.

“It’s Aemond’s.”

“Oh, fuck! How…? When…?!”

“Tokyo. Club Camelot. Just once. And then we never talked about it again.”

“Jesus Christ, you love a spontaneous bar bathroom hookup.” He blinks a few times, processing this revelation. “You don’t have to have it, you know. If you don’t want to. You have options. Maybe you wouldn’t back in Kansas, but—”

“Missouri,” you whimper, staring miserably down at your silvery reflection in the water.

“Whatever. But we could fly you anywhere. If you wanted to not be pregnant anymore. If you decided to…uh…serve it an eviction notice.”

“I’ve thought about that,” you say, but it’s not quite true; you thought about it as an option, but not one of your options. “I know, logically, that’s probably the reaction that makes the most sense. But it’s not what I want.”

“Okay.” And if he has an opinion one way or the other, he’s doing a very good job of not showing it. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to resign at the end of this leg of the tour, and then I’m going to go home to Kansas City to raise my fatherless, clandestine bastard child.”

Aegon raises his eyebrows, chaotic blond hair falling in his face.

“That came out weird,” you admit. “But it is essentially accurate.”

“You’re just going to leave? You’re going to do this alone?”

“My parents will help me. They’ll be kind of horrified at first, but…they’ve been through worse. They’ll come to terms with it. They’ve been begging for grandkids since I was eighteen.”

“But you can’t leave,” Aegon says. And his large, murky, deep blue eyes are glistening.

“I have to go home. I have to build a life for myself. I can’t follow Comet around the world indefinitely.”

“But…but…so you’re eight weeks right now, right? So you have, like, I don’t know, over six months until the baby is born? That’s forever, Stargirl! That’s half a year! You could come to the fall shows in South America, and then visit London over the holidays, and…and…I mean I don’t even know what’s next for Comet after that, but you sure as hell don’t have to leave right now—!”

“Aegon, I could have complications because of the blood clotting gene thing. I could have a stroke, I could have a miscarriage. I need to be going to doctor’s appointments and taking leisurely afternoon walks and, like, eating vegetables and grilled chicken, not flying to a new city every couple of days while surrounded by booze and cigarettes.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He sighs and sits down cross-legged on the bathroom floor beside you, rubbing his face with his hands. He looks at you from between his fingers. “One of our last U.S. stops is in Kansas City. You want to get off the ride there?”

“I think that would be for the best.”

Aegon says suddenly: “Let’s get married.”

“What?” Your nausea is now secondary to your shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you healthcare and child support and whatever.”

“You genuinely think that me marrying a cokehead sex addict is the solution to this problem?”

“I’m not a sex addict. I’m a sex enthusiast.”

“Aegon, I’m not going to marry you.”

He is wounded, pouting, childlike. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want some arrangement. No matter how well-intentioned or generous it is.” I want real, constant, conventional love.

Now he smiles, faintly, sadly. “And you want a different Targaryen.”

You grab the can of ginger ale you left on the bathroom sink and sip it tentatively, averting your eyes, not answering him.

Aegon says: “Aemond doesn’t know?”

“No. He has no idea.”

“You have to tell him.”

“There is a zero percent chance of him taking this well.”

“You have to tell him,” Aegon insists, pointing to your belly, not showing yet but soon, soon, so soon. “If you’re keeping it, then that’s my family in there. You can’t just haul it off to the hellscape that is the American Midwest and push the rest of us out of its life. It can’t be a secret forever. Aemond would want to be involved. I want to be involved.”

“I’ll tell Aemond,” you promise. “But not yet. Not while I’m still on tour, not while I can’t get away from him if he…” You hesitate, not knowing what you are trying to say. Aegon waits. “He’s going to think I did it on purpose. That I was trying to use him or fix him or something. He’s going to hate me.”

“You can explain,” Aegon says, but doubtfully.

“Explain what? That I stopped taking the pill, but then forgot I’d stopped taking it, and then remembered right after we had unprotected sex that I initiated, whoops, oh and also Plan B apparently doesn’t fucking work?”

“His super sperm work, that’s for sure,” Aegon mutters. “Hope mine aren’t that energetic.”

“I’m a nobody,” you say. “And I have a lot to gain from this, even if that’s not how I see it. And Aemond…he’s so goddamn mistrustful. He’s so convinced that no one could want him or believe in him in a way that is pure. I’m afraid to tell him. I’m afraid he’s going to say things in the heat of the moment that I won’t be able to forget.” Like when he called me a slut. Like when he said he loves me.

“The getting pregnant thing sounds bad,” Aegon concedes. “And, yeah…he will most likely not react in an even vaguely sane way. Because he’s Aemond, and that clown from the It movies lives in his brain. But he’ll process it for a few weeks and then he’ll come to the right conclusion: that you wouldn’t deliberately do something to hurt him, and that he wants to be there for you and the kid. And I’ll vouch for you.”

You shake your head, your eyes faraway. “I wish I could wait to tell him until he’s in a better place emotionally. Until he has something…anything…to latch on to…a plan for what to do with his life…”

“Hey,” Aegon says. Gingerly, he turns your face towards his with one hand. His cheeks are splotchy with pink sunburn. He’s sweating out White Claws and Coppertone Sport. “I know you think you’re doing this alone, but you aren’t. I’m going to take care of you.”

You look at him with tears brimming in your eyes, hot, ashamed, blurring out your vision. “You’re so different than Aemond. You’re weightless and warm like daylight. You glow. But you do that for everyone, not just me. And I can’t count on you.”

“I love you,” Aegon says. “Not in a Jack and Rose on the Titanic way. In a different way. But I’m never going to forget about you, Stargirl. I get that I might disappear for a while, but I’m never going to not come back someday.”

You fold into him: softness, effortless proximity, cotton-candy-scented kisses smacked onto your temple, arms that circle protectively around your waist. “I love you too, Aegon.”

“Think you’ll be able to walk over with us to the aquarium at the Mandalay Bay? Criston got everyone tickets to feed the zebra shark.”

“When?”

“Um, soon. But I can buy you some time. I’ll text them that I’m busy FaceTiming Selena.”

“You’re a saint.” Patron saint of mayhem. You groan as you crawl out of his grasp and towards the shower. “I might be okay in thirty minutes. Let me try to start feeling human and wash my hair and stuff.”

“You want some help?”

You stare at him from where you are kneeling on the cold tile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look…wobbly. You sit on the shower floor, I’ll wash your hair.”

“But I’ll be naked.”

He grins, holding up his hands in a blithe shrug. “I’ve seen it all before, Stargirl.”

“You’ll be naked too.”

“Don’t think you can tempt me into any unwholesome activities, you unwed knocked-up vixen.”

You laugh; it feels incredible. “I will gratefully accept your offer. I might not have a choice, actually. I don’t think I can keep my arms above my head for that long.”

Aegon stands, walks into the shower, starts reading bottles. “You want to smell like Japanese cherry blossoms or a coconut?” He pauses. “A fatherless clandestine bastard child conceived in Tokyo. Cherry blossoms it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A series of walkways connect the MGM Grand to the Mandalay Bay. Comet moseys through faux cobblestone streets in the New York-New York, complete with steam-wheezing manhole covers and operational storefronts of pizzerias, delis, bakeries, Irish pubs. The band narrowly avoids being trampled by droves of exuberant children—and you are looking at children more closely these days, watching how their parents corral them, noticing what makes them happy or sad or afraid—in the strobing, bleeping arcades of the castle-like Excalibur. In the Luxor, modeled after the pyramids of Ancient Egypt and featuring the largest atrium in the world, Criston begs everyone to pose for photos in front of sand-colored statues of sphinxes and pharaohs. “Smile big for your mom, Daeron!” Criston orders between pictures. Shelby, as always, is wearing her camera-ready, gloss-and-veneers grin. She’s also wearing a stunning floral-print maxi dress with a slit up to her thigh, looking glamorous and graceful and very not-pregnant. By the time Comet arrives in the sleek, golden, tastefully nautical corridors of the Mandalay Bay, you are exhausted and dangerously nauseous. You try your best to conceal it.

“Are you okay?” Baela asks. She is scrutinizing you as you stand in the shark tunnel of the aquarium, bathed in rippling sapphire-blue light. Overhead the captive ocean swims by: sea turtles, sawfish, Galapagos sharks, blacktip reef sharks, sand tiger sharks (hideous, in your humble opinion), stingrays, horseshoe crabs, a metallic rainbow of shimmering fish.

“Stargirl!” Aegon scolds mildly, ambling over to massage your shoulders. “I told you not to eat all those New York-New York corn dogs!” He shakes his head and smiles casually at Baela. “You can’t take these Midwestern girls anywhere. They see battered meat on a stick and lose all control.”

“How many did you eat?” Baela says, studying your sweated, queasy, generally unwell appearance.

“I don’t remember. I don’t want to talk about corn dogs right now.”

“You think it might be food poisoning?” Aemond asks. He has appeared in the shark tunnel with a plushie grey beast clutched in one hand. He’s lurking several yards away, but his forehead is creased with curiosity, with concern. His right eye flicks to where Aegon’s hands rest on your shoulders—disapproval? appraisal? fascination? envy?—and then back to your face.

“No, just gluttony.”

“It’s one of the seven deadly sins, you know.” Aegon counts on his fingers. “Gluttony, and pride, and lust, and…uh…uh…oh, right, greed…and uh…”

“What is this, Bible study?” Baela says.

“You’d know all about gluttony, you whale,” Jace tells Aegon.

Aegon shouts back: “I am like a whale, Jace! I am a rare and celebrated mammal!”

Jace mimes shooting Aegon with a harpoon. And then, when Cregan turns to glare at him, he grabs Baela’s hand. Jace’s face is at last fully healed and he has no interest in jeopardizing that. “Come on, baby. Let’s go see the Komodo dragons.”

“Don’t vomit on any sea creatures!” Baela chimes as they leave. Soon only you, Aemond, and Aegon are left in the shark tunnel. Rhaena and Luke are petting stingrays at the touch pool; Cregan, Daeron, and Criston depart to take their turns feeding the zebra shark. And Shelby is…actually, you’ve lost track of where Shelby is. Hopefully getting mauled by something.

“You should see a doctor,” Aemond tells you, stepping closer, although gradually, meanderingly, as if by happenstance. “You look…not great. You might need IV hydration or something.”

“Seriously, I’m okay. I’ll live.”

Shelby peeks irritably into the tunnel. “Honeybunch! Hurry! We have to take a selfie with this fish in the background so I can caption it I’ll love you inFINitely!”

“Will you give me two seconds, please?” Aemond snaps. She retreats with palpable unwillingness. Then Aemond offers you the plushie: a hammerhead shark, you see now. Aegon takes a few steps away from you both and pretends to be enthralled by a sawfish as it glides over the dome of the tunnel.

“What is this?!” you exclaim, delighted. Your nausea has momentarily abated.

“It’s your souvenir for Las Vegas. You can keep it right beside your sika deer from Japan. Hopefully they get along.”

“It’s so cute, Aemond! And very unexpected. Thank you.”

“No big deal,” he says. “I saw it and thought of you, that’s all.”

You pet the tiny hammerhead shark, downy and soft and grey like a storm cloud. “These were in the other tank, right?”

“Those were scalloped hammerheads,” Aemond corrects you. “This is a great hammerhead.”

“Wow. Pretentious.”

He laughs, a miraculously beautiful sound. And as you gaze at each other, painted in sapphire light and the shadows of fish, you remember everything about Aemond, the way he tasted, the sounds of his whispers and his moans, the indescribable fullness as he eased himself carefully into you. And you think: What would happen right now if there was no Shelby, no Aegon? Would he touch me? Would he kiss me? “There are actually no real-life great hammerheads in this aquarium. Not anymore. They don’t do well in captivity. One was flown here back in 2001 and she was on display for a while, but then she died unexpectedly a few years later.”

“She died?” You cradle the plushie shark in your arms. Suddenly, without warning, there are tears welling up in your eyes. You are distraught. You are consumed by irrational pregnancy hormones. “And she was the only shark of her kind here? So she didn’t have anyone who could understand her? She must have been so lonely.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. But sharks really don’t have emotions like people do, they’re mostly brainstem.”

“It’s still awful.” A tear slips down your cheek and falls onto the plushie shark before you can swipe it away.

Aemond is alarmed. “Are you…crying? About a shark that died like twenty years ago?”

“It’s sad, bruh,” Aegon sniffles, conjuring up some tears in his large, oceanic eyes. “The only one of her kind, bruh.”

“Honeybunch?” Shelby whines, appearing once again at the mouth of the tunnel. “Honey Bunches of Oats?”

Aemond sighs. “Yeah. On my way.” And he goes to meet her. A squall of giggling, bewitched children rush into the shark tunnel, pressing their eager little palms to the glass. Aegon’s manufactured tears have vanished and he is typing out a WhatsApp message to someone.

You think, picturing Shelby’s Vegas-themed fingernails skating across Aemond’s skin, flaunting parts of him while shunning others: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Comet returns to their floor at the MGM Grand, there are three strangers waiting for them. Strangers to you, rather; not strangers to anybody else. Certainly not to Criston. The middle-aged woman—auburn hair, vast dark eyes, high cheekbones—rushes to throw her arms around him.

“Thank you for taking care of them,” she is saying, as Criston holds her and blushes a dark hectic pink. Then she turns her attention to Daeron and Aemond, touching their faces and their hair, asking if they are sleeping well, what they have been eating, what their favorite parts of the tour have been thus far. Aegon has not moved from your side. He fidgets awkwardly, shuffling in his Crocs, slurping on the Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino he bought from a Starbucks in the Excalibur. One of the strangers—a weathered older man in a grey suit, tall and vigilant like a wolfhound—examines him with a cool pale gaze. Aegon evades it.

The third stranger, oddly, comes directly to you. She is delicate, nimble, light eyes and hair like watercolors, soft and edgeless. She makes you think of birds: sweet songs, hollow bones. She takes your hands in hers and beams like she’s known you for years, like you are old friends. “You must be the one Aemond has told us so much about.”

Aemond? Me? You smile apologetically. “I think you mean Shelby. She’s over there.”

“Here I am!” Shelby waves from where she is parked determinately beside Aemond.

“No, I know who Shelby is,” the stranger says; and her dreamy, girlish voice is perfectly neutral. She might as well be making some throwaway comment about a squirrel in a tree, a fish in a koi pond. “I mean you. The girl made of stars.”

He talks about me? To people back home? Aemond turns away when you glance at him. Shelby is simmering. You tell the stranger: “That is very poetic. And flattering.”

“Stargirl, this is my sister Helaena,” Aegon says. Then he gestures to the others. “And that’s my mother Alicent, and the frightening bloke who looks like a mob boss is my grandfather Otto.”

“What on earth are you drinking?” Otto chides Aegon, wrinkling his dignified nose.

Aegon is stung, although he tries to hide it. “It’s a Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino. It’s delicious.”

“It’s a milkshake for adults. It’s diabetes in a cup. Put some effort into taking care of yourself for once, it’ll make you feel better.”

Aegon says flatly: “Yeah, I’m so glad you guys stopped by.”

“Are you here for the concerts?” Daeron asks, buoyant as usual.

Alicent looks to Criston; he smiles bashfully in return. “Well, Criston mentioned that you’d be in town, and your father just so happened to have a convention to attend here over some of the same days, so I figured…why not drop in and surprise my wonderful, accomplished, handsome sons?” Her prominent umber eyes drift to you. Helaena is still clasping your hands. “And their…friends.”

“Dad’s not around?” Aegon says cynically.

Alicent stalls. “Well…honey, you know how he is. He’s very, very busy. But he promised he’d try his best to make it to one of the shows.”

“You know, it’s strange. He never seems to be busy when Rhaenyra has her little art gallery openings.”

“So!” Alicent chirps, deflecting. “Criston said there was a pool. Is there a pool?” She pats the massive beach bag slung over her left shoulder. “We brought our swimsuits!”

The MGM Grand has an extensive pool complex featuring drink bars, multiple whirlpools, a waterfall, and a lazy river. Even in September—those last gasps of summer in the Northern Hemisphere—the temperature in Las Vegas hovers in the 90s. As you slather on sunscreen and nibble sparingly at an order of fries, Alicent and Helaena cannot disguise their interest in you. Alicent asks about your hometown, your family, your education, your time with Comet. She seems puzzled by your unmistakable fondness for Aegon, but otherwise smiles pleasantly and chuckles at your (carefully selected, intentionally tame) stories from the tour. Alicent strikes you as someone who is composed and warm on the surface but a jumble of frayed threads below; if you tugged on the right one, she’d unravel until all her seams split open and secrets poured out like dark water. Helaena doesn’t say much, and what she does say is strange, truthful but disjointed, like a line from a poem or a song; but she keeps touching you, a hand on your wrist or on your ankle or absentmindedly tracing the lines of your palm. From several chairs away, Shelby watches this with a toxic glower, for surely she as Aemond’s aspiring baby mama should be the beneficiary of his family’s attention. From behind his sunglasses, Aemond tries to act like he’s not staring as you spread sunscreen over your collarbones and chest and thighs.

“I’ve got drinks!” Aegon announces, appearing with a loaded tray. He weaves between chairs to deliver the beverages. “A pina colada for me…a strawberry daiquiri for Rhaena…a Twisted Pink for Luke…a margarita for Mom…no!” he barks at Daeron as the youngest Targaryen (for now, for the next approximately seven months) tries to grab a red slushie. “Not that one!”

Daeron is confounded. “But it’s a strawberry daiquiri. Isn’t that what I ordered?”

“Yeah, but that specific daiquiri is Stargirl’s.”

“What makes it different?”

“Extra whipped cream,” Aegon says without missing a beat. He passes it to you. Nonalcoholic is what it actually is: sweet and refreshing and without any bite whatsoever.

“Why are you being helpful?” Criston asks Aegon suspiciously, squinting, full of dread. “You’re never helpful.”

Aegon grins. “I’m just a helpful guy.”

“You’re freaking me out,” Criston says. “Cregan? I’m scared. What’s he up to?”

Placidly, sucking on a frozen hard lemonade through a hot pink straw with multiple loops, Cregan shrugs. Sunning themselves beside him are three Victoria’s Secret models. “Cregan?” Romee Strijd croons, reaching over to comb her fingers through his hair. “Could you rub more sunscreen on my back, please?”

Otto is stretched out on a pool chair and reading the Business section of the New York Times. Jace, Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron are gathering up their inner tubes and heading into the lazy river, a swift crystalline blue current that reminds you of Aemond’s clear right eye. Alicent gets up to go talk to Criston; they speak in low voices, less secretive than sacred, like each believes the other to be a relic necessitating great care. Shelby is now scrolling through her iPhone. Aemond is still watching you. The speakers are playing Somebody’s Heartbreak by Hunter Hayes.

“I was hoping you could fix me,” Helaena says suddenly.

You don’t understand. You think you must have misheard her. “What was that, Helaena?”

“Aemond says you fix people. That you’re a saint.”

“I’m certainly not a saint.” I’m just an unwed mother from Missouri. Who wears Cookie Monster pajama pants. “And even if I was, I don’t think anything about you needs fixing.”

“But I’m not normal.” And her eyes glisten with it: this knowledge that can’t be escaped, a lifetime of whispers and rumors and being hopelessly misunderstood.

“No, you’re not.” You won’t lie to her. What good would that do? What cure can come from dishonestly, even when spun from compassion? “But Freddie Mercury wasn’t normal. Neither was Jane Goodall. Einstein, Montessori, Dali, Tesla, da Vinci, Curie, Shelley, Newton, they were all extremely, undeniably not-normal. And guess what? Aegon’s not normal either. And neither is Aemond. And neither is anyone else in Comet. They might not be the same brand of not-normal as you, but I can guarantee you they are all bona fide freaks of nature. Because that’s what it takes to make something new, to leave a beautiful mark on the world. Being not-normal is painful sometimes. But that’s not a reflection on you. It’s an embodiment of how small-minded and cruel all those normal people can be. You don’t want to be like them. You’re above them, you can see things they can’t. You keep flying. Don’t worry about the dirt down here on Earth.”

And only now do you realize you have an audience, peering over with wide eyes: Alicent, Criston, Shelby, Aemond, Aegon, Cregan and the Victoria’s Secret models, Otto wearing the first smile you’ve ever seen from him. Helaena, calmed and content, goes to sit by him; he begins braiding a green ribbon into a lock of her hair.

“For the record,” Aegon says. “I am definitely dirt.”

You laugh as you gaze up at him, shielding your eyes form the sun. “No you aren’t. Not even close.”

He offers you a hand. “Ready to get in the lazy river?”

“Yeah, I think so…” You finish your daiquiri, climb off your chair, shed your black swimsuit coverup, and walk over to the pile of inner tubes that Criston collected for the band. You can feel Aemond’s eyes on you as your bare feet pad across the cement. He moves a towel over his swim trunks and then stares at the palm trees, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Honeybunch, let’s go in the water too,” Shelby says.

“Um. In a minute.”

The rushing current has brought Jace, Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron back around again. From his inner tube, Jace splashes you and Aegon as you approach the steps that descend into the lazy river. “Finally daring to enter my watery domain?! I’m the king down here. I’m Poseidon. But if you want to battle me for my throne, you’re welcome to try.”

“Don’t you start bumping people!” Aegon yells, jabbing his index finger at Jace. “You keep your little scrawny chicken limbs to yourself!”

“Aww, someone call Greenpeace, we’ve got a beached whale over here…”

“Careful,” Aegon says, grabbing your arm to stead you on the steps. “They’re slippery.”

And Aemond observes this, lighting one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes and inhaling a deep breath of smoke, his face lined with scars of the past and furrows of worry for the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-four hours later, the band is enjoying dinner down the strip at the Wynn’s buffet: eccentric modern art and elaborate fruit sculptures, prime rib and crepes made to order, gelato and pasta, sushi you can’t eat. Alicent, Helaena, and Otto are here with Comet. So are the Victoria’s Secret models. So is Selena Gomez. She sits next to Aegon, teaching him the Spanish words for various foods and giggling as he butchers them. When Justin Bieber’s Sorry comes on the speakers, she rolls her eyes and stabs aggressively at her shrimp.

You were violently ill until 3 p.m. and then mercifully improved. Upon arriving at the buffet, you caught a whiff of the Alaskan king crab legs and were at once ravenous for them. You demolish plate after plate, sucking hunks of meat out of cracked shells, licking up dribbles of drawn butter from your fingers and wrists. Aemond—relegated mostly to fresh fruit, chunks of bread, and a vegan ratatouille—ogles while trying very hard to act like he’s not. Jace pulls one-dollar bills out of his wallet and throws them at you.

“You could have an OnlyFans,” Baela says. “Forget a real job. Make millions splattering yourself in crabmeat and butter for sad horny men. You could do a whole series…shucking oysters…dismantling lobsters…”

You imagine your child in kindergarten: So where does your mommy work? She stays home and films herself eating seafood in her underwear. “I don’t think I have the disposition for a celebrity lifestyle. You know I’m always hiding from the paparazzi.”

Alicent chuckles as she takes a bite of her roasted quail. “Yes, I remember the photos! Always tucked behind Cregan or Aegon. Except those times when you were walking with Aemond. That was so sweet of you, encouraging him like that. I’m sure it meant the world to him. Ever since…well, you know…it’s a more stressful experience for him now.”

Aemond, self-conscious, busies himself with stirring his ratatouille. “It was really my pleasure,” you tell Alicent.

“Pleasure, huh?” Jace teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Baela asks you once again if you’ll ride the New York-New York rollercoaster with her tonight. You pretend to be terrified of rollercoasters. She counters that you definitely rode rollercoasters at Grona Lund when the band was in Stockholm. You try to gaslight her into thinking she has misremembered this. Aegon jumps in with (doubtlessly fabricated) statistics about how many people are killed in rollercoaster accidents.

“Really?” Baela says. “Five million people die on rollercoasters every year?”

Aegon knows he’s made a fatal error, but he is committed. “Yup.”

“You’re telling me that more people are killed by rollercoasters than live in the entire state of Oregon? And no one has addressed this problem? This epidemic of amusement park calamities?”

Aegon shakes his head spiritedly. “Nope.”

Now Shelby is saying something to Alicent at the other end of the long table. You don’t listen too closely, because you’re in the habit of mentally muting her. Still, you can’t help but catch snippets. It’s about the importance of public figures being good role models. “…So it’s probably for the best that she’s not interested. Young girls are very impressionable, you know.”

“Oh?” Alicent is replying, polite but noncommittal, perplexed. Criston brings her a miniature creme brulee from the buffet’s sprawling dessert section.

“Don’t you agree?” Shelby asks you, and the table goes quiet. She smiles sweetly, innocently, all beachy waves and highlighter sheen.

You lower your crab leg. “What exactly am I agreeing with?”

“That people who accept the responsibility to be in the spotlight should be the sort of role models that the youth can look up to.”

“Um, not really, no. I think a popstar’s job is to be a popstar, not to impersonate Mother Teresa or stop global warming or anything. They’re not running for president. But I mean, yeah, I guess they shouldn’t be murderers, so I agree like 1%.”

Aemond glances over at where Shelby sits beside him, not knowing what she’s up to, not especially invested. She sniffs, a dismissive, haughty little sound, like can you believe how uncivilized this bitch is? “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter since you aren’t planning to pursue fame anyway.”

“Lovely Shelby,” Jace says, taunting her. “Are you implying that our supernaturally poised and responsible Stargirl would set some sort of nefarious example for the little girls of planet Earth?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Now Shelby is staring fixedly at you, cold like deep water.

You glare back defiantly. She couldn’t possibly have found out about the baby. Aegon would never have told her, and no one else knows. “Because…?”

“Because of what happened when you were in high school.”

Nothing changes for almost anyone else at the table, but it does for you: your mind goes blank, your skin goes cold, your stomach lurches, you are fifteen all over again. It’s not the fear that anyone in Comet would think less of you for it; you don’t think they would. Alicent might, Otto almost certainly, Cregan’s flock of models could carry the gossip anywhere—and surely this is Shelby’s design—but Comet would not condemn you. No, what paralyzes and disgusts you, what empties your veins and fills them with ice, is the truth that you are not the one choosing if and how to tell them, you are once again powerless and exposed, you are the curves and hollows of bare flesh they’re reading like a newspaper headline.

How…? Aemond…? But no: he looks just as horrified as you do, this is the last thing he expected, he didn’t think she knew, his eyes fly to yours and stay there, frenetic blue emotions but no words.

The others peer around the table. Aegon is frowning at Shelby, but he doesn’t know what she means, he doesn’t know how to help…because you’ve never told him. “What about high school…?” Luke says uncertainly.

“It’s not difficult to find,” Shelby tells you. “All someone has to do is Google your name and Kansas City, then comb back through a few pages. There are old Tweets and Facebook posts about it. Pictures, even, if you search long enough. Can you imagine how parents would feel about their daughters’ favorite boy band associating with someone like that? Popularizing that sort of behavior? It’s unacceptable. It destroys innocence.”

Your hands are shivering violently. You take one deep, shaky breath. “Actually, what happened was—”

Aemond lunges to his feet. “Don’t,” he commands you, holding up a hand. Then he turns to Shelby. His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, stormy, cutting, wrathful. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Aemond!” Alicent gasps.

Shelby blinks up at him. She is bewildered; she has miscalculated. She had no idea he knew. Her eyes dart from Aemond to you.

“No, don’t you dare look at her,” Aemond seethes. “You don’t look at her. You look at me.”

It takes effort, but Shelby manages to comply. She gawks at him, dismayed, flinching away from his rage, his scar, his sightless left eye like the lethal atmosphere of Neptune. She cannot hide how she truly sees him, how she will always see him. As something broken, pitiful, less.

“What the hell does she have to be ashamed of?” Aemond asks Shelby. “She doesn’t use people. She doesn’t sell false versions of herself. She is kind, and wise, and forgiving, and beloved. And what are you? A professional liar. A manipulator, a snake. Someone who knows how to pity but not how to cure.”

“Aemond—”

“Stand up.”

Shelby is petrified, shellshocked. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to put you in an Uber, and it will take you to the airport, and I honestly don’t care where you go from there. But you can’t stay in Vegas. And I never want to see you again.”

“Aemond, please!” Shelby cries. She still hasn’t moved from her chair. There are tears flooding down her cheeks: despair, defeat. You could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“And if you fight me,” Aemond says. “Or if I hear a whisper of you trying to disparage anybody at this table, I will end you, Shelby. Every app you use to edit your photos, every so-called friend you’ve worked to sabotage, every sponsorship you haven’t disclosed, I’ll expose all of it. I’d call up the fucking Rolling Stone if they cared enough about you to publish it. I will end you. Now stand up.”

Trembling, sobbing, this time Shelby obeys. Aemond and a flock of security guards—two of Shelby’s, two of Comet’s—escort her out of the buffet. He is only gone for a minute or two; the table is silent except for slurps of drinks and the occasional squealing of silverware against plates. When Aemond returns, he immediately goes to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder—gently, protectively, the same way Criston does—and murmurs so no one else can hear. He is so close the air you breathe is filled with him: smoke, cologne, dissipating fury.

“I am so sorry. I had no idea she would do that. I don’t think she’ll speak of it again. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you reply in a stunned little squeak.

“Good.” Then he looks fiercely around the table, pausing to lock eyes with every single person. His meaning is clear. You will not ask questions. You will forget this happened. He sits back down beside Shelby’s vacated seat and pops a red grape into his mouth.

“Damn, Stargirl,” Jace says after a moment. “So you’re a serial killer.”

Everyone laughs, and the nightmare is over. It breaks open like dropped glass. “Don’t worry. I only murder obnoxious, curly-haired brunettes.”

He winks as he licks chocolate mousse from his spoon. “I wouldn’t mind being added to your body count.”

“Shut up,” Baela groans. “Shut up, shut up…!”

You excuse yourself. You walk out of the buffet. The Wynn has a gorgeous hallway that passes through a garden of whimsical ornaments, flowers, trees, and string lights. Too suddenly for you to change course, you realize what’s going to happen; you stumble into the greenery and vomit five plates’ worth of Alaskan king crab onto a Ficus tree.

“Need a napkin?” Aegon asks; he has followed you. “I don’t actually have one. But I could take my shirt off and give you that.”

Still hunched over and spitting, you shake your head. “No, I’m okay. I’ll use a leaf.” You don’t make eye contact with him. You don’t want to invite unwelcome questions.

“Relax,” Aegon says, rubbing your back. “I’m not going to ask.”

You are relived but skeptical. “You’re not curious?”

“I figure if it was something you wanted me to know about, you would have already told me.” He smirks. “I do think it’s interesting that Aemond knows something about you I don’t.”

“He gets one secret, you get another. You’re even.” You thought you were done. False alarm. You resume vomiting on the Ficus tree.

“Goddamn, that is disgusting. You want a Percocet or something?”

“I think that would be less than ideal for the baby.”

“Oh. Right.” He considers you with great sympathy. “A lot of discomfort over something that’s the size of what, a chicken nugget?”

“Yeah, probably.” You rip a leaf off the tree, wipe your lips, trudge back to the buffet bathroom to sanitize yourself as best you can.

When Comet’s fleet of Escalades arrives back at the MGM Grand, you loiter in the lobby hoping for Criston to appear. You shoo away the band when they try to wait for you, and once Aegon catches on he ensures that they file into the elevators and zoom up to their floor. You need a minute alone with Criston. You need to arrange your imminent departure from the tour. Criston, oddly, does not come inside. You give him five minutes and then head back out into the arid Vegas heat, dry, ancient, barren. One of the Escalades is still idling in front of the hotel. You open the door. Criston and Alicent are in the back seat: he’s on top of her, her legs and arms curled around him like ivy, the hem of her chic mom-appropriate sundress pulled up to her waist, her lips famished and moaning against his.

You scream, they scream, you slam the Escalade door shut. Seconds later, Criston bursts out of it. He is wearing only his hastily pulled on boxers and a half-unbuttoned white shirt.

“I’m sorry!” you blubber. “I, uh, I didn’t see anything! Um, I mean, I didn’t see that much—”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Criston pleads.

“I definitely will not.”

“Her husband…he’s…he’s not a great guy, you know? And Alicent, she’s…she’s so…she’s so incredible but so sad, she’s been through hell this past year, and after Aemond was hurt we…uh…well we spent a lot of time in hospital rooms together…and I just love her hair and her eyes, and her devotion to her family, and the way she smells…”

“I really, really, really do not feel entitled to nor desire the details that you’re sharing with me right now.”

“Okay.” Criston tugs at the collar of his shirt, catching his breath. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“I have to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”

“You’ve already interrupted us at this point. Just go ahead.”

“Alright. Well. I’m leaving Comet.”

“No!” he cries, distressed. “Really? Why?! Is it something Jace did? What did Jace do? Because I can let Cregan know and he’ll—”

“No no no, nothing like that. It’s just time for me to go figure out my own life now.” Time for me to find a permanent job, have my baby, re-traumatize my parents, the whole American Dream thing.

Criston sighs. “I was hoping you’d stay on through the South America dates.”

“I can’t, Criston. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me and how welcoming everyone has been, this has been a fantastic experience…um, overall…but I really do have to go home now. Can we fill out the paperwork and make the Kansas City shows my last stop with Comet?”

He nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get it taken care of. We can do signatures in a few days.”

“Aegon is the only other person who knows I’m leaving. I don’t want anyone else told yet.”

“Got it. You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

These secrets are multiplying, you think as you enter the MGM Grand and Criston climbs back into the Escalade. Like cells, like storm clouds. Upstairs in Comet’s hallway, Selena Gomez is in a war with the vending machine; it has snagged her Starbursts and refuses to release them. You don’t offer to help her shake the machine—heavy lifting, not good for the littlest Targaryen—but you do use your flip flop to reach up inside the machine and knock the Starbursts loose.

“You’re the best!” Selena high-fives you. “Aegon tells me you’re a really talented therapist.”

“Oh no, no way, not yet. I mean I’m really new at it and I don’t have a lot of confidence in my abilities but I am learning a lot and maybe one day—”

“The work you do is very important,” Selena says; and she seems to mean it. She is so beautiful in a vulnerable, benign way. It is difficult to not be starstruck.

