#the four armed seamstress

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

"Hriob, baby-- where did ye say tae fairy dust came from???" Signed honey.

rp silly party shenanigans with people using the #monsterhouseparty

18+, sinday, so warning in advance for dug use and mentions, alcohol use and mentions, ect.

Be respectful to other participants.

"...I did not say. Mostly because you did not ask. And I would recommend you not do so." The man is currently looking a little ragged, and pushing a wheelbarrow of a somewhat glowy, semi-sparkly opalescent powder over for the preparations- Again, best not ask-

[letstrythisout4]

Hey, if you take requests, can you do series (bcz one-shot would be too short hehe), where reader is female and is really cocky, sassy and whatnot, basically giving off female Sirius Black vibes and she is very close with the golden trio, which makes them golden quartet. Anyway, I absolutely adore book Harry, because he is so SASSY!! So, could you make long imagine/series where book Harry and reader are both so sassy and stuff, but then Harry likes her and asks her out, but that is long time after, kinda semi-slow burn.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s completely okay<3

♡︎✩⁂✽

Part 1:

“Shut up Malfoy.” an annoyed voice rang, interrupting Harry’s conversation with the pale sharp looking boy. 

Harry looked to where the voice came from and saw you. Leaning heavily on the right arm of the armchair, one hand pulling at your hair, the other holding a book that you appeared to be reading. “Don’t listen to him, this git has been told his whole life that it's Slytherin or nothing. None of the house are bad or good, they’re just places to sleep and anyone who says otherwise has a stick up their-”

“Enough. I know your parents wouldn’t be very happy to hear either of you speaking like that. Keep it up and I’ll have no choice but to tell your mothers.” Madame Malkin cut you off before you could finish your rant. 

“Yes ma’am.” the two tweens said politely, looking properly reprimanded despite the way you stuck your tongue out at the boy when the seamstress' back was turned. The woman finished her measurements and sent the boys to sit in the corner with you with instructions to “play nice”.

You decide to introduce yourself, shaking Harry’s hand with an air of self-importance that unlike Malfoy didn’t make Harry cringe. Harry watched as you interacted with the blonde boy, quick jabs were thrown at each other but they lacked the malice that Harry and Dudley had. A couple moments of ongoing debate later a haughty looking woman came over, “Draco, it’s time to leave.” She said your name kindly, “It was wonderful to see you, you must come by the Manor before school begins. Your mother is on her way, she said she won’t be long.”

You rolled your eyes as you let the woman kiss your forehead, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

The woman waved away your thanks and turned expectantly to her son, “It was lovely to see you.” Draco said politely. After ten minutes of watching your verbal sparring , Harry couldn’t help but smirk at how the boy behaved in his mothers presence.

“Bye Draco.”

The moment the pair left the shop Harry had to ask, “Why are you friends with him?” The two of you hadn’t agreed on a single thing, only conceding briefly, most of your arguments had ended in ‘believe what you want to believe, and stay out of my way’. 

You flopped back in your seat stretching your arms upwards and yawning, “He’s not all that bad.” Harry gave a flat frown. “No seriously. He’s… we grew up together and we are distantly, distantly, related so it’s kind of an obligation. Also I’m not really allowed to talk to people, he’s one of like four kids our age I’m allowed to talk to. So better have an acquaintance I disagree with than nobody, you know.”

Harry actually didn’t know. He had never had the option, Dudley had always scared off anyone who remotely looked like they’d want to be his friend. His face must have shown his skepticism as you shrugged, “I don’t agree with him but pureblood circles are limited.” 

Before Harry could even begin to ask what that meant, a stoic looking man and woman entered the shop calling your name, “Well that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you and I’ll see you around, yeah?” You pushed out of your seat and waltzed into their eye-line before he could answer.

—

The next time Harry saw you was right before the sorting, you stood beside Malfoy looking disappointed at the boy’s behavior as he taunted Harry and Ron. He could vaguely hear you reprimanding Malfoy as the first years walked into the Great Hall. He watched as you walked up to the hat, back straight, head high, fist clenched as McGonagall placed the hat on your head. There was a long pause as the Hall waited, growing curiouser and curiouser as the minutes passed. Harry heard students turn to each other and whisper “Five minutes.” and later “Nine minutes!” Eventually the Hat called, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table broke out into applause. 

You swiftly walked to the table, sitting beside Neville introducing yourself with a smile when the boy was visibly taken aback that you were speaking to him. “I was thinking this could be a fresh start for us, what happened on the outside is on the outside. What do you think?” you asked, looking hopeful. 

Neville’s mouth opened slightly in shock but quickly shook your hand, “Sounds brilliant.”

The sorting continued and the newly sorted Gryffindors ate to their heart's content. You introduce yourself to almost the entire table, smiling freely and brightly. Talking about classes and teachers you were excited for and how you dreaded the winter, despite it only being September. 

You only spared Harry a smile and a shoulder nudge as you walked up towards the stairs of the girl’s dorm. 

—-

“What did you idiots say to Hermione?” you snapped, strutting up to the pair's Herbology table. 

Harry and Ron shared a look.

You had quickly established yourself as young royalty at Hogwarts. Even those that didn’t like you, respected you. Ron said it was because you came from an old family, like the Malfoy’s and the Nott’s. Hence why none of the Slytherin’s messed with you, even though you were friends with most of their targets. 

Harry thought it was more than that. It was hard to not like you. You had the majority of the staff charmed, and completed tasks with an easy smile. Always one of the first to achieve a charm or potion. Plus everyone admired your loyalty, it had only been a month and everyone already knew not to get caught messing with Neville, Hermione and Dean. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dean and Seamus had been innocently horsing around in a corridor when Seamus had shoved Dean a little too hard and he had knocked into a burly boy.

“Watch where you’re going Mudblood-”

CRUNCH!

If it wasn’t for the fact that apparition was impossible at Hogwarts, the student’s in the corridor would have sworn that was how you appeared. 

A strong punch right to the bridge of Marcus Flint’s nose had left the boy bloody. “Don’t ever talk like that again! If I ever hear you say that word again, I will personally make sure you never make it anywhere, Flint!” You grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away from the older boy before he could retaliate.

^^^^

The story spread like wildfire, the Hogwarts gossip mill adding its embellishments here and there. But the heart of the story changed the same, don’t fuck with your friends.

Hence why Ron looked ready to bolt at the sight of you, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so it was you then huh? I already told you nicely to leave her alone, Weasley.” You said crossing your arms. “Tell me what you said and don’t lie.”

Ron appeared to find his courage saying, “I said she was a nightmare and that no one could stand her.” Your mouth contorted in shock and fury. “But! But, I mean it’s true isn’t it? I mean she’s only got you.”

You smacked the red-head upside the head, “That’s so rude, Ronald! I mean, really!”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t care if it’s true! That’s a terrible thing to say about someone! She’s already getting bullied by Snape and some of the purebloods, she doesn’t need to be bullied by you too. Go apologize to her now, and then leave her the hell alone.” You walked away, linking arms with Neville who had also fallen under your protection after you hexed Pansy Parkinson into a week stay in the hospital wing. (Well technically no one knows it was you, Snape couldn’t find any evidence no matter how hard he tried, but…let's be real it was you.)

Ron looked at Harry for reassurance, but he could only shake his head. Honestly he had been working up the nerve to say something similar for the past few hours. Hermione had been missing for the past couple classes and it didn’t sit well with Harry.

This feeling was only amplified when Quirrel fainted, bursting into the Hall yelling something about a troll in the dungeon. Harry saw you, head bobbing through the crowd of Gryffindors searching for Hermione. He could hear you yelling at Percy, that he didn’t  understand, that “Hermione is missing! We have to go find her!” 

Percy grabbed you by your shoulders shaking you as the other prefect herded the Gryffindor students towards the dorms. “I’ll notify McGonagall immediately. But we “ he pointed to two of them “we can’t go looking for her.”

You made to sprint past him but Percy caught you by the arms, shoving you into a sixth year, ordering that they bring you to the common room.

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance before slipping away to find Hermione.

—

“I see that you’ve been developing some new friends.” Hermione heard your voice sing as you jumped onto her bed. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at your theatrics. You batted your eyes at her, silently asking for details.

Hermione quite liked you, you were the first person to have ever stood up for her. Her entire life she’d dealt with bullying but nobody had stood beside her through it, so she was pleasantly surprised at how you took her under her wing. The first week had been hell, purebloods of all houses jinxing and hexing her but you had noticed. 

^^^^^^^

Hermione had been sitting alone at a Herbology table when you waved at her upon entering the room. You had set your stuff down briefly beside Malfoy (you were the only Gryffindor to routinely cross the unwritten house divide) “Why are you waving at her?” she heard Malfoy ask, sounding genuinely disgusted. “Do you even know who she is?”

“No but I’m not going to let her sit alone, that’s not nice.” you replied simply, picking up your things and moving beside Hermione. 

^^^^^^^

From then on you and Hermione had been thick as thieves. Hermione had always thought she needed to find her perfect match, someone who was more introverted, more studious, more rule-following; then she’d finally make friends.

And yet she didn’t mind you. Hermione had had her fair share of cocky kids being placed next to her in class. Growing up she was frequently the victim of teachers unofficially assigning her a talkative kid in an attempt to shut them up.

But when you sat next to her, self-assured and cocky beyond measure, she didn’t hate it. She wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps it was because you could back it up, easily being one of the best students. Perhaps it was because you aren’t a bully. Perhaps it was because you didn’t get offended when she asked you to stop talking so she could focus, only smiled and said “Of course.” and actually shutting up.

…Yeah that was a big part of it.

Either way, you had grown on her. (If she was being honest she was a little jealous of your confidence, even if it could be a bit much.)

“You’re the one who told me I should branch out.”

After the troll incident Hermione, Harry and Ron had become close. No longer relying on you as her person, her go-to, had been natural. The boys had apologized and all had been forgiven. Hermione hadn’t even really realized how she had begun to drift from you. No longer meeting up in the library to study or walking to classes together. 

“I did. And while I’m glad that you have, being honest here, I didn't think it was going to happen so soon. But I guess when you deal with a troll together, bonds grow.”

Hermione frowned at that. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t appreciate you. She liked the boys but you were her first friend, not only that but you were the first girl that didn’t make her feel inadequate. (At least not intentionally) 

She turned from her spot at her desk to look at you staring up at her bed curtains, “We’re still friends. You know that right? I mean the boys are great but you were here first, so that gives you priority.”

“Even with the troll?” you asked, pouting slightly. Hermione could tell you wanted it to sound like a joke but it was doing a terrible job of hiding your concern.

“Even with the troll.”

You were quiet and Hermione almost went on to continue to reassure you but then you spoke, “Well I am way better than those two so I guess I have nothing to worry about. I mean honestly, if you ever pick them over me, I’m checking you into St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione was quick to smack you with the nearest pillow, smiling as she heard you giggle despite the harsh hits.

The year was looking good with you, Harry and Ron by her side.

—--

Author's notes: sorry this took so long anon, I was racking my brain to find ways to insert this type of reader into the story in ways that would actually be interesting and not just rewrites of the story and I think I finally have a couple good ideas. 

Lemme know what you think and yes there will be more parts as requested, I don’t know when they will come out but there will be more.

(Note: we will see more sassy harry and reader in later parts)

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty Four

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Previous | Masterlist]

Warnings (this chapter in bold): Strong Language, Angst, Smut, Violence, Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Depictions of PTSD, Injury Detail, Era typical Sexism, Era typical Homophobia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Domestic Abuse (very brief), Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

Words: 5.9K

Notes: Have I been writing this since May and avoiding it? Maybe. Thanks to those who've stuck with me, 2024 has been tough and it means so much.

This chapter contains depictions of reproductive health, including miscarriage and post-natal depression, and allusions to suicide that are mentioned in the canon. Please read with care.

And @arcielee? Robina's in this one...

The crying had stopped.

Bess checked the watch attached to her apron. Ten thirty. By midnight she’d be back at the flat, listening to the wireless in bed with Tom. For now, she listened.

The ward was quiet. Long after the groans of pain and bawdy jokes died, it was always the quiet sobs of war-shattered men that remained. Now, the green-tiled halls of the infirmary were silent but for the clack of heels in a distant corridor and the soft snores of the patients around her.

She was stationed at the bedside of a soldier from St Helen’s. He was 22, the same age as Albie, were he alive. That might have been the reason she was sat beside him at the late hour. Bess could have been folding linens for the next rotation, or having a cup of hot cocoa and a cigarette with Helen and Joan while gossiping about the matron or the boarding mistress. But no, she was sat in the silent ward, the coppery smell of blood and stringent antiseptic filling her nostrils as she fixed the edge of the poor soldier’s handkerchief.  

She’d washed the bloodstains out as best she could, and darned the hole that the bullet went through, but it was a tatty old thing. Still, the moment the soldier heard she could sew, he insisted that Bess fix it.

In the low light of the paraffin lamp, Bess tied off her thread and admired her handiwork. Good as new. Sort of. She ran her hands of the darning and along the hem, checking her needlework, then traced the red initials embroidered in one corner. F.E.

“Florence,” his soft voice didn’t make Bess jump. With the city being bombed all around them it would take more to make any Mancunian jump these days.  

Bess looked up from the cotton to the man’s face. He was gazing at the letters she traced. “She your sweetheart?” She placed the handkerchief in his lap, and he too ran a finger over the initials.

“Yeah,” he said bashfully. “Went to school together. Only got the courage to ask her when I got my papers.” Bess thought of her and Tom, the boyish looks he used to give her in the school corridor when he thought no-one was watching. “What about you, miss? Got a sweetheart?”

Bess smiled wryly. “I do, though I wouldn’t call him a sweetheart. More of a heartbreaker.”

“Jack the lad, is he?”

“Ay,” Bess inadvertently touched her apron pocket. The pocket wherein a photograph of Tom lay. “But he’s a good man, deep down.”

The solider smiled and the two sat in silence for a while. When Bess checked her watch and saw her shift was ending, she stood and beckoned the soldier lean forward so that she may lay down his pillows.

“Get some rest, now. Sleep’s the best healer.”

“If I get home,” the soldier spoke as though he hadn’t heard her. “I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’ll not be sent back like this.” He gestured to the sling that wrapped about the remainder of his arm.

“When you get home.” Bess corrected him. He smiled and settled in his cot as Bess turned down the lamp and wished him goodnight.

Were it the old days, before the war, the clock on the infirmary tower would have chimed eleven. Now, the outside world was muffled by the dark blackouts. It could have been dawn, for all she knew.  

Bess walked the lonely corridors, only occasionally passing a fellow nurse or doctor; taking odd hours at the factory meant that very few others worked the same hours at the hospital as she and, knowing that she wouldn’t likely see them for the next few days, Bess made her way towards the nurse’s lounge, and Helen and Joan.

Joan, constantly at loggerheads with Sister Stern, asked for a rotation on the convalescence ward two weeks ago. Now she spent her time welcoming soldiers to the hospital and treating them as soon as they came through the infirmary doors. With her dark hair always neatly set and lips rouged, the soldiers loved her. She looked like one of the girls from their cigarette cards. Helen, on the other hand, was now working on what remained of the labour ward. The oldest of nine siblings, Sister Stern saw her expertise fit best with the soon-to-be mothers. The ward had decreased drastically since the war began, its east wing turned into a ward for the returning wounded, but they still had their fare share of pregnancies. It seemed to come in bouts. Bess, Helen and Joan liked to guess which boat the lady’s husbands belonged to. Tracing back nine months, the three nurses could pinpoint the exact ship that had fathered the entire labour unit.

When Bess found Helen, she was sat by the cot of a small babe, knitting some blue socks.

“He was a little early, poor dear,” Helen said, looking at the small baby. “Told his mam I’d make him some woollens. So tiny, it’ll only take me the best part of an hour to make a whole set.” She held up the little mittens she’d already completed and Bess smiled.

“I’m off,” she whispered. “Got time to see Joan?”

“Always,” Helen placed her knitting in her apron pocket and indicated to another nurse that she was leaving. Looping her arm through Bess’ and leading her from the ward, she whispered slyly in her ear; “Joan’s got a Yank in her wing. Gorgeous, he is. Wouldn’t mind a quick peak, you know, for morale.”

The convalescence wing was quiet when they arrived, just like the rest of the hospital. A doctor was moving between the beds, checking the notes of each patient and speaking to a matron and nurse. It was when he moved out of the way that Bess saw it was Joan and Sister Stern. When Helen caught Joan’s eye, she rolled them and excused herself from the others.

“Moved wards to get away from the old bat, and she’s been put on the same rotation.” All three girls looked at the matron. She was looking at the young doctor with disdain, her hooked nose raised as if avoiding a bad smell.

“Bess is off and I’m almost finished,” Helen said. “Where’s the Yank?”

Joan tutted. “Robert,” she corrected. “He’s by the window-” Helen rushed over before Joan could finish. Bess giggled as Joan rolled her eyes once more, and the pair followed quietly behind their friend. She was gazing down at the sleeping man, fiddling with the knitted socks in her pocket.

“See? Isn’t he beautiful?” Helen whispered to Bess. She looked down at him, and supposed beautiful was the right word. A curl of brown hair fell across his brow, his thick eyelashes fluttering slightly in his sleep. His mouth moved too, dark pink lips pouting as he set his broad jaw.

“He’s been having a nightmares,” Joan whispered. “They all have.” The three girls were silent a while, watching the man sadly. “Now come way, stop being a creep.”

“I wonder if he has a sweetheart?” Helen said hopefully.

“A man like that is sure to have hundreds,” Joan nudged her light-heartedly. Helen took the socks from her pocket and gazed at them.

“And if he doesn’t,” Bess teased. “You can knit some baby clothes of your ow-”

She stopped with a gasp.

Pain, unlike any she had known, ripped through her stomach like lightning. Doubled over, Bess cried out, hurriedly stifling the sound with her mouth. The American stirred in his bed as she sank to her knees, gripping the metal bedframe. Joan was beside her in an instant.

“Bess?”

“What is it, Bess?”

She couldn’t speak. Someone had taken a hot poker and twisted it through her. Over and over, the searing pain exploded. White lights burst in front of Bess’ eyes and she screwed them shut.

“What on earth is going on here?” Sister Stern hissed, storming across the ward to where Helen and Joan were crouched on the ground. She looked down at Bess struggling on the floor, her hands clutching digging into her stomach. Bess was a good girl, quiet and stoic. If something reduced her to writhing like a wounded beast, it was serious.

“Girls, fetch a bed.” Stern ordered, and Joan and Helen hurried away. “Doctor,” the young man approached. “She needs to be seen at once.”  

Bess curled onto her side, knees pulled up to her chest and reached out for Sister Stern. “I can’t see,” she whispered weakly, staring ahead, wide-eyed. The pain was blinding, creeping up her back and turning her spine rigid. Sister Stern watched with horror as the uniform by Bess’ bottom turned dark. Scooping her into her arms, the matron attempted to right Bess, but it was as if a film had jammed in the reel. She wouldn’t move. “I can’t,” Bess said again.

“Yes you can,” Sister Stern said firmly. It was at this moment that Joan and Helen burst through the doors with an empty trolley. Soldiers were beginning to wake at the commotion, nurses bustling about trying to settle them back into bed. With great effort, Joan, Helen, Sister Stern and the doctor dragged Bess onto the trolley and raced from the ward.

Everything stilled. The soldiers went back to sleep. Beyond the ward doors, the squeak of the trolley and Bess’ faint groans faded in the corridor. The nurses retreated. One made her way towards the American soldier’s bed with a mop and began clearing the small puddle of blood that remained on the green-tiled floor.

It was the kind of morning Tom loved as a child. The kind of day when his parents would send him out the front door with a spam sandwich wrapped in brown paper, an apple in his pocket and the promise that he would be back by teatime. A light wind futtered through the yew tree and somewhere, Tom could hear the scrape, scrape, scrape of Father Michael’s rake. It couldn’t be more starkly different to the day before.

He'd left Bess in bed the previous morning and gone to the victualling office to collect his papers smelling of tobacco and sex. After their argument about Queenie, his display at the dance and everything in between, Tom had been determined to put into practice Lois’ advice: “actions, not words.”

His lack of sleep that night had not been due to nightmares, or the threat of torpedoes. It was the sound of Bess’ rapturous moans and mewling that had kept him awake. Once he’d dragged himself down the length of her body and seen the slick of anticipation between her plush legs, not even Hitler himself could have torn him away.

Stubborn, arrogant and never one to do anything by halves, Tom didn’t stop until Bess was a quivering mess beneath him. He’d lapped at her sex, feasting on her swollen lips until she shook. Worked his fingers within her deftly and attentively until she pushed him away. He’d taken her on the bed, watching from below as he forced her hips down onto him with violent abandon. Tom even took her in the kitchen, legs braced against the counter as he brought hers about his shoulders. When at last he released her, watching the way he spilled out of her as she slumped against the bedroom floor, he’d lit a cigarette, picked her up by the waist in a one-armed lift and deposited her on the bed. He could see the lust light in her eyes once more as she looked at him stood before her; naked, cock still stood proud, cigarette dangling roguishly from his lips.