“Thank you,” you manage.

“Watch out for him,” she says quietly, discretely. “Anytime his parents visit, he’s a little extra fucked up for a while.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiles, lays a palm briefly against your cheek, floats down the hallway and is gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On their last night in Las Vegas, Comet adds a cover to their usual lineup of songs: Animal by Neon Trees. It was Luke’s idea, which means it was probably Aemond’s. Aemond wanders the lofty catwalks and shadowy hallways making his notes, his comments, his white amendments on night-black paper, stars freckled across the void. Alicent, Helaena, and Otto join you, Selena, Baela, Rhaena, and the Victoria’s Secret models in the front row. Otto dances with Helaena, spinning and laughing; Alicent cheers for Daeron and watches for glimpses of Criston as he studies the performance from just off-stage. Aegon fumbles no less than five lyrics. Cregan has come up with this new trick where he can remove his boxers on-stage while keeping his pants on. He gifts the aforementioned boxers to a group of soccer moms who in the commotion rip them to tiny, sweaty, treasured shreds.

After the show, Alicent, Helaena, and Otto catch a flight back to London; Selena takes a limo to Los Angeles. Jace’s suite at the MGM Grand, per tradition, is soon engulfed in voices and music and smoke and amply flowing alcohol. Criston is chatting with Aemond, who has a Bramble in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. Cregan and the Victoria’s Secret models are playing Jenga with Luke and Rhaena. In Baela’s absence—she’s working out in the hotel gym—Jace is consoling himself with plentiful Vespers and some barely-legal fangirls; he is introducing his tattoos to them one by one. Daeron is toasting Yuenglings with friends at the bar. And Aegon is like he always is: here, then gone, then here again, and finally gone, like a comet, like a tornado that touches down without warning and vanishes just as quickly. You lose track of him. It’s not your fault. He comes and goes like an act of God.

In the hallway, several suite doors are open, including Aemond’s. You slip inside; no need to watch out for Shelby anymore. You find his notebook on his nightstand—the same place you keep your souvenirs in your own bedroom—and you engage in your least-honorable hobby. You’ve been sneaking looks at his lyrics since Paris. You open the notebook and rifle through onyx pages to the most recent, starlight-hued entry:

I was closest to the sun, like Icarus, swimming in your light

You are the only person I’d let melt my wings

Worry a line into your face, I think about it for days

Don’t talk to me about what the end of summer brings

“He’d kill you if he saw that,” Luke says from the doorway, grinning. “Well, he probably wouldn’t kill you. But he would not be thrilled.”

You snap the notebook shut and place it back on the nightstand. “Please don’t tell him. I am but a humble fangirl.”

“I won’t tell him. But you should ask permission.”

“I don’t think he would give it to me anymore.”

Luke is gazing at the notebook now, his face distant. “It’s screwed up, right? I only got into Comet because of Aemond. He fought for me and he won. But when he was the one who needed help, I couldn’t do the same.”

“Luke…” You open your hands: sorrow, futility. “You must be the least blameworthy person in this whole goddamn mess. You tried to fight for Aemond when no one else would. You make him feel valued. Every single day I watch you remind him of his place here in Comet. You’re the only person who does that.”

“I can’t do this without him,” Luke says softly, fearfully. “I don’t know how to write a song without his advice. I don’t know how to end a show without being able to ask him what I did right or wrong.”

“I think you’re more capable than you believe you are.”

Luke is troubled. “Am I hurting him by wanting him to stay?”

You contemplate this for a while before you choose your words. “In my opinion, Aemond needs to know that his contributions to Comet were real and they he will always be welcome here. But he also needs to find a new purpose. He’s a guest in the band. He’s not a part of it anymore. He can’t go back to who he was before the accident, he’s learned too much about how people treated him when he was hurt. Even if he got up on stage again for a farewell performance—which I think would be beneficial for him—he’s never going to be a full-time popstar again. He needs something else. I don’t know what that thing is, but he needs to be free to find it.”

“I understand,” Luke says. He’s quiet, mulling it over. And then, brightly: “Want to play Jenga with us? Cregan is so bad at it. Or he’s letting us win, I’m not sure which.”

“That’s super sweet, but I think I’m going to go lay down. Maybe take a half-hour nap and then see who’s still conscious for me to hang out with.”

“Are you okay?” Luke asks abruptly.

“What? Yeah, of course, I’m just exhausted. I think the tour is wearing on me.”

“You haven’t looked good for a few weeks now,” Luke says. “I don’t mean that in a rude way. You just seem sad or sick or something. Or both.”

You give him your best reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Luke. I promise.”

He smiles back. “Good. Enjoy your nap!”

“Enjoy your Jenga!”

You drag yourself back to your suite, a human-shaped pile of concrete and lead. What had Aegon said? A lot of discomfort over something that’s the size of what, a chicken nugget?

“We’ll be back in Kansas City in a few weeks,” you whisper as you collapse onto the bed, one hand resting on your not-showing-but-soon belly. And as your eyes drift shut, you realize how good home sounds, better than it ever has before. Is that nesting? Is that just getting older? You don’t want to leave Comet. But you do want your real life to begin.

You are nearly asleep when you hear him come in: the swipe of a keycard, the clopping of Crocs, a clumsy dive onto the bed that rocks the whole mattress.

“Hey,” you say, eyes still closed.

Aegon doesn’t answer. You sit up and look at him: sprawled face-down, hair in disarray, sunshine yellow Crocs still on his feet.

“Aegon?”

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t move. You reach out to shove him. His eyes are closed; he is limp. He’s not breathing.

“Aegon?!” you shriek, shaking him, hitting him. There’s no part of him that is glowing now. The sun has set, but the moon is full: his skin is silvery-white and bloodless. You’re screaming for anyone who will hear you.

Cregan is the first to arrive; he was out in the hallway leading all three of the Victoria’s Secret models back to his suite. And then it all happens very quickly. Cregan is dialing 911, Aemond is dragging Aegon off the bed and onto the floor, Criston sprints to get something from his room and returns with two small white devices that he’s ripping out of their packaging. Aegon’s skin is turning blue. Criston feels for a pulse, doesn’t find it. He’s telling Cregan what to relay to the 911 dispatcher: no breathing, no heartbeat, Narcan being administered. Criston cradles Aegon’s head and tilts it backwards so he can dose him with the nasal spray. Then Criston looks at his wristwatch and begins chest compressions. You are pinned by shock and horror to the wall. You can hear people out in the hallway, voices and footsteps, clamoring and rumors.

There is Jace’s frantic voice: “Is he okay?!” Cregan pushes him back outside.

“Come on, Aegon,” Aemond is saying, patiently but firmly, slapping at his brother’s face, pinching his cheeks. No blood rushes in to darken the battered flesh. “We’re all here. We’re all waiting for you. Come on back.”

“One minute,” Criston notes as he glances at his watch. Forever, it feels like.

“I’d give him another,” Aemond says.

“Second dose of Narcan,” Criston tells Cregan as he stops compressions and administers another round. And that does it: Aegon gasps, jolts, comes alive again. His skin transforms from blue to white to pink. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Criston hisses, and buries his face in his hands, trembling with relief and adrenalin. Cregan is informing the 911 dispatcher that the patient is back from the dead.

Aemond lifts his brother so he’s sitting upright and holds him, smoothing back his hair, murmuring to him words too hushed to understand. Aegon says, dazed: “Did I do it again?”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. But you’re back now.”

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

“Stop—”

“I’m so sorry. I should have been at soundcheck.”

“Stop, Aegon. It’s over, it’s done. None of us knew what would happen.”

There are glittering, glass-like tears on Aegon’s face. His voice is choked and heavy, so heavy. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

“One of these times you should just let me die.”

“But then who would torment Father? I don’t have nearly as much talent for it.”

Now they are both laughing, and you see that Aemond has a few tears of his own: only from his right eye, only from the one that fate spared.

Criston says, almost apologetically: “Aegon, we have to take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

Aegon sighs. “Yeah, I know. I remember how it goes.” Aemond and Criston help him to his feet. He can’t walk on his own; they half-carry him out into the hallway where EMS is just arriving. And once Aegon is on the stretcher and being ferried away—with great fanfare, everyone gathered in the corridor to wave him off—Aemond comes back for you.

Together you ride in one of the Escalades to the hospital and stand outside the transparent windows of the room while a lethargic, irritable Aegon is hooked up to machines and Criston talks to the doctors and nurses, vigorously reprimands him, makes a phone call to Alicent so she hears it before TMZ can report the story.

“I haven’t helped him at all,” you say to Aemond. “Not last June. Not now. Never.”

“That’s not true. You don’t know where he started.” He watches you, this man who sees so much and yet so little, who maybe loves you but sometimes hates you and is the father of a soon-to-be child that you already feel you know. “Do you love him?”

“Yes. But not in the way you mean. I would kill for Aegon, but I’d never marry him.”

Aemond chuckles, like this is a ludicrous combination of words. “Has he asked?” And then when he sees your face, too exhausted and woeful to censor itself, his jaw drops open.

“He wasn’t serious.”

“A strange thing to joke about.”

“Not for us.” It would be strange if Aemond joked about it. Because I could actually see myself marrying him. Not in another world, in this one, if only the stars aligned just right.

“Look, I think I have to apologize,” Aemond says. “Because I might have…misinterpreted things. The way you make me feel is…I can’t describe it, you know? It’s like, light, and warmth, and music, and I made the mistake of thinking that was only for me. But you do that for everyone, right? It’s not just for me. It’s never been just for me. And you’ve been so goddamn gracious. You’ve never asked me for anything. You’ve never put yourself in a position to use or take from me. You knew what I needed and you tried to give it to me. So thank you. I know I said that I understood you better in Reykjavik, and I was wrong then. But I understand you now. You help people. You heal people.”

You turn to him, startled. “You aren’t like everyone else. That’s not how I think of you.”

He is intrigued, perhaps hopeful, perhaps too afraid to hope. Pity is familiar. Love would be something else. “No?”

“No.” Truths, like birds with clipped wings, struggle in vain to take flight. “I have to confess something.”

“Go on then.”

I want you. I love you. I want to have this child with you. But I’m so fucking scared that you won’t be able to handle it. And at last, cowardice: “I’ve been reading your lyrics.”

He smiles. “That’s fair, I guess. Everything I’ve written since June has been about you anyway.”

Criston emerges from Aegon’s room. His dark hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead; his eyes are damn near vacant. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the past hour. “He wants to talk to you,” Criston tells you. “I don’t think he’ll be awake in five more minutes, and he might not remember any of it anyway. But he is insistent.”

“He usually is,” you say, and go in.

Aegon is dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, no neon. His feet are bare; you can tell because one of them is sticking out from under the blankets. His hair is slicked back from his face. He is afflicted with a slew of twisted wires and beeping monitors. But he is still Aegon: beautiful, bright, generally harmless to anyone except himself. He blinks blearily up at you. “No one has ever loved me, and it’s because I don’t deserve it.”

“Millions of people love you, Aegon. I love you.”

“For more than a day?”

“For all of them.”

He grins, then presses his right palm to his chest. “Starboy,” he says. Then he points at you. “Stargirl.” His gaze drops to your belly. “Starbaby,” he declares at last. “Not my Starbaby. But a Starbaby nonetheless.”

“You can’t leave me,” you say softly, tears falling down onto his blankets. “I can’t do this without you. Not just the tour. Everything. I can’t live in a world without you in it. You can’t leave Comet. You can’t leave me.”

And Aegon murmurs, petulant like a child as he drowns in sleep: “You’re leaving me first.”

#aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you

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thewulf · 1 year

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Accidentally in Love || JJ Maybank

Summary: Request - Hey! I see you write for Outer Banks. Have you seen season 3? Can you write a JJ Maybank x Routledge Reader where he finds her hurt at the chateau on a friday night after you didn't show up to the weekly kegger at the boneyard?? John B is too hung up on Sarah to notice your absence. Maybe she got hurt by her bf/ex-bf?? Surfing accident? Your choice! Love your writing!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Y/N

Word Count: 4,900+

Friday evening out on the water. There was nowhere else you’d rather be. You took a long-drawn-out breath smelling the salty ocean air letting your arms stretch over your head. The rays from the sun were still hot, it wasn’t setting for another few hours or so. God, you loved it here.

This was your favorite pre-kegger ritual. Just you, the open ocean, and your surfboard. JJ taught you when you were both relatively young. You fell in love with it the same way you fell in love with your best friend. Slowly and surly over time with lots of dedication, love, and many tears.

A relatively calm night brought small waves throughout the entire evening. You tried to stand up on a few of them but didn’t seem to have the speed. It was getting darker out signaling that you needed to start getting ready to go to the Bone Yard.

Sighing softly, you were just going to have to call it a night. It was already getting too late. But just as you were heading in the waves started coming. You smiled knowing you can hit one before you go in. You deserved it, you’d been out for hours without have any such luck.

You let out a gleeful laugh as you caught a wave a bit closer to the shoreline than you really should have. You knew better. But you felt truly invincible out there. That feeling was short lived as the wave swallowed you whole. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. But you were too close. The wave was breaking far too close. Panic rose in your chest when you realized just where the wave had taken you under.

You’d be okay. You just couldn’t freak out too hard. Panicking was the worst thing you could do in this situation. You were a pogue. You’d be just fine. You just had to keep swimming and try and find your way up. No big deal.

Thinking you were in the free and clear when you bobbed to the surface you attempted to stand before a second wave knocked your feet out from underneath you. The first wave must have pushed you further down the beach than you realized.

You left side made painful contact with a jagged rock near the shoreline. The wave took and drug you across the sharp edges of the rock like you wore nothing, eliciting a cry in agony as the rock dug into your side, breaking through the surface of your skin. Mother nature didn’t seem to have your back as the force of the same wave knocked your head right into another rock.

You inhaled a lungful of salty ocean water sending shivers through your entirety. You knew this was a very bad situation to be in. Your head was hazy. Your side was screaming in agony from the open wound being immersed in salty water. You felt like you were drowning with a lungful of water.

Thankfully, fate had other plans for you as you resurfaced coughing up whatever you could your lungs. Your body felt like it was being stabbed from sixteen different directions. Your head was throbbing, and your legs were shaking wanting to give out on you. But you knew it was now or never, you had to make it to the shoreline, or you might not make it at all.

Somehow you managed to crawl your way back to beach. The adrenaline of the accident started wearing off as you got closer to safety. Hauling your body onto the rocky beach you continued to cough out the remaining ocean water that seemed stuck in your lungs.

After letting yourself lay there for a few minutes you decided it was probably best to get home before it got too dark out. Struggling to stand you winced seeing just how bad your injuries were. The blood from your head wound ran down your arm and chest. The blood from your side injury was dripping down your left leg.

“Fuck.” You whispered trying to find your towel. You thanked whatever lucky stars had your back when you found it. Quickly you pressed to the back of your head praying you had enough stamina to make it back to the chateau you shared with your older brother.

You made an audible groan when you realized just how pissed John B was going to be with you. He always hated that you went out alone. This injury certainly wasn’t going to help your case. He’d certainly not let you out of his sight for the next few months too. Great.

You thanked your previously lazy self for picking the beach closest to your home. A short walk home you knew you could make it. You took short quick steps preferring not to place much weight on your left side. The open wound was really making it a bitch to get back home.

It took your four times longer than normal and five breaks too many, but you finally made it home. Crawling up the stairs you scooted yourself through the front door. You’d never been so thankful to see the dirty hardwood of the chateau.

Who would’ve known practically drowning in the ocean would have taken so much of your energy? Finding any remaining strength, you slapped a big bandage on your side hoping it’d work. Your vision was getting too hazy for you to keep standing. Finding the closest piece of furniture, you mustered whatever you had left, making your way towards it.

You laid yourself down slowly on the couch taking shallow breaths. Drawing anything deeper drew a rather sharp pain from your side that you’d like to avoid. Glancing down you cringed at the haphazardly applied wrap on your side. You sighed but were thankful you didn’t see any blood leaking from the bandage.

Glancing at the clock on the wall you cursed yourself for being out so late on the water. The kegger had already been raging on by the time you laid down on the couch. It was a blessing you were able to drag yourself home. You really needed to remember to bring your phone with you when you were planning to do something solo. You had a bad habit of leaving it at home when you just wanted to be left alone.

Realistically you knew there was no way you’d be making it to the kegger tonight. It was probably the first one you’d missed in years. They were usually your favorite thing in the world. You’d never dream of missing one. But without having the ability to even stand at the moment you’d have to forgo your first one in a while.

Grasping the remote you clicked the power button. Settling on the channel was previously on. You weren’t really in the mood to watch tv but certainly did not have the energy to get up to try and find your phone. You were sure nobody even noticed your absence anyway. You often found yourself alone at keggers flirting with whatever cute clueless touron caught your eye for the night.

John B and Sarah were all over each other always. Kie seemed to disappear with whatever hippie group rolled around. JJ went to go collect whatever piece of ass he caught for the night and Pope did whatever Pope did. You loved them but the group certainly did their own thing at keggers.

Making yourself comfortable you knew this is where you’d end up sleeping for the night. You prayed that JJ would just go home with a girl tonight. All too often he’d end up passed out in your bed cuddling with you in your sleep. Something you usually prayed would happen. But not tonight. His arms wrapping around you would hurt more than it’d help.

Closing your eyes, you just hoped sleep would take over. Either that or the edible you popped in your mouth thirty minutes prior would. You couldn’t have been asleep for long before you heard the screen door creeping opening and shut. Inevitably a pogue was coming back for the night. Glancing back up at the clock you frowned seeing it was only just past midnight. It wouldn’t make sense for anybody to be back so early. The group usually always stayed out until at least two in the morning on kegger nights.

“Y/N?” You heard that all too familiar voice call out your name softly. The overhead lights clicked on earning a soft groan from your sensitive head. Your suspicions of a concussion were likely correct with the way the lights made your head throb. JJ must have heard you as he quickly shut them off before hurrying over to the source of the soft cry. You must have looked pathetic curled up underneath a few blankets failing to get warm after the painful crash.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” JJ crouched down to your eye level. Gently, he pushed your hair away from your face studying your expression intently, way too intently. If you hadn’t felt so dreadful you were sure your face would be as bright as tomato. Unfortunately, you looked as pale as a ghost sending alarm bells through JJ’s head. He’d seen you eight hours ago, and you were completely fine. A far cry from your current state.

You nodded you head into his hand shamelessly craving his touch. JJ’s touch always made you feel better. His hand accidentally grazed over where your head had hit the rock a few hours prior forcing a small wince to your face.

You just didn’t understand. You’d gone out hundreds, if not thousands of times alone and had been completely fine. Sure, you’ve taken a few tumbles, but you were usually so much more careful. You hadn’t even realized you had gotten so close to the rocky side of the shoreline. You could’ve sworn you were in your usual spot.

“Y/N Routledge.” He frowned scanning your head for anything visible. His frown visibly deepened as he turned your head to the side spotting fresh red cut across the back of your head, “What the fuck happened?” He spoke lowly, a little too harshly for you in your state.

You felt stupid tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, threatening to water over. Why were you getting so emotional suddenly? You’d never dare dreamed of crying in front of JJ yet here you were getting ready to bawl like a baby in front of your best friend. Pogues were tougher than this. You had to be tougher than this.

“Hey, hey, hey.” His tone changed to one of softness as he wiped away a tear that had managed to escape, “It’s okay Y/N. It’s just me. JJ. What happened? Are you okay?” He leaned forward not letting your head escape his grasp. Something was really wrong. You weren’t using your words which never seemed to fail you, until now. You were usually so free and open with your words.

JJ noticed immediately that you were missing from the kegger failing to show up with any pogue. You usually showed up with John B or Kie, yet you never came. He tried to find a girl to distract himself from his thoughts of you. Ironically enough that was his usual routine even if you were there. He usually found a dumb blonde to distract himself from you. He couldn’t stand it after another few hours, so he called it a night hurrying back to the chateau to see if you were there.

He really only panicked hearing your soft cry when he turned the lights on. That wasn’t like you. You were hard as a rock, tough as steel, sharp as a blade. He can’t recall a time he’s seen you cry. Not even when your dad disappeared. At least you didn’t cry in front of him.

You took another shallow breath in wincing from the fresh wound on your side. JJ noticed. Of course, he noticed. He noticed everything about you. How could he not notice how small you looked. How unlike yourself you must have felt.

Taking another ragged breath, you finally found your words, “I wiped out pretty bad surfing earlier. Hit my head and scratched my side up.” Taking a shallow breath, you continued feeling like you were exerting far too much energy just speaking a few words, “I think I patched my side up okay and I got my head to stop bleeding quickly.”

“Y/N.” He nearly growled pulling off the covers on top of you.

“JJ! It’s cold.” You complained to him, unsure of what he was planning. Whatever it was you would allow him to do. You trusted him with your entire being. You grew up around the boy and grew to fall in love with his every action. Slowly you fell entirely in love with your best friend. You couldn’t pinpoint a day that you really could say that you were really in love with him but now? Oh yeah, you loved him deeply. Far more deeply than a best friend should.

“Shh, you’ll be fine for a moment. I’m just checking your side.” If there was one thing JJ was an absolute pro at it was bandaging injuries. Years of dealing with his father and growing up with injury prone pogues resulted in him being nearly flawless at first aid.

He frowned seeing your red blood soaking through the attempted bandage. He audibly sighed before continuing, “Y/N. Sweetheart. You’re still bleeding. I need to get this stopped and bandaged. Can you follow me to your room? It’ll be easier to clean you up on your bed.”

Did he just call you sweetheart? Was he being a nice new JJ because you looked so bad? If so, you could get used to the terms of endearment from him. It felt normal. Too normal even. Like it just rolled right off his tongue. Like you wanted to hear it every second of every day from him.

Nodding quickly, you attempted to swing your legs out from your sleeping position. What you hadn’t anticipated was how completely zapped of energy you had become in the hour or so you spent on the couch before JJ found you. Any energy you did have was gone and vanished. Setting your feet on the ground you only felt yourself wobbling as you tried to stand.

“Nope, no. Stop Y/N.” JJ frowned placing a gentle hand on your shoulder stopping you from getting up.

“I can do it J.” You groaned frustrated at his overprotectiveness. It was so like him to not even give you a chance to try. You knew it came from a place of love it was just hard sometimes.

“No, Y/N you can’t.” He paused making sure you weren’t planning on anything. It was like you to try and get the best of him. But you listened only sitting back down on the couch. You really must’ve been hurting if you weren’t even trying to mess with him, “I’m carrying you to your room. Come on.” Before you could protest, he picked you up effortlessly. Holding you as if you would shatter right there in his arms if he squeezed too hard.

“Why didn’t you call?” He asked as he set you down on your good side. He patted your pillow telling you to lay down so he could work on cleaning you up properly.

Listening to him, you laid yourself down slowly, “Can’t remember where I left my phone.” You admitted truthfully. He smiled softly at that comment. That was very much like you. You seemed to lose your phone on almost a daily basis. You weren’t attached at the hip with it like many of your friends and classmates. Often going days in between checking it making sure to let whoever was trying to reach you that you were okay, just busy with life.

He made a face as he removed the haphazardly placed wrap you had managed to get on, “Damn Routledge. This one’s bad.”

Your breath caught when you felt the cool air hit the still wound, “I know J. This one hurt.” You sighed while closing your eyes just wishing this would be over.

“Sorry sweetheart.” There it was again. A cute pet name that made your heart race just a little faster, “This is going to hurt. A lot. But I’ve gotta make sure it’s clean alright?”

You nodded keeping your eyes closed.

“You can squeeze my hand.” JJ hovered his left hand over your grip. Feeling his hand there you gripped his hand softly in yours. Beyond thankful you had JJ as your best friend you gave his hand a gentle squeeze letting him know you were good. That you were ready.

You sucked in a sharp breath as the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cloth contacted your wound. The feeling was about ten thousand times worse than you could’ve imagined. Squeezing JJ’s hand tightly you bit your lip attempting to stop the instant tears that formed under your closed lids. It was a failed attempt as the tears escaped down your cheeks eliciting soft sobs from your throat.

JJ paused placing a hand on your head, “I know baby, I’m so sorry. It’ll be over soon I promise, okay? Can you look at me Y/N? Please?”

Slowly opening your eyes, you looked up to your best friend who gave you a look you’ve never seen before on his face, deep concern. You must’ve been in worse shape than you thought. JJ didn’t let his guard down often and here he was showing you his every thought written right across his face.

He smiled softly seeing your bright eyes even though they were stained by the tears. You sure were pretty. Beautiful even. Even through the tears you were one of the prettiest girls JJ has laid his eyes upon, “There she is.” Gently, he took his thumb cleaning up the tear trails running down your face.

“I’m sorry JJ.” You whispered in an utterly defeated tone. You felt beat the hell down by life at the moment. More than thankful for the best friend who cared to do this for you though, life did give you one perfect thing.

“Shhh.” He shook his head placing a finger on your lips, “I’d do this for you a thousand times over just like you’d do the same. Got it? No more apologies.”

You nodded in his hand for the second time that night feeling an immense comfort with the pressure he was applying to it, “Okay JJ.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your forehead focusing back on the task at hand, “I’m so sorry sweetheart, this is going to hurt.”

Again, you failed to stop the waterworks that sprung from your eyes. You were normally so strong and composed. But you’d never gone through anything quite this painful before. You gave yourself a pass for letting yourself really feel it.

JJ whispered his sweet nothings that seemed to come out of nowhere. Not that you were complaining. You were finding a little too much comfort in his sweet terms of endearment. You were able to get through it by focusing on his words instead of the pain from the peroxide.

“And we’re done.” JJ nodded seeing his handiwork, “How are you feeling?” He crouched down again so you wouldn’t have to look up. Softly, he placed his hand on the side of your head.

“Better.” You hummed thankful that the dull ache was back and not the active stinging from just moments ago.

He gave you a curious look, almost as if he didn’t believe you, “Here.” He handed you a few pills and some gummies.

“Some pills to help with the pain and natures cure.”

Smiling at him you really should’ve expected it from him, “I’ve already had a gummy tonight.”

You tried to refuse him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, “What’s a few more? Let yourself sleep. Your body heal. I’ll be here in the morning.” He kissed your cheek making you take the gummies and pills from him.

“Okay J.” You popped them in your mouth without hesitation hoping the edibles would knock you right on out. You set the pills down on the nightstand.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything okay?” He went to go turn off the light before you called out stopping him.

“Wait J!” He paused turning to look at you snuggled underneath the covers.

“Yeah?”

“Can you sleep with me please?”

Grinning he flicked the light off hopping in right next to you, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You giggled scooting yourself close to him feeling comforted by the smell of his familiar cologne. You’d definitely have to address the terms of endearment later. Not having any sort of energy in you to bring that up right now. Quickly, you drifted off into a dreamless sleep with JJ right at your side.

You woke to the voices of you brother and best friend throwing shouted whispers at each other. You knew they were trying, and failing, to keep from waking you up. It wasn’t their fault you were such a light sleeper though. It was a miracle JJ was able to sneak out without you waking up. You only had to giggle at their attempts to be quiet. You sure did love them.

“What happened JJ?”

“She said it was a surfboarding accident. It’s not good John B. I haven’t seen her like that before. Ever.” JJ was emphasizing every word.

You rolled your eyes at JJ’s dramatics. You don’t think you were really in that bad of shape. The dull ache from your side reared its ugly head reminding you just how painful that crash really was. Sure, you cried, a lot, but who wouldn’t of? It felt like the hydrogen peroxide was stabbing you over and over again.

You heard the boys pause. John B must have been thinking, “What do you mean?” He questioned his best friend.

“Crying. Lots of crying. It was terrifying John B,” JJ admitted recollecting his thoughts. Seeing you in that state really tore him up. He cared for you deeply. Way more deeply than even he wanted to admit to himself. Seeing you that hurt made him realize maybe he did care for you in a different way. Way more than a friendly way. JJ’s heart actually might have shattered when he found you crying. He decided right then and there that you were his girl. He vowed to never see you like that ever again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her shed a tear man.” JJ continued. You heard a can crack open. Hoping it was a can of soda and not an early morning beer. Often you would lecture them for the bad habit. They returned by flipping you off and telling you to shut it. It shouldn’t have surprised you though that they both ignored you.

You heard your brother audibly sigh, “Well, what do we do?” He questioned JJ, unsure of what his next steps really were. He truly was at a loss. Your father usually took care of this kind of stuff, not John B. He needed help and he needed it fast. For your sake anyway. You just knew he was probably pacing the kitchen. A nervous habit he had picked up from your father growing up. Big John always paced the house when something wasn’t going right. It drove you absolutely mad wishing he could just relax. But that was something Big John never did.

You were right. John B was pacing the narrow kitchen not knowing what the hell to do next. Watching JJ, he kept his eyes trained on him hoping he’d have a better answer than he did, “I don’t know! Let her rest and shit. Don’t bother her.” JJ threw his hands up in the air feeling himself panic at not knowing what to really do.

He thought about taking you to the hospital last night, but he couldn’t figure out a way to get you there safely. Instead, he stayed up the entire night making sure you were fine. That you were still breathing. JJ knew he was being dramatic about the whole thing, but this was you. Y/N. His Y/N. He was pretty sure the worst he’s seen you prior to last night was after some stupid fight with some kook boys leaving you with a black eye and a busted lip. You were proud of yourself and smiling the entire night. Proud that you were able to knock the taller boy down. You never dreamed of shedding a tear.

John B paused again. The sudden realization of JJ liking you hitting him like a freight train. He’d had his suspicions before, but this nearly confirmed it for him. John B knew he had to play it off cool. He actually kind of liked the thought of the two of you dating. Big John always said the pair of you would end up together anyway. He got used to the thought over time.

“Oh, you’re down bad for my sister! Real bad.” John B smirked raising his eyebrows as if to challenge JJ.

“Shh JB! She can totally hear us right now.” JJ tried shutting his best friend up throwing him a nasty glare only earning a louder laugh from the brown-haired boy.

“Shit, you didn’t deny it this time JJ.” John B’s laughs died down as JJ gave him a serious look. Did JJ Maybank actually have real feelings for you? John B had always teased JJ about you, but he always made sure to deny it. He didn’t this time.

“Just let her rest, okay? Don’t be too hard on her? It was an accident. You can be hard on her when she’s feeling better.”

John B’s suspicions were confirmed as JJ redirected the conversation right on back to you. He really did like you. John B leaned back into the counter giving JJ a smug look like he figured him out, “Yeah, yeah lover boy.”

Rolling his eyes JJ flipped him off ready to go and check in on you. He promised he’d be there when you woke, and he didn’t want to break that promise already. You heard the soft footsteps of JJ coming your way. Quickly closing your eyes, you tried your best to pretend to be asleep.

Evening out your breaths you heard your bedroom door open and shut. Curiously though you didn’t hear JJ move. Was he just standing there?

JJ stopped after he saw your pretty face outlined by the orange morning light coming through your bedroom window. He felt his pulse speed up as he reveled in the way you looked in your sleep. Way too pretty for your own good.

JJ knew he liked you he just didn’t realize how much he really did. The thought of losing you made his heart ache. Your accident may have just started something in his head he knew he had to admit to you. He loved you. Loved you dearly. He was in love with you.

As quietly as he could he slid back into bed. You knew it was your only chance, so you pretended to wake up. Stretching your arms and all.

“Good morning beautiful.” JJ grinned seeing your eyes open up.

So, he wasn’t going to stop? He was just going to keep calling you sweet things as if it was nothing? He was trying to kill you, you were convinced anyway, “Morning J.” You yawned still feeling a bit tired from everything.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

His expression was one of disbelief, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/N.”

“Well, I am okay. It still hurts. But I’m okay.”

“You know I love you right?”

“What?” You nearly gasped taken aback by the change of conversation out of nowhere.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, are you okay?” You returned his question this time.

“No,” He groaned a little frustrated by his lack of being able to form a sentence. To fully be able to explain what he means, “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

“You… what?” Your eyes scanned every inch of his face trying to understand what the hell was going on.

“I’m in love with you and I have been for a while. Last night just made me realize how stupid of me it is to not tell you. I love you.”

“Oh, wow. Did I hit my head that hard?” Surly you were dreaming right? How many times have you dreamed of those words coming out of his mouth. And he said it so casually. Like it was nothing. Like you weren’t dying to hear those words.

He laughed. A full belly laugh. Just one reason as to why he loved you so deeply, “Maybe.” He bopped your nose with his finger, careful not to touch your body. Too scared he’d hurt you, “Doesn’t change that I love you. That I’m in love with you Y/N Routledge.”

“Really?” You asked in disbelief.

“Really, really.”

“Wow.” You grinned, “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” He smiled seeing you look him over intently.

You nodded smiling to him, “Very good.”

“Why’s that Y/N?” He wanted to hear it from you too. Just a confirmation of what he felt also.

“I love you too JJ. I’m in love with you.”

1K notes · View notes

crazyk-imagine · 2 years

Text

We Used to Be

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton/ Female reader

Characters: Reader (last name Whittaker), reader’s mama, Bo (reader’s horse), Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Basset neé Bridgerton , Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Kate Bridgerton neé Sharma, Simon Basset, reader’s deceased papa (mentioned), Archibald (Bridgerton’s butler), Nigel (reader’s head servant), Maggie (reader’s maid), Lord Albert Ruttiledge (Rut-til-ledge), Lord Fauwix (Foe [like doe]-wick-sss)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drama (I can’t help it), certain Bridgerton’s plus spouses are salty bitches, they care about you too much to let anything happen to you :), Benedict denies the truth about what he did, reader and Benedict are love blind idiots, Reader is a bit stubborn, cute nicknames (my dear, my muse, Ben, Benny)

Word Count: 11,573

Answers to WUTB

I'm a sucker for making my Bridgerton imagines dramatic [Lady Whistledown ain't got nothing on me XD jk, it's the other way around ;)]

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Another season, another ball, another Lady Whistledown paper sold.

Only this time, you and your family seem to be the talk of the ton.