“You want more, my girl?” he flashed her a wicked smile and watched as she swooned.

“Yes,” Bess laughed breathily. “But I think I’ll break.”

Tom all but skipped towards the port master when he arrived at the dockyard. If there was a ship ready for him to board, and his luck finally ran out, it would be with images of Bess fucking him that saw him into whatever world awaited beyond the war.

A day later, having not seen Bess since he left her in bed, Tom was hunched in front of his mother’s grave, placing the remaining belongings of his father to rest. Something stirred behind him. The turning of wheels on the gravel and sad sniffle gave away who it was. Lois. Vera in the pram.

Tom sighed. In his hands, he held a picture frame. Through the shattered glass, his father looked back up at him. His eyes, so like his own. His quiet sadness, so like Lois’. Tenderly, Tom wrapped the photograph with his father’s glasses, pocket watch and wedding ring within a handkerchief. The sight of the wedding ring made a lump form in his throat and he swallowed thickly.

“Next leave I get,” he began, knowing Lois was listening behind him. “We’ll get a stonemason to put dad’s name under mum’s.” He waited for his sister to speak, but she said nothing. “‘Marie Bennett and Douglas Bennet’. Second billing.”

“‘S’what he would have wanted,” Lois said at last and he smiled sadly.

Tom placed his last offering, a bottle of sherry, next to the grave alongside the flowers left for their mother and the bundle of broken belongings. “They you are dad. Happy now? Pacifist proves his point by getting killed by Hitler. Beauty.” He kissed his teeth sarcastically and stood, wiping dirt from the knees of his uniform. Lois watched him but still she barely moved. The bandage from her adventures with ambulances was still wrapped about her head, and still, Tom tried not to laugh at it.

“I’ve got to go,” Lois said, looking at neither him nor her daughter.

“Me too. Got a date with a battleship,” Tom shouldered his kit bag wearily. “Bess is meeting me at the dock-”

“I mean I’ve got to get away. From here,” Lois shuffled on her feet agitatedly and Tom looked down at her.

“You- you can’t do that, Lois.” Panic was creeping up his spine. Like Bess when he arrived home, and Douglas when he left, Lois’s prematurely aged face wore a look of despondence. “You’re all I’ve got. We’re all we’ve got now-” Tom’s voice trembled and at once his fierce older sister returned.

“That’s not true,” she continued quickly before he could interrupt. “You’ve got Bess, the rest of the Vaughns. Vera, Jan-”

“You know what I mean, Lois.” Tom said hotly. You’re the only family I’ve got. What if I come back and you’re gone too. Who will I be without you?

“I wanted to die in that house.” The bluntness with which she said these words stopped Tom dead. He stared at her and sensing his fear, Lois carried on. “When it started coming down, I didn’t run. I waited. I just wanted it to kill me.”

As his sister spoke, Tom looked back at his parents’ graves. What if he came back needing to bury Lois too? He’d have to carve the names into the stone himself.

“I need to get out of Longsight, Tom. Just like you.” And with that, she flung her arms around his shoulders, whispered that she would write to Bess in the case she needed to relay any messages, and marched the pram from the graveyard.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs Chase,” Bess hurried through the large door of the country house, shedding her raincoat and umbrella.

Robina eyed her appraisingly. “Not on your bike today, Ms Vaughn?” She watched as Bess tidied her frizzy hair and, deciding Bess’ appearance would do, trotted towards the drawing room.

Bess hurried after her, tailoring kit tucked under one arm. “Not today.” She pulled self-consciously at her wide slacks and followed Mrs Chase into the cosy room. In truth, she was still store from the previous night and could have done with the day off but, having skipped her morning shift at the factory and needing the money, Bess had raced to Mrs Chase’s house with Kasia’s freshly made trousers and an old coat of Albie’s for Jan.

The overhead lights of the hospital blurred into one. Someone was talking frantically, issuing orders to somebody she couldn’t see. A faint squeak echoed off the tiled walls. In between fevered consciousness, Bess recognised the sound as the wheels of the hospital trolleys.

Without knowing she had done so, Bess found herself already kneeling on the carpeted floor, eye level with Kasia’s feet as she took her place on the platform. Somewhere between arriving and setting up, she must have given Kasia the slacks she promised to make her, for here she was looking down expectantly, waiting for Bess to check them.

Bess coughed awkwardly. “Sorry, Kasia,” Her voice trailed away, and she set about measuring the trouser legs and assessing their fit.

Mrs Chase’s shouting to Jan somewhere in the house did just enough to keep memories of last night at bay, but when Kasia’s hand stroked Bess’ hair and she whispered “Your mind is somewhere else,” Bess was transported to a sterile room, the smell of bleach and turpentine stinging her nose.

Helen’s beautiful face looked down on her and stroked her forehead. Her blonde hair was illuminated by the ceiling lights, and for a moment Bess thought she had died and was being greeted by an angel.   

A cold hand grasping her shin told her this was real. It moved to spread her legs and the cold pinch of metal shot through the soles of her feet. Looking down, Bess saw the worried face of Joan putting her feet into stirrups.   

“Long shift,” Bess replied, not looking up. Instead, she focused on the movement of her tape measure along Kasia’s thigh. “How do they feel?”

From behind them, Mrs Chase clucked like a fussing hen, but the girls ignored her. “Good,” Kasia said, admiring herself in the mirror. “Comfortable.”

Mrs Chase huffed again. “Trousers,” she muttered with indignation as she left the drawing room, the heels of her Mary Janes carrying through the house as she went to find Jan.

Bess knew it was Sister Stern before she spoke; her hard gait gave her away as she walked across the tiles.

“Miss Bates, has Miss Vaughn been ill at all today?” From the little Bess could make out over the throbbing pain in her abdomen, the matron was making her away around the room gathering equipment.

“No, sister,” Helen’s voice shook a little, and again Bess tried to glance down. Helen caressed her face once more and turned Bess’ face back to her own.

“Helen?”

“It’s ok.” She stroked Bess’ hair soothingly. “Looks worse than it is-” Bess felt the room spin. If it weren’t for Helen remaining in one place, she’d have thought someone had knocked into the trolley she was on. “-Stern and Joan are tidying you up, then all you’ll need is a bit of rest.”

“‘Miss’?”

The voice was male. The doctor who had been doing rounds with Joan. Only he wasn’t addressing her, but one of the others.

“That’s right,” Joan’s voice was defiant when she replied, and Bess felt her gently stroke her calf as a soothing warmth spread across her thigh. A warm towel, in held in Joan’s other hand, was attending to whatever Helen had said needed ‘tidying up’.

“I take it, then, she isn’t married?” The doctor, again.

Silence.

Turning her head to one side, Bess caught the doctor and Sister Stern exchanging a glance. While the man’s face was turned away from her, Sister Stern’s was visible over his shoulder. Almost imperceptibly, the matron glared at the doctor, who sighed deeply and straddled a small stool at the foot of the trolley.

“Now then, Miss Vaughn,” he said, adopting a sombre bedside manner. “I’m just going to have a look at you now the bleeding has subsided.” Bess tried to sit up, a flush of terror rising to the top of her cheeks, but Helen held her shoulders. “Tell me, when was your last monthly?”

“What’s the matter, really?” Kasia whispered.

Bess looked up at her lovely face, blonde hair glowing in the afternoon light. An angel, just like Helen had been. Kasia had already been through so much, little did she need a burden of Bess’.

“Nothing, really,” Bess smiled as she copied Kasia. “I’m just tired.”

Kasia hopped off the tailor’s podium, watching astutely as Bess tidied away. She hummed in a devil-may-care sort of way. “So, this is to be our first secret.” It was a statement, not a question, and Bess felt a pang of guilt. Exhaustion flooded through her and, as if working in cahoots with gravity, caused her to slump forward where she stood.

“I will tell you, Kasia. I promise.” She sighed. “Just not now.”

There was silence a few moments, but for the tick of the grandfather clock, and Mrs Chase and Jan somewhere in the house. Then, Kasia took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around Bess’ shoulders. “Ok,” was all she said.

She could feel Kasia’s heart beating against her back and she closed her eyes. A swell of emotion rose up in her and she swayed a little. When was the last time someone offered her this much of themselves, without expecting anything in return? As the war continued, Cora and Dot had begun their work for the war effort. On the occasion Bess saw them now, they were too busy, too tired and too terrified to focus all their love on their sister. Albie was gone, and while Fergal remained, his mind was far away with his son, or else imagining evenings in the pub with Douglas, Marie and Etta.

Then there was Tom. Each time he returned from the war, Bess could see that another piece of him had chipped away, left behind somewhere on the battlelines. And each time he returned from war, his Mancunian home shrank. First his best friend, then his father and his childhood home. As war changed him from a reckless boy to a tenacious young man, he grew beyond the small world they shared together. And with the events of last night, it was only a matter of time before he left Bess behind too.

“You have, I suspect, what we call a sepate uterus-”

It was just the doctor now. Joan and Helen had long since gone home, swearing to Bess that they’d feed and care for her once she too made it back to Carver Mills boarding house. Sister Stern, seeing that Bess’ pain had subsided, resumed her rounds on the ward.

“Of course, we’ll need to double check. Are you on shift tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir,”

“Pop in for an x-ray before you begin. We’ve only the one machine now but I’m sure we can get you in. At that time of night we won’t need it, not unless another raid begins.” He spoke so matter of factly that Bess found it hard to concentrate. He could just as well have been reading his shopping lost.

She hastily wiped a tear from her eyes and turned to face Kasia. “I’m glad you’re happy with the slacks,” she said through a forced smile.

“How much do you charge?”

Bess shook her head. “I offered, I insist.” Kasia open her mouth to protest, but just as she did, Mrs Chase appeared in the doorway.

“All done girls?” Before either could reply, she continued. “Perhaps you could make Kasia a nice tea dress next time? Speaking of tea-” Mrs Chase said, grabbing Jan by the arm as he ran past. He waved at Bess and she winked, mouthing “it suits you,” at seeing him in Albie’s old coat.

“-are you staying for supper, Bess? Lois will be over with the baby in a little while.”

“Erm,” Bess floundered. Robina raised her eyebrows in expectation. The baby. “No, I’m, er, I’m actually back on shift this evening so I need to be getting back.” She coughed awkwardly. “Thank you, though.” Without another word, she packed away her things and hurried from the room, promising to visit Kasia again soon and ruffling Jan’s hair on her way out.

Reaching the hallway, she made to place her tailor’s stand in the large basket she carried but stopped at seeing a small envelope tucked in its handle. Upon opening it, Bess found a cheque for fifty pounds, written in elegant writing and signed Mrs. R Chase.

The station lights were just coming on when Bess arrived. A cold mizzle had descended on the city and, caught in the light of the station lamps, it glowed like lustrous confetti against the blue October night.

It was just as busy as it would have been before the war. Only now, the families heading for trips to the beach and the young couples adventuring to London for a long weekend were replaced by small groups of soldiers and sailors, or else labourers carting supplies between wagons.

Bess weaved across the platforms, peering over heads and between luggage. She’d raced from Robina’s, only just managing to catch the last bus from the small town she lived in. Had it been Douglas, he’d have told the driver to stop, or held his hand out for assistance as she jumped onto the back of the moving vehicle. A constant presence in her life as a child and woman, a surrogate father when Fergal was deep in his grief or drink, Bess could just imagine Douglas’ hand reaching out for her. The callouses from his work on the buses, or paper cuts from his rounds handing out his pacifist papers. Were they like Tom’s? She’d never noticed.

As though called to her, as if he’d heard his name on her mind, a loud guffaw sounded from somewhere along the platform. A call to his whereabouts. Tom and a few sailors Bess didn’t know were stood beside the engine, sharing a cigarette with the driver. Sensing someone approach, Tom turned his head ever so slightly to his right, the muscles of his long neck stretching.

Bess swallowed. The boatneck of his uniform so elegantly accentuated the column of pale skin and muscle, and Bess remembered all the nights she ran her tongue and teeth there. The moans the action elicited from him…

Watching her eyes falter, Tom raked his own over her. The sway of her hips, the tight fabric of her slacks across her hips. The way drops of mist adorned her frizzy hair, like pearls. The way her eyes were still rapt by him, lip tucked between her teeth, walk faltering as she admired him.

Without a word to his friends he made his way toward her, eyes never leaving hers. Bess blushed as he sauntered through the meandering crowd, glancing away when his eyes continued boring into hers.  

“Stop,” Bess whispered when he came to a stop scandalously close to her. Tom reached out to her, tucking one hand beneath her coat and caressing her side.

“I missed you last night,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “Stopped by the flat.” His voice was low, breath warm as it fanned her hair.

Bess shuddered.

“Here,” Without looking at her, the doctor kicked the cabinet drawer closed and handed Bess two pamphlets. ‘The Dangers of Sex in Wartime’ and ‘Modern Methods of Birth Control’.

“Night shift.” She replied simply.

Tom looked down his nose at her and huffed. “Have to get myself into some mischief. Come home with a broken arm, cracked rib or something. Nothing serious, like, but can’t have any old Tommy that wanders into the infirmary spending more time with you than I do.” He gripped Bess’ coat lapels and pulled her flush against his chest.

“Stupid boy,” she whispered. “Besides, you’re the only Tommy for me.”

He kissed her head. “I should hope so. You heard these rumours about the Yanks coming over?”

“There’s already one in the hospital-”

“Walter Watson was down the pub saying they’ve sent people over, covert, to suss the situation out. Says Sarah Wallace next door to him was down the church on Sunday for a quick ‘I do,’ with one of them. There’ll be a baby by summer.”

Bess scoffed. “He’s just jealous it wasn’t him getting his end in,”

Tom guffawed again and a few passersby looked at the pair of them pressed together on the platform. “As long as you don’t go getting ideas, Miss Vaughn.” He smirked. “I’ve heard you like a man in uniform.”

“While we can’t be absolutely certain that it was the cause, I can say with little doubt that this kind of,” the doctor looked at the ceiling as if the words he needed were up there. “-congenital abnormality is the likeliest reason for the miscarriage.”

The closeness of Tom was suffocating. The scent of his cologne and stale Marlboro smoke. The standard issue detergent clinging to his newly pressed uniform. The thumb stroking the side of her hip felt like sandpaper through her blouse, his hand a hot and heavy weight against her waist. Bess took a sudden step back and Tom’s hand paused comically in mid-air where she had been, frozen like a wind-up doll.

He watched her a moment, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Ever since their argument on the beach, he’d been wary of upsetting her. Startling her. Just like her permanent state as a young girl, Bess was unsettled. Tom took a cigarette from his pocket, the click of his lighter the only sound passing between them.

Between puffs and clouds of smoke he stared at her, a strange look overcoming his handsome face. She fidgeted in front of him, eyes never holding his own. Rather, they flitted across his form, across the train station, meeting only occasionally to blush and look away.

“Did you see Lois and the baby at Mrs Chase’s?” He tried to coax her out of her shell with small talk. Something neither of them had ever been good at. It had the reverse effect. Her eyes blew wide and she shuffled uncomfortably.

“Miss Vaughn, I must tell you. If the x-ray confirms my suspicions, you should prepare yourself for the possibility that your future may not hold hope for children-”

“Bess?” He laughed, a quick flash of his boyish grin disguising his nerves. “Did you see Lois and the baby?”

“No,” Bess took out her own cigarettes and fumbled with her matches. “No, left before they arrived. Damn,” the match slipped from her fingers and went out under a raindrop.

“Here,” Tom stepped forward and clicked his lighter.

“Thanks,”

Tom made to grab her coat again only this time, rather than bring her near, he placed the lighter in her pocket. “Keep it.”

She looked up at him then. His grey eyes soft, brows pinched at the centre with worry. Altogether world-weary. The urge to pull him close, stroke his hair and keep him safe overwhelmed her. Gripping the navy cotton of his uniformed shoulders, Bess leant up and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. She had never been good with words, famously so, but perhaps this one kiss would convey all the fear and all the love she had for him.

Warmth swelled in her chest when he winked at her, gripping her waist and steering her towards the train. Men were boarding, porters closing the carriage doors as steam billowed around them.

“Keep an eye on Lois for me, won’t you?” Tom said over the puff of the engine as it was stoked into life.

“Lois? She’s can take care of hers-”

“And Vera. She’s not well. Lois, I mean.” Tom added when Bess’ face turned white with alarm. “Everyone always said that Lois and I were more like mam than dad. But since-” the sentence petered out. He shook his head and carried on. “I don’t think that’s true. Now he’s gone, I see how similar we all were. And Lois pretends she’s tough. Is tough, like dad. But it comes from somewhere deeper.” He signalled to the area around his heart. Bess fought not to smile as she watched Tom grapple with words to express his feelings. Who’d have thought it all those years ago? Tom Bennett, emotionally perceptive.

“My problems I’ve brought on myself, or had them thrust on me. But dad and Lois,” he came to a stop and looked down at Bess. “And you, were born with it. This sadness. Weren’t you.”  

She didn’t’ move nor speak. She didn’t need to.

“Just keep an eye out.”

 “Yes, sailor.” She whispered.

A whistle blew on the station, and Bess’ stomach fell to that place between her naval and knee that it always seemed to live when Tom was away. He hauled his kit bag onto the train and jumped elegantly off the platform and into the carriage. Pulling down the sash window of the compartment door, Tom leant out with his arms outstretched. With the help of a railway porter, Bess stood on the carriage step and felt herself lifted up by Tom’s arms.

With one quick glance into her dark eyes, Tom held her by the neck and kissed her. “Write to me,” he said against her lips.

“I will if you do first.” Bess said back, planting fervent kisses to any part of his face she could reach. Slowly, the train began to leave and she felt herself carried along on the step. Somewhere behind her, the station guard began to shout. They pair feigned ignorance, shrouded by engine steam.

Cigarettes, childhood, cologne, gun smoke and engine oil. Birthday cakes, piano keys, ale, and first love. Everything Tom Bennett tasted of Bess committed to memory as he slipped from her arms and the train sped from the station.

Tom’s face became a blur on the horizon and, as he dipped back inside the carriage window, Bess whispered a prayer to the sky, to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in anymore. “Keep him safe. Please.”

Notes: We will be with Tom for the WHOLE of the next chapter, and a lot of the one after that! Plus! The letters will be back 😊

Wildly, those are real pamphlets on women’s sexual health from the late 30s and 40s.

Been listening to this paylist while I write, and it really helps get me in the mindset. It’s 40s music interspersed with radio broadcasts of the time. You could really be listening to the wireless in front of the fire at the Vaughns’ house.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @adragonprinceswhore @notasockpuppetaccount @houseofdupree @marysucks-blog @chattylurker @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @nolongereviliwantlove @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67 @evita-shelby @cherievictoria @schmexie @blairfox04 @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @cherievictore @helaenaluvr @cyeco13

[honeybeefae]

Forgotten Ties (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Years trying to forget him. Years forming a new life, a new home, to try and rebuild what he had so carelessly thrown away. Only for it to all come crumbling down with a single meeting.

(Okay I totally wrote this all at once. It’s just an idea I had, I’d love to write more parts if y’all want! It’s a bit different from what I usually write so I hope you like it!❤️)

Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Playlist for Story

WARNINGS: Slight angst

You lived with your daughter Helena in the Rainbow district of Velaris, having moved here shortly after giving birth thanks to a friend who opened up her home to you.

Being from the Autumn Court you had never known the beauty of the Night Court, especially Velaris, and even now you were still blown away.

When you had moved here you offered to create some gowns for your friend to display, to try and gather some money for rent and your child, and were surprised at how fast they were snatched up. It was so successful that you eventually had the money to open up your own store.

The shop you owned was small, squished between a pottery shop and an artists den. You were a seamstress just as your father was. You loved the intricate patterns you could create with your fingertips, how the different fabrics mixed and felt. It was something you had grown up doing and had also seen you through the trials under the mountain.

The nights were tireless, the days long as you took care of your daughter while also running your business. However you never let Helena see your worries. She was your entire world, the light of your life, and you did not want her to fuss over you.

She was a spitting image of her father with her auburn locks and amber eyes. You never regretted having Helena but you wish you hadn’t been so naive when you had met that man, hadn’t believed his lies and sweet words.

He still haunted your dreams to this day. The nightmares were of him leaving you the day you were all freed, passing you by as if you didn’t exist. The dreams were of the nights you spent together, the promises you had made and the comfort of his arms.

You kept a napkin next to your bedside table so you could wipe away the tears before Helena ran into your room in the mornings.