Why? One would ask, it could have something to do with the fact that you had left years ago and only returned just recently, something many have different ideas on (naturally).

You and your mama have returned to the home, town, and ton you love so much… at least, you did but that was a while ago.

Times have changed, as have the people.

After settling into your childhood home and preparing your room for the evening, you relax and enjoy your slumber before you begin your adventure.

The first (and only) destination you have in mind is the most obvious (to your mama and staff) the Bridgerton home, or more specifically, Aubrey Hall.

Before you begin with your adventure, you let your mama know that it’s alright if she takes the carriage for the day while you ride your most prized pet, your horse Bo.

You’ve done your very best to take care of the beautiful creature seeing as he was the first thing your papa had given you when were just ten and three, with you now being twenty and three it seems as though time is passing by so fast, too fast for your comfort.

Bo reminds you of your father every time you see him, and you wish for nothing to happen to him.

It’s hard enough to not see and hear your papa around your home but, if anything happened to Bo… you wouldn’t be able to bare it.

The servants in charge of taking care of the two other horses your family owns have stopped trying to persuade you into allowing them to do their job; it became a hassle to ask you after a while and they don’t want to cause anyone any trouble.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with Bo, today? I can take-” But still they try, and it warms your semi-warm heart so.

You place your hand on top of your mama’s, drawing her attention back onto you, “Mama, you know I love you but, please, stop talking such nonsense. I’ll be fine. Bo and I can go for a ride without anything happening. We’ll be fine. The Bridgerton’s aren’t that far from here. It’s a delightful sunny afternoon and you should enjoy yourself and rekindle your friendship with a few of the ladies in town.”

Your mama knows how stubborn you can be seeing as you got it from your papa (and herself, although she would never admit it). “We both know the only ones willing to talk to us were and always will be the Bridgerton’s.”

“Yes, yes and it will be fine. You take the carriage. It’s time for me and Bo to go out and stretch our legs. This is going to be a good morning for the both of us.”

Your mama sighs, “fine, fine. Promise me one thing.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be careful.”

“Of course.”

“I love you,” she lets out a tearful chuckle, reaching for your cheek. “My beautiful girl has grown into someone I am most proud to call my child.”

You smile and roll your eyes, “mama!”

“Alright, off you go. But be back before it gets dark! And if you decide to stay, send a letter!”

“I don’t see the reason for you to raise your voice, I’m still nearby,” you say, barely exiting the hallway.

“Oh. I thought you had run off, child.”

“I am now. Bye mama!” You wave, taking off.

“Have fun my dear.”

You gallop into the front of Aubrey Hall, hoping that you don’t have to search for the family you’ve been wanting to visit for the past four months.

You had talked your parents about coming down for Anthony and Kate’s wedding but then yours and your mamas’ lives took a turn; a few weeks before the wedding, your papa died.

“Does no one else hear that?” Eloise lowers her book from her eyesight, glancing around the room, studying everyone’s expressions.

“What?” Benedict looks up from his sketch book.

“The horse. Outside. Can someone go to the window and see who it is?”

“Why can’t you do it?” Francesca asks.

“Because I have more interesting things to do,” replies Eloise.

“I’ll see who it is,” Daphne pushes herself off the piano stool, walking towards the window. She stares for a moment, focusing on the familiar horse and his rider.

As soon as you lower your hood, checking out the home, she runs out of the room, speeding down the halls, and out of the house before the others can ask a thing.

You turn around, ready to go to the nearest town when a door opens and heels clacking against the stairs outside alert you of a female’s presence.

You jump down off Bo, as soon as your heels touch the ground, Daphne latches onto you. “Daph! Daph! Daphne! You need to let go! I must breathe!” You giggle, holding her by her forearms.

“You truly cannot expect me to remain calm when my dearest friend has come to visit.”

“I was hoping you would be slightly calmer than you are now,” you joke.

The smile never falls from her face as she continues, “come in, come in. We can have tea until the ball- the ball! Are you going to the Cowper’s ball this evening?”

“Well, I suppose I am now.”

“Good. Now, follow me. I’ll see to it that one of the servants can take care of Bo and then we can-”

“No!”

Daphne jumps, not expecting you to shout. “Is something wrong?”

“I would- I would,” you take a deep breath. ‘Breath.’ “I would feel more comfortable if I were the one to bring Bo to the stable’s or at least see him make his way there… if that’s alright.”

“Of course, it is. Give me one moment, I’ll be right back.”

The few siblings in the room Daphne had disappeared from, find themselves looking out the window to see what’s caused their sister to run out of the house like a mad man.

“Oh, she’s returned home?” Eloise comments.

“Who is that?” Gregory asks.

“Daphne’s friend and Benedict’s not so secret crush.”

“Yeah- what? No, Eloise, that’s not funny,” Benedict says.

“It’s cute, you think I’m joking. We’ve all seen the way you look at her, brother. “The same way I look at a muse” or however Anthony phrased it.”

“When did you and Anthony talk? No, better question. Why did you and Anthony talk about me and Lady Whittaker?”

“Oh, it wasn’t exactly about you two. We were merely talking about how you should be finding yourself a wife soon since he and Daphne are married. They don’t want you to die alone.”

“Anthony didn’t say that.”

“How would you know?”

“While you two continue to fight, Gregory, Hyacinth, and I are going to join Daphne and her friend,” Francesca interrupts.

The two don’t pay much attention to the three leaving the room.

“Why were you two talking about us?”

“Mama and Anthony got a letter from Lady Whittaker and of course, I walked by at the right time…”

Benedict raises a brow.

“Alright, I was in here reading, hiding from Gregory and Hyacinth before they walked in here and started talking about the letter. Then mama went on about how she always wished for you and Lady Whittaker to wed ever since you were children or something. The conversation started to get boring, so I left the room.”

Benedict sighs, exiting the room.

“Was it something I said?” Eloise shouts. She smirks, already knowing that something will happen between the two of you (with or without her assistance- to which she would deny ever helping, if she’s ever asked).

“I thought you didn’t like meddling with people’s love lives?” Violet asks.

“I don’t.”

Violet’s smile drops from her face giving her daughter a pointed look.

“It’s not meddling if I’m helping my dear brother.”

“Mm-mmm.”

“You were going to do the same thing as I did.”

“Maybe, but I would have been more subtle.”

“I can be subtle.”

“No, my dearest, you cannot.”

“Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth, hello all,” you greet the three with a smile.

The eldest girl out of the three runs towards you, hugging the life out of you. “I have missed you.”

“And I you, little Frannie.”

She groans, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“It’s a cute nickname.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I disagree.”

“Me too,” Gregory and Hyacinth add.

“I leave for a mere few seconds, and you’ve already found a new group of people to talk to,” Daphne teases.

“Of course, I am the favorite around here. I am to share my social skills with you all. Who else would stick around long enough to talk to me?”

“He would,” Eloise chimes in, pointing to Benedict.

You look up and find… him, standing there, watching you with that same so-called innocent expression he always has whenever you’ve looked at him. You blink owlishly, unable to comprehend that he’s here, standing a distance away. This time it’s not a figment of your imagination.

“I… we can…”

You turn to focus on Daphne and really listen to what she has to say, this time. “I’m sorry?”

“As I was saying, we can take Bo to the stable ourselves. There should be someone there since Anthony and his bride Kate, went riding before you arrived,” Daphne explains to you once more.

You nod, unable to say anything at this time, the words seem to be lodged in your throat and you decide it’s best to say nothing; save yourself from any further embarrassment.

“Follow me,” Daphne intertwines her arm with yours, leading you away from the chaos that is sure to happen soon. She wishes to be ahead of it while she can.

“Are you alright?” The eldest daughter asks you.

“I’m,” you hesitate, unable to find the right word. “Fine.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

You sigh, “I know.”

“May I ask why you’ve returned home?”

“It seems as though you already have. One part of me wishes to say it was time and the other part of me wants to reveal the truth to you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“My papa’s funeral is to be sometime this week.”

She stiffens, unable to reply.

“I know, it came as much of a shock to us as it does to you now. You don’t have to say anything, I understand. I do.”

The two of you are quiet as you continue your journey towards the stables, until…

“Don’t forget about us!” cries out Gregory, Hyacinth and Francesca close behind him.

“I beat you! HA!”

“Don’t be mean Gregory,” you say.

“But I did. I was the first one here.”

“Don’t whine,” Hyacinth chastises.

“You are lucky you don’t have to live with them anymore,” you whisper to Daphne. You had forgotten how easily the youngest would begin an argument over the silliest or simplest things.

“I am, aren’t I.”

“Very.”

“We are still here,” Eloise interrupts.

“You weren’t with these three,” you point to the youngest siblings.

“When they ran over, you somehow snuck away from,” you gulp. “Benedict and followed us.”

“I… cannot deny what you know.”

“Eloise Bridgerton has no rebuttal, I must say I am surprised,” Daphne teases.

“Let’s not make a big deal out of this. Ah, look. Here we are,” Eloise extends her arm, dramatically showing the stable door.

One of the few stable boys working, exits and takes Bo form you, promising to take care of him.

You thank the kind employee before the siblings take you away, guiding you to their home.

“What if we play a game?” Hyacinth suggests.

“A game?” asks Francesca.

“I don’t know,” Daphne says, a bit apprehensive.

“Why?” Hyacinth asks.

“We are to get ready for the Cowper ball soon. Mama would not like to see us with grass stains on our clothes,” Daphne adds.

“I suppose you are right but, what if we don’t play whatever game Hyacinth wants to play-”

“Hey!”

“And instead, we play a quick round of pall mall?” Eloise finishes.

“When have you ever finished pall mall game before the day is over?” You ask.

“When we played, we would still be on the round after dinner.”

“Your mama wouldn’t send for you until the next day,” Daphne adds. “

Yes, only because she wanted to have lunch and go for our daily walk.”

“The dreaded walk, you make it seem so boring. It was hardly as bad as you make it seem,” Daphne says.

“Oh, like you were any better. I swear it was like our first-time sneaking,” you glance over your shoulder, observing the four little “ducklings” following you. “A bottle of juice into the library when we were younger.”

“Yes, juice as if we don’t know what you actually mean,” Eloise adds with her normal level of sarcasm. “And look, pall mall is already set up. Let’s play.”

“Did you all plan this in advance?” You ask.

“I didn’t,” says Daphne.

The three youngest siblings give you the same answer as their oldest sister.

You wonder who requested to set up your favorite game.

“Are the newlywed couple going to join us?” You ask.

“Look, who it is.”

‘Guess that answers my question.’ “Anthony, so good to see you,” you bow, adding onto your inside joke with the eldest sibling.

“None of that, we’ve known each other long enough to call each other family,” Anthony wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a side hug.

You return the hug, gesturing to Kate when the two of you part. “And you must be the one who managed to capture this rake’s heart.”

“I am not a rake.”

“Not anymore.”

Kate smirks, “why have you never told me about your friend? I quite like her.”

“I take it you will be joining us?” You ask.

“In pall mall?” Anthony clarifies.

“Of course,” you answer him.

“I would be honored, as long as we can talk,” Kate says.

“About Anthony?”

“Who else?”

You two share a smile only the eldest Bridgerton would describe as “evil”.

“Perhaps we should play with partners?” You suggest.

Anthony and Daphne shake their heads.

“Absolutely not,” the former objects.

“For the first time in a long time, I agree with my brother.”

“Is everyone out to get me today?”

“Yes,” you and Kate answer him.

“May I ask you something?” You turn to Kate.

“Of course,” replies Kate.

“Now that the rake is married, does he let you use the “death mallet”?”

“Not usually, I have to get to it first.”

“Of course.”

“I take it, you tried to use it?”

“I did, years ago. I was a child, and do you know what your husband did? He tripped me.”

“You are joking.”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Anthony?”

“Yes?” He turns, facing the two of you.

“How could you trip an innocent girl?”

Anthony’s eyes widen, “you told her?”

“Of course, I told you her. Your wife has a right to know who she lays in bed with.”

“Can we play pall mall now?” Eloise interrupts, sounding bored.

“Is everyone here?” Daphne asks.

“I think so- oh, Benedict! Benedict, do you want to join us?” Hyacinth runs up to the house, tugging on her brother’s arm.

He briefly glances over at you, “I don’t think I should.”

“He’s joining us,” Hyacinth skips back towards you all, tugging on Benedict’s arm, forcing him to come closer.

“I really shouldn’t-”

“You’re playing.”

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, grab your mallet,” Daphne orders.

“When did you get so bossy?” You and Benedict ask. You don’t look at him, but you can feel him staring. ‘Look away.’

“I’m not bossy,” Daphne defends herself.

“That tone suggests otherwise, sister,” Anthony teases.

The duchess rolls her eyes, “on three?”

Everyone agrees.

“One. Two. Three.”

You all reach for a mallet.

Eloise got yellow, Hyacinth got blue, Gregory got white, Francesca got green, Anthony and Kate fought for the “death mallet” (your new bestie won) leaving Anthony with pink (again hehe), Daphne got gray, Benedict got purple, and you got red.

“Look, your mallets match,” Francesca points out.

Everyone of Benedict’s siblings plus Kate and Simon are rooting for the two of you to get married and start a family.

“How so?” You ask, but you already know the answer.

“Benedict’s mallet matches your dress and yours match his vest,” Eloise clarifies.

“It’s merely a coincidence,” you walk away from the group, Kate and Daphne follow.

The former gives the eldest Bridgerton daughter a “what am I missing?” look.

“Who’s going first?” Kate asks, deciding not to put any pressure on you.

“I will.”

“No, me.”

“Why not me?” The young trio begin to bicker.

“Eloise will go first, then Gregory, Hyacinth, and myself; followed by Kate, Francesca, and Anthony, leaving our dear friend and brother to finish,” Daphne offers.

The bickering ends.

“That works,” Eloise lines up her mallet with the ball, successfully hitting it through the first iron hoop. “I’d like to see anyone else make this shot.”

Daphne, Francesca, Kate, and Anthony make it through the first hoop, now it’s your turn.

“She’s not going to make it,” Eloise whispers, attempting to throw you off your game.

“We do not cheat,” Daphne scolds her sister.

Eloise scoffs, “I am not cheating. I am merely making an observation.”

“That is what you call an observation? Whispering while she prepares to take her shot?”

“Yes, is there a problem with that?”

“No, no.”

You straighten your posture, hip jutted out, “are you two done?”

“Of course,” Daphne and Eloise smile.

You squint your eyes at the two, ‘troublesome duo,’ you think. You adjust your stance, pulling the mallet back and swing.

The ball rolls through the first iron hoop without any issues.

“My turn,” Benedict whispers, making you realize how close the two of you are.

Your head snaps up, looking into his eyes, his beautiful… rich… enticing… blue eyes.

His hand slowly inches closer to you, “I need-”

You step away, walking over to the side, observing the few who passed the first hoop begin playing on the next hoop.

Kate leans closer to Daphne, “am I missing something?”

“Yes.”

“Mind explaining?”

“It’s not my place to say.”

“I may have just met her, but I can already tell how much you all care for her. I wish to know more about the one who has captured the hearts of the infamous Bridgerton family. I also believe she has more to tell me about my dear husband.”

“You only wish to find out more about Anthony, have you no shame?” Daphne says with a teasing smile.

“I want to get to know her and if she happens to tell me things about Anthony then I shall listen. Were her and Benedict-”

“No.”

“Really?”

“They both have feelings for one another but were never able to confess…”

“Did something happen?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you know?”

“She and Benedict were fine and then they weren’t.”

“You don’t know what happened?”

“Neither would talk about it.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t like that look.”

“What look?” Kate feigns innocence.

“Please, don’t do try to help them. I tried and it didn’t end well.”

“That’s where we differ.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve looked out for Edwina in the past and she managed to find herself- find who she’s meant to be. Maybe I can help them realize what’s right in front of them.”

“Do you need a partner?”

“Now, you want to help?”

“All I want is for my brother and friend to be happy.”

“Then we’re in agreement.”

“It seems we are.”

“I’m winning,” Eloise gloats.

“Not for long,” Francesca tells her.

“This isn’t fair.”

“What? The fact that everyone is slowly catching up to you,” you point out.

She scoffs, “no.”

“Yes,” you, Gregory, Francesca, Hyacinth, and Anthony reply.

“There’s no need to add on.” “But it’s more fun to tease you,” you smile at Eloise.

“Shall we use our turns to take out two specific players?” Kate asks her sister-in-law.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“I know, that’s why I thought about it.”

“Now, you’re being cocky.”

“It looks as though we’ve slowly begun to break off into pairs,” he whispers in your ear.

You brush him off, not in the mood to talk to him. “I’d say it was on purpose.”

“You do speak. Here I was beginning to think maybe you didn’t want to talk to me, but that’s not true, right?”

“I have hardly anything to say to you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I no longer wish to speak with you.”

Kate and Daphne briskly walk towards the two of you. “I’m sorry! It appears you both will have to search through the bushes and play from there,” Daphne informs you.

Kate nods with pursed lips.

You shake your head while turning around, “of course, we do.”

“I’ll just-” Benedict cuts himself off before walking in the same direction as you.

You can’t stand to be here any longer as you rush to find your ball before you lose more sunlight and have less time to prepare for the ball.

“I don’t think you’re going to find your ball there.”

“Where do you think I’m going to find it then, Ben?” You squeeze your eyes shut at the use of his old nickname.

“I feel as though I’ve done something wrong.”

You spin around, angrily pointing your finger at him, “you feel as though you’ve done something wrong?”

“I still don’t quite understand why you’re using that tone.”

You close your eyes, raising your hands up, admitting defeat. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? You’ve barely said a word to me since you’ve arrived, and you act as if I am the very vermin that runs around certain streets. Please,” he reaches for you, cradling your hand in his. “Explain to me how I can fix this- fix us. We used to be so close, I always thought…”

You gulp, “thought what, Benedict?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Your vision blurs as tears pool in your waterline, threatening to fall. You sniff, his head snaps up, his expression falls; unable to see you in such a depressive state, he brings his hand up to wipe away your tears but, you pull away.

You pace in front of him, arms wrapped around your waist to protect yourself. “I truly can’t believe you could be so- so- so,” you grit your teeth, attempting to figure out the right word to use but find that this works too. “Idiotic. How could you be so idiotic Benedict?!”

“Me!?”

“Yes, you. I don’t see another Benedict running around, running amuck in my life.”

“Running- how could I be running when I have no idea as to what you’re talking about?! Please, tell me.”

“You honestly don’t remember how you humiliated me in front of your family?”

“I humiliated you?” He asks with a softer tone.

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“You broke my trust and eliminated whatever bond we used to have.”

“I would have never done that,” he argues.

“I’m sure you didn’t, seeing as you were never that kind of person, but you did, and it almost ruined a business deal for my papa.”

“Is this about-”

“Yes! Yes! It’s about the fact that you purposefully ruined a potential future engagement for me. It appears you do remember after all.”

Benedict’s eyes rise in surprise, and he had the audacity to laugh… in your face. Now, he wasn’t laughing at you, not even close; he found the whole situation very amusing.

“I’m glad to see that you still find this funny,” you stomp away, tripping over something hard, it could have been a rock or an old, rotted tree branch that fell on the ground; you didn’t know. You were lucky to catch yourself on the nearest tree. You hiss as you push yourself up and away from the tree.

Benedict takes your hand in his, checking over you before you could do so yourself (how he got to you so fast, you’ll never know).

“Are you alright?” His eyes are on you; you can feel it.

A blush creeps upon your cheeks before you know it and perhaps, out of embarrassment, you attempt to snatch your hand away from him. And, of course, you’re unsuccessful.

“Stop wiggling.”

“I am not wiggling,” you argue.

“Well, you’re not helping yourself right now.”

“Rude.” You stare up at him with a pout.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward, “I don’t know if I’ve said this before but, I will now and I must admit that I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?” You hiss, your arm jerks.

“Shh, I’m sorry, that was on me.”

“All of this is on you,” you mutter under your breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Still can’t seem to avoid trouble?”

You scoff, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Clearly.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, “can you let go and hit your ball so we can get out of here?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I am tired of your games and the way you brush off certain subjects. If you are here to joke and point fingers, please, at least have the decency to find someone else because I. Am. Done.” You manage to escape his grasp and hit your ball, watching it roll, creating a path in the dirt.

“Are you two done? You must make haste!” Eloise shouts.

“Wait- wait,” his hand clamps around your wrist. “Don’t leave.”

“We have played long enough and are losing sunlight as we speak. If we do not hurry back to the others, we will make everyone late for the Cowper’s ball.”

“Since when did you care about going to such events? You never were the kind of girl to do so before.”

“I was a naive girl who thought she had found a good friend and lost a potential-”

“Future suitor, yes, I know. But I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal now.”

“I have lost my papa recently and sooner or later the ton- or whoever else is going to come knocking on our door and kick us out because we don’t have the sufficient funds, we need in order to survive.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. I am going to be a part of this season and I would like to be on time so, I may discuss such things with my mama.”

“Season?” He whispers to himself.

You’re too far away to hear his heart break, like the way yours had that night.

“Finally,” Eloise fakes a sigh of relief and worry.

“As charming as ever Ellie,” you smile.

She loses whatever happiness was on her face, “I told you not to call me that.”

“You have but, I enjoy the nickname and I happen to think it’s cute, as I’m sure your family does.”

“Good for them, I don’t. I like my name, please use it.”

You exaggerate your sigh for dramatic effect, “okay, I won’t call you by your nickname if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you.”

“Children,” Violet calls out.

“It’s time to get ready.”

“Coming, mama,” said a few of the Bridgerton’s.

“Yes, mama,” the others reply.

Daphne and Kate interlock their arms with yours, “you can get ready with us.”

“Oh. Okay, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“We ladies must stick together, don’t we? I mean you are practically family,” Kate says.

“I suppose so?”

“I have a hunch you’ll become a member of the family before the end of the season.”

“What do you mean?”

She and Daphne smile.

“You’ll see,” Daphne adds.

“Are we all ready?” Violet asks, glancing over everyone, making sure everyone looks proper. Some nod, others answer her with a yes. She turns to you, “you can ride with-”

“Us!” Benedict interrupts his mother.

“She couldn’t ride with all you boys.”

“Why not?”

“I can switch with Colin,” chimes in Eloise.

“Why me?” Asks Colin.

“She clearly needs someone she can talk to about,” she pauses to think of a good enough excuse to make him quiet. “How hard it is being a woman in this world- cruel world.” Her plan worked well in her favor.

“Lady Whittaker and Benedict can ride with us, if they prefer of course,” Kate suggests, slightly elbowing Anthony’s ribs to get him to agree.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Anthony gives his wife a curious side eye glance and she smiles.

“Of course, how could I forget you two would be traveling there on your own,” Violet mutters to herself. “Alright then, you four will ride together,” she points to Anthony, Kate, Benedict, and you. “The youngest and I will be together while Daphne and Eloise ride with Colin.”

“Why do I have to be with Colin?” Eloise whines.

“Come along Eloise before Daphne decides to leave you here,” Colin teases her.

The lot of you finally arrive to the Cowper estate. Your “group” was the last one to arrive with Violet and the youngest being the first then Daphne and her siblings.

Your eyes wander around the room, taking in the decorations and musicians. Although a part of you doesn’t want to admit it, you slightly missed coming to these events but, you didn’t enjoy being asked to dance by pompous, arrogant men (very few did). And yet, being here brings back something you’ve been missing.

You notice that Eloise has disappeared after finding her dear friend Penelope Featherington.

“It seems as though we are alone now,” Benedict comments, hands behind his back as he observes the few lords asking ladies for a dance, signing their dance cards first, of course.

“Not so alone, people are dancing and enjoying themselves.”

“Aren’t we in a fun mood?”

“No, just trying to pass the time until I can get away from you.”

“You wound me,” he places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“I’m only returning the emotional pain you’ve done to me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, and you know it,” he says with a serious tone, no longer in a joking mood.

“How could I?”

“Please don’t focus on something that happened in the past. We’re different people than we were then.”

“I think it shows who you really are.”

“You don’t mean that,” his brows draw closer together in hurt.

“Who knows? I mean we’re different people than we were then, right?” You walk away from him unable to stay near him any longer.

Being around him is not good for your health, perhaps a dance or a drink will help… you choose the later.

You find Daphne standing beside one of the few tables containing food and drinks.

After grabbing the glass of champagne, you immediately throw your head back, swallowing the liquid in one gulp.

“It seems as though we are enjoying ourselves tonight,” Daphne comments. She took notice of the brief interaction with her brother and understands- or at least, has some idea on how hard it is for the two of you to talk.

“Yes, enjoying ourselves very much so. Do you think there is a number as to how many glasses you may have before you are kicked out?”

“I don’t know, and I feel like I am going to have to stop you now. I would hate to see you thrown out; you’re wearing such a pretty dress.”

“I’m sure all the lords will want to dance then?”

“Did you and my brother have another conversation?” She asks, knowing full well the two of you did and knows she should stop you before you have too much to drink while you feel upset.

“Is it obvious?” You hope no one asks about your attitude towards her brother.

“To me, yes. To everyone else here, I’m not so sure.”

“At least I can remain unseen by few.”

“Do you plan on dancing with anyone?”

“I didn’t come here for dancing.”

“You can’t attend a ball and not dance.”

“There is no rule that says so and I wish to be my own woman.”

“You’re starting to sound like Eloise.”

“Perhaps she has the right idea about becoming a spinster.”

“What are you two ladies talking about?” Anthony asks, reaching for two glasses, handing one to his wife.

“Nothing,” you quickly respond.

“Seems as though we arrived just in time,” Kate smirks. “Anthony?”

The man in question turns.

“Would you be so kind as to dance with our friend?”

He stutters for an answer.

“There’s really no need,” you tell him.

“You should dance at least once,” Daphne points out.

“I wouldn’t want to give Lady Whistledown any ammunition for her next paper.”

“You wouldn’t,” answers Kate.

“The two of you don’t know that. We also wouldn’t want there to be such a fake scandal being brought to light do we?”

“There would be no scandal. The guests here can clearly see us talking and will see me give you an encouraging nod,” explains Kate.

You take a deep inhale before sighing, “fine. Let’s go.”

Anthony looks slightly uncomfortable.

But, when you think about it, he’s never looked normal or happy to be at these events so, his facial expression is normal.

“One dance,” you add.

“One dance,” the three confirm.

Another song begins to play. “After this you may return to your wife,” you say.

“What if I’m having a good time, dancing with you,” he teases, feeling a little better. It’s not as strange to dance with you, he remembers when you and his sisters would bug him and Benedict to help you with your dancing skills.

“I’m not,” you say with a deadpan expression.

“That’s not something your dance partner wants to hear.”

“Words hurt, don’t they?”

“Benedict, so nice of you to join us,” says Daphne, sipping her drink.

“Tired from your many dances with the eligible young ladies?” Kate asks.

He huffs, “something like that?”

“Or is it that the one person you truly wish to dance with is-”

“Unavailable?” Kate finishes for her.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the person who continues to push him away,” says Daphne.

Benedict hums, a light bulb went off in his head. He thins his lips, the corners tugging upwards into a smile as he stares into the glass filled with a now unappetizing liquid. “You two should try to be more discrete with your gossip.”

“We don’t gossip,” Daphne defends both her and Kate.

“Lying is not a good look on you sister,” he throws his head back and downs the champagne, in a very similar manner to your previous actions.

“You need to stop being so harsh to my brother.”

“Which one?” You’re desperate to end this conversation.

“Don’t play games.”

“I am doing anything but.”

“He didn’t tell us what he did because he thought it would be funny. He did it because-”

“It looks as though he is going to dance with her,” Daphne observes.

“I hope so,” Kate adds.

“Mind if I cut in?” Asks Benedict.

“She’s all yours, brother.”

“Hello, my dear,” he greets you.

The faint scent of champagne is on his breath, oddly enough, you slightly enjoy it… this could be because you’ve also had a glass (or two). “Benedict.”

“Are you still upset with me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to make sure you get your point across, “how could I not be?”

The song ends.

You bow, “thank you for the dance but I think it is time that I take my leave.”

“Wait-”

Another song begins, and you use the crowd to your advantage.

After the dancer’s spin around a couple times, Benedict finds himself standing roughly in the same spot he had last seen you. He tries to search for you, but it was hard and the few doors he could enter were very limited.

There wasn’t much else he could do besides wallow in self-pity and temporarily drown himself in alcohol.

You wouldn’t see the family for a few days, taking the time necessary to calm yourself and help your mother prepare things for the funeral and your future (your mama has yet to come to terms with you marrying someone you don’t love).

“Please don’t ask,” you plead with your mama.

“I wasn’t,” she denies.

“You were, and no, I am not currently being courted nor will there be anyone coming to do so anytime soon.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What makes you say that?”

“That Benedict boy-”

“No! No. Absolutely not.”

“Sweetheart, he cares for you, and you know it.”

“He only cares about himself,” you hiss.

“If you cannot see what is and has been in front of you this whole time, I’m afraid you may never see it. What makes you so scared about love?”

“Nothing.”

“Now, I know that’s a lie. You have always been transparent when it comes to the topic of these matters but…”

“But nothing. I don’t like him, and he most certainly does not like me.”

Your mama sighs, “fine. Are you going to visit them today?”

“I’m debating on if I should or not.”

‘This may be the last time she sees them before her marriage.’ “I think you should. It would be good for you.”

“How would it be good for me?”

“You would be visiting friends, getting out of this stuffy old house. It could be the last time you see them,” she adds. It appears she’s finally accepted your fate.

You nod, understanding her hidden meaning.

You arrive to find, what you believe is an empty house.

“The others are outside,” Archibald informs you.

You jump, placing a hand over your heart, “oh! Archie, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”

His expression doesn’t change, he continues to give you a bored look. “They are outside.”

“Don’t you think I wish to speak with you. I miss our talks.”

“By the looks of your dress, you seem to be in a rush to find them. I don’t want to keep you from having a good time.”

You offer him a genuine smile, “you were always so sweet. I wish to speak with you soon!” You run down the hallway, aiming for the back doors of the home.

“Isn’t this a surprise,” says Kate as she walks closer to you.

“Hello,” you rush to say before you take a deep breath so you can catch your breath.

“In a rush, were we?”

“I have no reply.”

“I take it that’s the first time this has happened?”

“Perhaps, you’ll never know.”

"The others and I are playing another game of pall mall; would you care to join us?”

“Another time.”

“Alright, Daphne’s the only one not playing today. You can sit with her.”

“Really? She doesn’t want to try and beat her streak?”

“I suppose not.”

“Look who I found,” Kate taps Daphne’s shoulder.

She turns, “isn’t this a surprise. We weren’t expecting to see you here.”

You avert your gaze, “I know, I know.”

“We’re just happy you’re here. You can sit with me while we watch the others.”

“Okay, where is your mama?”

“I recall her saying she was going to see your mama.”

“I see,” you sit in the empty chair on the other side of the table from where Daphne sits. “You didn’t want to beat or add onto your winning streak?”

“I thought it be best to give the others a chance to catch up.”

“How kind of you.”

Neither of you say anything further; you both enjoy the sounds of the children (none of them are acting their age so, they’re all children to you) as you sip the cup full of freshly poured tea.

You observe the game, watching as Eloise and Collin would brag if their ball made it through the hoop, your eyes shift onto another player.

"I see the way you look at my brother," Daphne lifts her cup, sipping her tea.

You look away from... "I don't know what you mean. You must be mistaken."

"I am anything but."

"Well, then, you must get your eyes checked. I was curious to see who was winning. Nothing else."

"If that's what you wish to believe."

"I don't believe anything; I want to see who is winning so I may prepare my celebratory speech for young Eloise!" You shout the last part, catching the player’s attention.

"I thank you for the support, but it is unnecessary at the moment," Eloise says.

“You’ll be grateful for it when you win.”

“Keep cheering me on them.” You smirk, shaking your head at the overly cocky girl.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Daphne says.

“I mean it’s only…”

“I don’t want to speak about this anymore.”

“Alright. I promise I won’t bring it up again.” (That promise didn’t last long). “I only mean to say that you and Benedict have had eyes for each other a long time now and I wish to see you two happy.”

“Daphne…”

“I know, I know but, surely you realize the feelings there.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I only wish for you two to be happy.”

“And I sincerely appreciate that but,” you sigh, returning your gaze to the- game. “Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”

“What do you mean? Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” Daphne places her cup onto the table.

“I suppose I am.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Soon. I am to marry this season.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t realize you were also joining the season.”

“I didn’t plan on doing so for a while but, things change, and you understand that you have to do what is necessary in order for you and your family to survive in this world. It was planned, there is nothing I can do to change it.”

“If there is anything I can help you with, please tell me.” She reaches for you.

You beat her and grab her hand, pushing her hand onto her lap, squeezing her hand in reassurance, “I am fine.”

“I will help you no matter what, you mean too much to me and my family.”

A smile stretches across your lips and the warm feeling of (temporary) happiness tugs at your heart. “I know and I feel the same for you and your family.”

“Even the stupid ones?”

You laugh, knowing exactly who she’s talking about. “Yes, even them.”

Benedict turns around and sees you glowing, looking radiant as ever.

But there’s something about the way you two look that makes him feel as though his life is about to change for better or for worse and fate has yet to decide.

He would later find out, he was right, and a little wrong.

Benedict turns, looking back over his shoulder like the other faceless guests do.

He watches as the bride walks by; her face covered by a thick veil. He can’t tell who it is. He stands and sits when he’s supposed to.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” says the priest.

The unknown groom, lifts her veil and sets it down, letting it fall onto her shoulders.

He can see her face; his smile falls once he realizes that it’s you.

He stands up, trying to reach for you but, he can’t, he’s stuck.

The faceless and nameless man moves closer to you, leaning down to finish the process and make you, his bride.

Benedict wakes, scared out of his mind that he was going to lose you.

He sits in his bed, thinking back to before when things were good between you two. He can’t be in his room anymore, perhaps a cigarette, a walk, or something else would help.

He puts on the shirt he tossed off to the side before he got ready for bed.

He ventures down the hallway, down the stairs, and eventually made his way to the swing set, he and Eloise use for their chats. He sighs, thinking back to the dream.