“Mama! Mama! Can I have this one? Pleaseeee?” She whined, breaking you from your thoughts as you turned to the window full of dolls.

The two of you were strolling through the shops on your way home. It had been a rare day off and you took her out to go see the ships sailing away with a picnic by the sea.

“Helena, don’t you already have that one?” You smiled lovingly, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she pouted. “Your entire room is filled to the top with dolls.”

“But not this one!” She argued, crossing her arms.

Your shoulders shook with a chuckle as you shook your head, placing a hand on her back and ushering her forward.

“Perhaps another time, love, maybe we can-“ You stopped in the middle of your sentence when you looked down the street, seeing someone you had never thought you would have to see again.

He was the same as you remembered, though he seemed to have more frown lines. People were whispering as he walked beside the High Lord and Lady, his hands behind his back as he took in the city.

“Mama?” Helena tugged on your arm, a worried look on her face. You took a deep breath and gathered yourself together, bending down to Helena’s height.

“I’m alright, darling. I just need you to hold mama’s hand tight, okay? We need to get home now.” You tried to say softly though even you could hear the urgency in your tone.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, observant as always. You kissed her cheek and stood up straight, grabbing her hand.

“Nothing, I just forgot that I left the stove on! I need to go turn it off.” You lied through your teeth, not waiting to see if she bought it as you started speed-walking through the crowd.

You had to go the way the trio was coming in order to get home so you did your best to lay low, weaving through the crowd like a snake. The sign of your shop started to peek through and just as you made into the clearing, you heard your name.

“Y/N!” Feyre called, waving her arm. You winced, closing your eyes. “Y/N! I need a favor from you, from Nesta!”

If you pretended you didn’t hear her you could be home within minutes. However, you knew she knew you had heard her. You pushed Helena behind your skirts and turned to your High Lady, bowing.

“What can I help you with, my lady?” You asked, giving her a small smile.

Feyre rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Please, there is no need to be so formal. Nesta was wanting a dress tailored for her for Solstice.”

“I can certainly do that…though it is short notice.” You point out, smirking. Feyre nodded and apologized on behalf of her sister but you assured it was fine. Nesta had become somewhat of a friend to you as you were apparently the only person who could get her outfits “right.”

“I appreciate it, Y/N.” She smiled, noticing Helena peering out behind you. “And how has this little princess been?”

“She’s been good. We just-“ You were cut off by Rhysand’s sudden appearance, his violet eyes warm as he gazed at Feyre. However you didn’t have time to dwell over the love between them as their visitor also appeared, his eyes widening when they connected with yours.

Tension was heavy in the air as you felt your heart stop. You felt warm and cold at the same time, your stomach twisted in so many knots that you were afraid you would vomit up your lunch. It felt like time stood still until he whispered, “Y/N?”

You took a step back, your heart breaking at hearing your name off his lips. It was too much. And Helena…

She was looking up at you innocently, red curls framing her face perfectly. You looked down at her, your lips parted, before back up at him.

“Do you know her, Eris?” Rhysand asked, his tone confused as he sensed something between the two of you.

However Eris was paying him no mind nor you. His gaze was entirely fixated on your daughter who was now clinging to your dress. You could see him studying her, working through dates in his mind, and watched as his face changed from confusion to shock.

“Goodbye.” You croaked, barely giving your High Lord and Lady a glance as you picked up Helena and tore through the crowds at breakneck speed. She was holding onto you tightly, mouthing of questions about the man with the red hair, but you couldn’t hear her over the roaring of your ears.

Eris stood there, watching you disappear with a child…a daughter.

His daughter.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Reader: Mystery Of Love

A/N: I want to write more soft!Azriel because honestly 🥲

Summary: Things between Night and Spring have been on the mend over the past centuries, yet despite the steady improvement, the shadowsinger finds himself longing to return to Spring for the chance to visit the Court seamstress

Visual Prompt here!

Azriel suppresses a grin as he watches Cass’ nose twitch, the General no doubt pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He catches the shit-eating glint in his eye, sending a glower to the Spymaster, knowing exactly what he’s subtly gloating over.

Rhys turns away from Feyre, sending a glare over his shoulder, sensing that his brothers were up to something, “keep yourselves out of trouble.” Azriel sends a shadows skating up his brother’s back, making Cass shift, “I’m serious, Cassian. Don’t get kicked out of this Court too,” Rhys adds, sending a serious look to him as he places his hand on Feyre’s lower back, guiding her down the hall.

Cassian mutters something under his breath, before turning and punching his brother in the arm, “enough of your underhanded tricks. We’re supposed to be on the same side here.” Azriel allows the corners of his mouth to curl upward, “I’d rather not have a partner who’s sneezing all over me.” His retort makes Cassian scowl, but there’s a playful glint in his eye, “fine, but you’ll be the one having our High Lady scold you for that,” the General calls as he moves after the two figures, pretending to be on his way to snitch on his brother.

“Don’t get into trouble,” Azriel calls after him. He hears the faint sounds of Cass mimicking his words, making jabbering gestures with his hands as he rounds the corner, leaving Az to himself.

He schools his features into neutrality, turning to glance out through the archways, noticing how the sun is dancing across the lush greenery. His eyes catch on a familiar female carrying a heavy-looking basket inside, stacked with earth-toned fabrics. She seems to be struggling, making his mouth tilt upward.

Turning away, his gaze drags across the large expanse of meadow, casting over the forests fencing the mansion in. On the surface it appears open, flushed with life, until the breeze nips a little too hard, or the flora grows a little too thick, showing more thorns than petals. He can see how easily the land could turn into a cage.

————————

You wobble up the steps, hauling the basket with you until you reach your designated work room. It’s a marvellously open room on the third floor of the mansion, your windows overlooking the sprawling fields, a perfect view of how the lands merge into luscious forest, ripe with greenery and pigment.

Setting the fabrics down on the armrest, you flop down beside them, resting in the afternoon sun that’s spilling through the window. You’re on the verge of nodding off when a voice echoes through the room, “so hardworking.”

You release an audible groan, mouth twisting into a grin as you lift yourself from the chaise longue, spotting the male leaning against the doorframe. “You have a habit of catching me in the wrong moments,” you complain, moving to a sitting position, “and I’m beginning to think it’s intentional, Spymaster.”

His eyes sparkle as he enters the room, walking over to where you’re half sitting, half lounging. “Or maybe you never actually work,” he shoots back, eyes sweeping across your studio. “I get plenty of work done!” You snap, indignantly, “that’s why I’m the favoured seamstress in this Court.” You bat your eyelashes at him.

He knows you’re being modest. At four hundred and twenty-three, you’re most likely the favoured in the land.

You sit up straight, “wait. I have an idea for your next gift, but I need your measurements.” He raises an eyebrow in suspicion, the mention of your so-called ‘gifts’ making him wary. “What do you have planned for me this time?” He drawls, putting on an air of defeat as he moves over to where you’re sat.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now. Would it?” You grin, unfurling a measuring tape from your pocket and brandishing it. He merely sighs, a glimmer of life sparking in his hazel eyes, “do your worst.”

“I think you’re going to regret that,” you reply, moving behind him. He tenses, realising what it is you’re after. His wings tense, skin pulling taut over his shoulders as the muscles contract with apprehension, muscle rippling across his back with the movement.

You stop shy of his back, “I can estimate, if you’re too…” scared? Nervous? Shy? “I mean, I understand they’re sensitive.” You take a step back for him to know exactly where you are, “it’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable.” His gaze latches onto yours as he looks over his shoulders, expression unreadable.

“You try anything funny I’ll cut you down where you stand,” he settles on, mouth curling up at the sides though there’s a sinister tone that has your tongue drying. It takes a moment for you to formulate a response, not really having expected him to allow you this opportunity. You smile, cheekily, “yes sir.”

You work in silence, save for the occasional request for Azriel to shift his wings to different positions, which he follows exceptionally. There are a few times your tape doesn’t span long enough; you have to press the marking fabric against his skin to note where to restart. Each time you give him a heads up along with a free invitation to veto at any time. He just nods along with your requests, indulging your curiosity each time until you’ve completed your measurements.

“I’m dreading returning,” he admits when you set the tape down, jotting down each measurement you took into your notebook, catching a glance at some designs you have sketched on previous pages. Your brow curves in sad curiosity, “why’s that?” A grin twinkles in his eyes, lips curving, “to see whatever you’ll have created.”

A huff of relieved laughter escapes your mouth, smiling to yourself as you shut your notebook, “and here I thought you were enjoying my company.” You move across the room to where you keep your fabrics, “how foolish of me.”

Azriel watches you with dilated pupils as you riffle through the materials, pulling a few scraps from the mix then returning to him, “what do you think of these?”

He arches a brow, “I’m going to need a little more guidance?” Your lips quirk up at the edges, “how do they feel? Too heavy? Too thick? Not breathable?” You prompt making his own lips lift.

“For what?”

Your eyes skip upwards to his as you make an innocent look, feigning ignorance, “oh, I don’t know… your skin? Maybe your wings?”

His grin widens, nodding his head conspiratorially, “I see.” Then he frowns, “actually, I don’t. Why do you need to know how the fabric feels in regard to my wings?” You widen your eyes slightly, pouting as if you’re clueless, glancing away from him and pulling your hands behind your back, as if to hide the evidence. He just sighs again, holding his hands out to sort through the fabric, testing each of them out.

“I like this one,” he settles on, “it feels stretchy, and heavy, but not so it would be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll make sure not to use that one,” you quip, taking the fabric from his hands, fingers brushing for a moment.

Azriel watches you return to your work bench, wondering if your hands are also tingling.

“Should I be concerned over your sudden fascination with my wings?” He speaks after having silently crept upon you. You jump, turning with a scowl on your face. You jab your finger at him, “first of all, never do that again.” You make to set your hands against his chest, then think better of it, choosing to simply shoo him away, “secondly, stop peeking over my shoulder. I have classified information in this notebook. I can’t be letting the Spymaster have a free flash.”

He allows you to walk him backward, “so I should be worried?” You keep an eye out to make sure there’s nothing he could slip on as you guide him back to the sofa, “presumptuous to think the classified information is about you and not other clientele.” Your eyes latch onto one another the moment he reaches the sofa. Your hands skim his shoulders and he allows himself to sit, looking up at you who’s between his legs.

“And no. You don’t have anything to worry about,” your tack on, turning away, “though I’ve been known to lie, on occasion.” His hand circles your wrist firmly, pulling you back to him. A smile breaks across your face as a matching one graces his features. “Sorry, that was in poor taste,” you snicker, seeing his expression. “It’s for a decent project, I swear.”

He lifts a brow to tell you he doesn’t believe you, “you’re sure it wasn’t for personal gain?” He taunts softly, his thumb brushing circles into your skin. It takes you a moment to piece the dots together, but when you do, a laugh breaks from you. You hold a single hand up in defeat, “fine. You caught me. Can’t believe you saw through my master plan so easily.”

He smiles back at you, playing along, “well, I am the Spymaster. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“And yet you let me take your measurements anyway,” you drawl, pretending to think, letting the implication hang in the air.

His smiles fades as he meets your gaze. “I did.”

The skin beneath his thumb tingles, your clothes feeling stuffy and heavy beneath his gaze. You suck in a breath, “good to know.” There’s a pause, and you wonder if it feels as long for him as it does for you. “Anyway,” you break the silence, “how’s the Night Court treating you?”

He huffs a laugh, rich and deep. You want to feed on it forever, wake up to it and bathe in it. “Not as well as you, apparently,” he casts a pointed glance across your room that’s emptier than usual, devoid of the usually highly decorated mannequins that support your various designs. “Ugh, you know I work. You just come in at the worst times.” He gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t believe a word of it, making you huff.

“You know, with all the gifts I make you, you should know how hard I work,” you snap, mouth tipping at the edges into a tell-tale smile. His features are a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at you, “I think it shows the amount of free-time you have on your hands,” he drawls, a smirk twisting the corners of his lips. You scoff, “and I think it shows I care. But if you’d like me to stop, you need only say the word,” you taunt, raising a brow expectantly.

He huffs a soft laugh, your blood heating at the sound, body lightening, “I would never dream of depriving myself of your luxuries,” he flirts, making you roll your eyes.

“One day, Shadowsinger,” you grin, “one day I’ll create something so obnoxiously beautiful even your endless patience won’t be enough to overcome it.”

“I suppose until then, you’ll just have to keep trying. But I assure you, your efforts are in vain, dear seamstress. My patience is indeed endless, and your humour is boundless. Overall, your company is a pleasant bonus with every sojourn I must take down to this wretched Court.”

Your mouth drops open.

He cocks a brow expectantly, and you snort a laugh. “I have absolutely zero idea what you just said, but screw you.”

His lips tilt, “I confessed to enjoying your company, my lady.” He brings your knuckles to his glorious mouth, pressing a kiss to the pockmarked skin from your time spent as a seamstress. “‘My lady’ indeed,” you snap, but not pulling your hand away, “you’re cunning with your words, Shadowsinger. But I’m aware of the tactical benefits to flattery and so refuse to trust a single word that comes from your gilded tongue.” You smile, satisfied.

A wicked smirk dances over his elysian mouth, “my gilded tongue can do more than just flatter, my lady.”

You cock a skeptical brow, “pray tell.”

He grins, “as silver-tipped it is, words will not suffice for my talents. They’re practicalities that must be demonstrated.” This time your brow dips in concentration as you attempt to match him, “I do hate to confess my loss, but you’ve quite confused me with your courtier’s mouth.”

His thumb brushes cheekily over the knuckles of your fingers, your eyes following helplessly, “this is my form of retribution - your form of payment - for every so-called ‘gift’ you have created.”

You shake your head, brows curving, “oh for goodness sake! I can hardly understand a word when you speak like that. It does my head in.”

He laughs at your frustration, “then I have served my purpose.”

“Your purpose is to boggle my mind?” You retort, one hand lifting to the side of your head as you pretend to massage and ache from your skin. A grin breaks on your mouth, despite your stoic attempts to conceal it. “My purpose,” he repeats, thumb stilling, “is to bring a smile to your face.”

This time you don’t laugh, or attempt to brush him off. A flush lifts your cheeks as you look down at him, sizing him up, “do you mean that, Azriel?”

“I would not lie to a lady as noble as yourself,” he mocks, a teasing lilt to his pleasurable voice. You purse your lips at his reply before smoothly lowering yourself to his lap, settling over one of his thighs, leaning against the solid warmth of his chest.

With the proximity you’re able to feel his breath catch, his hand tightening over yours as you allow the connection. “One word,” you remind him, gazing up into his hazel eyes, “and I will stop entirely.” You shift further against him when he remains quiet, taking you in silently as if afraid you’ll turn in a fright at the slightest of movements. Utterly ridiculous, really.

“One word, Azriel,” you breathe, words brushing over his mouth, “and we can pretend this was all part of the jest.” Your hand unlatches from his in favour of pressing against his chest, sloping over the broad framework of his shoulders. Your own breath stutters a bit when his hands drop to your waist, one settling at the small of your back, dangerously low. Should anyone walk in at that moment, it would look positively scandalous.

“I’ll conceal everything, if that’s what you’d prefer,” you murmur over his lips, “even from you, spymaster.”

“Never.” The words are dragged from his throat, roughly spilling from his mouth as his fingers press into the soft fabric of your clothes. A small smile graces your features, before you’re gently pushing against him, mouth catching over his.

It’s hesitant, both of you curious to see how the events will unfold. His lips feel like heated silk beneath your own, pillowy and plump as you move against him. You pull away, eyes latching onto his before he leans forward, capturing your mouth again with his own, his hand supporting your back as you’re taken by surprise.

A faint moan slips from your mouth to his, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulls you against him, tongue pushing in as he tastes you. He groans when your fingers thread in his inky hair, fingers brushing delicately over his skin, oscillating in smooth, reassuring patterns.

When you eventually manage to untangle yourself from his mouth, you’re panting, staring into his hazy eyes that clear as the set on your own. “Gilded tongue indeed,” you pant, softly, tracing smooth marks in his silky hair. A glint of mischief shines in his hazel eyes, “I aim only to please, my lady.”

“Would you like to know how to further delight me, then?” You breathe, unable to remove you eyes from his own. “Gods, tell me.”

“Touch me as you wish to be touched,” you whisper, “I want to learn what excites you, Azriel. I want to become your necessity and your indulgence.”

Your forehead presses to his own, hands coming round to cup his jaw, pulling back as you tilt his head. “Please, let me love you,” you breathe, uttering that silent prayer you have kept so securely, “allow me this one desire.”

His eyes are pools of reflection, mirroring the adoration you know has revealed itself to him. The male nods, a slight coil of satisfaction settling in your lower belly at reducing him to actions.

He kisses the answer into your mouth, reverence flowing with every press of his tongue, every brush of his fingertips, every steady beat of his heart. He gives all of it to you.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[annwrites]

bleeding souls ✧☾.·:·.*

— pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen/twin oc

— type: longfic

— summary: since they were children, feyd has been obsessed with his twin, lea. as they grow older, his possessive behavior only worsens, until he is the only shelter for her that remains.

— tw: dead dove do not eat, incest, non-con, dub-con, mutual mutilation, blood, possessiveness, murder, abusive behavior, sounding, fisting, over-stimulation, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, oral sex, fingering, spanking, obsession, etc. (it's feyd, use your imagination lol)

— word count: 11,670

— author's note: this fic is not complete, this is just what i have so far! this was written after i went to see the 2nd film. i've not read the books (even if i own the deluxe editions of the first 3 novels...), but did do some research on the dune fandom wiki to try & keep things accurate to the lore.

Her earliest memories were of this room. Four walls and a plethora of recreational objects—from books, to puzzles, to sketchbooks—all the company she was permitted, per her twin.

The other half of her bleeding soul.

Feyd's obsession with his twin had taken root within his twisted core at a shockingly early age. They'd been no more than toddlers the first time he'd nearly beaten a boy to death, simply for asking to share one of Lea's toys. It had been the fact he'd deigned to speak to her that had set her twin off like an explosive.

He'd retrieved a rather heavy tome of a book from a nearby shelf and smacked the boy on the back of his head as hard as his growing adolescent muscles would allow.

Lea had balked, then backed away, quiet sobs escaping her trembling lips as she watched in horror while her twin made quick work of turning their playmate into a puddle of blood and tears. It was only when a guard hauled Feyd away that the bloodshed ceased, as did the boy's movements and cries of protest.

When their mother, who'd been visiting Geidi Prime at the time, from Lankiveil, had demanded from Feyd an explanation, he'd simply walked over to his twin, took her trembling hand in his—firmly, territorially—and said lowly 'mine'.

It took him bludgeoning another boy—this time with his bare fists, simply for looking at Lea for a few seconds too long for his personal liking—before other parents refused allowing their children to play with them anymore.

Then it was just the two of them.

And she'd never seen Feyd more content.

He doted on her. Would bring her novels with pretty pictures inside, soft colorful toys, her favorite snacks, and would simply watch—ever observant of her every move, every breath, and blink, and swallow— as she read, played with, or ate the things he alone gifted her. As if she was some creature to be minutely observed and studied.

It made her nervous. On edge. Her stomach queasy and hands shaking at the way his dark, depthless eyes never left her. She would find herself often looking up at him from under her lashes, wishing he would find something to occupy his own self with, but it didn't take long before she understood that she was that very thing.

Not long after the two of them began growing into their bodies did Feyd's obsession take a disturbingly dark and drastic turn.

When he was not training, he was ever-present at Lea's side. They shared their meals together, their lessons together, and eventually a room—more specifically a bed, Feyd's bed—together.

He had not asked anyone's permission, but had simply one day commanded servants to have Lea's things placed in his room, along with a bed more than large enough for two.

Lea had been with her seamstress that day, being fitted for a new dress, and thus completely unaware when she returned to her private quarters, finding them empty of all her personal affects. When she turned to walk out the door, panicking as to why her things had disappeared, Feyd had been leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a quite-pleased look on his face.

'Come' was the only word he offered her as he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his room next to hers.

Dutiful as always, she'd followed, taken completely by surprise at the site of his newly-arranged room when he'd led her inside.

When she had asked him why, unable to understand, as his room had always seemed such a private place for only him—even when it came to her—his response had been simple: we belong together.

She hadn't replied.

Their parents had both been visiting them again at the time, and had of course told Feyd that this behavior was to stop, and that Lea's things would be moved back immediately.

He had walked over to them, momentarily releasing his twin's hand and spoke lowly, so that only the two of them could hear, leaving Lea ignorant to whatever was transpiring.

When he stepped away, taking her hand in his once more, he didn't look back as he led his twin back to what was now their room. But Lea did. And she, as they turned a corner, was met briefly with the sight of her father's lips pressed into a thin line and her mother walking away from him, head bowed in defeat.