The thought of you getting married to someone else- seeing you with another is not ideal. He can’t come to terms with it, he didn’t before, and it seems his feelings about the matter will never change.

Getting out of his head, he sees you sitting on one of the swings.

He sighs, staring at you in all your glory, taking a mental picture so that he can draw this beautiful moment as soon as he finds a sketchbook.

The way the moonlight illuminates around you, your hand placement is perfect, not to mention the fact that you’re in your nightgown (not that he’s thought about you in a nightgown or had dreams about you… wearing such an outfit… only for him).

For as long as he shall live, he will never forget the way you look tonight- or any other day. He takes careful steps, to not frighten you but, still does so.

You jump, placing a hand over your heart, “Benedict. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I assumed so.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“I don’t believe it would be wise to tell you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Who knows who you would tell.”

“I didn’t ruin your chance to be with- whoever he was for us to have a broken friendship.”

You’re still hurt by the things he said and don’t hear his minor confession.

He doesn’t realize he’s done the same either.

“You ruined my chance to help out my family.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“So, what if I did? Is it so bad to say that I didn’t want to lose you, that I didn’t want to see my- my best friend married off to some rake?”

“He wasn’t a rake,” you argue.

“He certainly couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“I am a young woman, born into a world where a woman is to marry in order to survive. If a woman is not married by a certain age, then they are named a spinster and are seen as unfit to marry. You do not know and will possibly never understand-”

“I stand by my actions, and I will not take back what I said.”

“So, you admit that you did do something.”

He says nothing.

“Exactly and-”

“Marry me.”

You turn, eyes widen in surprise and shock, “what did you say?”

“What if,” he gulps. “What if you marry me? You know I would take care of you. I would love and support you no matter what, even if it isn’t up to society standards. I would- I would,” he pushes himself off the swing, to kneel before you, holding onto your hands.

Your breath ever so lightly quickens, your heart is about to drop down to your stomach; all you can do is blink owlishly at what, you can only assume a pity proposal and not a confession. ‘If only he meant it.’ “Benedict,” your voice barely above a whisper.

He continues to ramble on about how well of a husband he could be.

“Benedict… Benedict… Benny?” You reach for him, cupping his cheek, bringing his attention onto you. “I am sorry, but I cannot accept your proposal.”

His face falls, he looks so sad, and it does hurt you but, you can’t do this to yourself. “Why? You know I would be a good husband.” Your vision slowly becomes cloudy, tears pool in your waterline; you do your hardest to not let them fall as your lips tug upwards into a sad smile. “I know you would, and I have no doubt that you would but, we cannot marry.”

“I ask again, why?”

“I am already to be courting another before the end of the season, perhaps even before tomorrow evening.”

“When did this happen?” He whispers.

“Before I returned to visit you and your family earlier today, my mama informed me of the promise my papa made before he passed. I am to marry Lord Ruttiledge by the end of this season. I’m sorry.” You lean closer to him, pecking his cheek before removing his hands from you.

You force yourself off the swing as fast as you can before you break down and cry. It takes everything in you not to cry too loudly; you wipe your cheeks and run back to the Bridgerton home.

You close the door lightly so you don’t wake anyone else, leaning your back against the door with your hand over your mouth to hide any sounds that may escape you.

There was hardly any way for you to stay in the house any longer.

You quickly change into the dress you wore a few hours ago along with your hooded cape, careful not to forget your shoes.

You made your way to the stables, luckily it was still dark out and none of the servants were around. Sneaking Bo into his rightful spot and sneaking into your family home was easy.

The hard part was calming yourself down and trying to get some sleep.

After tucking yourself into bed, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come.

It doesn’t for some time, all you can think of is the conversation you had with your mama earlier.

“You know your father was a good man, right?”

“Yes, why are we speaking of him?” You ask, not wanting to see her cry.

“He made a promise before his passing and- oh dear, I don’t know how to tell you.” She doesn’t want to tell you because she knows who your heart truly belongs to.

“Tell me what?”

“He- he- do you remember Lord Ruttiledge?”

“Papa’s business friend?”

“Yes! Yes, he would often come over when you were a child.”

“Him and papa would drink and go into papa’s study to discuss some things, I don’t know what since they always told me to go play with my friends. It was a little rude if you ask me but, I wasn’t going to question papa.”

“I remember, defiant little thing you were,” your mama smiles.

“During one of Lord Ruttiledge’s visits he and your father made a promise to one another. If you and his son weren’t married by the time you both were twenty and four, you would marry him.”

“What about when I was younger?”

“That was the time before you entered your first season.”

“Papa wasn’t trying to marry me off then?”

“Oh heavens no. He wanted his one and only child to stay young and unmarried for as long as he could, that was the reason why he made the promise. We both hoped you were going to be married by now.”

“Why did papa tell me he was talking to lord Fauwix due to business reasons?”

“He thought you were talking about the Ruttiledge family. He had just finished discussing with young Albert’s father.”

“Oh.”

She reaches for your hand. “Please know that I don’t want this to happen but I’m afraid it’s out of my hands. The Ruttiledge’s have been planning on this marriage for a long time now. I have already tried all that I can to help.”

You sniff, realizing that being so rude to Benedict all this time was pointless. “I know. I don’t blame you- either of you.”

You wipe your cheeks. The life you’ve dreamed of having… is gone.

Eloise manages to sneak up on her brother who slouches in his chair in his art room, “Benedict, how long were you out there for? And, why do you have stains on your clothes?”

She wanted to go outside and sit on the swings but when she saw her brother and you talking, she didn’t want to disturb either of you. She returns to her room, until it was time to wake up.

Benedict says nothing.

“Benedict?”

He looks up at her, tears trickle down his cheek.

She’s shocked, she’s hardly ever seen him cry. “What’s-”

“She is marrying another.”

“Oh…” She doesn’t have to ask who. “When did you find out?”

“Last night… I proposed.”

Her eyes widen, surprised that he would do such a serious thing so soon (even though he’s been in love with you for years). He sits up, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, the heels of his palms cover his eyes. “I didn’t plan on proposing, I said it before I realized what I said, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it, because I do. I- I tried to confess to her.”

“You did?”

He runs a hand through his hair before resting his chin in his hand, “I did but, she told declined the proposal and informed me of the potential suitor she is to have before the end of the season. She walked away before I could say anything else.”

“What would you have said?”

“I-”

“Did you think that telling her she’s better suited for you was going to change anything?”

“I don’t-”

“Do you think that it was hard for her to say no to you?”

“It didn’t seem like it,” he mumbles.

“I planned on going to our secret place so we could talk but when I saw you two, I went back to bed, and do you know what I heard?”

He glances over at his sister before staring at the wall once more.

“I heard a young woman in love, with you of all people-”

Benedict frowns at that even though he knows his sister is joking.

“Crying her heart out because she cannot be with who she loves.”

“You all say she cares for me but, I don’t believe it to be true.”

“Maybe if you looked harder, you would see it.”

“We’re going to be having dinner with Albert Ruttiledge this evening,” your mother informs you.

Maggie finishes up with your hair.

“I’ll be sure, I’m ready by then.”

“Are you going to visit the Bridgerton’s today?”

“No.”

“Are you going out today?”

“No.”

“Has something happened?”

“No.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, mama. I… I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

“Are sure? I’m sure we can-”

“No, we’re having a dinner with the Ruttiledge’s this evening. I’ll be fine.” You turn, placing a hand on Maggie’s wrist, “thank you, Maggie.”

“Of course, my lady,” she bows and takes her leave.

“I’ll be going out today. Will you be alright here? By yourself?”

“I will, have fun,” you peck your mother’s cheek before exiting your room, preferring to hide out in the library.

You didn’t know it but, your mama went to visit the Bridgerton home and discuss a few things with Violet.

“Hello, Lord Ruttiledge,” you greet your soon-to-be fiancé.

“Lady Whittacker.”

“We should all sit down now, I suppose?” Your mother chimes in.

“Yes, of course.” He sits in the chair besides yours.

You and your mama share a “isn’t he charming” look.

Before you can sit down or anyone could say anything else, there’s a knock on the door.

“Who could that be?” You ask out loud.

Your mother places her hands on the arm of the chair, prepared to stand up but stops when the sound of multiple footsteps and chatter echoes in the hallway soon entering the dining room.

It seems as though everyone besides your mama is shocked by the group of guests. “Bridgerton’s! Bassets! Hello, hello. Come in, come in.”

Your mama turns towards the head servant, Nigel. “I’m already on it, Miss.”

“You are a saint, my dear.”

“I wasn’t expecting more guests,” Lord Ruttiledge mutters.

“Neither did I,” you add.

Daphne and Kate make their way towards you.

“We missed you yesterday morning for breakfast. Is everything alright?” Daphne asks.

“Of course,” you answer.

“And who is this?” Asks Kate, gesturing to the now uncomfortable man, who is still sitting.

“A friend,” you answer stiffly.

“A friend?” She repeats.

“Yes.”

“You must be good friends, if you’re here on your own.”

“Please stop,” you mumble.

“I’m only talking to him. I want to get to know him.”

“Kate.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“Everyone, please sit,” your mama announces.

“I’ve got it,” Benedict pulls out the chair from your grasp. He pushes it in once you sit down. “Thank you,” you whisper once he sits down.

“At least some of us have manners.”

“Benedict,” you sternly say.

“I know. I know.”

“How are well this evening?” Violet asks, attempting to make things slightly less awkward.

Few answered with good, others with a longer reply.

The youngest trio broke into a conversation of their own.

The eldest brother and eldest sister along with their spouses kept an eye on the three of you, clearly waiting for something to happen.

Eloise would chime with her commentary whenever one of her siblings would say something that catches her interest.

A few moments later, dinner was served and hardly anyone spoke a word, but when they finished their meals that’s when things took a turn.

“Are you going to discuss your interest in courting Lady Whittaker tonight?” Asks Kate.

Daphne and her sister-in-law gave the lord their full attention.

You close your eyes, deeply exhaling. ‘Why?’ “Must we do this now, ladies?” You ask, clenching your jaw so you don’t start an argument with your friends.

“I want to know what the rake’s intentions are,” Kate answers.

Lord Ruttiledge chokes on the drink, using the napkin to cover his mouth as he coughs. He clears his throat, “what?”

She looks at him, “did you think none of us knew?”

“Knew what?”

“Of your secret lover.”

“Don’t forget secret child,” Anthony adds.

“I think you mean children,” Kate informs her husband.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you two are talking about.”

The two glance at one another and hum, returning their focus back onto him.

“We think you do,” answers Simon, “innocently” sipping his wine.

“Is this why you invited us over?” Violet asks her friend.

“Heavens no. I did not know this is what was going to happen. Although I can’t say I’m upset.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I want her to marry who she wants, marry for love. I think after this we’re going to be closer than ever.”

Violet chuckles, she has the same feeling. “Should we stop them? Your daughter doesn’t seem to be very happy with her friends.”

“It’ll pass, let them get it all out now.”

“How many sips have you had?”

“I think you mean cups.”

“Oh.”

“You see,” Kate begins. “He has at least three children, two girls and a boy with another on the way. Isn’t that right, my lord?”

“His eldest is ten and one, the second child is seven, the third is said to be three, and his beloved has been with child since the middle of winter,” Anthony adds, raising his brows at you as he reaches for his cup.

“How did you find out?”

“We didn’t know for sure but now, you’ve confirmed it all,” Kate smirks.

“You can take your leave at any time this evening,” Daphne tells him.

Simon nods, agreeing with his wife.

“You four are the rudest people I have ever known,” you hiss. “I thank you for “looking out” for me but this,” you point in a circular motion. “Is completely inappropriate. And you,” you turn to the lord. “Can leave. None of us will tell anyone about what has happened. I apologize if you felt as though you had to come here, you certainly didn’t. Our fathers made a joking promise years ago but, then they wanted it to be true and here we are. You may leave. I’ll walk you out.”

The both of you get up, out of your chairs and head for the door.

You grab his forearm.

He turns around.

“Find the mother of your children and marry. Do not wait any longer. It’s clear the two of you care deeply for each other. The children should be with their father more. You won’t regret doing so, I know it.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and lunges at you, hugging you. “Thank you.”

“You have no reason to thank me.”

“I am sorry for putting you through this.”

You offer a small smile, “go to your family.”

“This means more to me than you know.”

“Which is why you must go now,” you laugh, pushing him out the door.

“Thank you!”

You take notice that it’s Maggie who’s closing the door. “Maggie-”

“Don’t abandon the party.”

You huff, turning to see Benedict leaning against the doorway that’s the hallway for the dining room. “Not now, Benedict.” You walk away, aiming for the stairs so, you can go to your room.

“You can’t abandon your guests.” He follows you.

“I have no guests to entertain. I only see a room full of traitors- protective and kind traitors.”

Maggie shakes her, wondering when the two of you will get together.

“At least it wasn’t me this time.”

You stop, doing a one-eighty turn, standing before him. You poke his chest, “so, you admit you did something?”

He nervously chuckles, staring at you, “no.”

“Really?” The corners of your mouth tugs upwards, you don’t realize it until Benedict says something.

“It seems as though now, since you don’t have to worry about marrying that rake-”

Your smile disappears as you take a step back, “he is not a rake. He was doing what he felt he had to for his family.”

“And which family is that? His mother and father or the one he created with some woman?”

You scoff, briskly walking away from him. He’s persistent tonight, you’ll give him that.

“I’m not done talking to you.”

“You’re not. I am,” the door slams shut. You rub your face, keeping your face covered.

“I’m not done talking to you,” he leans against the door, slowly closing it so no one disturbs the two of you or sees you, a young woman in the presence of a single man (who only has eyes for you) and gossip with others so you’re forced to marry… he does plan on asking for your hand but, Benedict would prefer if the both of you weren’t so much “forced” into marrying one another because of such a situation.

“Please get out. I need some time to myself.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

Your hands fall to your sides, “why? What is so important that you must tell me right this instant? All you’ve done is mess up everything and I can’t take anymore.”

“You…” He stops, unable to say another word. If he admits what’s in his heart, things may never be the same again, for better or for worse. He is tempted to mess with fate but, he’s downright terrified.

“I- what?” You snap, your emotions begin to get the better of you.

Benedict gulps. It’s now or never. He takes a step towards you, reaching out for you almost. He's in front of you, cradling your hands in his like he did the previous night. “You, make it ten times more difficult for me to be able to express myself… I can’t- I can’t tell you- begin to tell you how much you mean to me. I am a man of many talents but, when I look at you, I’m helpless. I can’t tell you everything I feel whenever I see you- think of you. I can hardly put into words how you are my… everything,” he whispers.

He reaches for your delicate face, dragging his index finger across your cheek, tucking it under your chin, bringing you closer. He leans in ever so slightly, his nose brushes against yours as he continues to stare into your beautiful eyes while finishes his confession. “I will admit to you now that I ruined any future relationship you may have had with that lord from our youth.”

You close your eyes, “why?”

“He would have taken away the one thing that keeps my heart beating and my art alive.”

“What?” You open your eyes, seeing his soft and kind eyes. A sight you haven’t seen for quite some time now.

“My darling,” he breathes out. “You are my muse. I may sound selfish but, I would do anything to keep you near me. The thought of you being with another hurts me more than I care to admit.” He brings his hand up to cradle your cheek, “I cannot even begin to think of how terrible life would be without you.”

“Why couldn’t you confess your love for me sooner and spare us this pain?” You sniffle, pulling your head away from him to lightly smacking his chest. He chuckles, reaching for your hand. You follow his lead as the two of you sway back and forth. You pause, “what are we to tell your family and my mama?”

“That we are getting married?” He gives you a sheepish smile.

“Really? I don’t recall anyone asking me.” Benedict kneels, reaching in his pocket.

You laugh, shaking your head with your eyes closed. “Will you-”

“Ben, you don’t need to-” you open your eyes and find him holding a ring. “Where did that come from?”

“Uhh…”

“Have you had this the whole time? Did you plan on proposing before your family interrupted?”

“Technically, our family but, yes? N- I won’t lie to you, my dear. The main reason I came here was to propose to you and tell you of my feelings.”

“You’ve been planning on proposing?”

“I tried once and was unsuccessful.”

“And you wanted to try again?”

“If it meant I got to see you, yes.”

You slowly place your hand in front of him.

“Does this mean you accept?” He asks, his heart beating much faster now… at the thought of you becoming his wife… among other things.

“I wouldn’t offer my hand, if I was going to reject the man I love.”

He practically jumps up, gingerly putting the ring on your finger, holding your hand. He looks at you, “did you tell me you love me?”

Your free hand comes up to the back of his neck; your thumb rubbing gentle and comforting circles, “I’m going to have my hands full with you, aren’t I?”

“I need to hear you say it again.”

You hum, “no.” You walk away, aiming for the door when you feel a pair of hands on your waist turn you around.

Benedict traps you against the door. “I’m afraid you can’t leave the room until you confess your feelings.”

“I,” you pause to study his face. “Find your facial features very interesting.”

“I don’t believe that is a confession.”

You dramatically sigh, “Ben, I… love you. I could not stop thinking about while I was away even though every time I thought of you, I usually became upset. I couldn’t stop my heart from beating faster when I thought of your smile, watching you sketch whatever it was that caught your interest, anything that had to do with you.”

“Even now your heart races?”

“Even now.”

“Do you want to tell them now?”

“I have a feeling they already know.”

“I have no doubt that you are right, my darling.”

One season later (summer)

The sunlight shining through the window begins to bug you.

You roll over, hoping to cuddle with your husband for a few moments. You open your eyes to find him sketching… shirtless. It’s an enjoyable sight to see when you first wake up that’s for sure. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Some time,” he vaguely answers you. You slightly crawl closer to him, leaning on your elbows, hoping to get a peek at what he’s working on today. “And what are we sketching this morning?”

He leans away from you, “no looking.”

You pout, “why?”

“It’s a surprise. I’m- I’ almost done.”

“If you think it’s bad, I can tell you without a doubt that it is amazing.”

He blushes, “thank you, my muse but-” It’s one of those mornings, if he calls you his muse then he’s drawing you.

“But nothing,” you push yourself off your elbows and sit up with one knee bent and the other leg tucked underneath. “You are an amazing artist. I love watching you work on your art and find myself lucky to see the finished work. Let me see it, please?”

He hesitantly hands you his latest sketchbook.

You don’t know what to say so, you smile. “You were drawing me while I slept?”

He hums.

“I must say, I never thought I would look so good in a drawing but when you’re married to the best artist in town, I guess that’s to be expected.”

You return the sketchbook back to him.

“How many times have we redrawn me this morning?”

“Zero.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, when I have an amazingly, wonderful, and beautiful muse lying at my side.”

“Oh? Confident, are we?”

He sets the book on the nightstand and wipes his hand on his charcoal pencil rag before spreading his arms, “come here,” he says.

You cuddle into him, enjoying the warmth he’s emanating. “I wish we could enjoy moments like this more often,” you whisper.

“Who says we can’t?”

A thump, followed by Hyacinth and Gregory’s shouting outside the door.

“Don’t answer my question.”

“I wasn’t,” you tease.

#Bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #Benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton imagine #crazyk-imagine

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aamalaaa · 1 year

Text

cold days/warm embraces

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: established relationship au, comfort, fluff, romance, oc has a cold and hobi takes care of them

warnings: well, oc is sick and dramatic

word count: 1.5k

a/n: ok so I’ve been very very sick these past few days and imagined the million ways Hobi would take care of his partner if they we’re sick, enjoy this fever induced drabble kekeke

This fucking sucks.

You’re lying in bed in a fetal position, hair in a tousled bun that’s barely hanging on while you clutch the soft satin covers in your tiny feeble hands.

You’ve been here for two days, barely managing to get out of bed to shower and brush your teeth. They said the cold season was harsh this year, they were right. If you were a little skeptical before, well you’re not anymore.

You feel like the pressure in your sinuses is so intense your head might explode at any moment.

But that’s not the worst. No, oh no.

The worst is the fact that you cannot. Stop. Sniffling.

So you lay in bed, whining and moaning about life and the harsh reality you find yourself in, sniffling harshly as you let a few drops of salty water slip past your tear ducts.

You may be a tad bit dramatic. You’re allowed to, this fucking sucks.

You throw another tissue in the garbage bin and lament weakly as you do so, bringing the covers up to your ears in a barely logical attempt to hide from the world.

That’s when you hear the front door open, the familiar creaking sound bringing you instant comfort.

“Kitten?”

You can make out the sound of a bag hitting the hardwood floor and the shuffling of winter clothes.

You reply with a quite frankly pitiful moan, that’s really the best you can do considering your current state.

There’s footsteps coming closer to the bedroom and you curl onto yourself even more, peeking out of the warm covers to glance at your boyfriend.

“Oh baby,” He coos, dropping onto the bed and sliding under the covers. He brings you flush against his chest and drops a soft peck onto your head of messy hair.

“Hobi,” You whine feebly.

He squeezes your delicate frame. “You’re not feeling any better than this morning are you?”

You pleadingly look into his dark brown orbs.

“No-“ You break out into a tiny cough.

He shushes you. “My poor kitten,” Another kiss is laid upon your head. “Don’t try to talk ok?”

You nod, curling into his loving embrace. It’s warm and comforting, just like him.

“Did you eat today? Have you showered?”

You shake your head no, intent on following his advice. You don’t need another fit of cough, you’re not sure your poor head could handle it.

“Can you get up and shower for me baby? You’ll feel better. I’ll make soup for you, your favorite.”

You clutch the front of his shirt, you don’t want to get out of his strong embrace. It’s bearable like this, as long as you’re in the hold of the strongest arms in the whole world.

But reality kicks in and your nose starts dripping against Hoseok’s shirt, much to your horror.

You push against his chest to the best of your abilities which earns you a cock of his eyebrows.

“Tissues,”

Hoseok breaks out into a fit of laughter and gives you a tissue while you glare menacingly at him.

Well you try to, because damn if that laugh isn’t the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Even your favorite songs cannot begin to compare to the melodious yet unhinged sound.

You dump the used material in the bin and turn towards your lover again, making grabby hands as you look into his laugh-crinkled eyes.

Hoseok coos softly before enveloping you once again in his tender embrace and you settle there.

It feels like a warm summer day, when you’ve stayed in the sun for hours and your skin feels hot and pliant. You can almost smell the warm air and coconut sunscreen if you close your eyes and inhale deeply.

But you can’t inhale deeply because your nose is stuffed and you let out a plaintive whine.

“Kitten..” Hoseok presses his tender lips on your rosy cheek. “Can you get up?”

“Maybe,” You croak out.

He caresses your tousled hair with his long slender fingers. “I’ll help you.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the shower for at least half an hour if not more, sitting on a little built-in bench as warm water soothingly trickles down your body. Your nose even manages to clear for a few minutes, and god, you really took inhaling through both nostrils for granted.

Never again.

You leisurely get out and Hoseok enters the bathroom with a fond smile on his face as he hears the sound of water stop.

You make to grab a towel but a dainty hand stops you halfway there.

“Let me,”

Your boyfriend thoroughly but gently dries you off, and you can’t help but blush. Yes, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count, and yes he’s seen you worse off, even held your hair a few times as you threw up after nights out.

This feels different though.

You don’t mind one bit.

He dries the excess water from your hair with a towel and wraps a soft cotton robe around you, helping you with both sleeves and tying it around your waist.

Then, he delicately brushes your hair, making sure not to hurt you in the process, and proceeds to blow dry it carefully, tickling you here and there as he does so to distract you.

And it works, you try to wriggle out of his embrace but he continues his merciless attack, dropping kisses on each side of your neck as he tickles your weakest spots.

You know the perfect remedy to a cold now, it's Jung Hoseok.

“Thank you..” Your voice comes out as a hoarse squeak.

The smile you get is absolutely blinding, so much so that you fear losing balance and tumbling down on the floor considering your weakened state. But the strong arm around your waist steadies you and you take a few tentative steps all the way up to your bedroom, Hoseok not leaving your side, not even for a second.

You notice that the bed is clean and made when you throw the covers aside to slip in. And when you do, the fresh smell of clean sheets embraces you in a comforting wave of jasmine and lavender haze.

You cocoon yourself and inhale as much as you can, almost purring at the sensations enveloping your senses.

You try to protest when Hoseok leaves the room but are soon filled with love and tenderness when he comes back just as quickly with a hot bowl of soup that he drops on the nightstand closest to your still form.

He pats your now clean locks tenderly before sitting on the bed and bringing you up in a sitting position, your back against his firm chest. “Try to eat a little bit please,” He murmurs soothingly.

And how could you say no to that.

Also, since you’re out of your lethargic daze, you do feel quite a bit hungry.

So you slurp loudly on the homemade soup, basking in the feeling of warmth engulfing you as you do so. And Hoseok keeps caressing your hair in a soft manner, watching you eat without saying a word.

Even though you’re sick and very dramatic about it, you feel so fucking grateful. So grateful to have such a kind and caring soul with whom you share a life with. The most honest and beautiful man, who takes care of you when you’re sick or tired without complaining, not even once. Who changes the sheets and prepares you soup while you whine and moan about having to take a shower

Hoseok gently takes the bowl from your hand and places it nearby while you slump down against him, satiated and very sleepy.

Your next words are slurred and barely audible. “I don’t deserve you, thank you..”

Hoseoke chuckles fondly and shuffles the both of you so you lay down on the bed, his front still pressed against you in a perfect spoon-like embrace.

“I don’t deserve you, you little baby.”

You nuzzle his wrist and quietly purr. You haven’t felt this content since you woke up this morning.

“Nu-uh, I don’t.” You weakly protest.

You can almost feel your boyfriend rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Do you really wanna argue about this now?” He giggles quietly.

You ponder on it a bit, a pout slowly forming on your red slightly chapped lips. “No, I’m tired..”

You feel the soft press of lips against the back of your head and wiggle further into Hoseok’s warm embrace.

“Do you want to sleep?” He murmurs against you.

Your pout deepens.

“Do I really have to?”

Another fit of carillon-like chortles.

“You do baby.”

“Ok then.” You sigh dramatically. “But stay here, please?”

Hoseok nuzzles closer before whispering tenderly,

“Of course, big baby. I took tomorrow off too. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You slap his arm. “Who ‘you calling a big baby?”

“You, big baby,” He teases before swinging his leg above you and hooking it around your own pair of legs.

You huff out in feigned annoyance but still lay a delicate kiss on his inner wrist. “Big baby wants to sleep now.”

“Good, then sleep Kitten.”

a/n: here’s the link for my general taglist<3

gen taglist: @bwormie @fragmentof-indifference

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talesofourworlds · 2 months

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Mun comforts

Comfort food: Homemade mashed potatoes. None of that instant mashed potato nonsense, they have to be homemade. Instant just doesn't taste as good. They're warm, they're soft, buttery, salty, creamy... they're just all I could ask for.

Comfort drink(s): Hot chocolate, I guess? I don't really have one, so that's as close as we're going to get I guess.

Comfort movie(s): Probably Lilo & Stitch. Stitch became a pretty big comfort character for me in middle school, and there's something cozy about the movie. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie, too. Lots of nostalgia tied to that one. Also the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I just rewatched those fairly recently and man. There's this sense of comfort and familiarity about them. It was like coming home just rewatching them. I think I'm also going to count the 1977 animated Hobbit movie. I watched it so many times after reading the book and I'm pretty sure I'd find that sense of cozy familiarity if I went back and rewatched it now.

Comfort show(s): I'd definitely say Bluey is one. Sometimes I'll also just find shows I used to watch when I was a little kid and put those on, like Little Bear and things like that. Steven Universe, too, and I feel like I could say the same for Babylon 5.

Comfort clothing: T-shirts and sweat pants, honestly.

Comfort song(s): KARMA!!! Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride, definitely. Also Tear singing the Grand Fonic Hymn.

Less songs and more background music, but definitely Space Junk Galaxy. Yuna's Determination, too.

Tales specific ones include Whisper of the Crystal, Thank You, the Xillia 2 credits theme, Aball Village, The Imperial City, Alisha's Theme, Cheagle Woods, Happiness in My Hand, and many others I'm definitely blanking on.

Comfort book(s): Hmm... The Hobbit, probably? I don't really read as much as I used to when I was younger, oops.

Comfort game(s): Tales of the Abyss!! I know, who didn't see that coming. But listen. I've played it so many times that I know it back and forth and this point. The world feels like home. The characters feel like old friends. It simultaneously breaks my heart into itty bitty bits and also feels like a warm, comfortable blanket. I love it that much.

Some others I love nclude Tales of Legendia, Tales of Graces, Animal Crossing (especially New Horizons right now), Pokemon Crystal, Pokemon Platinum, Harvest Moon: Another Wonderful Life (though I guess Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life would also qualify now), Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky, and Sonic Adventure 2.

-- Tagged by: @outoftheirdifferences

-- tagging: Whoever wants to!

#ooc #about the mun

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jaehunnyy · 2 years

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A/N: another day, another slay ✊️ hehe my friend suggested Renjun for this so here we go 🥰

@sungbeam, my dear, thank you so much for being my "beta reader", as well as for your patience and for all the advices and suggestions that helped me improve this 🤗💕 Lovies, interact with her amazing works as well! 🥺

Fate's choice

Genre: exes-to-lovers!au, angst with happy ending, fluff (in the end)

Word count: 2.5k

Pairing: Renjun × reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and parties, mentions of drunk dreamies (mostly Renjun), descriptions of heartbreak

__________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The dead leaves were falling dry on the once clean sidewalk, building what seemed to be a multicolored carpet, sewed with memories and good times. If fall used to be your favorite time of the year, it all changed when you got your heart shattered into thousands of little pieces. You began to despise this season, the pain of the memories gathered during this period making your chest wince in pain, followed by salty tears streaming down your cheeks. Instead of blossoms and happiness, Renjun had left you with emptiness and sadness; and the painful flashbacks you wished you could simply erase from your mind.

Renjun was your first love, and you strongly wished for him to be your last too. But promises are meant to be broken, plans are meant to be screwed, and that's why they told you to never fantasize beforehand, not when you didn't even know what tomorrow will bring. You guessed you should have listened, but your feelings meant more than some "stupid" words you heard from your elders. You didn't even know what made you fall apart, the three words you heard before finding yourself left alone in your shared apartment remaining tattooed on your brain, making you feel guilty and confused. An aching sentence, embroidered with blades and needles coming from his mouth, and you were falling, losing your brightness forever. A simple, yet meaningful "let's break up", and your life took a turn you'd never expected it to. Maybe it was the lack of communication, the tiredness that took over you when you accepted that part-time job, trying to provide enough money for both you and him. He was going to be a successful singer, and you didn't want to take the important time he spent practicing away from him. So you always watched him with the biggest admiration, the most sincere smiles, while trying to make it work for the two of you. And when he left, without giving you any time to get used to the idea, or any chance to explain yourself, to try to repair things, you'd started neglecting yourself, burying yourself in work so you could forget. College wasn't the same either, not when there were chances to see him, alone or with someone else. So you just quit for a while; he made you that vulnerable.

This was six months ago, and today wasn't any different. You'd decided to try attending some of the important courses you had, but your attention was directed to something else every time, and you would forever be thankful to Chenle, who was always willing to give you his notes, being very familiar with your current situation. As your best friend, he missed seeing your face shine with genuine happiness, adorned with that blissful smile whenever you talked about a date or even just Renjun. And he tried being as understanding as he could with you, even though his patience was long gone. He knew you deserved better, so when you stopped going to classes for a while, he almost searched for the reason of your condition, ready to teach him a lesson. Despite his desire for vengeance, he knew he'd have to deal with you after. He knew how much you cared, even now, when everything was over. You also knew Renjun deserved a good beating, but you couldn't bear to imagine the red, heartwarming blush of his cheeks replaced with purple, deep scratches.

On the other side, Renjun's feelings were mixed. Half of the time he was thinking about you and the mistake he made when he left you, while the other half was spent at parties, lost in the pungent taste of the alcohol he was consuming. But instead of forgetting about you, he seemed to get reminded of you more, to the point where he started seeing you next to him, begging you for forgiveness. This was on the inside, cause on the outside he kept his cool image undamaged, the only people who figured the change in his acts being his friends, who promised to always support him and his decisions. And it was hard, because he wanted to blame fate, though the one at fault was no one other than him. So he could only hope for fate to bring you back together, because something had broken inside of him when he realized the seriousness of his deed. No more shy smiles, no more sweet songs he poured his soul into, just to prove his endless love for you. Just silent suffering while pretending to be alright, while acting like the tough one. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft tap on his shoulder, turning to face a smiley, playful Jaemin who wanted to catch his attention.

"Party today at Jisung's, the new guy. I heard he's rich, so we should go see what's in there."

Renjun frowned, his beautiful skin being now decorated with little wrinkles. "I don't want to go, sorry. Go and see without me."

Now Jaemin was the one to frown, looking at the guy's sincere eyes, trying hard to detect a lie.

"Dude, what's gotten into you? You're really bitter today, JunJun," Mark asked, hoping to change the younger's mind.

"Don't call me that. I just don't wanna go."

Jaemin shrugged in confusion, looking at Mark whose reaction wasn't any different. They have decided to give him some time, knowing that in the end, he'll come to the party as well. He would never let his friends down, loving some quality time with them. And they were right.

The music was loudly resonating in the big speakers, the party already promising. Jisung's backyard was big and full of board games, matching Renjun's taste. He found his friends playing some beer pong, deciding that it was a good moment to snap them out of their concentration and scare them.

"BOO!"

The happy, addicting sound of his bright laugh amazed the 4 of his friends, who were really surprised to see him there. Despite the shock, they went with it and hugged him nonetheless, happy that he had changed his mind, their own smiles blatant on their pretty faces.

"You came!" Jeno exclaimed, the alcohol adding a red glow to his cheeks, making him cuter than he would usually look.

"How could I miss a party? Let's get to the game!"