It had only been two weeks later before Lea woke up to Feyd's face between her thighs in the dark one night, his own clothes strewn across the floor as he worked at her with his tongue, the only light coming in from the windows beside the bed, which illuminated half of her twin's face in an ethereal glow.

She'd tried to squeeze her legs shut, filled with horror at whatever it was that her brother was trying to do to her, but he'd gripped her knees in both his hands, firm as steel, and forced them apart as he continued his ministrations.

She'd cried, pleading with him to stop. Begging. But he had paid her no mind until she came on his tongue, sobbing and filled with shame, not understanding what had just transpired.

Feyd had curled his naked body around her, his arms a vicelike grip around her dainty nightgown-clad frame, his erection pressed firmly into her back as he found sleep holding her against him.

Meanwhile, she didn't close her eyes again for the rest of the night, silent tears slipping down her cheeks and a feeling of mortification at the warm sensation and slickness between her legs.

The most significant mistake she ever made was not telling her parents. She had wanted to; had taken the steps to even try. She'd recorded a message—a shameful message, where she choked out her guilty admittance of what was happening to her between sobs. She had begged her parents to send for her, bring her to Lankiveil to be with them, but when Lea handed off the message to a servant to send, it was promptly delivered to her brother.

He destroyed it without a second thought.

He then returned to their room, informed her that he knew what she had done and she had simply sat, staring at him, too terrified to respond.

He'd stalked slowly toward her, his face unreadable.

He'd leaned down, gripping her chin painfully between his fingers. "You will never do that again. Your home is here, with me. Wherever I am is where you belong. Is that understood?"

She nodded, trying so desperately to understand him and his motivations for this new direction their relationship had taken.

"Feyd, you're..." She swallowed, and he never loosened his grip, his eyes boring into hers, willing further words from her lips. "You're na-Baron. The heir to our house. You could have any woman you want-"

He promptly cut her off. "You are all I want."

He stood back up then, straightening his spine, releasing her. "Stay here, I'll return to you this evening."

She obliged, curling into herself on the oversized mattress which smelled of him as hot tears greeted her pale cheeks.

She eventually cried herself to sleep, her mind no longer racing with the various scenarios of not only what she could do to get herself out of this new living situation, but what was going to happen to her if she didn't.

She'd been dreaming of pale hands around her throat, something cold slithering inside of her as a dark laugh filled her ears when she was jolted awake at the sound of a heavy door firmly closing shut.

She slowly rose, rubbing at her tired eyes when she noticed Feyd entering the room, dark eyes on her, a small smirk upon his lips as he traipsed over to the large black wardrobe on the other side of the room.

She glanced out the window and noticed how dark it had become while she slept.

She suddenly realized how hungry she was, that she hadn't eaten all day. But then her mind thought back to the events of the night before and that same appetite quickly vanished, replaced by a feeling of revulsion at the sight of her twin before her.

Her stomach growled anyway, causing Feyd to chuckle. “Are you hungry, sister?”

She gulped, afraid of her own voice now. “Yes,” she'd replied quietly.

Feyd shut the wardrobe, a dark bundle of fabric in his arms as he made his way back to her, bare feet padding against the hardwood beneath.

He held something out to her and she took it gently from him, slipping it off of his outstretched arm. She held it up before her. One of Feyd's more simple shirts. Black in color, the sleeves short, no embroidery or special design of any kind.

She looked back up to him, confused. “Put it on once you've finished bathing. I'll return shortly with dinner.”

He turned from her, exiting their bedroom once more.

She looked back down to the garment in her lap. He was choosing how she dressed now? What about undergarments?

She looked back over to the wardrobe and threw the shirt down onto the bed before going over to it. She'd had enough of this. He was not going to choose how she dressed as well. He was being utterly ridiculous.

She fingered one of her silk nightgowns, but hesitated before pulling it off the hanger. What if it made him angry—her going against his wishes?

She decided she didn't care. Feyd had never hurt her. He wouldn't start now.

She hoped.

She ignored the shirt on the bed as she made her way into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She hung her nightgown on a hook, then stripped off her clothes, placing them in the hamper before she adjusted the water of the shower.

Before she could step in, her head quickly turned to the right at the sound of the handle being turned. He'd returned far more quickly than she'd anticipated. She watched with bated breath as the handle turned this way, then that, then stopped. She let out a sigh of relief that he'd given up—thankful she'd used the lock to begin with—before stepping into the hot water.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Feyd was waiting for her at the medium-sized table a few feet from their bed.

“Sit,” he'd commanded her, pulling out the chair next to him.

She didn't argue.

She took the designated seat, scooting herself closer to the table, while Feyd lifted the matte black lid from the dish before her. Grilled chicken breast, cooked with roasted vegetables, was the sight that greeted her.

She turned to her twin. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He merely hummed in response.

Before she could reach for her cutlery, he had already beat her to it.

She watched as he sliced a piece of the tender chicken and stabbed at some green beans before lifting the fork to her mouth. He was going to feed it to her? She opened her mouth, brows furrowed, before he placed the tip of the fork inside. She closed down on it as he removed it in one swift motion. She chewed, then swallowed, watching as he repeated the motion.

“Feyd, I can—”

He cut her off by placing another forkful inside her mouth.

As he cut the chicken again, he spoke. “You locked the door.”

His tone was unreadable, but she knew he wasn't pleased that she had. So what, had he planned to join her?

She gave a nervous, forced smile. “Habit.”

He, once again, only hummed his response.

Little did she know that the next morning when she awoke, the lock on the bathroom door would be gone.

He fed her another forkful. “You didn't wear what I gave you to.”

That she could come up with no excuse for.

“I-” she started, but he cut her off by placing the fork in her mouth again.

She didn't like this.

“You won't do it again.” It was not a question.

As he lifted another forkful to her lips, she reached up, placing her hand over his wrist, forcing him to lower it. She turned to him then, their knees now touching. “Feyd, why are you acting like this all of a sudden? It's scaring me.”

He frowned. “You don't need to be afraid, Lea. Am I not taking care of you?” He asked, while looking at the room around them, then back down to the plate before her.

“I can take care of myself.”

He snorted, going to lift the fork again, but she kept her hand in-place. “Last night-”

He quickly cut her off. “You enjoyed it from what I remember. And what I remember is every second of it.” He could already feel an erection forming at the very thought of it.

She felt the color drain from her face.

“It's wrong,” she whispered, as if someone might hear.

His expression grew angry. “Says whom?”

He used his other hand to grip her upper thigh firmly and she winced. “We were made together, we are meant to be together. You belong to me.”

His tone had grown icily possessive. Entitled.

“I'm your sister. Feyd, we don't-”

“We-I can do anything I please. I am the heir to our house. No one will tell me otherwise.”

His grip was beginning to hurt her.

“Say it,” he commanded.

Tears stung her eyes. “Say what?”

“That you're mine. We belong to each other. Say it.”

Everything inside her wished to do otherwise. She didn't believe it. Couldn't understand for a moment how he himself could. Something had always been different about Feyd, in the worst way possible, but this side of him was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

She nodded. “I'm yours. We belong together.”

“You will obey only me. You will share my room, my bed, my clothes, my food, and anything else I deem fit. And only I am allowed to touch you.”

It was not something to be replied to. She only nodded, heart pounding so hard she wondered if he could also hear it.

Suddenly, the look on his face, as well as the iron grip he had on her thigh, relaxed.

He lifted the fork to her lips, a playful smirk once again upon his. “Open.”

She did.

Once dinner was through, Feyd walked into the bathroom, never closing the door. She looked away as he began to undress right in front of her. She allowed a small sob to escape her lips once she heard the water start, and the door to the shower, with slick black marble walls, close.

She placed her head in her hands. This day had always been coming. She should've known that. He had ensured it over the years as he made her more and more alienated. He had wanted her all to himself, and he had finally gotten what he'd always wanted—desired—above all else.

Once Feyd emerged, Lea was lost in thought, looking out the large window behind their bed, which ran the width of it, once again. She only noticed him when she felt the mattress beside her dip.

Feyd's large hands found her hips, as he rested his chin upon her right shoulder. “What are you looking at, my love?”

Love. He had no idea what that word meant. She wasn't sure she did either, now.

“Nothing.”

He hummed. “Lie down.”

She wasn't tired. She'd slept all day.

“I'm not tired, Feyd.”

His right hand snaked between her thighs. “Perhaps I can help.”

She jolted, turning away from the window, her back slamming into the small ledge which encased it behind her. Her horror grew when she saw that her twin was completely naked.

“Feyd, w-what-”

“This is how I prefer to sleep. Soon, you will, too.”

So he could predict her future wants and wishes now? She was still her own person. He didn't fucking own her. Didn't know her own mind better than her.

“No, I won't.”

The palm of his hand came to rest over her sex, displeased she was wearing underthings. “Do not be difficult, Lea.”

“This isn't natural-”

He cut her off, as always, preferring to do all the thinking for her. “The only thing that would be unnatural would be trying to reject it. Hide it. You will learn to embrace it. And you will enjoy it.”

She shook her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but he crushed his lips against hers, so hard it made her teeth hurt. He forced her lips open, plunging his tongue so deep inside it made her gag. He gripped her hips again, sliding her down on the mattress. He fought to remove her nightgown, then animalistically tore her underwear from her body.

She could barely breathe or see or think through the tears. “Feyd, please-”

While she was begging him to stop, in his mind, she was begging him to go further, and he was more than willing to comply.

His lips descended upon her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her sex—which he devoured. His hands stayed locked around her wrists, holding them firmly above her head, then down at her sides as he licked and sucked and kissed at the glistening pink jewel between her legs. His erection pressed into the mattress, pre-cum soaking into the sheets beneath him as she whined and thrashed wildly. He nearly laughed like a madman at how wanton she seemed to be.

This was right. So very, very right, he thought as he fucked her with his tongue, lavishing every last drop of her. He concentrated on the small bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking the tip of his tongue against it. Moaning as her hips lifted as he did.

He bit into one of her thighs, so hard he drew blood and she cried out in shock and pain, while he simply placed his mouth over the wound, licking at the red substance which trickled out. The sight of his bite-mark in an area which only he had access to, blood leaking out, excited him so much he could no longer contain himself. He rose up, plunging his throbbing cock from shaft to hilt deeply inside of her.

Her breathe caught in her throat at the incredible pain. She barely had a chance to catch it as Feyd wildly bucked his hips against her, grunting and moaning, skin slapping against skin as he lost himself in the pleasure of being inside of his twin.