Hours passed, the teenagers living their lives like there was no tomorrow, without thinking about any of their problems. Renjun was touring around the house with some alcohol cups in his hands, though he wished he had stayed at his place. His face went white and pale, as if he'd seen a ghost. He saw Chenle chatting with someone, and a wave of memories stabbed into the haze of his mind. Chenle was talking to you, his lost love, his once—everything. How could he forget that Chenle was friends with Jisung, which meant you were there as well?

It was like he forgot how to talk, or how to walk away from you, just sitting there, astonished, waiting for someone to grab his petrified figure and move it away. He felt weak, helpless, unable to move without the help of someone. He had never thought about seeing you again, at least not today. And now that he was faced with this situation, he didn't know what to do. The alcohol wasn't helping at all, making him feel more repulsive than motivated to go to you and sort things out. And if he was the tiniest bit rational before, it all vanished when his eyes met yours. Your expressive pupils held so many emotions in them, he couldn't even tell exactly what. Was it love or hate? Was it disappointment or admiration? Everyone around you disappeared, and he was left with your flaming orbs sending electricity down his spine. Your stare sliced his wounds open, and he gathered all the strength he had to leave…

But you did it first.

And it hurt him to let you slip through his fingers again, but he didn't know if he could do anything for you to be his again. He could only imagine how badly his words hurt, and how guilty you had to feel over something that wasn't your fault. He shouldn't have let his insecurities rip your special bond apart, yet he now felt the poison of his own words. And the only solution he had found was going back to his friends and getting more drunk.

Some hours later, you found yourself on your bed, hugging your pillow and crying. Catching a glimpse of his handsome face felt like a privilege you lost six months ago, and as much as you tried to be indifferent, seeing him made your life harder. His eyes were deeper than the last time you'd looked at him. "What if he had come and said sorry?" You thought. "You're so stupid, Y/N; he was the one who broke up with you." You were aware of how rich your imagination was, so you stopped before it could go overboard. Or better said, a loud thud on your door interrupted your wild imagination from bringing another scenario into your mind, making you scoff in both annoyance and fear. The loud rain was already making you anxious; you were being so unused to the sound of it on the rooftop, the coldness in your room making you shiver. The knock on the door only added to your panic.

Who could it be at this late hour? It was 2 am, and you were genuinely scared to go and check who was playing with your heart. But you needed to, so you grabbed a lamp and silently made your way to the door. Shaking a bit, you pressed your fingers on the door knob, hiding behind the big wooden figure so you could see who dared to seek you out at this time of night.

And then you were facing the unexpected: a tiny, rain soaked Renjun, in search of you, his drenched clothes making him tremble.

"R-Renjun?"

He looked at you as you got from behind the door, smiling softly. You blamed it on his absolutely drunken state, but his smile was so honest and pretty.

"Y/N! Here you are… you have no idea how much I've missed you. Haha, the lamp looks so cute on you! It adds to your natural shine."

Forgetting about the wet clothes, he pulled you in a tight hug, flowers blooming at your bodies touching. It was like the air had missed the two of you as well, surrounding you with a strong warmth, fueled with love and unspoken regrets.

"Renjun, you're… you're drunk, and you will surely forget this in the morning. Let's get you changed and ready for sleep."

As much as it hurt you to brush it off like this, pretending you hadn't seen hearts while being in his embrace once more, you couldn't bring yourself to take advantage of his unconscious state. So you tried your best in ignoring his clingy and drunk antics, even though he was giggling at everything you did, speaking gibberish and acting like a baby. You didn't want him to suffer, thus you suppressed all the bitterness coming from him when he broke up with you, creating a shield that separated your once happy self from the world's cruelty. You avoided talking to him, scared that your feelings might be lethal for your built coldness, giving up for him.

So after giving him the guest room, you went straight to sleep. But Renjun had other plans. He felt the courage and thrill overwhelming his body, making him go straight in your room. He hoped you could hear him, his sudden urge for repairing the broken pieces of your relationship growing stronger than ever.

"Baby… I know you are sleeping, you deserve to. I've drained your energy, and I know I shouldn't have come here. But you are the only one I truly trust in situations like this—it never changed. I don't deserve staying beside you now and holding your hand like I am, but I can't help myself. I was such a fool for leaving you like that, without any explanation, and I know you've stressed a lot over it." He gave your hand a little stroke, before talking again.

"The fault was never yours, but mine. I was so insecure, I was so unsure of myself. I didn't know if we could make it, because we were so different. It took me so long to realize that these differences made us special and unique. My love for you never disappeared, and I desperately wish there is still a chance for the two of us."

After finishing his tipsy, little monologue, his lips found their place on your forehead, giving it a feather-like kiss, before letting a tear fall, hitting your beautiful sleepy face. Or so he thought. He didn't bother to return in the guest room, circling your waist with his arms, securing you in his embrace. You hadn't slept that well in a while.

The next morning came almost immediately, to your regret. Having Renjun hold you like this felt like the fresh breeze on a sunny summer day. Facing him, you caressed his messy hair softly, not planning to wake him up. But plans don't always work as intended, and you only remembered this when you were greeted with a pair of soft, black eyes, and a happy smile. Your own lips curled in happiness while gazing at the boy you love.

"You know, JunJun… I know I wasn't supposed to hear your romantic monologue yesterday, but I did." You murmured to him, voice still hoarse and husky from sleep.

To his surprise, he remembered everything and your words made his eyes go wide. You chuckled, and the ice covering his heart slowly melted at the pretty sound.

"I admit being drunk, but I meant everything. I can recall every single word I've said. Please, think about us. Try and give me a second chance." He held your hand, kissing every inch of skin he could.

You blushed, intertwining your hand with his. Neither of you could ignore the way your fingers connected, like a puzzle piece. You felt complete again, and you hoped he felt this way too, because you were ready to give him what he wanted. A last chance.

Drunk in love and euphoria, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his, the familiar sensation of butterflies dancing in your stomach making you smile. He was shocked, but in the best way possible, returning the kiss with the same passion and longing.

"Let's start over, baby."

Your words were enough for him to feel like he was floating on cloud nine, bringing your lips together once again, letting them cheer for your comeback as a couple. He didn't know if it was destiny, but he chose to believe that you were meant for each other. Fate itself has given you your happy ending. And he couldn't be happier for getting drunk and coming to your house to find you. If this was the solution, he would repeat it in the next life as well, though he preferred remaining by your side forever, without having to break your heart again.

#nct x reader #renjun x y/n #renjun x reader #fluff #angst #exes to lovers #happy ending #nct dream

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

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Lavender and Crimson Chapter 5: Bombshells

Series: Lavender and Crimson

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake (past)

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 577

My other stuff: Master List.

“Riley…” He stared at her in shock. Now that the idea had presented itself to him, he couldn’t shake it. Now that he’d seen the resemblance, he couldn’t unsee it. “Is Ellie mine?”

Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded as the tears welled in her eyes and fell down her face, salty and wet.

He couldn’t move as the entire universe shifted. His world just got knocked off its axis and he had no idea what to do with this new information.

His eyes went back to Ellie as she chased Xander around the room. His daughter. He shook his head in denial, this couldn’t be happening. But it was happening. Now that he knew, he didn’t understand how he’d missed it before. She looked like him.

Tears were sliding down his face as well as he turned to her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her tears evaporated as fury descended on her features, “Oh yeah, how was I supposed to do that Drake, huh? No one could find you! We looked! Liam hired private investigators, we searched for over a year! You didn’t want to be found!”

“I-“ He couldn’t argue that. It was true. He’d gone off the grid for close to two years. By the time he reemerged, they must have stopped looking. “Liam looked for me? So, he knows…”

Her eyes snapped with fire, “Of course he fucking knows, Drake!” She hissed at him, “What kind of a person do you think I am?”

Also, she would have had to been having sex with Liam for Ellie to be his and she’d only been sleeping with Drake. Not that she was going to bother to tell him that. He didn’t deserve to know. Not anymore.

“Liam needed a wife, and my baby needed a father, so we struck a deal.”

“A deal?” His brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Her words made no sense. What did she mean struck a deal? That's not how people generally talked about their marriages. “But you love him.”

“Yes, I love him because he's my husband and my best friend. But I'm not in love with him and I never was!” Every bit of hurt and anger she’d felt six years ago was threatening to reemerge and drown her again and she couldn’t let it. She needed to be strong right now for Liam and for their children.

“But he was in love with you, is in love with you! He fell in love with you during the social season, I saw it!”

She snorted, “You really have no idea what you're talking about. He fell in love with someone during the social season all right, but it wasn’t me.”

“What? Who?”

“What difference does it make? You didn't want me… us! You broke my heart and left me alone to raise our child!” She tipped her head in Ellie's direction as tears started sliding down her face again, “She doesn't even know who you are! I'll never forgive you for that! So go ahead and run away again, go back to wherever the hell was so much more appealing than here! Leave! It’s what you’re good at!”

He had not one clue what was going on, or what had gone on six years ago apparently. But he was damn sure going to find out. The only thing he was absolutely, positively certain of was that there was no way in hell he was leaving again.

#lavender and crimson #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices #trr #drake walker #drake x mc #liam rys #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices stories you play #angst #angst with a happy ending

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rune-writes · 9 months

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Ash Like Snow

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Word count: 2367

Rating: G

Summary: Nayra has never seen snow. Her friend once describe it to her as "white little flakes falling from the sky. Like frozen rain, except softer". But now the moon has cracked, its pieces piercing the land which results in thick waves of aether that renders the realm nigh unlivable. Nayra stands at the precipice of this new world as ash rains around her. It looks like snow.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Ash fell from the sky. It looked like snow.

Nayra covered her eyes and peered through the foliage. It had been a year since the calamity and yet the sun was still a pale smudge of what it once was. They said a thick layer of aether had enveloped the star’s atmosphere, distorting light and color to a sickly purplish glow that made her stomach turn. It turned now, driving Nayra to her knees as bile rose up her throat.

The vomit didn’t come. What did come was a pounding headache threatening to split her head in two.

Nayra…

A faraway voice, faint and familiar, reaching forward in tendrils…

Mother?

A gasp tore out of her.

Nayra breathed, gulping large doses of air as her chest heaved with exertion. Sweat coated her brow and tears rolled down her eyes. Grass had never felt so soft before. But her arms quickly ached. Slowly, she rolled onto her back and dropped an arm over her eyes. Breathing. Just…breathing. In and out. Letting her lungs fill until her chest shuddered and she couldn’t take in another breath.

***

The trek across Vylbrand was more taxing than she remembered. The sun beat down her back as she dragged one foot in front of the other up the sloping hills of La Noscea. The air was immensely fresher here. Salty wind brushed against her face, and in the distance, windmills turned in a steady rhythm. She spotted people working in the fields—yellow stalks amongst trees bearing apples and oranges. It was harvesting season, it seemed, judging from the carts lining the farm. But they were few; the yields weren’t much.

One of the workers, having placed a crate of oranges on the cart, paused, wiping her brow and fanning herself when she noticed Nayra passing by. “Hey,” she called. Nayra stopped, looked around, then pointed at herself. “Yeah you. Come here.” Nayra did as she was told, albeit a little questioningly. “Had any breakfast yet? Or lunch, for that matter. The sun’s already quite high up.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Here then.” The woman tossed her an orange, then two more. “We got a lot of them. Wouldn’t hurt to miss a couple.”

She said ‘a lot’, but a cursory glance told Nayra three barely-full crates were all it took to harvest their entire orchard. She couldn’t readily say no, even more so when her mouth watered, so she accepted, and said, “Thank you…” But then her stomach churned at the thought of eating.

The woman might have noted her discomfort because she then called for another to bring some bread and water. Nayra tried to refuse, said the oranges were more than enough and was already backing away when a Roegadyn twice her size appeared behind her and told her—or forced her, more likely—to sit on the cart. The bread and water arrived soon after and Nayra suddenly had a lavish meal laid out in front of her.

“Poor thing,” the woman said. She leaned against the wooden fence, looking Nayra up and down and giving a little tsk at the end. “You’re naught but skin and bones.”

“Eat up,” the roegadyn said. “There’s plenty of that where they come from.”

“I couldn’t…”

“Not sure how long you’ve been on the road,” he went on, “but least we could do is help each other in these uncertain times.”

“Where’d you come from?” the woman asked. “We don’t see a lot of your kind here. Seekers, yes, but not Keepers.” She paused at Nayra’s silence. “The Shroud then?”

Nayra dropped her gaze. She could feel pity dropping on her like a stone when the woman spoke next:

“Sorry for your loss, deary. Heard it’s got the worst damage out of all of us.”

“Closest to the Flats, aye,” added the roegadyn. “An entire region wiped off the map.”

The woman shook her head. “Wonder if we’ll get our lives back,” she said. “La Noscea’s been spared the worst of it but we still got our scars. Crops’re dying left and right. Land hasn’t been the same.”

“Neither’s been the water. Ah, but don’t you worry your head, lass. Them folks at the smithy’s been handing out water distillers so yours should be as fresh as Fool Falls.” He nodded at the flask proudly like a father showing off his son.

Nayra stared at the flask, then the oranges, then the bread.

“You heading somewhere, lass?” the roegadyn asked.

She finally broke the bread and took a small bite. “Nowhere,” she replied.

***

Her family used to travel a lot. A traveling merchant, some called them. Her father, though born and raised in Thavnair, had spent a handful of his late teen years in Ul’dah where he’d learned to trade. Her mother, though, was a simple huntress from the Shroud, her tribe making its home deep in the western side near the mountains of Mor Dhona. They’d met and fallen in love and as traveling had always run deep in her parents’ veins, after they'd had her, they’d immediately set out for the road.

Nayra would boast about all the places she’d been to. From the green mountains of Coerthas to the sprawling desert of Thanalan, the sparkling Silvertear Lake of Mor Dhona and fiery mountain of O’Ghomoro. La Noscea had been her favorite place to visit. Pirates and traders from all corners of the star merged and mingled in a city where cultures clashed and assimilated. Her heart had soared at the sight of open seas, and once, when she stood at the precipice of a jutting rock over a beach that glistened like gold, she’d spread her arms and wondered if she could fly.

“Silly,” a friend used to say. “Of course you can’t fly. You have no wings.”

“What if you can fly without wings?”

“On an airship maybe. But they’re too expensive.”

Nayra frowned. She picked at the ghysahl green leaf and offered it to the chocobo chick, coaxing it to eat from her hand instead of Raha’s. It didn’t even glance at her.

Raha chuckled.

“Have you ever seen snow?” he suddenly asked.

“No.”

“You might like it—those white little flakes falling from the sky. Like frozen rain, except softer.”

“Sounds cold.”

“But pretty.”

“And cold.” The chocobo chick had finished its meal. It took a step back then ruffled its feathers, which were red like his hair. Nayra grabbed a mimett gourd from their basket this time because the chick seemed to love it, but when Nayra held out her hand, it only looked at her, took a sniff, before yawning and moving away to join its mother at the stables. Nayra’s frown deepened. “Just like that little guy.”

Raha let out a chest-rumbling laugh. “If your travels bring you to Sharlayan one day, be they by air or sea, let me know so I can show you snow.”

***

She heard it before she felt it: a rumble from deep within the star. Nayra stopped in her tracks, hand shooting out to grab a nearby tree as the first quake hit the ground. O’Ghomoro was erupting. In the distance, beyond the verdant leaves and towering cliffs, smoke rose some hundred yalms tall.

It ended soon after it began. Nayra waited for a few seconds longer, staying low near the ground until the quake ceased. When the beasts stopped their frantic escape, she knew it was safe to move. But the moment she rose to her feet, a hum pulsed across the forest that almost brought her back to her knees.

“Stop it…” She gritted her teeth. Her stomach turned; her eyes saw fire.

The bleeding sky flashed across her mind. She remembered the flaming starshower; heard the screams that pierced her ears. When she'd reached where her tribe should have been, a giant inferno had engulfed every root and tree and stone and pebble.

Light blinded her for a fraction of a second as Nayra’s eyes slowly peeled open. Her pupils flinched and contracted before they adjusted to the glare, her hand going up to cover her eyes. She waited until the nausea dissipated—until she could push herself to her feet where she swayed for a handful of moments before finally regaining her balance. The forest had returned to its usual noise as though nothing had happened and Nayra hadn’t collapsed for the second time that day.

Aether sickness, they said. No few people had developed it after Bahamut laid waste to the continent, but sometimes Nayra wondered if she had the worst of it.

Thick clouds had gathered in the sky. But there was no thunder or wind. The air was hot and tasted like ash. Yet when the first gray flakes fell around her, it wasn’t her burning home that came to mind. It was that mundane morning when she’d crouched in front of a chocobo chick trying to feed it greens.

Have you ever seen snow?

Nayra frowned. Maybe, once upon a time, she had entertained the idea that ashes were snow. It was a passing thought which had earned a laugh from Raha. They were flakes and they were soft, except they were gray and hot to the touch.

Nayra banished the thought away, adjusted her bag over her shoulder, and made to move. That’s when she heard it—a distant cry, faint and familiar:

Kweh!

Nayra stopped in her tracks, turned her head toward the source of the sound, and strained her ear to listen. Silence greeted her. She waited a couple more seconds but the only things she heard were the twittering birds and grazing animals. She scoffed at herself. There were no wild chocobos in Eorzea, let alone Vylbrand. Whatever she’d heard probably had a master and a home. She set to move, only to be stopped once again by a shrill cry, and somewhere deep inside her, she knew that if she didn’t go and see what it was, she’d regret it forever. So Nayra changed her course and headed deeper into the woods.

It came from a collapsed building. Nayra spotted a pack of pelicans already closing in around it. A few yalms away lay a red chocobo carcass, its sides a gaping maw of where the scalekins had probably been feeding themselves. And now they’d set their sights on the cries of what Nayra assumed to be a chocobo chick's.

Her bow was immediately in her hand, an arrow nocked and trained on one of the pelican's necks. She let the arrow fly.

The pelican screeched. It bucked and reared and gave a frantic flap of its wings before tumbling down on its side. The second pelican whipped its head and in the span of less than a millisecond, it had directed its beaky face at Nayra. It lunged forward with a cry.

One arrow hit its ankle, another to its chest. Nayra drew her dagger and, rushing forward, slashed at the giant bird’s neck. It fell to its knees, blood gushing out of its gaping wounds. Nayra watched its life slipping out. Its eyes grew dim, its beaks opened and closed in a last attempt to breathe.

So weak, she thought of the pelicans’ dead bodies. They were nothing but skin and bones, looking for food which Nayra meant to save. How else could her frail form have bested two grown pelicans?

She cleaned her dagger before shoving it in its sheath then pulled her arrows from the pelicans’ remains and stashed them in her quiver. Turning her gaze to the dead chocobo, she kneeled and offered what prayer she could. Whether or not the gods heard, she didn’t know, and didn’t quite care. It was a force of habit. Though Nayra had told herself she’d let these traditions go, a part of her found solace in it, and she hoped it'd find the chocobo too.

Getting back on her feet, Nayra trained her eyes on the pile of wooden logs beyond the dead pelicans. It had probably been a hunter’s shack once upon a time, long unused ever since the calamity took its toll on the island. How there was a chocobo out here in the wild was beyond her. Maybe the hunter had died, leaving his chocobos behind. Maybe he’d forgotten them when he made a run for it.

Truth be told, it didn’t matter. The crying, which had stopped during the fight, now resumed, as though the chick knew help had come.

Nayra stepped over the pelicans and headed over to the shack. She dropped to her knees and began clearing away the wood. One by one, lifting and tossing with all the strength she could muster, until finally the final log was out of the way, and she found a baby chick roughly three moons old settled between two planks supporting each other. Its crying stopped. The chick looked at her with beady eyes.

Have you ever seen snow?

Its feathers were a softer shade of crimson; a far cry from what snow should look like. She offered her hand, watched it edge tentatively closer as it sniffed and pecked her hand. Part of her though it might turn away like a chocobo chick she once knew. But the chick remained, raised its head as if to judge Nayra’s intentions, before it leaped out of its shelter and gave a happy, excited ruffle of its feather.

“Kweh!” it said as if in greeting.

Unbidden, a lump formed at the back of Nayra’s throat. She’d thought to bring it to the closest settlement, let the villagers there raise it as how they should. But seeing it purr against her palm made her chest tighten and Nayra could see no way she could part with it.

“Snow,” she said as gray flakes fell around her. Like frozen rain, except softer.

Tears sprang to her eyes as a smile fought against the stiffness of her face. The chick leaped into her arms, eliciting a strained half-laugh from her. Its beady eyes now didn't look so foreign anymore.

“You remind me of someone…” she went on.

Nayra brushed its feathers with the tip of her finger, feeling it dry and clumping together. It needed a bath. And so did she.

~ END ~

#ffxiv #warrior of light #graha tia #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #final fantasy #final fantasy 14 #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff14 fanfic

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gorogues · 2 years

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Spoilers for this week’s episode of the Flash!

Well. That was disturbing. As you may recall last episode, Deon showed up with plans for Wellsobard while Mattobard had seemingly reformed and was in a relationship with Meena. It turns out that Deon's plans were actually to age and kill Wellsobard, leaving his shrivelled husk on the ground. Surprise: the avatars of most of the Forces have been taken over by their Negative counterparts, so all of them are evil...except the good Speed Force was somehow sent away by them and is not there. She may come into play in the finale next week. The Forces have a convoluted plan that I'll mostly skip over, but they arrange things to get Barry to accidentally kill Iris, and bring back a fully powered Wellsobard by literally tearing away Mattobard's flesh to reveal his evil self underneath. Yikes.

I'm not sure we can necessarily count out the good Mattobard yet, but it was a pretty clever gambit to get Wellsobard released from prison and re-powered. And poor Meena is understandably horrified, having perhaps one of the most realistic reactions in the show to seeing a loved one die in particularly gruesome fashion. It seems likely that the Negative Forces consider Eobard to be the Negative Speed Force avatar, or if not then perhaps they plan to make him it. I have a faint hope that the good Mattobard will be able to overcome his evil incarnation and the Negative Speed Force by using Meena as his lightning rod (the show potentially hinted at it in this episode via Barry's peptalk when he was getting Meena to share her speed with Eobard), but maybe that's grasping at happy straws which don't exist. But I hope so.

And we learn that Rosa Dillon was indeed watching Cecile, but she probably wasn't responsible for how Cecile was acting -- for some reason Cecile is growing in strenth and stealing other psionic metas' powers, which leaves them powerless. Rosa was annoyed about it and followed her. They go to Iron Heights to see if Cecile can replicate the stunt on the Queen of the Royal Flush Gang, which she does, and she becomes an incredibly powerful telepath. Rosa disappears after that scene without any fanfare, but I actually rather like her and Cecile as tense frenemies who work together sometimes. Hopefully their interaction isn't over.

(Still salty that Rosa is solely a psi -- and a very limited one at that -- in the show, but that's an old gripe. At least she gained one new power last season to give her more range.)

It seems plausible that Cecile will be able to nab Psych's powers in the finale and turn them against the bad guys, though maybe the Forces' avatars aren't as vulnerable to that as normal metas. We'll see.

Also, Chillblaine and Caitlin's plan to bring back Frost is furthered, as Caitlin finally steps into the machine and they begin the procedure. Who knows how it'll turn out, but there'll probably be more than a few setbacks. I kind of get the feeling that Frost won't be quite the same person if they do manage to succeed.

I really liked this episode, and have honestly enjoyed the last two much more than what was overall a pretty lacklustre season. Obviously finales have more impact than a regular mid-season episode, but I wish they could maintain this level of quality and excitement throughout the season. Still, I'll take what I can get when it is good.

#Reverse Flash #the Top #Chillblaine #the Flash #Cecile Horton #Meena Dhawan #Caitlin Snow #spoilers: the Flash #Flash TV series #Flashapalooza #screencaps #horror #death #reviews

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lsttcs · 21 days

Text

These people are at et., freaking stupid, this hell of a lame is freaking dumb, anyone having sex should be having a bad time, praying to me, and not hurting my heart soul and sad in any which way

So, shark, you’re going off to war?

SS/4/S Spring season

You’ve been here before

At the people biting teeny

Bits of what makes

A grand monster work

At the point of repayment

Style/Earth Realm/Contraband-Smirk

Regurgitate

Jail purple

Ten steps up

That entire height of rocket ship

Right to it

That entire hindrance of platform gap height

Ten years to ween it

Hungry as a caterpillar

As they wait for you to spit on shit

Playing real humilic

The batter for the eatery in ship

Didn’t even get a bite

Like I’m saying

Lover’s spec but it’s caterpillar steps and

Red flames of ten years till I wallow

Like go back it’s easier

A little bit of wadding,

with an easy going rumble

You crying “no pot till eight weenies deep”

No pot, easy on that wheel No those

Battered like your favorite hat

When wrapped in the dough

Crying tears

Them shaped like pizza

Hat supposed to block them

Downward so hot spiral

Mad barking

But mostly folding pizza dough to timer

Favorite time

Same as the crime that your same lame

Second hate

Hopeful the condiments are mostly the kind only used on veggies

Half eaten

But half your head

Already said together

Woof

Could this guy get a hotdog?

A keen seat bucket

Like starring favorite one

Here, think

In this movie star

Waiting punches, clean stink

Then with you

We move feet

We rob colors

To theater

Just the tech banner

Show announcement

Go off without a buddy

Last whisper

Read it under a curtain

Everyone I’d love

Just there toes and

no idea what it’s about

Babe we’re moving

Alive at whips

Not counting

Dead in the track

Turn signal has a fibia

A tuba fracture

A no instrument breath fail

Signaling allergic or any, so much in not’s

If there’s so lofty

I’ve left you

Not counting

Your recursive

They’re crosswalk

Not yours your burden

Infliction

Of my particular cross walk square

Street’s a jail

Turning sailor?

Cement and streets are square

Lover’s grid

All the same

Car’s so salty

You moved your arm, leaned

If it’s loose you

Your surely used to

Still where you stand

Still do you know how much I loved you when you were walking in there

Count mine

Arm’s not broken

Under my placemat

My feet would hop out over the car matt

My arms would eat you

Fists would teach them

That’s my tail pipe

They have no ingenue

They think they know

I’ve drifted to signal a hole

Then they’re horribly contagious

Oh so cruel to me

Let our face’s meet to that

In a clench stripe

In a free one

Their fool hung

As long a pain treck

As that which they judge to be true

Keeps them marooned

I’m praying soon your inside

You know my heart and whole’s truth

To this tick tocking going blip bloop

I’ve masked their identities

Still there faces like

“Is there a fry under there?

Good food?”

0 notes

lisha131016 · 2 years

Text

Unseen by Rebekah Jordan

The canister had always been there, rolling around at the bottom of his duffle bag. Whenever he packed, his fingers would graze over the smooth, gray top, but he’d never take it out, never look directly at it. Sometimes when he unpacked, the canister would get wound up in a dirty sock or wedged inside a pocket, and it would come up with a handful of laundry as he went to chuck it into the machine. Whenever this happened, Jake would carefully retrieve the black cylinder and tuck it back into the bottom corner of his bag.

That’s where it belonged. That’s where it stayed. For years.

It had been so long, he no longer remembered what was on the film, what pictures could be frozen there on the tiny strip of celluloid.

When Maggie died, Jake was lost. He left his job, gave up their apartment, packed a few things into his duffle bag, and left town. He gave up on himself, letting his hair grow long and his beard grow white.

He drove the highways aimlessly, stoic behind the wheel of their beloved ‘69 Charger. Maggie loved that car more than most things and having her gone, looking to his right and seeing her seat empty was like a dagger to the side every time he looked. In the late afternoons, he could imagine her there; small hand hanging out of the window, fingers surfing on the wind. He could see the golden light of sunset in her fiery hair, illuminating her pale, beautiful face like an angel. If he wanted it badly enough, Jake could reach across the seats and take her hand, close his fingers around the apparition, feel her close.

But when reality returned, it hit hard.

His tears never seemed to stop, falling hard like a downpour on the windshield. The back of his hand wasn’t as efficient as the wipers to blast the drops of salty pain away, but it was all he had. When it was bad, he pulled over, caution lights blinking on the side of the road until the worst was over.

Jake stuck to the smaller towns, enjoying the feel of an old-timey Main Street. He liked to see the houses built close together, their covered porches inviting neighbors and strangers alike to sit and talk. He loved the old mom and pop stores, their windows filled with enticing seasonal displays. He told the time by these windows, counting months with glittered paper shamrocks or tiny American flags.

Mostly he floated. There was nowhere to be, no destination waiting for him at the end of the road. He slept in the car, stretching his long legs across the backseat and using her old gray hoodie as a pillow. Her smell had long ago faded, but if he tried hard enough, Jake could remember the faint hint of coconut that always seemed to spring from her skin. She liked to tease him saying that being from Florida meant that everything about her was tropical, even her scent. He didn’t care why she smelled like she did, what shampoo or lotion combination made her so delicious, he just knew that she was.

Maggie had been the light of and in his life and now he wandered in the shadows without her.

At night, with passing headlights rolling across the roof, Jake would conjure up a dream of her. It was routine now. He started with her hair, that flaming red mess of curls that tangled between his fingers, catching even when he tried to be smooth with his touches. Her eyes came next, faded denim blue beneath pale lashes that were almost blonde in the sunlight. They were his favorite; clear and true and filled with nothing but love when they lingered on his face.

He’d fall asleep like that, imagining her features, recreating her in his mind. Some nights she would sneak into his dreams and he’d curl in on himself, loving the fantasy. Other times there was nothing behind his eyes, no comforting smile, no warm laugh, no touch from her delicate hand.

Those nights were cold and sleep was far from his grasp. The worst part was, those nights were coming more often lately. It seemed harder for him to invoke her spirit, to remember the curve of her cheek, the pitch of her nose.

Maggie was fading away.

He worked odd jobs when he felt like it or when his wallet was empty and the gas tank was low. He was strong and tall, and construction work came easy to him, though there was no passion in it for him. It was just a day or two out in the sun, tanning his big arms and filling the car back up. A few bosses would ask him to stay on, but he never accepted. There were roads left to travel, stars yet to sleep beneath. He made a few friends along the way, but none would ever stick; it wasn’t worth the effort anyway. He knew he wasn’t good for anything without her, wasn’t someone anyone would want to know. He was just a traveler now, a ghost like her.

The desert was dry and sweat was beading on his chest and brow. He beat the drops away but they came right back, teasing him like some wicked dream. With the sun bright in the distance, he squinted at the road ahead and marveled at the steam coming up from the pavement. Heat lines danced before his eyes and the white lines blurred. His vision was glossy; his eyes were stinging.

Reaching into the backseat, Jake dug into the duffle bag and fished around for a clean shirt. He needed something to wipe the day away, to clear his head once more before the mirage on the side of the road took over.

Fumbling, his fingers chanced upon the canister and Jake recoiled. He never pulled it out, never looked at it lest it disappear forever. His heart was racing, head pounding from the heat. He reached again and the film can slipped into his palm. His fingers closed around it and Jake brought it out for the first time, holding it tight and pressing his fist to his chest.

Maggie was inside, he knew.

Maggie’s gorgeous smile. Her big front teeth and ears that stuck out just a bit too much on the tops. Her freckles, her spirit, her love.

He clutched the can and chewed his lip, biting back the tears, fighting the sweat and pain.

Two towns later he found a place to develop the film and he sat outside on a weather-worn bench, counting down the hour in his mind. The street was like a hundred he’d seen; people milling about under the mid-morning sky, small storefronts crowded together, their colorful awnings shading the sidewalk.

It seemed nice, yet like every other place: empty without her.

When time was up, Jake went back inside, ducking beneath the bells that jingled on the door. He thanked the clerk and held the envelope tight in his hand.

It sat on the passenger's seat as he drove away, unopened, the photos unseen.

It leaned up against the ketchup bottle at the diner as Jake ate his burger, the pictures still a mystery.

Jake stared at the packet as he sipped his coffee, dragging up the will to set the images free. He’d been running from them for so long, from the ache of whatever was inside, he was terrified now to open it. Afraid he would break down when he saw her face, that he would scream at the world around him when her ghost returned, crisp and beautiful, solid in his hands.

He’d been running too long. He was tired.

Jake took a breath and opened the envelope, tipping it over to let the photographs spill out onto the tabletop.

When he looked down, his eyes blurred behind thick tears. Every photo was of him. Every snapshot was a random moment he’d shared with Maggie, but all from her point of view; all an angle of him. His smile, his crooked nose, his shaggy blond hair, his hands, his lips. It was all him.

For so long, he’d been holding onto her, and all along she’d been holding onto him.

#short story #sad

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horsedadgeralt · 2 years

Text

it starts in your fingertips

wc: 527 tags: post season 2, h/c, geraskier

It starts out as an attempt to mask the pain. Thumb and index finger pressed firmly together so that Jaskier stops picking at his skin, pressed so tightly he fears his bones might just snap.

He presses to remind himself that it's over, that the flames he feels licking at his palm is just a brush of air in the cold walls of Kaer Morhen.

Still, he presses, clenches almost.

It becomes a habit. Whenever he feels uncomfortable, he presses— whether it's the strings of his new lute that cut deep into his skin or the rough wood of his spoon that nearly drives a splinter into his hand.

He presses, and tries his best to hide it, too, afraid of judgement or mockery. No one asks him about it though. Right. Why would they. He's just a bard, leeching off of them, waiting for the snow to melt so that they can rid themselves of him once and for all.

And so he continues pressing, and eventually the pressing turns into rubbing, trying to numb the prickling in his fingertips, feel anything but that.

He could ask Yennefer to look at it but he doesn't — he needs the physical wounds to remind him that what happened really happened, that even when he is aflame, literally, he still chooses Geralt, chooses love.

A love that doesn't care about him, doesn't ask nor comfort. Doesn't so much as look at him. But love nonetheless.

And so he keeps rubbing, circular motions, one way and then the other. He does it so much he fears he may start developing callouses, and oh wouldn't that be ironic. Developing thick skin where he feels the most raw.

He keeps rubbing until one day, warm hands grab his. They're rough, like the wooden spoon, and its owner has driven more splinters into Jaskier's heart than he can count.

Still, he lets him, looks at him, looks at love.

"I've noticed you doing that," Geralt says, and then he gently rubs his index finger over the tip of Jaskier's.

Oh.

"You're not really there when you do it... Your eyes are empty." Geralt looks at him, and the concern in his eyes makes Jaskier feel ashamed. For once, love spares him a glance only to pity him.

"Nothing to worry about," he responds, chipper, bubbly, lying. But then—

A kiss. On his thumb. A kiss. On his index finger. Each one delicate, almost chase, and oh how gentle love can be when he wants to. It hurts more than the hottest fire.

"I want you to think of this," another kiss, to his palm this time, and Jaskier's vision becomes blurry, "every time you do that."

Jaskier swallows. The tears are already falling, silently, wetting his cheeks and making everything hazy. Love looks beautiful like that. Love kisses his tears away. Ghosts over his eyes and nose until finally—

Love tastes salty and oh so bittersweet. Love hums and Jaskier moans, leaning in. Love embraces him, caresses him, catches him.

Jaskier presses. His hand into Geralt's. Jaskier rubs. The tears away. For the first time in a long time, he can see clearly.

tagging @cthulhusteve ♥

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher spoilers #kathi writes #fellas i wrote this at 8am on a whim #it probably sucks #i apologize in advance

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yoongsisbae · 3 years

Text

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea - Chapter 3

BTS fantasy AU. OT7 x reader. werewolf!Namjoon x werewolf!Hoseok x werewolf!Jungkook x siren!Yoongi x vampire!Jimin x vampire!Jin x whatis?Taehyung. This is the "vampire chapter" :'D

Thank you for all the love on this random nightmarish story lol. This extra update is for all the readers who made it my most popular post! Thank you! <3 Also this is my contribution to the start of the spooky season :D

Warnings: Hi, remember when I said this was horror? This chapter in particular is pretty horrific, you have been warned! blood, fighting between m/w, blood, graphic violence, blood, imprisonment, blood, blood, blood, minor character death, vampires doing vampire things including noncon blood drinking, human imprisonment, mind manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubious consent, slut shaming, anal, degradation, foursome, orgasm control, orgasm denial, what a ride, you must be over 18 to ride this ride, scary scary scary

Word Count: 22k

---

“Scared, y/n?” Jimin’s face sends you a wicked smile.

You look back and forth between the men, uttering an unconvincing “No.”

Seokjin speaks again, “You should be.”

---

‘So did you get the answers you are looking for?’ You sit up, jolted out of your sleep, Hoseok’s words echoed softly in your mind.

Seokjin moved so fast, his striking face in front of you in an instant, his red eyes centimeters from yours, delicate lips curving into a smile over his fangs as water splayed around where he stood. That was the last thing you remember.

He smiled down at you sweetly and held you by the neck, putting pressure on your vein until you passed out. It all happened so fast your scream remained halted until this moment. The response came out of you abruptly, as fleeting as the memory.

And now where the hell were you? It looked like the room of an old bed and breakfast; large bed, writing desk, love seat, high windows; but to your captors the breakfast on the menu was you.

The first thing you notice is how the curtains are drawn together blocking the sunlight, but you know it’s there, just out of reach, as evidenced by the small line of light that trails its top edge. The room you found yourself in was dark, from the wallpaper to the furniture, the stillness unsettling, you listened as your own rapid breathing filled the silence.

You were seated right in the middle of a king size bed. They left you atop the cleanly-made white bed sheets, a treat placed in the center of a platter. You shiver, your clothes still remained damp from the night before, cold and stuck to your skin. That is why you shiver, you tell yourself, because you don’t hear them, but you feel them...watching you...

You build up enough courage to scan the room, and that’s when you see two pairs of red orbs staring back at you from the corners’ shadows, glowing in the darkness. Eyes of beasts, watching you, studying you.

You try not to react, not show your captors how scared you are, but every mechanism in your body betrays you, and the pair immediately pick up on your rapidly beating heart, the sweat on your brows, your unsteady breathing-

“Good morning, y/n,” Seokjin says, walking out of the shadows. Jimin stays hidden, but you can hear his soft laughter.

Those answers you wanted, where are they?

Seokjin slowly moves to the edge of the bed. “It seems like our friends have taken quite an interest with you and I want to find out why. Is that okay?”

You purse your lips, keeping your eyes trained on the thin strip of light showing at the top of the window curtains. You sit in silence. Has your breathing always been this loud? The shaking of Seokjin’s legs, a sign of his growing impatience, rattles the bed and your resolve.

He clasps his hands together, finally saying “If you don’t want to speak to me,” he leans in slightly and whispers the rest, “I can always let Jimin pry information out of you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that very much.”

The pounding of your heart and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to become sick at any minute, but you manage to form a coherent sentence to ask him, “What do you want to know?”

“First, I want your permission to find out,” he speaks softly, placing a gentle hand on your calf, but you flinch away anyways. That’s a loaded question if you ever heard one. You wonder if it’s all an act, the same way Jimin fooled you. You stay silent.

Seokjin sighs again, looking over his shoulder, “Jimin?”

“No!” you yell. “Not Jimin! You...you, okay I give you permission.”

“Thank you, y/n.” He smiles, “I’ll be gentle.”

You yelp. Seokjin’s cold hand travels down your leg, wraps around your ankle and pulls you down the bed closer to his body, and in an instant his lean frame is hovering over yours. This close, his beauty is intimidating alone, but his eyes feel like they are piercing through you, digging inside, seeing all the ugly secrets you try to hide from even yourself, you feel like you could catch fire the way his gaze burns you.

He holds you down loosely by the neck, fingers searching for a pulsing vein, eyes focused on you with the concentration of a doctor performing surgery. Seokjin wipes away the tears that begin spilling from your eyes and smirks, “Don’t cry Dove, I promise this time will be the least pain you’ll experience from now on.” His words are devoid of any real sympathy, a false comfort, a looming warning.

You consider fighting back, but in this position there is no way you would be able to reach for your dagger (hidden away in a secret pocket in the front of your corset) without Seokjin stopping you, and even if you were lucky enough, there’s still Jimin, waiting in the shadows.

So you choose to wait, and try to find comfort in Seokjin’s twisted words. It could be worse. A tiny voice inside you reminds you it will become worse. You’ll just have to escape before then. You take a deep steadying breath, preparing yourself.

Don’t cry.

Seokjin’s lips latch onto your neck, soft and full as he rolls his tongue harshly over your pulse point. Goosebumps bloom across your body, and you try to focus on the sunlight rather than the vampire above you and his overwhelming aura, that sliver of light that you pray won’t dim.

This could be worse. This could be more painful. This could be Jimin.

Seokjin can feel the jumping of your pulse against his tongue. The vampire wants to know your story, what is it about you that riled Jimin up more than he’s ever seen him. But with your sweet scent enveloping him and the cocktail of emotions Seokjin’s keen senses could smell: fear and anger and mounting arousal, you smelled better to him than the finest wine and he can’t stop himself from teasing you a little longer, drink it in just a bit more and savor the moment.

Seokjin still understood the importance of ‘living’ in the present, he enjoyed taking his time with things. Others would have gone mad by now with the infinite amount of time, but not Seokjin, he used it to his advantage. Your warm body, your addicting smell, the softness and saltiness of your skin, the shifts in your breathing, Seokjin took his time to savor the gifts of life that he still missed.

You try not to react to his sensual touches, tensing your body under him, until you feel two sharp pricks on the surface of your skin. Your reaction is involuntary, you grip the bedsheets with your fists and let out a soft cry, moving against him. His bite hurt for only a second, like a pin prick, but Seokjin in his precision had nicked an artery for optimum bloodshed. With each gasp of breath you take, with each pounding beat of your heart, you feel your blood drain as it escapes the punctures in your neck and into Seokjin’s waiting mouth.

Seokjin groans against your skin, sending fire through your veins, pressing himself harder into your body. The vampire is better at keeping his physical responses to blood drinking at bay than Jimin, but he hasn’t had a new taste in awhile, and you’re so responsive.

When he pulls away from you you reach to cover your neck and stop the blood, a reflex in an attempt to save your own life, but Seokjin grabs your wrists before you can, pinning you to the bed, studying, his red gaze challenging you.

You gasp as the blood rushes out down your neck, over the sheets, seeping into your clothes. ‘They’ll underestimate you...’ Yoongi’s words replay in your mind and you stay still. No matter how much you want to fight back, this time you have to be smarter, you have to believe in Yoongi’s words.

Jimin has stayed quiet for this long, staying in the shadows, but your whimpers and grunts of pain are music to Jimin’s ears, the blood pouring from your body like an offering to him. His groans can be heard from the shadows.

He holds himself back for now, waiting for his turn. Jimin wonders where all that fight went, he had expected a show, for you to thrash away from the older vampire like you did the merman. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. When it’s his turn, he thinks, you’ll become more entertaining then.

You watched in silence as Seokjin licked his lips clean of your blood. The red liquid that he had stolen from you, that was now steadily seeping from your wound and covering the white bedsheets underneath you, like a Rorschach picture mapping your life. “You’re strong,” he grins, speaking too tenderly for the brutality he was inflicting. “Stop fighting and it will end sooner, y/n. Let me into your mind.”

What does that even mean?! In your blood loss the tips of your fingers begin to feel cold like your captor’s, your head pounds and your vision blurs with each passing moment as the blood drains from your artery, you don’t want to give in, but if it will end this torture...

You shut your eyes tightly, and turn your head to expose your bleeding neck further to the monster above you. When Seokjin lowers his lips to your neck, you try to think of sweet Jungkook instead, his warm body instead of Seokjin’s cold one. You didn’t dare wish to be with him again, you didn’t dare think you made a mistake, that you should have stayed. Now all you can do is hope you can save him and yourself from this horrible island. Jungkook doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned with the likes of them.

Seokjin drinks the warm liquid pouring from your throat. You listen to him gulping down your blood, How much longer, until he finds what he’s looking for? You feel your fight escape you with each swallow, you feel yourself slipping away. It reminds you of drowning, it reminds you of Yoongi and how he kissed life into you instead, but this was the kiss of death.

‘Yoongi,’ you close your eyes and think of him. And then you felt it, the pull inside your mind. Your current circumstance falls away in shambles, your memories are pulled out of you through the cracks, the images race through your mind as Seokjin bears witness to it all.

---

Yoongi sits at the table, hair and clothes dry, turning his head to see you awake.

The relief that softens his features as he’s walking to your side.

The delicate way he places the hairpiece back in its place.

The way his eyes melt at your words.

Why hadn’t you seen it before? Seokjin saw it all. The way Yoongi screams at you, the rage and embarrassment in his eyes as he tells you how much he can’t stand you, the way he licks his lips when you yell back. His eyes studying you when you yank him closer, full of anger and full of-

You weakly push against Seokjin, you don’t want to remember, you don’t want to miss him. You can’t stop it, you can’t stop the memories flooding through your system.

You suddenly remember Jungkook’s sparkling round eyes watching you, wanting you, the crinkle of his nose when he laughs, the pink flush on the edges of his ears when you talk to him, the muscles of his arms flexing as he cages you under him, his deep groaning in your ear, the vein in his neck when he pushes into your wet heat, the truth in his voice when he says he’ll protect you.

You feel Seokjin’s hands travel down your body the same way you remembered Jungkook. You curse him in your mind, but your body couldn’t tell the difference, your stomach tightens and you’re no longer cold, warmth spreads over you to the tips of your toes.

You want to scream, scream for Jungkook, but you’re frozen, lost in your own thoughts, confused by your senses. Jungkook feels as real as Seokjin, but you know he’s not really there, no matter how much you wanted it to be true.

You remember Hoseok’s harsh looks, the growing anger in his eyes, the hurt in his eyes, the pain in his eyes, the pain still present in his eyes even in his wolf form when he howls and cries at you. He’s begging you to stay, he’s telling you he can’t bear to lose someone again. How could you leave them? Why can’t they be enough for you? Hoseok will treat you better, if you just stay with him, please. You understand his barks and howls now, because Seokjin understands. Tears well up in your eyes and you try to move away, but Seokjin is too solid, too powerful, and unyielding in his search.

Namjoon’s eyes are on you as you eat next to his brothers at dinner, filled with nothing but warmth and happiness. Those brown eyes, you miss them. You feel dizzy and helpless, you can’t take it anymore. You grab a fistful of Seokjin’s hair to try to pull him off of you.

“What have you done to Jimin? What have you done?!” Namjoon’s voice roars in your memory. But it’s not any memory you remember having. Before you realize what you are doing, your hands hold on tightly to Seokjin’s hair, pulling him closer and holding him to you so you can see more.

---

“It-It wasn’t me...” The tall vampire is covered in blood. Some of it is Jimin’s blood, yes, but the majority of blood that drips down his face and hands, that covers his clothes, belongs to five other men. Dead men. Men who beat the broken man in his arms to the brink of death.

Seokjin found his dear friend screaming in pain. He saw them over Jimin’s bleeding body, blood Seokjin treasured just as much as he treasured his bond with the compassionate and playful man. His friend, Jimin, who wailed for Seokin, for Namjoon, for Hoseok, for Taehyung, for anyone to help him, while his bones cracked, lying in the dirt, choking on his own blood, precious blood.

Seokjin explained to Namjoon when he saw them laughing, like hyenas over a carcass, spitting hateful slurs down at Jimin, he couldn’t control himself. Seokjin tore them apart one by one. He chased each one down like the pathetic animals they were, and tore the limbs that touched his dear friend straight from their bodies.

Seokjin had been weak, he had become too accustomed to the harmonious life he and Namjoon had created for themselves. Had it been decades before, he would have endured, but living with the pack had softened him too much and he couldn’t stand the pain of losing Jimin, so when he found a weak pulse he gave Jimin as much of his venomous blood as he could.

Namjoon simply nods at the information, his weary eyes examining his two friends, friends who were like family to him. He didn’t want to lose Jimin either. “We need to take him somewhere safe...to the island, before he wakes up,” Namjoon places a hand on the trembling vampire’s shoulder.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” the vampire’s voice shakes, he notices the cuts on Jimin’s face and body have yet to heal themselves.

“That’s not something you should be worried about,” Namjoon runs his hand through Jimin’s tangled hair, gently placing the dark strands back into place, his eyes filling with tears, “it’s when he wakes up, we need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Seokjin nods weakly.

“Go now. I’ll clean up the mess, brother.”

Your hands fall, the blood loss making you too weak to grip onto Seokjin’s hair. Seokjin had taken more blood than he intended, lost in his own memories.

The vampire pulls away from you, even as the edges of your vision blurs, you see his eyes, glowing red and glassy with unshed tears, staring at you with a mixture of pain and surprise. He shakes away his bewilderment and rips into the flesh of his wrist, placing the cut across your lips as you can no longer hold consciousness.

---

When you wake again it’s night time, the light behind the curtains has left you.

Your body aches. You run your fingers along your neck, searching for the punctures, and you can only feel smooth skin crusted in dried blood. Your head feels like it’s splitting. You groan in pain.

You see Jimin before you hear him, and even then you’re not sure if your brain created the sounds to ease your mind as he stalks closer to your waking form.

“Finally! Now what could you have possibly done to Jin?” Jimin says, contemplating the reason his friend holed himself up in his office, refusing to speak to Jimin or even look at him.

He jumps on the bed, shaking your already pounding head. “He refuses to let me bite you,” he whines, “Explain now, pet.” Jimin prods you with his foot. “Explain what memory of yours Seokjin pulled.”

You just groan back, turning away from Jimin, burying your head into the cold pillows of your bed, one of the few things not soaked in your blood. Everything is so cold you can’t stand it. Jimin places a hand on your shoulder to make you face him. Cold fingers touch your skin, everything is cold.

“Don’t touch me!” you pull away from him, yelling.

Your face stings. Jimin had slapped you hard, you come to the realization only after the fact, the skin he touched burns hot. It makes you laugh, because you wanted warmth, didn’t you?

Jimin’s eyes narrow on you, “Say that again, I dare you.”

You bite back tears and ask, “What the fuck happened to you?!”

“So you’re back to being a disrespectful brat. You’re not on the same level as me, human. Learn to behave.”

“No! What happened to you to make you so heartless? What changed you?” How did the bleeding man you saw Namjoon cry over in Seokjin’s memories become this monster? He was human at one point too, you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t see it for yourself.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Don’t act like you know anything about me, bitch.”

You take a deep breath trying to calm your temper. Not only had you seen Seokjin’s memories, you had felt his emotions. His pain lingers in you still, beside the fear and hatred you feel, you look at Jimin and feel...sorry for him. You have to look down, the emotions are too much and too overwhelming. It was easier when all you knew was the monster before you. Jimin takes your silence as obedience instead.

“Now can you be a good little pet and answer my question,” he says, tapping you on the head hard enough to make your headache roar back to life. You flinch and search the eyes of the man before you. Or rather the shell of a man, you think bitterly.

And what a beautiful shell it is. Jimin is stunning, bright white hair pulled away and styled so you can see the delicate features of his face. He holds himself gracefully, like a dancer, his elegant figure hiding his true strength. You wonder what he was like before turning into a monster, what kind of man was he? Someone whom Namjoon cared for.

“It wasn’t my memory...you. I saw you…” You whisper, knowing Jimin’s sharp senses can hear you loud and clear, “I saw Seokjin turn you.” Silence falls over the room again, a silence so deafening you start to hear the pounding in your head becoming louder.

The vampire stares at you, soft features stoic. He looked lost in thought, you pictured his face full of cuts, bloody lip, black eye, human, and Seokjin so unsure, scared, worried, trembling, so unlike themselves now.

“How did he turn me?” It surprised you how genuine Jimin’s question sounded. Did he really not know?

You keep your mouth shut, you don’t think it would be wise on your part to tell him. Jimin seems like the type to shoot the messenger. Unfortunately, unlike Seokjin, Jimin had little to no patience. His expression changes like lightning, full of anger. He pulls you by the hair dragging you off the bed and onto the floor.

The vampire crouches over you and grabs your face, holding you down to the wood floor, pressing his sharp nails into the skin of your cheeks making you yell.

“Ahh there’s your voice! Tell me.”

“Why don’t you ask Seokjin?!”

“But I rather you just do as I say,” he says playfully, as his fingers dig harder into your skin, cutting the flesh and drawing blood.

“Why don’t you just bite me, then?!” You spit the words out through clenched teeth.

You watch the vampire lick his lower bottom lip, thinking it over briefly as he pulls your face closer to his, you struggle against his painful grip. “How impetuous...” he watches you squirm like an insect stuck in glue. “You’re rather dumb, aren’t you?”

Should you reach for your dagger now? Should you try to kill Jimin?

Every time you thought about hurting him, you remembered Seokjin’s crying face, and you wanted to cry as well, what was happening to you?

“Jimin, leave us.” Jin stands in the doorway to your room.

Jimin stands up in a huff, letting you go. You fall back onto the hardwood floor. He balances on his heels, ignoring you and scrutinizing Seokjin. He wanted to question the older vampire, he has so many questions now, but decides against it. What does it matter anyways? The idea of being a weak and powerless human revolts him. “I’m getting impatient,” he says before he leaves, slamming the door and making you jump.

“T-thank y-you.” You try to calm your breathing.

Seokjin looks at you with a frown, extending his hand out to you. You hesitate and place your hand in his and he easily lifts you to your feet. You watch the older vampire walk slowly around the room, drawing his fingers along the furniture he passes. You stand awkwardly, you don’t think making a run for it would gain you any favors right now.

“I’m hungry,” Seokjin says. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, continuing to meander around the room, waiting for your response.

You clench your jaw. So this is what you’ve been reduced to, you think, a late night snack. “Are you going to just keep me trapped in this room? I’m hungry too, I haven’t eaten anything-”

“Dinner's already passed. Before I let you go roaming around, I need to make sure you’re going to behave yourself, do you understand?”

No, you don’t understand at all. It sounds like he’s going to starve you into subservience, and you have to get out of this room, you have to find the portal.

“I will do as you say...please...” you walk over to where he’s standing, trying your best to seem meek. “I’m starving,” you reason, “I’m sure you know how it feels to hunger for something” you say, turning your head to stare at the windows, curtains now open to the night sky, extending your neck to the vampire. His eyes are pulled to your attention, following the lines of your shoulder. You roll your neck, loosening the stiff muscles, moving close enough to him that your chest bumps into his. You look up into Seokjin’s eyes through your lashes, “I-I will behave.”

Seokjin smiles, bringing his head down into the curve of your neck, lips skirting across the skin. Your fingers reach up to caress the back of his head. You can see the pair of you in the bedroom mirror. Another myth proven wrong, you think, as you study your seduction, how his lean frame bends closer to yours, his arms wrapping around the lower part of your back.

In truth, Seokjin wasn’t hungry. He had taken more than enough blood from you this morning already, but Seokjin wanted to see if lightning could strike twice. Never had the pull been so strong for him that a human had been able to enter his memories, not even when Jimin was alive. He needed to learn more.

Seokjin licks your face, tongue tracing the cuts Jimin’s nails left behind. You hold your breath, trying to act like you enjoyed it. You hated it, you wished you could stick Yoongi’s dagger into Seokjin’s cold dead heart and be done with it already.

Seokjin trails kisses back to the place he bit you before. He keeps kissing your sensitive skin until his lips reach your ear and he whispers, “I’m not Jungkook, little Dove, you’ll have to do better than that.”

You stumble backwards but it’s too late, Seokjin already has you in his clutches.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, walking you backward even more. His bite is precise, you suspect perfectly precise to where he bit you this morning. Your arms are locked tightly in between your bodies as he holds you to him.

Thunder roars in your memory, you feel yourself drowning. Your muscles ached, your lungs burned. You feel Yoongi’s hand on your ankle, pulling down, hand on your waist, pulling down, hand on your neck, pulling you closer, his lips on your lips-

You cry and yell against Seokjin’s grasp. Cold turns to warmth as you see Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok laughing around the firepit, and Seokjin, and Jimin, laughing too. Yoongi sits with a calm expression on his face, his lips curved upward, and a man you don’t recognize sits next to him-

Seokjin yanks his mouth away from you and you fall backward, back hitting the bed while you struggle to breath. You cover the holes on your neck with your palm to stop the rushing blood.

“How?” is all Seokjin can say, shaken by the happy memory that even he had forgotten about.

You stare up at the high ceiling dazed and too weak to move, “Do I...” you can feel the blood spill between the gaps of your fingers, “look...” you gasp, “like a vampire expert...to you?”

Seokjin moves to the window, his back to you. He watches the waning moon and lets his mind wander to his old friends. If they were off the island, he could see a scenario where you and he would meet at a bar, laugh over drinks, but the ending would always be the same. “You look,” he looks over his shoulder at you, “like you could use a drink,” his lips curving into a half smile.

“Are you,” you gasp, “offering?”

He walks over to you slowly, bringing his wrist to his mouth, and then extends the sliced skin to your mouth, waiting expectantly.

You take his offering bitterly, gulping down the metallic liquid, the wounds burn like fire as they heal over. The pain is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. You shut your eyes tightly, you want to cry, or scream, but like Namjoon said, no one can help you here. You feel fingers intertwine with your bloody fingers, pulling your bloodied hand away as you weakly protest. The room spins, even if your wounds are healed, your blood is still gone and you’re feeling the effects of two feedings.

Seokjin brings your hand to his lips and licks away the blood, tongue circling your fingers. “This can hurt or it can feel good,” he says slowly.

You laugh, delirious from hunger and blood loss. “I wonder, that memory,” you gasp, still laughing, “does it bother you to be reminded of your humanity? Does it hurt you?”

You probably shouldn’t have said that, but the blood loss is doing funny things to you, or maybe you just really wanted to get a reaction from the guarded man, no, guarded vampire.

If your accusation angered Seokjin he didn’t show it with any emotion, instead he sighed and bent over you, biting down hard on your shoulder. The searing pain makes you scream. You cry out, not expecting the sharp and throbbing kind of ache from his bite as Seokjin’s teeth stayed deep in your flesh.

Seokjin pulls another memory out of you, and you curse your luck in remembering Jungkook again, remembering his tanned and muscled body next to yours. Jungkook kissing your knuckles and telling you how he’s yours now. Jungkook kissing down your body. His head between your legs, his mouth feverishly licking at your folds. The more you try not to think about him the stronger the memories feel. The pain in your shoulder dulls as your legs tighten around the vampire's sides.

Perhaps it was your bloodloss mixed with Seokjin’s bloodlust seeping into your consciousness, the memory of Jungkook’s length buried deep inside you and feeling of Seokjin’s growing bulge pressed against your stomach makes your head spin and you just want to feel more. You hear Namjoon’s deep authoritative voice whispering dirty things in your ear, it makes you shudder, a moan escapes your throat-

Seokjin pulls away from you abruptly at that, his eyes are deep red, so dark they look black. He watches as your body twitch in pain, as he focuses on calming the storm of human emotions, your emotions, running through him, as he tries to forget the compromising memory of his old friend. He bites down on his bottom lip until he draws blood, his blood mixing with your own blood in his mouth, and he presses his lips on yours.

You realized how passionate Yoongi’s kisses were compared to Seokjin’s. The merman was distant, but his actions were full of feeling, whether they be good or bad. Seokjin was cold in body and mind, a hard shell, you felt like you were kissing a statue as you choked on his blood, the liquid metallic and sweet.

You can feel the punctures in your skin closing, it hurts so much worse than when he bit you, you distract yourself by licking into his mouth, feeling his tongue against yours.

Seokjin jumps off of you the second your wounds are healed and leaves without saying a word. You can hear the door lock in your daze.

You scoff, what was up with him, you wonder, dining and dashing like that. The blood loss has you quickly falling asleep despite wanting to use the time alone to plan your escape.

---

They both leave you alone all day until night again. You wake up hungry and weak. When Seokjin wordlessly stalks towards you that night you tell him so.

“I still can’t trust you to play well with others.”

“I need food! I need to eat! I am not a goddamn vampire like you! I can’t survive off your blood!” You throw your pillow at him. Should you have done that? Probably not, but you’re too hungry to care.

Seokjin pauses, looks at the floor where the pillow lays at his feet after coming in contact with his chest. “I’ll bring you food later tonight, now lie down, I’m hungry too.”

Ugh.

---

There were so very little things now that intrigued Seokjin, and this connection had become a mystery he wanted to solve. The strength of his pull on you was so intense it had become almost addicting to feel for Seokjin.

A vampire's pull had always been one-sided, but this pull acted like a wave, crashing onto the shore of your consciousness, pulling back and forth, dragging his memories along the current too.

Promised food, you comply, lying down against your better judgement. You glare at him as he lies next to you, and he smooths your furrowed features with his fingers instead of matching your anger. It makes you feel self conscious, the way he watches you with searching eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“So demanding, do you want me to bite you that badly?”

Is he teasing you? “No. I don’t. At all!”

“Okay then.” he lies back down, his arms underneath his head.

You sit up to look down at him. “Is this a joke?”

“I’ll wait, I don’t mind. I can wait for days, the question is can you?”

If you tried to stab him now he would definitely be able to stop you. Too bad. “I think I can’t stand you.”

“You barely know me!”

“I’ve seen enough,” you scoff.

“I’ve lived a long time,” Seokjin says, serious again, “you don’t care to see more? Who I really am?”

“Who are you?”

“Let me bite you and find out,” he winks.

'Well, he seems to be in a better mood,' you think. You wonder why he is even bothering to ask you, you’re his prisoner, after all. “So this is not just about feeding anymore?”

“I’m a vampire, of course it is.”

You sigh, you’re hungry and tired from blood loss. “Okay, bite me, but choose some place else,” you rub the sensitive spot on your neck and shiver. “NOT THERE!”

Seokjin stops pushing your legs open. “But there is an artery in your leg-”

Your face goes hot, you shove your wrist in his face. “Here then!” He sighs and lies back down again, pulling you over his body easily. You sit awkwardly against his lap as you watch his fangs prick your inner wrist. The blood loss this time wasn’t so bad, but it still made your weak body sway, your free hand bracing yourself against his chest.

He does the same thing to you again, pulls memories of your life. You saw memories from before the boat wreck to your childhood, and you saw glimpses of Seokjin’s life as well. You learned at one point in his very long life he stopped being a complete monster and became a part time bartender.

For decades he moved from taverns, to pubs, to bars. The perfect career, and as his beautiful looks were admired everywhere he went, he was never short of meal options. You woke in the morning and you laid on clean sheets, there was water for you and bread and butter and jam, an apricot and an apple, food not found on an island. The portal.

Tonight. This night you will be ready for Seokjin. You quickly realized you weren’t just remembering with Seokjin, you were feeling, and he was feeling too. If you could distract him well enough with a memory, you think you’d be able to escape!

---

Tonight Jimin walks into your room instead.

“Where’s Seokjin?”

“You didn’t miss me?” He holds a pear in his hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it easily. “He is busy, the others were feeling neglected by him-”

“There are others? Other humans?!”

Jimin smirks at your wide eyes. “Yes, pet, did you think you were special?” You swallow, keeping your questions to yourself. So Seokjin really meant it when he talked about playing well with others. Who were they and how long have they been here? Could some of them be your friends? Maybe you weren’t the only survivor on your boat! More humans, more people to help you fight against Seokjin and Jimin, if you could just meet them and somehow convince them...

Jimin heard your accelerating heartbeat, could see the happiness dance across your features. “What ever you are thinking, I suggest against it. Actually, go ahead and try, I haven’t punished anyone in so long.”

“Are you going to bite me or not?”

“Oh, so now you’re eager for it, it’s always the same.”

“Still not allowed, huh? Must suck to be you. Ha! Get it?”

“Do you think you’re being cute? Jin said I can’t bite you, he didn’t say anything about not hurting you.” Jimin throws the pear in the air again, “What? No clever retort?”

“I don’t know about Seokjin,” you speak softly, “but you used to be human, why do you act like this?” You watch as Jimin drops the pear on the ground and steps on the fruit with his feet. You bite your lip. What a waste. You consider pulling out your dagger just for that.

“Being human?” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t remember anything about that. I can’t imagine being so weak and foolish.”

“You really don’t remember?” You look at the pear, squished into a pulp. “Can you do what Seokjin does, with the memories?”

“What makes you think I want to learn about your pathetic life?”

“No,” You idiot. You sigh. “But maybe you want to learn about your pathetic life?”

You scream, Jimin’s nails were digging into your skull, a handful of your hair in his fists. “Call me pathetic again,” he threatens lowly.

“Pathetic,” you say bearing your teeth. Jimin smiles, because in that moment you reminded him of someone. He’s going to enjoy breaking the bones of your body and watching your limbs reassemble again. He grabs your forearm, pulling your arm closer to your face. You wince as his grip tightens, struggling against his tight hold on your hair. “Call me pathetic again,” he sings, his eyes sparkling with delight.

You weigh your options in that moment.

“Seokjin!” you scream.

Jimin laughs, tightening his grip even more so you are sure to have bruises, “Do you think he really cares about what happens to you?”

“Jimin was a regular at your bar! Wasn’t he?!” You had seen the younger vampire, only briefly, you barely recognized him with dark hair, but you knew it was Jimin the way you felt your own heart soar when Seokjin glanced at him for the first time.

You screamed louder than you’ve ever heard yourself, making the vampire wince at your volume, because in that moment Jimin snapped the bone in your forearm. “Even if you don’t remember,” you cry, mumbling out the words through your pain, “you were human. Just. Like. Me.”

Jimin grabs your upper arm this time, and squirm in his hold. You start to cry harder despite trying to hold the tears in. The door to your room slams open. Seokjin looks furious when he steps towards the both of you.

“Jimin leave!"

“What?” The white haired vampire loosens his grip, but stands his ground. Seokjin doesn’t speak again, only gives him a look, and Jimin relents, breaking his stare with several blinks and releasing you. The younger vampire can’t hide his emotions as well as Seokjin and you see the hurt twist his beautiful features.

You sit on the ground grimacing in pain, holding your broken arm to your chest. Outside your room you hear the familiar crash of glass and scrape of wood and you suspect Jimin is not taking Seokjin’s orders well. Seokjin looks much more unhinged than you ever recall seeing him and then impassiveness washes over his face again, much to your disappointment.

“He is usually not like this. He can go months without drinking blood, it seems my ban has just made him all the more obsessed with you,” he sighs.

“Greeat,” you wince, “Lift the ban then, might as well.” If you were being honest with yourself, you were curious what would happen if Jimin bit you. Maybe then he wouldn’t despise you so much.

“The ban is not to protect you, naive little dove.” He sits down on the floor next to you. You find the sight comical, Seokjin in an expensive suit sitting on the dusty floor.

You roll your eyes. Of course. “You care a lot about him,” you whisper softly. He nods. You turn to him, “Do you remember why you started caring? Do you think who he is now still acts in the same way that made you care so much for him?”

“You think I’m a fool?” he laughs softly, “I know Jimin’s...lost his way...” You sit in silence as you struggle to take your mind off the pain in your arm. “For us, time, is infinite. This is only a small stretch of time compared to what I’ve been through. Jimin will come back around, I know it.”

“Well I think he’s a lost cause,” you mumble.

“He’s not, no one is...This is going to hurt a lot, if you don’t mind, I can make it quick.” His hand traces your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes glancing towards your lips.

“Am I going to have to get used to this, you fixing the pain he causes-”

“Am I going to have to get used to you both provoking each other all the time?”

You bite your lip, he started it, it’s not your fault he freaks out over every little thing you say. You change the subject. “Are there really other prisoners here? Other humans like me?”

Seokjin tuts disapprovingly, “House guests, y/n! They can stop being in service to us whenever they want, we provide them all with a choice.”

“Oh, and what are the options, be your personal feeding supply or die?”

“Ahh see, you catch on quickly, and Jimin calls you stupid.”

Your eyes narrow on him, “Not much of a choice there.”

Seokjin leans into you, “it comforts them, when they think they have some control. You know, you would all be at the bottom of the ocean if it weren’t for us.”

You pull your legs closer to your body, it’s hard to look at him, much less listen to the disturbing things he says, “Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to be grateful?” You shuffle your body, trying to get comfortable despite the throbbing pain of your broken arm.

“Perhaps,” he scrutinizes your body, “At least don’t provoke Jimin. Ready?”

You hum, “Yeah, I’m ready for my medicine, Doctor.”

He looks down, nodding. “No anesthesia for this surgery I’m afraid.”

He motions you closer, bites into his wrist and fills his mouth with his own blood. You’re careful not to jostle your arm too much as you move in front of him. His long fingers hold your head still as he presses his mouth onto yours, feeding you his blood. Even when you scream in pain he holds you to him as your bone readjusts itself and heals back together, your body in excruciating agony. He holds you tightly, his mouth swallowing your screams until the process is complete, until you pass out in his arms.

---

You wake up to clanging silver. The light feels warm on your face, and then you feel nothing as the curtains are drawn. You open your eyes, ready to protest.

“Oh my god!”

The woman before you jumps at your words. “Your breakfast,” she motions to the tray.

“You're real, oh my god, it’s true! Help me! Please, we can escape together!” The woman stumbles away from you as you desperately try to hold on to her.

“What?” Why is she looking at you like that? Why is she acting like that?! She pushes you away as she opens the door. You’re too stunned, too hurt by this stranger who you thought could help you to question her when she says, “There is no escape.” She closes the door, locking you inside. What just happened?!

Now that you’re alone again you search the room from top to bottom, desperate now that you’ve realized you’re up against so much more. All the drawers are empty, not even a pen and paper in the desk. The window opens but that doesn’t help you because you’re several floors up. The bathroom has running water and the prettiest bathtub you’ve ever seen, so you give up and spend the day soaking yourself, in your clothes. The dress floating and surrounding you reminded you of a certain man, well, merman. No one visits you that night.

The day repeats itself six times. You try different approaches to try and convince the older woman to help you and every time she refuses or ignores you completely.

You don’t get it, you don’t understand, and her behavior disturbs you. You had asked her, “Don’t you want to see your friends and family again?! Do you have children? Or a spouse?” Her answer was, “I don’t think so.”

‘I don’t think so.’ She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been here either. The implication scared you.

You sit at the door, your ear to the wood all day. Sometimes you’ll hear footsteps, you know it’s not Jimin or Seokjin, because they don’t make any noise when they walk. Sometimes you yell and bang on the door waiting for a response that never comes.

One day you yanked down the drapery, opened the window completely letting all the sunshine in, and soaked it in like a cat. Before you woke up the next morning everything had been set back the way it was. It was maddening.

So one day you flooded the bathroom, just to see if anyone would come to stop you. They didn’t and the next morning the tub was gone. You cried all night.

For six nights you’re alone. The fifth night you dig into your dress pockets to find the tiny shell Yoongi gifted you. You tap it three times and wait, holding it to your ear.

“Y/n?” His groggy voice fills the sea noise. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or you would really break down. Hearing his voice was enough.

---

Before the sun sets on the seventh night there is a knock on your door. You’re already so close to the entrance you can hear the soft click as it unlocks and you swing the door open to see Jimin.

He smiled down at you, a picture of sin. The young vampire wore casual loose-fitting clothes, shirt hanging over his shoulders. He dresses so relaxed, so opposite to Seokjin, who wore his shirts buttoned up to the collar. All you wanted to do all day was talk to someone, be heard, but with Jimin here you feel like an animal cornered in a trap, and you want to hide.

He gives you a cocky smile and drapes his arm over your shoulders, dragging you back into the room. “Look at you! Perfectly fine, Seokjin always overreacts,” he whines, “I’m tired of waiting. I can trust you not to tell on me, right pet?”

The vampire presses himself against your back and wraps his arms around your waist, locking you to him, chin digging into your shoulder. You stand frozen against him, Jimin is excellent at making sure you feel like you’re trapped and powerless when you’re around him.

His nuzzles your neck, lovingly like a lover would, inhaling your scent. You craved human contact, but this man isn’t exactly human now, is he? Your stomach turns as the familiar feeling of fear bubbles inside you.

“And if I don’t?” you whisper, and his grip tightens around you.

“You tell me, what do you think will happen, if you don’t?” he mumbles against your neck, teeth grazing your skin and he moans softly. He wrapped himself around your body, caressing your curves, it confused you at how affectionate he was being, or was he just a snake constricting his prey?

Your stomach tightens, you were stronger than this, right? A week in time out didn’t work on you, right? You couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your lips every time Jimin shifted against you. You blame Seokjin’s fondness for him that must have rubbed off on you. You try to step away but Jimin pulls you in closer.

“I thought I was a disgusting human, are you the one who missed me, Jimin?” You ask him softly.

“There are things about you that are only barely revolting, I guess.” He can feel the shift in your mood as annoyance bristles through your body, it makes him smile. You are so defiant for being so scared, it makes him want to break you even more.

You’re scared, but deep down there was a part of you too curious for your own good, that just wanted Jimin to bite you, just to see why and what Seokjin was protecting him from. It would only be to your advantage, if that was the case, right? You stretch your neck to the side slightly to see what Jimin’s reaction would be. His fingers dig into your hips. “What’s this?” Oh no.

Jimin pulls the shell hidden inside your pocket. You grab at his hands, but he’s too fast, dancing around you as he pushes you away, pushing you to the ground.

Somehow you always end up here on the floor, at Jimin’s feet, probably exactly where the vampire thinks you should be. You’ve never seen him more excited, it twists your insides.

Jimin’s cold fingers inspect the tiny shell, tutting. He mouths the words, ‘bad girl’ silently. Tapping the tiny shell, he brings the shell to his lips.

“Yoongi, I know you’re there. Do you want to hear y/n?” He crouches next to you, lifts your chin so your eyes meet his, smiling as if you were playing along on an inside joke. “Do you want to hear her cries? Do you want to hear her moans?” his sinful voice sings tauntingly.

The younger vampire promised Jin he wouldn’t touch you, but Seokjin has so many rules, and this just proved you couldn’t be trusted, that you needed to be taught a lesson. Seokjin will forgive him, Jimin thinks, he always does.

“C’mon, Yoongi wants to hear you, y/n! I bet he misses you. Let him hear your pretty voice.” You just glare at him, staying silent. Jimin didn’t seem angered by your defiance, in fact, he seemed happy.

He pulls your hair, moving your face closer to the shell, his nails dig into your scalp, and you feel them pierce your skin. The pain causes you to let out a strangled cry. “That’s it!” You hold back tears as you glare at him, Seokjin is wrong, Jimin can’t be saved.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you grit out, scratching at his hand.

“Oh, no?” He releases your hair. You jump up but Jimin pulls you down to the ground again. Even as you kick and hit him, it’s obvious it’s not hurting the vampire. He easily pins you down, caging you in with his thighs, his knees pinning your arms to your sides. His fingers wrap around your neck, holding you tight as you grunt against him. You’ve become a mouse, trapped by a snake.

“Afraid yet?” You know he won’t kill you, it seems like torturing you is just too much fun for him. Jimin may be stronger than you, faster than you, but he’s as caged as you are, stuck on this island, leashed by Seokjin’s rules, acting out like a child.

“No.” He lets go and you heave in air, coughing. “Seokjin will find out, even if I don’t say anything. He said-”

“Jin,” he bares his fangs, “says a lot of things.” He brings the shell to his mouth again, “What bone should I break first?”

Jimin laughs, and you wonder what the merman said to him.

Jimin grabs your jaw, tilting your head to the side, reveling in your struggle. He places the tiny shell next to your ear. You try to silence your heavy breathing. “Yoong-g-gi?” You hear the ocean, the rumbling of the sea, and you hear-

“Y/n!” Yoongi’s voice rumbles through the tiny shell, he calls out to you, words rushed and worried, full of concern that has your heart dropping, “Jimin has a weakness, It’s T-” Jimin crushes the tiny shell between his fingers.

Jimin pouts, “I thought he would have used the opportunity to confess, now he’ll never get the chance.”

He moves away from you, “Well, aren’t you going to make a run for it? I didn’t lock the door.” He lifts his eyebrows up, nodding towards the door.

You lie on the cold hard ground stunned. Yoongi's gone. You think of a scenario where you rush towards the door, only to be stopped by Jimin as he tackles you again. No, you won’t do that. Jimin takes and takes, you're going to make it your mission to take from him. You stand up on shaky legs and walk towards Jimin.

“Actually, I rather you just bite me instead.” You’re not confident that he’d really go against Seokjin, so might as well egg him on. “Unless you’re scared of Seokjin?”

Jimin scoffs, jaw clenching in annoyance and eyes narrowing. “Any other cute little means of communication you tried to sneak in here, hmm?” He yanks you close to him again, his hands pull at your dress, wandering over your thighs, skirting dangerously close to your center. He smirks down at you as you pretend to act unaffected by the way his hands glide over your ass, kneading the flesh. His hands run up your corset, getting closer and closer to your dagger.

You run your hand over the front of his pants. It was the only thing you could think to do to distract the vampire before he found your dagger and really killed you. It worked. Jimin stops you, digs his nails into your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

So without many other options, you send your quarrel with the vampire off into a whole other direction as you grab for the bulge in his pants. You feel the weight of him in your palm, your mouth drops a little at his size. Jimin’s jaw tightens as you rub up and down his bulge.

You’re stuck in a staring match with the vampire. Two stubborn beings, challenging each other to see who breaks first.

Surprising you, he spins you around and starts undoing the straps of your corset.

No, no, that’s the opposite of what you wanted! “What are you doing?” You try to wiggle your body to face him again, “Just fuck me already!”

Jimin cages you against his lean frame, crushing your body to the closest wall with his own. He inhales into your neck. He can sense the torrent of your spiraling emotions, he feels your hatred for him radiating off your body stronger than ever as he slows his advances down.

“You are acting more stupid than usual, pet.”

“You wanted to play,” you say, “Well, let’s play then.”

He’s never played this kind of game before, and you’ve enticed him, he has no problem calling your bluff. His hand runs along your cleavage, kneading the flesh.

Jimin pulls your dress up slowly, his cold hand running up your leg. You rest your forehead on the wall, shuddering when he drags his fingers across your center. “Your hands are cold.”

He pushes two fingers inside you, deep, you were barely ready for the stretch, crying out from the sudden intrusion and cold sensation. Jimin groans as you whimper against him, “Forget what I am already?” He licks your neck, fingers pumping in and out at a dizzying pace.

“How could I ever forget?” you whisper.

“I regret destroying that shell, I would have liked to let Yoongi listen to what a whore you are.”

Your body tenses and Jimin leans his body harder into yours, pressing another finger inside. “What would the dogs think, knowing their bitch is so wet for their enemy, hmm?” Making you angry is too easy, he thinks, and makes you smell so much better, sexier. Jimin is used to fear, he’s grown accustomed to desire, but your rage makes him ravenous. If Jimin wasn’t so consumed by his carnal desires, he might question himself as to why he wants someone to hate him so much, but all he can think about is how he’s going to drive you to madness with just his fingers. He resists the urge to bite you by sucking harshly on your neck, pulling the blood closer to your skin and leaving dark marks behind.

Before you have a chance at release he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and holding up the evidence of your arousal, the clear substance clinging to his fingers as he licks them clean, moaning in your face. The sight is depraved, and you can’t look away. He smiles smugly at you as he smells your lust surround him.

“I knew you wouldn’t bite me.”

“We will get to that, we’re playing a game remember? Or do you want to stop now?”

“All this talk and I still haven’t been bitten or fucked, are vampires impotent or something or is it just you?”

Jimin laughs, yanking your body to face the wall again and pinning you to him. “I’ll make you forget everything but my dick while I’m fucking you, you won’t have a single other thought in that pretty little head of yours other than giving me all your pleasure.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m waiting.”

Jimin laughs again, pressing three thick fingers deep inside you again, you legs go weak as he holds you up with the force of his body against yours. He drags his fingers out and higher until he’s circling your other opening. His digits press into both of your holes, filling you up completely as you cry out. You haven’t had someone give attention to that part of you in so long, you tense at the unexpected stretch. His thumb works against your clit expertly as he rocks his hand against yours. You feel so full and overwhelmed by Jimin. “So close already? Beg me to make you come, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.”

You take his torture silently, hold in your moans as he brings you to the brink of release and stops short of satisfaction over and over again. He thrusts his fingers in and out of your holes, until the tight stretch goes away, his fingers easily gliding in and out of your wetness, until the ache is replaced with a need for more. Your entire core pulsates as he slowly and torturously circles your swollen bud, changing the pressure just enough to drive you crazy by ghosting over your clit when you needed more and rubbing even harsher circles when it all becomes too much, his touch making you feverish and sick with desire. When you clench around his fingers, closer than you’ve gotten to release since he started this torture, he pulls out of you completely, pressing his hard cock, straining against the cloth of his pants, into your sore center.

“You smell so good,” he moans. You don’t want to think about Jungkook, you don’t want to taint his memory, but Jimin’s words are so similar. Jungkook is nothing like Jimin, but they are more similar to each other than to a human like you. Perhaps you are just as weak and pathetic as Jimin says, a human can be no match for a vampire, and you’ll never be able to win against him.

“Please Jimin...just let me cum...”

“Beg me.” His usual airy voice drips with arousal, and he presses his bulge harder into your wetness.

You don’t do as he says, you can’t, so he continues his torturous little game, until you’re moaning loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder, whimpering every time he stills. He pulls his fingers out of your dripping core, focusing his attention on your ass, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your throbbing clit, you feel so empty and painfully full as your sensitive walls clench around nothing and his fingers stretch your rim open for him. Your entire body vibrates, but you’d rather stay unsatisfied than say please to Jimin ever again.

Finally, as the sun sets and the last bit of light around the curtains disappears, Jimin realizes he can play his game no longer and pulls away from you completely. Your legs give out as you slide down the wall, mind finally free from the haze of lust Jimin kept you in.

“So weak,” Jimin tuts.

“...impotent...dick...”

“Pathetic slut.”

“I thought about Seokjin the entire time,” you whisper.

“...liar.”

---

You must have fallen asleep, you feel a hand cupping your cheek, and you open your eyes to Seokjin, blonde hair, red eyes, suit buttoned to the collar. You let out a small laugh, and then groan once the pain in your joints wakes you fully.

Jin carries you back to your bed. You tug on his sleeve.

“Please take the pain away,” you ask softly.

Seokin’s eyes search the expanse of your skin, “There are no cuts on your body.”

Groaning, you sit up and kiss the vampire who freezes against you. So you take the opportunity to straddle Seokjin’s lap, and start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing, licking, biting his smooth skin. Jimin’s harsh words replay in your mind and sting you. Screw him, let him think whatever he wants, let him hear you. This had been a part of your plan anyways, first Seokjin, and then you’ll worry about him, might as well have some relief too.

“What happened?” Seokjin asks as you rut into his body, tearing his shirt open. He doesn’t look upset that you popped the buttons, does he ever get upset anymore? You hastily unbuckle his belt. His hands cover yours, repeating his question, “What happened, y/n?”

You grab his hand and move it under your dress. Seokjin stills as his fingers come into contact with your thigh, slick with your wetness from hours of Jimin's teasing. His hands travel up your shaking leg.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, “...Did Ji-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Fuck me, I feel like I’m dying.”

Seokjin laughs against your lips, “Humans are so dramatic,” but he’s already pulling you closer, turning you around to lie on the bed. He bends down to your core, pushing your dress over your waist, you spread your legs wide open for him.

He licks your arousal from your inner thigh, fingers massaging your aching center.

“Ugh fuck, stop teasing me,” you whine. Seokjin fills you with two long fingers, pushing inside you to the knuckle. His teeth bite down on your inner thigh, it stings but your lust somehow lessens the pain. Your body tenses, you clench around his fingers and he speeds up, pulling more blood from your veins.

You flinch when you see Jimin again, reliving the memory from Seokjin’s mind. He’s half naked, kissing a beautiful woman who is fully naked, right in front of Seokjin.

Jimin looks so different, dark hair, flushed skin, tenderness in his eyes.

The girl lowers her body between the men, and fills her mouth with Seokjin’s hardening length. You feel yourself become wetter. Seokjin moans against your feverish skin, biting you for a second time, higher up your leg. It stings again, but you’re too busy trying to get off on his fingers to care about anything but release. Seokjin bites the mound of flesh close to your center, his tongue pressing against your hood, your vision goes white and then-

You see Yoongi’s sharp eyes above you, his naked body on top of yours, cold and wet, hard cave rocks against your bare back. You see Namjoon, a younger version of him, long hair pulled back into a low bun, across the room in bed with another woman. The room is small and empty. Two beds, two couples, Seokjin watching his friend fuck the random girl senseless.

You feel jealousy, watching Namjoon through Seokjin’s eyes. He looks so different, so feral and savage. The bed creaks loudly underneath him as he grips the headboard, and thrusts into her wildly. Jin pumps his fingers inside you in time with Namjoon's thrusts, it makes you feel like you’re going to burst into a thousand pieces. Namjoon’s eyes glow yellow as he gives Seokjin a wicked grin and you’re scared for the first time of Namjoon as he growls, releasing into the woman.

“Don’t make a mess,” he drops the spent girl on Seokjin’s lap, who caresses her face. She’s breathtaking, you feel inadequacy course through you, you feel jealousy, you feel turned on when her full lips envelop Seokjin's thumb. Namjoon pulls the sleeping naked girl from Seokjin’s bed, tapping her check to rouse her awake.

Seokjin’s arousal is overwhelming you. He slams into the woman’s body from behind, chasing his high while holding her face down into the bed, and then his fangs pierce her back as her screams are muffled. You don’t want to come to this, to the feeling of her blood filling his mouth, arousing him and arousing you. Namjoon’s grunts and sounds of sex fills your mind again and you come undone in a silent scream around Seokjin’s fingers.

---

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

You run around the room, darting around Seokjin who watches you rather calmly for the unfolding situation. The rest of his body frozen, the blessed dagger lodged in between his vertebrae, stopping his regeneration.

Once you came, thighs snug around his head, you pulled the dagger from your corset and stabbed him in the back. You kicked him away from you before he could attack and he fell backward, the dagger piercing deep into his back, and that’s where he was currently, frozen on the floor, watching you as you run around the room in disbelief that you actually managed to stab a vampire.

You trip over him by accident and he lets out a soft grunt. “Fuck! Are you okay?” you sit next to his frozen body, “Like, relative to being stabbed, I mean? Don’t answer that...because you can’t. Oh fuck.” You put your head down, resting it on his chest, you don’t hear anything but your laboured breathing. ‘Believe in yourself, y/n! Yoongi believed in you…’

You gather yourself up once again and you move to the window, jiggling the handle. It’s still unlocked! You’re too high up to escape but...

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I really am sorry,” you grunt as you heave the immobilized vampire to the window, inch by inch, Seokjin’s body like a sack of bricks. You place him against the wall and crouch down so you can look him in the eyes, patting down his messy hair, tousled in your struggle to move him, “I’m sorry,” you repeat again, “but you’re a vampire right?” You say encouragingly, and you give him a couple of pats on the cheek, his eyes dart down to watch the action, “Technically, you can’t die.”

With every ounce of strength you have left inside you, you shove Seokjin out the window.

---

You quietly lock the door to what had been your room and prison cell behind you, quickly walking through the halls. You’re not sure what you expected, maybe a gothic interior fit for Dracula, burning candlesticks and red velvet drapes, but you got electricity and mid century modern eclectic, the walls were colorful with art pieces, deep emeralds and golds and blood red. You open the first door you come across.

A young woman sits on a large bed reading a book, looking up at you. Is that how you looked to them? A more disheveled and unpleasant version of her? She looked happy, until she noticed you, and then her smile fell, disappointed you weren’t Jimin or Jin. You slam the door shut and lock it again.

You race as quietly as you can through the halls, you have no idea what you’re looking for, quickly peeking into each room you come across. Strangers, stop what they are doing to look at you, waiting like obedient lap dogs. You have yet to find an empty room. Four doors you’ve opened on this floor, no empty rooms, and you begin to feel hopeless.

You open the fifth and final door and you’re assaulted with the loud sound of moaning. The moaning comes from a woman specifically, her cries almost as loud as the slapping of her skin against Jimin’s naked body. Jimin had needed an outlet after his time with you, specifically, someone to use and bite that wasn't 'off limits.'

You stand frozen in shock, it feels like all the air has escaped the room, filling the woman’s lungs instead as she screams in ecstasy. He is standing next to the bed, fucking into her at an inhuman speed, holding her hips in the air as she struggles to hold the rest of her torso horizontal. You can’t look away, because her body, her stomach, her large bouncing tits, it’s all covered in blood. You almost scream, almost, but the small huff of air you let out instead is enough. The bed stops creaking as Jimin’s movement stops and you meet his surprised eyes.

You shut the door, lock it and run.

You run down the stairs, you see the entrance and you almost run out the door, but you instead run down the hall, flinging every door you see, praying you find something. There's a kitchen, a dining room with the longest table you’ve ever seen, and an empty room! It looks like an office! You run inside. You run to the desk, looking over the papers. Weird markings litter the pages, it reminds you of the markings on Yoongi’s bag. You have to be getting closer to your objective, you have to be! You scatter the papers around, yank open the drawers, hoping to find something useful. There’s a bookcase behind the desk, and you start pulling down books, nothing is catching your eye. You pull on the bookcase, you run your hand across the wood frantically, searching for perhaps a trap door-

“What are you looking for? I can try to help.”

You jump, almost screaming. You hold your heart, it hadn’t stopped, to your surprise. You had no idea someone else was in the room with you. You stare back at a calm man with messy brown hair, he looks at you timidly. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted to help, and it took me a while to organize those books,” he laughs softly. The man shuffles back to the wall, you hear metal clanging and look at his feet, they have chains around them, his hands too.

You look down at your feet, papers and books are all around you “I-I’m sorry. I was just-I didn’t know-” You had no idea how much more time you had to spare so you cut to the chase. “Is there a portal here?!”

The man’s eyes go wide, “Not here,” he speaks softly, “One level lower.” He gave you the answer you were looking for without any hesitation, was this a trick? You look at him more closely, his clothes are loose, like pajamas, and he’s barefoot, he looks at you happily, like you didn’t just storm into his room and destroy his things. The innocent expression on his face reminds you of Jungkook.

You remember why he looks so familiar, “You were sitting next to Yoongi!”

The man tilts his head confused, and then he stares at the door, “you need to leave now,” he rushes towards you, “Go down the stairs to the right.” He finds a pen on his desk. “The portal is in the basement, in Seokjin’s office. You’ll need this to open the door, it will only work once.” He grabs your hand and writes a long looping character on your palm, it burns gold and then disappears, while you stand still in shock.

Before you can question him the door bursts open. Jimin stands in the doorway, looking at you and the other man. His anger is replaced by an expression you don’t quite understand. Heavy silence envelops the room. The awkward tension is cut when Jimin speaks to you calmly saying, “Come here. Now.”

The man steps between you and Jimin. “Stay here, he can’t come inside, just like I can’t leave.” The man leans against the desk, his long legs blocking you from leaving, his chains clanging again.

“Y/n, come here now.” That was the first time Jimin said your name. You look between the men.

“Why would I go to you? You’re going to kill me!”

Jimin runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes to the side, “I promise you I won’t kill you if you come here right now.” He says the words as sweetly as he can in his growing irritation, trying to coax you to him, but to you he sounds patronizing and angry.

“Jimin’s lying,” the man next to you whispers, confirming your suspicions.

“Tae, just bring her to me!” the vampire screams.

“No, I don’t want to, you’re going to hurt her.”

‘Tae, he said. Is this Taehyung?’ The same man you saw next to Yoongi, the same man Namjoon warned you about, the man who is protecting you and gave you a way out of this hell of a place?

“Can’t you just do the right thing for once?!”

“You haven’t come to visit me in how long, Jimin?”

They yell at each other like an old married couple. You stare down at your hand, it looks perfectly ordinary, you think you might have just imagined it all, what Taehyung did, but you realized on this island nothing was impossible.

“A-are you a wizard?” you interrupt the men’s arguing.

Taehyung turns back to you surprised and gives you a bright smile, “No, I just learned from one. He didn't call himself a wizard, though” he laughs, “I think the correct term is warlock?”

“Oh, okay, good to know,” you mumble. Jimin quietly seethes at the doorway.

“Why do you have chains on if you can’t leave this room?”

“Yeah, why do I have chains on, Jimin?” He turns to the vampire accusingly.

“Just wait until Seokjin comes,” Jimin mutters, and he pulls the dagger you used on Seokjin out of his back pocket, holding the handle with a handkerchief. “Nice trick, by the way, y/n. Seokjin is still healing himself from the fall. You’re going to regret not coming to me when I asked.” He glares at you.

“So that’s what fell!” Taehyung roars with laughter.

“I said I was sorry,” you mutter, biting your lip. How the hell are you going to get out of this situation now? As if you summoned the Devil himself, Seokjin appears next to Jimin.

You hide behind Tahyung out of instinct, grabbing onto his chained arm. Taehyung holds in his joy while the two vampires' expressions darken.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Jimin seethes.

You let anger get the best of you and wrap your arms around Taehyung’s waist instead, glaring from behind his shoulder.

“Y/n-” “Don’t,” Taehyung interjects. “-get away from him,” Seokjin warns.

“Why?! How do I know you both aren’t going to murder me as soon as I leave this room?”

“Is there not a spell we can use to get her out?!” Jimin turns to Seokjin ignoring you. You grind your teeth. Two can play that game.

“Why are you locked in here? How do you know Yoongi and Namjoon?”

“Yoongi? We all met him when we came to the island.” Jimin screams Taehyung’s name to silence him, but he ignores him easily. “You should have seen Seokjin and Jimin, he got them all wet and they vowed to make sushi out of him!” he laughs, turning his body around in your arms to face you instead of the pair.

You look over to the two vampires who have gone quiet. “And Namjoon?”

“Taehyung..” Seokjin warns.

“What? I’m not even allowed to talk about it now?” Taehyung whines.

“Enough! Y/n come here...please.” You hadn’t expected a request from Seokjin. “I swear, I won’t punish you for what you’ve done, just come here.” he holds out his hand for you, you can see the magic swirl around his fingers, burning his skin. He winces, but doesn’t move his hand away, even when his tips begin to turn black with char.

“What about Jimin?”

“Yes, fine, I won’t punish you, just hurry the fuck up,” the younger vampire looks anxiously at Seokjin’s hand.

“Y/n, please no! I’ve been here by myself for so long, I can’t stand it! You’re the first person who’s visited me. I don’t want to be alone,” Taehyung whimpers, a high pitched whine as you hesitantly make your way to Seokjin. He reminds you so much of Jungkook. He paces around you, begging you to stay.

“I-I don’t want to be locked in that room anymore.”

“Okay! Just come here!” Jimin yells.

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t go back on your word?!”

“They will, y/n, please! Look, Jimin promised he would visit me, he lied!”

Seokjin pulls his hand away, completely burned black and puts out his other arm instead. “You’re just going to have to trust us, like we will have to trust you not to pull any more stunts. We’ll trust each other, okay?” Seokjin pleads with you.

“I-I’ll come back to visit you,” you say to Taehyung. “Right?” You turn to Seokjin who relents and gives you a hasty nod.

“No!” Taehyung whimpers, “They are going to lock you away! Please believe me! You’ll never be able to escape.”

You reach for Seokjin’s hand, but Taehyung jumps in between you, holding out his chained hands. “Look at them! Look closely, what are these made out of, y/n? LOOK!” You study the metal, it looks shiny and silver. It’s silver.

Seokjin lurches forward quickly, his suit catches fire, his warm hand grasps onto yours and pulls you out of the room and away from Taehyung and everything goes black.

---

You wake up in a different room. You’re not alone. Another woman sits on the bed next to you, she jumps when you wake up. It makes you jump, ‘fuck why is everyone so jumpy here?’ you think holding your head in your hands to calm your nerves.

You try to scoot away, and you feel a tug on your ankle, so you pull the covers off of you. You’re in a new dress, all white, like the sheets, like the woman’s dress next to you. You see a chain connected to your foot that reminds you of Taehyung’s shackles but darker metal. No. “My clothes!”

“They made me, I-I’m sorry, I had to give them your clothes. The necklace wouldn’t come off, I-I didn’t tell them,” the woman pulls at her sleeve. “I kept your secret, but I can’t promise you they won’t find out, Master might look into my memories.” Your hand traces the gold watch chain around your neck, calming down.

“Okay...thank you.” You whisper uneasily. “H-How long have you been here?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I lost count, Master did give me this on our Fifth Year Anniversary!” She shows off the blood red jewelry dangling from her ears.

Ugh. “That’s nice,” you say and get out of bed. The dress is tight around you, covering your arms and flowing down to your ankles, the one place the fabric doesn’t touch is your neck, the hemline sits off your shoulders and plunges into a deep V. You scoot your way to the door until you can’t take it anymore and reach for the bottom of your dress, pulling the fabric until it tears.

You hear the woman let out a soft, “oh no.”

The chain stops you from reaching the door, even if you stretch out your legs you can’t grab the handle. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wheel your body back around, “Hey, what’s your name?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I don’t remember.”

“Listen, I’m going to need you to-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T REMEMBER?!”

The woman flinches from your volume. “Well Master calls me his little doll and I like that name a lot, and I just, well, forgot my other name.”

You take a deep breath as you try not to be sick. “Well Dolly, your MASTER IS A HUGE FUCKING ASSHOLE. YOU FUCKING LIARS!”

---

The group in the parlor turn their heads to the small voice echoing through the halls, Jimin winces, hearing your words clearly, moving one of the women off his lap. “She’s awake.”

“I’ll go-”

“It seems you failed at controlling her, brother. Why can’t I just try?”

Seokjin scoffs, “You can barely control yourself.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “I’ll-” he coughs, “-use restraint. I won’t hurt her.”

---

“Monsters!”

“Oh no, they’re going to be so mad.”

“Taehyung was right! I swear to God-”

“So so mad, oh no, oh no no no.”

“I won’t let you get away with this! Liars! Bastards!”

“Master!”

The door opens and Jimin stands against the door frame, ignoring your irateness and addressing your new roommate with a smile, “Hey Doll.”

Jimin standing in front of you had extinguished some of your rage and replaced it with apprehension, halting your tirade for now. “You fucking lied,” you glare at him.

“It’s not locked, I’m not forcing you to be here,” He looks over your shoulder, “Right Baby Doll?” The woman nods enthusiastically back. “The chain was a precaution, I’ll remove it, I promise. We just need to set some ground rules, okay pet?”

“I am not your fucking pet!”

He moves around you, like a buzzard circling it’s next meal, “You look so much better in this instead of that ugly sea dress.”

“Don’t I look pretty?” you hear the woman’s tiny voice ask Jimin.

“Of course!”

You rub your temples, “Jimin, just take this chain off me.”

“After everything you’ve done, and you’re still trying to make demands? Do you know how incredibly lucky you are? Can’t you just show a bit more gratitude like her?”

Jimin kisses the woman and she moans against him, deepening the kiss. You rub harder at your temples. You're chained, a captive audience to what ever the hell display is happening in front of you, becoming more uncomfortable and annoyed with each passing minute.

“Seriously?”

He drapes his arms around the woman’s shoulders and stares at you, “Jealous?”

You scoff. You think back to the version of him in Seokjin’s memories, with the other woman. You remember the tenderness in his eyes as he watched her and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. You are not jealous! And anyways, Jimin’s tenderness is all gone now.

“She doesn’t even remember her name anymore.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind,” he winks at her, and the woman giggles at your exchange.

“Her entire life has been taken away! What happened, it’s worse than death.” You hug your arms close to your body. Was that going to become you if you stayed here?

“Worse than death?” Jimin echoes your words and you notice him stare at his reflection in the room’s mirror. You stand in silence, watching him as he runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose strands while the woman softly hums to herself a sweet melody. She doesn’t sense the looming danger all around you and it makes your chest tighten in anxiety.

“You’re right y/n. Come here.” He holds out his hand for her.

He pulls her into a kiss, she smiles against her lips. You awkwardly shift at the exchange. She seemed happy with Jimin, even if she couldn’t remember the person she was anymore. It makes you wonder if she had resisted in the beginning or had always been this irritatingly agreeable...or maybe she even loved him, maybe her love was the only thing left in her.

Jimin holds her face in his hands, dragging his lips across hers, a spectacle of two lovers. She’s beautiful like Jimin, they fit perfectly together, a rose and a thorn.

It happens so quickly you stand stunned, you don’t have time to scream or stop him. She’s on the ground, neck twisted, dead.

You’re so stunned you can’t even cry, you just shake, fallen to your knees, staring at her beautiful lifeless face. Her red earrings dangle from her ears catching the light.

“What have you done?” Your voice sounds tiny and high, like hers.

“I saved her from a fate worse than death, according to you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t speak. He moves closer, putting a hand on your cheek, the same way he had held the woman’s head a few seconds ago. His cold finger wipes away your tears. When did you start crying?

“We aren’t liars. I’ll unchain you. So, will you behave now?”

---

You walk the halls during the sunlight. You stop by Taehyung’s door knocking four times, opening the door an inch. “I found this in the kitchen!”

“I’m...allergic.”

“Allergic to chocolate?! I-I’m sorry,” you mutter, though it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the bar yourself.

You lean forward into Taehyung’s room, he puts his chained arms over your head, and gives you a hug. He reminds you of Jungkook so much, sweet and gentle. But he’s not warm like him, he’s still a stranger to you, always dodging your questions. Namjoon’s words constantly play in your mind not to trust Taehyung. Even though out of everyone here, you trust him the most, you like him the most. Being able to spend time with him, even if your conversations are shallow and lighthearted, is the best part of your day.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Why haven’t you escaped?” He whispers.

You play with the hem of your dress as a distraction, “I don’t know.”

He always asks you the same question and you always give him the same answer, but today Taehyung persists. “They won’t catch you if you go now! Isn’t that the whole reason you let yourself get caught?” Even though you hardly know anything about Taehyung, he knows so much about you already.

“I’m...I’m scared.”

He pats your head, you shake his hand away, lightly shoving him back. “I’m not a dog!”

Taehyung laughs, “Yeah, you’re a scaredy cat.”

“How dare you!” you hit his leg as he giggles.

“I want to show you something! It will help you when you finally escape!”

You cover his mouth with your hands, shushing him. Looking around to see if there were any others lurking around you, but no one ever comes around Taehyung. “What is it?”

“Well, um, you’ll have to come all the way inside.”

“...I can’t.” You move away from him again and lean your head against the door frame.

Taehyung sighs. “I knew you’d say that!” he whines. “Do you do everything Jimin says now?”

You roll your eyes, “Not even close,” you mutter. “And it’s not just Jimin...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told not to trust you...and you haven’t been very open with me, have you?” you look down at your hands, intertwined with his, you trace the gold markings along his chained wrists.

“It’s complicated,” he whispers.

“I can’t see how it could get more complicated than being a werewolf trapped in a house full of vampires.”

“It’s much more complicated,” he pulls on your arm, staring at you with pleading eyes. “Leave a shoe outside and they won’t notice you’ve come inside, I promise!”

You hum, searching for a compromise. “How about this,” you scoot over the entrance, sitting closer to Taehyung while making sure to keep your legs outside. “Technically, I am inside and also outside.”

“But the magic won’t work unless your body is fully inside here,” Taehyung pouts. “The spell on the room will clash with mine and who knows what will happen then!”

“How do you know so much about magic?”

“I can’t say…” Taehyung whispers.

Your expression turns sour, ‘What can you say...’ you think. “Well can’t you just like, Houdini yourself out of here?”

Taehyung shakes his head regretfully. “No, if only it were that simple. And please don’t ask me to explain,” he teases. Taehyung scoots behind you and pulls your body onto his lap. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”

“Okay,” you hum.

“Let go of each other!” You wake up on the floor with Taehyung cuddled to your side, one lone foot of yours still remains outside the door. Jimin pulls on your foot before you can untangle yourself from Taehyung, dragging the rest of your body into the hallway. Taehyung grunts, waking up as you’re pulled from his embrace.

You blink away the sleep from your eyes, face-to-face with Jimin, his head hovering over yours, eyes bright red with anger.

“Leave her alone, Jimin!”

“I-I am allowed to talk to him,” your words come out small and high when you finally speak and you hate it, the way your fear strangles your voice.

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

“W-well, t-technically-”

"You're being so unfair!" Taehyung yells. "Do you like her that much?"

“Tae, enough!” He slams the door in Taehyung’s pleading face.

There is a bang on the door, only once, so loud and strong it shakes the entire connecting wall, the picture frames wobble and dust falls from the ceiling, the sound so abrupt and booming it makes you, and even Jimin, flinch.

---

“Jimin told me you were in a...compromising position, with Tae today.” You and him watch the stars from your bedroom window, now locked.

Your stomach tightens. “Taehyung is lonely, maybe if Jimin spent time with him I wouldn’t have to,” you mutter.

“Do you care about Taehyung?” Jin’s eyes study your features, his sharp hearing picks up your heartbeat, waiting to hear any lies in your answers.

“No, I just-He’s the only normal person here.”

“Person? Normal?” Jin quietly laughs.

“A werewolf is a person too.”

“Ahhh, so you think Tae is a werewolf.”

“He is, isn’t he?” You spin around to look at Jin but his poker face is as strong as ever as he smiles down at you.

“Is a vampire a person too?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “I guess so,” you side eye the man next to you, “Deep down. Somewhere.”

Jin kisses your lips softly, carrying you back to your bed and placing you beneath him. You’ve managed to latch onto Jin since that night, a lesser of two evils. The vampire truly was a forgiving man, and even if parts of you were weakened by fear, your mind had impressively blocked Seokjin’s pull since that night as well, so he had deemed you his personal pet project, his puzzle to solve, keeping Jimin an arm’s length away from you.

Jin was nice, sometimes. And sometimes, you enjoyed his company too.

You play with his soft blond locks. You know the pain is coming eventually, so you do everything you can to distract yourself, admiring the vampire’s beautiful features before you. He pulls the deep neckline of your dress easily down your body, exposing your chest to his piercing eyes. His eyes stop on the gold piece nestled in your cleavage, like always, he ignores it. He knows what it is, what he doesn’t know is why Namjoon gave it to you.

The cold air and Seokjin’s cold fingers kneading your breasts sends you into a bout of shivers, when he drags his tongue across your skin you arch your back and push your chest closer to his soft lips. He’s so gentle with you now. Sometimes, you wish he was rougher, like the Seokjin you witnessed with Namjoon.

“Won’t you let me in again, Dove?” Namjoon’s watch falls into the dip in your clavicle, replaced by Jin's fangs as he bites the flesh of your breasts, his fingers pull at your nipples distracting you from the pain. He doesn’t drain you unconscious anymore, instead Seokjin likes to covers your skin in lovebites, taking all night with you.

“I-I can’t control it.”

“Let’s practice control,” Seokin smirks, lips stained red, and he moves his hands down your body.

He takes time stretching you full with his fingers, his lips never leaving your chest, steadily building up the pressure inside you with each quick stroke of his thumb against your core until you’re tightening around his digits. “Don’t cum.”

You tense around him, unable to successfully hold in your moans. “I can’t. I’m going to-”

“Just try, Dove.” You would hope he’d stop moving his fingers, at least slow down, but he’s steady and relentless, his digits pushing inside you in the most perfect mind-numbing pace. There’s no way you could stop your impending orgasm, but you try to hold it off, just two more three four five agonizing seconds longer. Seokjin sucks on the sensitive skin of your breast, mouth pulling as much of the mound as he can fit inside while you pulse around his digits. You feel his teeth sink deep into your flesh and his name escapes your lips in a strangled moan.

His usual dull eyes look up at you shinning with desire. “Let’s try again.”

---

“I brought biscuits.” You hold up the sweet cookies in front of Taehyung’s confused face.

“Thank you, y/n.” Taehyung gives you a bright smile and hugs you extra tight when you peek your head into his room.

“Ready to escape?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re-I'm-” Taehyung struggles to say the right words, “We’re running out of time, y/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just need a couple minutes with you, please. I have everything ready!” Taehyung runs to his desk, pulling together a stack of papers. “You want to see everyone again, don’t you? You friends and family?” he pleads.

Your family, you’re ashamed to admit you haven’t thought about them. It wasn’t even purposeful, your mind just had stopped wandering to thoughts of them.

Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about them anymore either, it hurt too much. The small traces of their personalities that Taehyung reminded you of had become sufficient enough as you tolerated living. “W-What do you mean we’re running out of time?”

“I think I have just enough magic to fill your necklace,” he whispers, “but if I remember correctly, that model only holds twelve weeks worth of time. How long have you been on this island, y/n?”

Your fingers clutch at Namjoon’s watch resting against your heart. Could you really rewind back time to when you never got on that damned boat! “I-I just need to take off a shoe?”

Taehyung’s face lights up. “Yeah, or something that has your scent that they can still sense, just in case”

“So the more I leave the less noticeable it would be?”

“Well, I guess so?”

You look around at the hallway, still empty like always, and pull off both shoes from your feet. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You begin to shimmy out of your dress. Taehyung’s eyes go wide, and he wets his drying lips, then he springs into action, searching his closet for something to cover you. You pull his large sweater over your body and take a hesitant step inside.

Taehyung wraps you into his arms in a proper hug, holding you close. “I’m so happy you found me, y/n. I’m so happy.” He whispers.

He holds you tight to him, you're ashamed how affected you are by his kind gestures, you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who Namjoon told you to stay away from, it felt like a betrayal. “Don’t forget about me once you escape,” Taehyung whispers.

You melt into his embrace. “I won’t. Isn’t there a way to break the spell on the island? There just has to be! There has to be a way to save you and Yoongi and-”

“You like him,” Taehyung pouts.

“What? Who? Yoongi?!” Your face flushes hot.

“I don’t like sharing,” Taehyung mumbles into his sweater currently draped over your shoulders.

You swallow thickly. “Tae?”

He pulls away, holding you loosely, searching your eyes. During your interactions, you usually kept your attention around Taehyung, unable to focus too long on his intimidating aura and good looks, worried you'd start feeling too much for the mysterious man, worried you'd disappoint Namjoon. But now Taehyung is all around you, and his magnetism is too strong for you to resist. “Tae-”

His kiss is brief, however no less impactful, the way he pours his desires into you until your lost in a haze, following his lips as he pulls away, entranced by the small smile he shows you.

When he lifts his chained arms over your head, he pulls your necklace off as well. You were surprised how easily he removed it, when even Jimin couldn’t pull it off you (much to the vampire’s annoyance). You watched intently as Taehyung turns the watch's dial and whispers a spell in a language you can’t understand. “There, it worked, I set it to the full twelve weeks. you’ll know when to use it.” He places the watch around your neck again, his fingers cupping your cheeks and he rests his forehead against yours, content. Your face burns hot, Taehyung is so affectionate and sweet and treats you like glass.

This close, you can peer into his deep warm brown eyes, irises twinkling back at you so beautifully, it looks like gold swirls in them. “Just one more thing, and then the world is ours,” he says.

---

You sit up in your bed abruptly. Your fingers search for Namjoon’s watch as you try to steady your breathing. The hard gold feels comforting against the tips of your fingers as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You’re reminded of the night you first arrived. But gone is Yoongi’s colorful dress, the clinical white fabric of your new dress, sits tight around your body like a straight jacket and blends in with the white bed sheets.

Weren’t you just with Taehyung, what happened? You remember he told you you were running out of time. Then what happened?

You have to go find him!

You leave the bed and search out his room again. Jimin passes you in the halls, as quiet as a cat, startling you so much you almost fall if it weren't for his fast reflexes. “There you are, ugh I figured you’d be headed to Tae’s room,” Jimin frowns, “Let’s go.”

“Where are you taking me?” You fight against his grip as he pulls you in the opposite direction.

“I haven’t fed in weeks, and my favorite meal is gone because of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to push away the images of the woman who haunts your dreams.

“So you’re taking her place.”

“What?!” You're doing what now? “J-Jin said-”

“Are you his parrot now? Well lucky for me, tonight Jin went to go speak with Yoongi,” he says smugly.

You step into Jimin’s room. The dresser was covered with random items that don’t seem personalized to the vampire’s taste at all. Unread books, countless jewelry pieces, and a plethora of knives.

“Don’t even think about it, pet.” Jimin warns as he sees your eyes stop on the sleek blades.

“I wasn’t,” you mutter. It was the truth.

There’s no window in his room, no mirrors, just wood furniture, covered in scratches and dents of aggression. The areas of his room, like his dresser, are littered with things, so many discarded things. The room is soulless, like Jimin, it feels like a lavish prison cell.

“So,” you don’t look at Jimin, instead you look at his things, trying to find some sense of his personality, “I guess you’re going to finally prove to me you aren’t impotent after all?” you mock. You know you shouldn't poke the beast, but Jimin is like an annoying itch you can't help but scratch.

Jimin scoffs, “Slut, can you go a night without getting fucked?”

“Can you?!”

Jimin smirks. “I'm almost going to miss that.”

You take a step away from him at his words. “What are you going to do?”

“Jin is too sentimental, he only skims the surface of his powers now. There is another aspect to a memory pull, it’s much more fun. Can you guess what that is, pet?”

You’ve been guessing and trying to make sense of everything since that night. “That woman's memories, you took them, right?”

Jimin claps his hands, slow and mocking at your right answer. “It’s not a simple task, but she was particularly compliant,” he bites his lip in memory. “She was much more willing to part with her past, her previous life wasn’t so great if you were wondering...some would see what I did as a blessing.”

The vampire stands in front of you cupping your cheek. “But I’m sure you...” his hand follows your jaw, “...will put up an impressive fight.”

You let out the breath you've been holding, if you can do what happened to Jin, maybe you can find something you can use against him. Maybe his torture won’t work on you...!

“You’re going to regret this,” you say, pulling your head away from his hand.

He laughs, “I regret not doing this sooner.” Jimin was tired of Jin's special treatment of you, all these new rules, all the things you've gotten away with when he wasn't even allowed to drink from you, follow his most basic of urges, it was annoying, you were annoying.

You feel exposed under his penetrating stare, you turn your head and hold your wrist out to Jimin, “Well? Go right ahead.” You think the inevitable has been dragged out long enough.

He looks at your wrist, lips rolling over his tongue as his fingers glide over the thin skin, and then he pulls you closer so you stumble into him, yelping. He looks up and down your body, his hair brushing against your forehead, the strands ticking you. You're supposed to hate each other, but the way he holds you and touches you, it’s too intimate, too rough and too soft for you to make sense of it.

“Do you have to ruin all the dresses we give you?” He noticed the slit you cut into your too long dress.

“Why are they so tight?” you say, watching his eyes as they roam over your exposed skin, feeling hot from his attention. You try to keep your thoughts calm, pure, so he doesn't notice what he's doing to you. “I can barely walk around.”

“Then maybe you should stay on your back,” his voice low and taunting. His free hand reaches for the torn fabric and as quick as a flash Jimin tears the slit higher up to your hip bone.

Your hands attempt to pull the slit closed in vain, and Jimin takes the opportunity to pull at the neckline of your dress, ripping the line even lower, exposing your cleavage to him. You slap him across the face, like you would have done any other man, but Jimin is not just a man, not anymore. He turns his face around and you see his fangs against his curled lip, he looks delighted, like you gave him just the reaction he wanted.

He grabs you around the waist and you feel vertigo as you're thrown across the room. You land on his bed, sinking into the mattress, and before you can scream Jimin is hovering over you.

“Your foreplay sucks.”

Jimin pulls your head back, laughing down at you.

"Get it?" you struggle to speak, “because you're a-”

You scream as Jimin finally bites the column of your neck, his body weight pressing down on you. Pain erupts and you can barely breath. His bite is somehow even more painful than Jin's, you hit his shoulders, pull at his shirt, trying to push him away to release you.

---

“What’s your name?” You can barely hear Seokjin’s voice over the trumpets of the band.

“Jimin.” He yells back.

“Military man,” the bartender nods to his uniform, “This one is on the house.”

“Thanks, um?”

“Seokjin.”

Jimin pulls his bottom lip in, studying the handsome stranger. “Thank you Seokjin.”

---

Jimin pulls away from your neck, breathing heavy. You laugh, and laugh, feeling exhilarated, eyes meeting the vampire while you laugh again. Did you just beat Jimin at his own game?

Your laughter stops when Jimin flips you on your stomach. His fingers dig into your hair, bending your back up to meet his chest. You grunt, jaw slack. “Still waiting to see what you've got, Jimin.”

You’re confusing. Jimin doesn’t even smell fear on you anymore, even when he tightens his grip. You must be feeling overwhelmed, like Jimin, who is trying to make sense of the long forgotten emotions coursing through him right now.

For the first time in a long time, Jimin feels uncomfortable, struggling to make sense of your taunts and why you aren’t submitting. Something unpleasant inside him stirs. He’ll make you regret acting like this, he’ll break you in half until you beg for mercy. He’ll do it. So why isn’t he doing it?

“Well?!”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” he hisses into your ear.

“So I’ve been told, military man.”

Jimin knows you're goading him, yet still, blind rage courses through his veins, stinging his chest. He rips the back of your dress, tearing it down the center.

Was Jimin fulfilling a twisted fantasy you had ever since you saw Namjoon and Seokjin fuck that nameless woman senseless? Could you admit that to yourself as you feel your core become wetter as he presses his hand down onto your bare back.

You push up on your elbows, but Jimin uses his strength to push you back down, holding your head down. His sharp hearing can hear your muffled moan and the unpleasant feeling in the center of his body twists again.

"You like this?" He groans, affected by the smell of your lust. “Fuck, you act like such a desperate slut.” He palms his dick, needing a release. His moans fill your ears as his stokes himself to the state of your body.

You feel his spit hit your skin, his hard length running along your center, covering his member in your juices and his saliva. His tip teasing your entrance, you push back into him seeking more, and his hands hold you down, making you all the more feverish.

Your arousal hits the vampire’s senses in waves, affecting him more than usual as he tightens his grip to keep you still, focusing on the blood blotting your neck. His cock runs up your slit until he rests over your second hole. You look over your shoulder, prepared to taunt the vampire even more, but his dark expression, filled with carnal desire, slightly unraveled, entirely captivated by you, sends your thoughts into a tailspin.

Jimin pushes his thick length into you, stretching you over his cock, inch by inch until your whole body spasms.

Jimin stayed pressed up against you, a small kindness, his fingers circling your aching core. “Don’t-” you moan, and he stills against you, “d-don’t hold back.”

"I wasn't intending to."

And he doesn't. Your orgasm wracks through you, you feel so full and empty as your walls clench down on nothing while he pounds himself into you relentlessly. You start to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts are wild, your neck is there, you smell so delicious and he's so close to release.

When you come close again, at the peak of arousal, he bites down on your soft skin. You yell, clenching around him even tighter.

“This is your fault.”

You see Tae laugh, so unlike his usual sweet boisterous laugh, he chuckles deep, fighting against the chains around him, his wrist markings glowing gold, then deep orange like fire. “No, this is your fault. You were supposed to kill Jin, we could have had everything we ever wanted. How could you betray me like this?”

Jimin’s hands go lax around your waist, so you put yours over his, holding on as tight as you can.

You see Seokjin and Jimin under a street lamp, you and Jimin watch the way the flies dance around the bulb.

“You’re a vampire.”

Seokjin tenses, so Jimin continues, “I saw you with that girl, the regular with black hair.” His eyes scan the man beside him.

“And what are you going to do now?” Seokjin’s words come out low, almost menacing. Jimin laughs.

“Would you believe me if I said you’re not the strangest thing I’ve seen?” Breaking the awkward silence, Jimin brings an arm over Seokjin’s broad shoulders, pulling the man into a headlock. “I forgive you for always ditching me for lunch.” He teases.

Jimin releases his mouth from your neck.

You shift beneath him to look up at the vampire. Jimin’s bite wasn’t as meticulous as Seokjin’s who knew how to expertly pierce an artery, so you weren’t profusely bleeding, but the wounds still ached. Seokjin has the precision of a doctor, Jimin is messy, wild, his entire front is covered in blood. Jimin's eyes were unfocused, you could tell he was lost in thought.

“Jimin?”

“Enough,” his voice shakily commands you. “I’ll just take the part of you that keeps doing this.”

He pierces your exposed flesh once more concentrating harder.

---

Jimin is tiny. His head reaches the older woman’s knee as he hugs her leg. He points to the butterfly, wings fluttering back and forth slowly as it sits on a leaf Jimin found.

“I fixed it, see!”

“My beautiful son,” she kisses the top of his head, laughing at his cuteness. She looks weak and fragile, sunken eyes and skin pale.

“I’ll fix you too, I’ll learn!” He hugs her leg tighter. She soothes her little boy, knowing it’s already too late for her.

“Grow up to be a doctor, heal people.”

---

He pulls away from you. His eyes look wild, like an animal’s, caught. “Stop looking into my mind!” He screams.

“I can’t control it!” You’re just as stunned as Jimin, you never expected to see a version of himself so innocent.

Jimin holds you down by the neck, he doesn’t squeeze your neck enough to stop your breathing, even though he should, he thinks, he can’t do it, he can’t bring himself to tighten his grip.

“Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he lies.

“I said I can’t control it, asshole!” you struggle against his hold, “Maybe if you weren’t so weak-minded-”

Jimin roars. Pressing his weight back on you, his fangs strike at the sensitive flesh between your collar bone. Your first kiss was so special to you, you could still remember it to this day. You were young, awkward and shy, he was your first crush, a cute boy, his features reminded you of one of your favorite idols at the time, who was-

What did he look like? What was his name? When did he kiss you again? It was after school, you think, you can’t remember. How did he kiss you? That’s right, it was an awkward kiss, because you and him were...friends? Weren’t you? You can’t remember, you can’t remember what had happened, it was so special to you and now it’s gone.

Jimin sucks harder onto your skin, pulling more blood out of you. He took it, your first kiss, you know he did. Jimin, if that sweet little boy could see himself now.

You start to cry. You cry for your stolen first kiss.

His teeth sink into your neck again, pulling more blood greedily, trying to silence the memories he found with the steady beating of your pulse instead. He drags his fangs across your skin, more blood releases, so much blood lost already that everything spins around you. “Jimin!”

He covers your mouth to stop your protests. Jimin seems determined to lose himself again, ravaging your body with more bites. So you close your eyes and your thoughts drift to the young boy.

“Good job!” the soft voice of his mothers fills both your minds. Jimin holds a syringe full of milk to a tiny kitten’s mouth. “You have to take care of her now, remember, treat her gently. There you go!”

“She’s so cute, momma, I love her.”

“You both have to watch out for each other when I’m not around, okay?”

You can hear Jimin whimper into your neck.

You feel sadness wash over you. He could have been a doctor, he could have been a healer. He is, in some twisted way, he been given the gift of healing, and yet he uses it to inflict pain. Even if he wanted to pretend he didn’t experience it, you felt the love that he held so dearly for his mother as a small child. You can hear his laughter, he had the same laugh as his mother.

‘Jimin, I’m going to save you too.’

---

You wake up healed, your head pounding. You look around, Jimin lies next to you, he’s out like a light. You both look like you’ve been in a massacre. Your clothes shredded and blood everywhere. You move away from him, his features look angelic, but his skin is covered in dried blood, like a killer. What the hell happened? You take a step and your legs buckle, you cry out when you knee hits the hard floor. The vampire next to you sways, moves across the bed until he falls completely out of it, groaning.

You crawl your body to the other side of the bed where he is still lying on the floor.

When you look at him again, meeting his eyes, you come to a realization. You know his secret.

“Oh Jimin...”

“Y/n...” his voice is shaky, he covers his face with his hands and his soft cries fill the room. You struggle to get up, everything feels tilted on an axis. You sway and hit furniture as you make your way to the door.

There’s a ringing in your head that won’t leave. You follow the halls down to Seokjin’s office, a place Jimin has been so many times before, retracing his footsteps from a memory of his.

Taehyung’s spell worked just as he said, opening the door to Seokjin’s office, the bright markings glowed and then burnt away from your skin, leaving a trace of ash. ‘Taehyung,’ you’ll have to deal with him later, you think. First you need to get away, as far from the island as you can and try to find Jimin’s family.

There’s a large door to the right of his desk, wood an alien shade of purple. The high pitched ringing in your ears makes the room sway again, but you’re able to grip the handle and fall through to the other side.

---

You sit on the floor of a tiny shop. There’s intricate gold pieces; statues, vases, piled high on countless of glass shelves, every inch of the shop is filled with items, it reminds you of someone but you can’t remember who. You can’t even remember how you got here. Where the hell are you? It feels dangerous, it feels wrong.

You move to a corner and hug your knees to your body. ‘Where am I? Wait, who am I?’ You try to remember anything, any memory from your childhood, from your adulthood. And the past five minutes replays in your mind instead. Gold jewelry in glass cases and the feeling that you shouldn't be here, and a deep voice in your head whispers, “y/n.”

Y/n, is that your name? Your hands skim over the fabric of your torn dress, looking for pockets, looking for anything that might explain something to you. You need to get out of here, you need to leave, but you don’t even know where you are.

You hear a ding, a bell alerting an opening door. You hear a man speak to another. You run out the door while the man behind you lets out a surprised yell to come back.

You run and you run, past buildings past people. You’re barefoot, your clothes hang off you. Eventually you stop. Eventually you decide to ask an old couple who looks unthreatening where you are while you unsuccessfully try not to burst into tears. The old woman holds your hands and strokes your arm to calm you while the husband calls the police.

At first they suspected you were a victim of abuse. They took you to a hospital. The doctors performed several tests on you, each one worse than the last. You had no old memories, and all your new ones were horrible. Clinical, painful, strangers prodding and poking your body. Your dreams were filled of palm trees and warm sunshine on your skin, a sparkling blue ocean, laughter, happiness. So you slept most of the day.

Then one day, detectives came with nurses and they told you who you were. That it took so long because you had been pronounced dead over a month ago. Your parents were on a flight to come get you. You listened to them explain the events hoping to have a jog of memory but nothing comes. They talk about the boat, the crash, no survivors. Always another horrible new piece of information. When will it end?

When your parents picked you up, a lovely man and woman who you tried desperately to remember, the hospital staff gave you a bag with the clothes they found you in. There was a gold pocket watch, an item you didn’t remember having, but you didn’t remember anything, so it didn’t surprise you. You told them to throw everything away, but you kept the watch with you.

You have to stay with them, everything in your life had been reduced to a few boxes they had kept. You lost your home, your identity, you had no money, no job, the only thing you acquired during this whole time was a death certificate.

You start remembering your childhood, slowly at first, a memory here and there, a fall and cut knee, a tea party with stuffed animals, a school field trip, and then years at a time.

You found yourself again. You remembered who you were, your entire life up until you didn’t, the memories fracturing at the end, and the harder you tried to remember how you could have ended up in a different country across the world, your mind would construct horrible images instead, blood, drowning, and death. You couldn’t bare to think of it.

---

“Y/n!” you make your way into the coffee shop, you reconnected with some old childhood friends now that you were back in your hometown.

“Hey, oh my god, who is this big cutie?” Your friend’s dog barks excitedly while you fluff the black fur on his head. He’s so cute, his ears flop to the side with each happy bark.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re...well you’re crying?” She looks at you concerned.

You touch your wet cheeks. Why? You don’t know when it started, but as your friend’s dog nudges his head into your palm for more pets, your heart aches.

---

One night, a crazy thought enters your mind. You want to go back to that shop. You want answers. You leave a note for your parents telling them your intentions and pack your freshly made identification cards and travel documents into a suitcase.

So here you are again, in a foreign country, alone again, filled with purpose that seems to pull you in despite how terrified you are.

You scroll through your phone while you lie on the hard foreign hotel mattress. You open a map of where you are on your phone, and zoom out until you see water.

There's islands around the peninsula, you zoom into each one and search each name on your phone, learning each habitat, who lives there, if it is accessible. You do that to pass the time until you fall asleep.

“It’s too dangerous.”

You reach for the merman, grabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and pulling him closer, your eyes meeting his. “Explain.”

Yoongi is taken aback, licking his lips trying to think of a good way to start. "We made a blood pact to protect this island from the outside world, it's indiscoverable and once anyone does come here, they can't leave."

"Why..." you let go of his shirt, but he stays close, "Why would you do that?"

"Think, just think what you humans have done to the world...the others needed some place safe to go to and I-" the merman huffs, "At the time, I thought...well, they were...at the time I didn't mind sharing the island with them. "

Your fingers roll over the bracelets Yoongi put on you. "That was nice of you." The merman glares at you in return.

"You know, they'd come here, we all spent time together." Yoongi's stare is faraway and distant. "In the beginning, at least."

"I-I'm sorry." You hold his hand, and he stares at your fingers only briefly before shaking you off.

"Whatever, I'm surprised they didn't start trying to tear each others throats out sooner," He mutters. "We had portals of course to leave when we wanted to, but one day Namjoon and those dumb dogs destroyed all the portals-"

"What?! Why would they do that?"

"I don't know all the details, but I believe Namjoon did it to protect the rest of his pack. I can respect him for that...but the problem is they trapped us all here like idiots!"

"Is that why you're helping Jin and Jimin?"

"What? To get back at Namjoon? Pfft no. Jin came to me with a deal. He looked off, sick, and he offered me anything I wanted, so I helped him. That's it."

"So technically you can leave the island?"

"I can swim the waters, but I can only go so far, the magic always pulls me back eventually, it's useless to try," he mutters.

You hum.

"Anyways, what Namjoon doesn't know is Jin used some leftover magic and created a portal. Jin has lots of friends that serve him, owe him favors, he uses it as a delivery system."

"So you think if I?"

"That's the only portal I know of, but the magic is dangerous, the vampires put so many protections on their house, they won't even go through it themselves, there has to be a reason, right?"

"I...I'll take my chances."

"They wont even chance going through it, and you will?"

"Yes! And what if I can find a way to break the spell? Then you can finally leave! Yoongi, you have to let me at least try!"

"You're going to get yourself killed one way or another," Yoongi scoffs.

"No, I refuse to believe that."

"You're impossible to understand."

"I'm going through that portal. Then I'll come back for you."

"Wait, you'll come back?" Yoongi asks.

"Well, yeah, if you help me, a deal is a deal. Yoongi please, help me come up with a plan and I swear to you I'll come back with your payment. You're the only one who can search the ocean, you just have to find me again, so what do you say merman?"

"I'll find you again."

---

Your alarm wakes you up. 'What a weird dream,' it felt so realistic. Like all your dreams, the more you think about it, the less you remember, but that man's scarred eyes, whose name you forgot already, they stay with you.

You brush your teeth and wash your face. You notice something as you rinse off your skin. 'What the hell is that?' You inspect the gold writing behind your ear. Taking some more soap, you work to remove it but it doesn’t come off, the glittery ink is permanent. You rubbed your skin raw trying to take it off, it didn’t look like a tattoo, but nothing you did would get rid of the gold markings. You pace around your hotel room, things are getting weirder and you start to feel a nagging sense of dread, but there's a voice inside you that says to keep going until you find the answers you are looking for.

You don't walk right into the shop at first, instead casing out the place. You drink coffee at a nearby restaurant and keep watch on the shop. There are not many visitors, and those who do enter are not who you would expect. You would think maybe some older people who were looking for vintage items would decide to enter, or eccentric younger people, but it was almost always a intimidatingly large man entering, bringing items in rather than taking items out.

You’ve gotten into the habit of playing with the gold chain around your neck, the gold pocket watch had become a permanent accessory.

It's almost closing time for the restaurant, so you reluctantly make your way to the shop, and walk in after a group of tourists.

The shop looks different than what you remember, new items litter the shelves. You hide behind the large cases, studying the objects, until you come across something that makes you hesitate. A necklace with a large red gem hidden behind a thick glass case with a lock.

“You’re that girl! You...you came back.” Your head turns into the direction of the voice, a very old man stares back at you. He looks at you incredulously while you can only stare back dumbly. “C'mon, let’s go,” the old man says, he grabs your elbow. “Seokjin should be awake by now.”

“Let me go! You can’t keep me here!” You pull away from his grasp, your hand tightens around the amulet.

He laughs at you amused, giving you some space. “You walked into my shop, did you not? You don’t want to talk to Seokjin?”

“I…” Do you?! Would he know what happened to you, why does it make you shiver hearing his name.

Wait...you look down at your hand, to make sure you didn't imagine it, and there you see the necklace in the middle of your palm, heavy in your hand, you hide it behind your back, looking over your shoulder to the empty case, the shock of it makes you freeze.

The man looks at you cautiously, “Why are you here, girl? Are you here for Seokjin?”

Seokjin. That name fills you with dread. A vision of a man flashes across your mind only briefly, “I d-don’t know.” The old man raises an eyebrow at you. “Stay here, girl. I'll be right back.”

Where is he going? What is he going to do with you? Your mind spins and the skin behind your ear stings. 'Now y/n. Do it now.' that deep voice is back. You panic when the old man comes back with two others.

'Use the watch, y/n. Use the watch. NOW!'

---

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

As you lie on the ground you feel like the weight of the world just crashed upon you. Your chest feels like it’s going to explode, there’s a ringing in your ears, the skin behind your ear still burns hot.

Jimin noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your heart begins to race as you start to break down. Every day, starting on the night your boat was capsized, replays in your mind as you start to remember your time on the island. You see Taehyung, who looks at you and then his eyes go wide, realizing the situation, eyes ablaze with growing excitement.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice breaks the silence. You can only take in shaky breaths as your tear filled eyes try to focus on where you are. You traveled back in time, precisely twelve weeks to the second, you’re back on the island, thrown back into your nightmare like you never left. The only difference now is your left hand clutches a second pocket watch, now broken, and your right hand clutches the amulet.

Jimin looks between you and Taehyung. “What have you done?” Jimin accuses Taehyung, whose eyes haven’t left yours. Taehyung’s lips curve into an encouraging smile, he holds out his chained wrists to you. The vampire whips his head in your direction, but it’s already too late. You throw the amulet into Taehyung’s awaiting hands. You didn’t want to give it to him, but as if Taehyung had pulled strings around your body, you complied to his silent request. The minute the gem touches his skin, the gold markings around his wrists burn away.

The explosion knocks you back meters, everything is broken, everything is dust, you can’t see and your body aches. You hear screaming and yelling and groans of pain. You crawl through the debris searching for a way out.

Red light flashes through the smoke. You choose to crawl towards it, hearing Jin’s loud booming voice.

Taehyung pulls you back, his body behind you like it just materialized out of thin air. "C’mon y/n. Let’s escape."

“This...This is all your fault!” He looked surprised by your reaction.

“What you think you know, you’re mistaken.” He lifts you to your feet easily.

It feels like the air around you is vibrating, your body feels lighter in Taehyung’s presence.

“Please let me go,” you cry.

“Don’t worry, once we escape, we’ll be fine again.” His hand holds your hip tight to his body as he drags you in the direction of the portal.

Seokjin crashes into you both, knocking Taehyung away from you. You hear their struggle, and you’re back to crawling away through the smoke helplessly. Your fingers hit the hard cold gem of the amulet, and you wrap the chain around your fingers.

You can’t remember how you found the stairs, the wood half shattered, or the exit, blown wide open by magic, you can’t remember leaving the mansion, you just remember once your bare feet hit the soft grass outside you ran and you didn’t stop running, until you heard the sounds of waves. You ran until water hit your feet and then you screamed.

---

YAY I FINISHED THIS MONSTER OF A CHAPTER (Get it? I’ll shut up). Thank god, I felt as trapped in this chapter as y/n in that damn room :’). Okay, but now we’re getting somewhere! What do you think is going to happen now? Looks like this story might finally be headed off the island :D. I’m excited!

Questions to ponder for the next chapter: What is Jimin’s secret? Looks like there was a good reason for keeping Taehyung locked away, so what is his ultimate goal? What did Taehyung do to you? And why are Jin and Namjoon no longer friends?! Those are just some of the questions floating around in my mind as I am writing the next chapter, now do you have any questions you want answers to? Let me know! <3

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