He had waited so long for this moment. Had pleasured himself more times than he could ever count, to the very thought—fantasy—of it. Had stroked his cock so many times until he was so sore he could barely stand to touch it, then did it even more, relishing—enjoying—the pain.

Nothing had ever felt more right than this. Than the two of them being joined together like this—there. He looked down, her small breasts bouncing with every pump of him—his beloved twin who he would always, always take care of and protect—inside of her. Her pale face was streaked with tears, which he then licked and kissed away, enjoying the salty taste of her upon his tongue. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from kissing and crying.

He understood it now.

Crying from happiness.

He didn't cry himself. Never had, but nearly could this night. Everything was so perfect. Every night for the rest of their lives could be like this—nay, would be. Him buried as deep as he could be inside of her. Her lost to the pleasure he was more than willing to provide.

He watched as his cock plunged in and out of her, and noticing it covered in blood, their thighs as well—from him breaking her hymen, to the bite mark he'd left on her thigh—it was all too much and he couldn't contain it any longer. He went thundering over the edge. His hips slamming wildly against her, him loudly moaning out his release as his hot and plentiful seed spilled into and out of her. His twin, his lover, his everything.

He collapsed on top of her, his cock still twitching inside her, and he tried to calm his breathing.

He felt...euphoric. Like a god.

How could something that felt so good, so incredibly right, ever—ever—be considered wrong? Let them try to tear them apart: their parents, their brother, the guards or servants. He would kill them all until they were the only two left. His uncle would be the only one to understand. He had a similar...affliction when it came to finding pleasure with those society deemed unfit for the job.

He was his heir, however. And if his uncle approved, then no one else mattered. And if he didn't, he would kill him, too.

A fight between the two would be little challenge, he mused.

Slowly, Feyd rose, looking down tenderly at Lea, while her eyes seemed to refuse to meet his. His brows furrowed.

“What is wrong?” He placed a gentle kiss to her soft cheek.

Everything, she wanted to say.

She hadn't wanted it...at first. It was wrong. She knew that. Siblings—family—weren't meant to be like this. But, at some point, the pain had turned somewhat...pleasurable. And she liked it...what he did with his mouth between her thighs. She then thought it herself: why, exactly, did it have to be wrong?

Yes, they were twins, shared blood, but if it wasn't hurting anyone, then what reason did they truly have to stop? She felt sick with herself to even consider such things. To consider that maybe he had been right.

What was happening to her?

He sat on his side, looking down at her, while his right hand held his head up, his left rested gently on her stomach.

She looked at him. “I don't think...that it will be an easy adjustment for me.” She paused. “Whatever this is.”

“Did you not enjoy it?” He knew she had. Had heard the sounds she made, had coated his tongue and cock in her wetness. Had felt her clenching tightly around him.

All was silent between them for a long while, until, finally, she replied.

“Yes.”

He filled with satisfaction. He had done it. Had unlocked something inside of her. Something which only he possessed the key to.

He kissed her, long and deep, before rising from the bed. He held out his hand to her. “Come, let's get ourselves cleaned up.”

As Feyd washed the two of them, he silently hoped the bite mark he'd left would scar, a permanent memento of the first night they lied together. His own personal brand of ownership upon her body.

Once they were back in bed, it'd only taken a moment for Lea's naked form to relax against Feyd's, his arms firmly wrapped around her, as she found sleep pressed against his chest.

During the next few weeks, the two of them barely left their room, unless it was for studying, or Feyd's training. During that time, Feyd almost always kept the two of them bare before one another, the door locked.

They were near-always in bed, doing learning of a different kind.

Feyd had spent hours every day using his hands, his fingers, his mouth and tongue and teeth, his cock—everything he had at his disposal, really— to learn every facet of his twin's body. He wanted to have every inch of her memorized. Schooled himself on what things he did that made her tremble and shake, whine and plead, soaking their sheets, and what things made her disinterested or uncomfortable.

He paid acute attention to her breathing, her swallowing, her complexion. Her body language, inside and out. From the way she lifted and lowered her hips, spread her legs for him, what made her wet and dripping quite quickly and what made her seem to dry up, to how she clenched when he stuck parts of himself, or other objects inside of her.

It was pleasurable for him, yes, but he was mostly fascinated by how her body worked in conjunction with his own. As the days went on, his conviction that the two of them were literally made for one another only grew stronger, until nothing could convince him otherwise.

She liked when he was slow and gentle. That much had become apparent very early on. And he took no qualms with dragging out their lovemaking. Eventually, he had managed to perfect the process to taking hours. His cock and fingers and sex toys slipping in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace. His erection would throb painfully at the sight of her spread open before him, her cunt red and dripping, she quietly whimpering his name repeatedly, like it was the only word left in all the world.

He would tease her, barely brushing his thumb over her sensitive clit, while her body jerked in response. He'd blow gently against the slickness pooling between her thighs and she would sometimes begin to cry from sexual frustration.

It wasn't just about learning, however. He was also training her. Training her mind to begin working differently when it came to fucking him.

She had resisted from time to time when it all first began, but never had Feyd allowed that to stop or hinder him. He knew best for her. For the both of them. It would just take his being patient for it to settle permanently into place within her like it had him. So when she would fight against it—him—he would hold her down, or sometimes would tie her up, which he noticed quickly made things much easier when he had all his faculties at his disposal, and would get to work on her sensitive body.

There was a toy that was a particular favorite of his. Something which he could clip onto her clit and control with a small remote. It would vibrate at various frequencies, all while he slowly plunged his aching cock in and out of her.

When she would try to make him stop any way she could, he would turn the toy off, making sure to note how she clenched around him—never bothering to remove his cock from inside of her—all the confirmation he needed to know she liked it all as much as he did, whether she wished to admit it audibly or no. She would look up at him pleadingly then, but he wouldn't move an inch until she gave him what he wanted. An apology and 'please'. And then he would start up again.

Sometimes, it took the better part of a day before the two of them would orgasm together. She was the one who made the process take so long, but he didn't mind. He lost himself in it. In her.

He knew she absolutely loved when his face was between her legs. So, he endeavored to give her oral sex quite often. But only when she was good for him. He wasn't just going to give her what she wanted if she wouldn't do the same for him. And all he wanted was for her to behave however he wished at any given moment. And when she did, he rewarded her, quite generously.

He had taught her how to perform oral sex on himself as well, allowing her throat to adjust to the size of him. Sometimes she would gag trying to take him all in. Sometimes she would suck, quite content with him buried deep in her warm wet mouth, his seed spilling down her throat, down her chin when he finally finished as her head continued to bob against him, cleaning him lovingly with her tongue.

He knew the guards outside their doors knew. Sometimes he fucked her up against it, grunting loudly for all to hear him claiming her over and over again as his personal property.

The servants it was most certainly not hidden from. They soiled their sheets daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Their clothes strewn across the floor, her panties often soaked through, needing washed. Sometimes, despite her words of protest, he would fuck her right in front of them.

The day their father came to put a stop to things—having been told by a messenger, which was later found choking to death in a puddle of his own blood on a cold floor—the door had been locked as always, but he'd been given the key. (Feyd later rectified this. A new knob was put into place, which he himself had the only key to.) And when he opened the door, the sight before him stopped him, horrified, in his tracks. And he regretted returning to Geidi Prime, knowing what awaited him when he did.

Feyd had been sat on the bed, naked, his erection settled between his legs, one foot planted on the floor, while Lea was hunched over before him. Her face had been turned toward the same door her father had just walked through, her head resting on a pillow, her expression one of pure pleasure—her cheeks pink, her mouth slightly open as she panted gently, lids hooded—while her ass-end was in the air before her twin.

She had a toy clamped firmly over her clit, which emitted a low vibrating sound, and he watched as Feyd slipped a toy inside her cunt, which already contained one, him trying to stretch her to her limits, while she simply moaned in pleasure. His other hand coming down to smack her already-red behind.

Lea froze, shame filling her, along with a feeling of nausea. But she didn't move, didn't dare anger her brother as he looked at their father, an evil smirk on his face.

“Hello, father.” Was all the greeting he gave him as he removed both the toys from inside his younger sister by five minutes, tossing them onto the bed, before easing himself into her, never looking back to see their father exit without another word as he began fucking her himself.

He and Lea came together only a few moments later before beginning again, never speaking a word of what had just occurred.

The few and far between times when they dined with their parents when they were visiting, the twins always sat next to one another, Feyd's hand gripping her thigh, sometimes his finger's exploring between her legs, sometimes a toy even stuffed inside her as they ate. Not to mention that Feyd had completely altered her wardrobe.

The only gowns she was allowed to wear outside their room now were incredibly sheer, everything practically on display. The guards were intelligent enough to know not to so much as glance in her direction. The gowns served as both a challenge and a statement, she knew.

Feyd hoped desperately just one of them would look at her. He'd cut their eyes from their sockets while she watched. All for her.

So, while they all dined, Lea would hardly touch her food. Meanwhile, Feyd would clean his plate. Their parents never looked at or spoke to either of them. Too disgusted by what they had become. Too ashamed to speak it out loud. Or, perhaps, afraid to, in fear of what their son may do in response.

When they would finish, Feyd would stand, then pull out his sister's chair, before heading back in the direction of their room, her following closely and silently behind, her thighs slick with herself from whatever toy he'd chosen for her to have that night, if not the back of her gown as well.

She didn't know it, but Feyd got off on it: their parents knowing what the two of them were doing together. That it was forbidden, but that they enjoyed one another in so many ways in spite of it.

They needn't worry about a grandchild yet, however. Feyd had had an implantation put into Lea to ensure there was no such risk after their first night together. This way, they could simply enjoy one another.

Eventually, their parent's visits ceased, and finally there was no one left to try and stand in Feyd's way of making her wholly and utterly his own.

Over time, Feyd no longer allowed Lea to leave their room. He'd had the air leading into it purified—a very difficult and expensive process—and he'd also had her diet modified, health supplements were delivered regularly, which she was also directed to take daily. And his hope of what it would all bring finally came to fruition. Long, dark hair began to grow from his twin's head, long enough for him to wrap around his fist after a few months, and it pleased him greatly.

Lea hadn't been sure how to feel about it at first. All her life she had been bald, like every other citizen of Geidi Prime. Hair-care was something she, nor anyone else, ever need concern them self with here. But Feyd had made it clear that this was something he wanted for—from—her. In time, she came to understand why.

Not only did she feel that it made her look more feminine, but she felt as much, too. As the hair grew longer and longer, Feyd had shipments of special soaps and oils, brushes and combs delivered. He tended to her hair himself.

One day, a new resident was delivered to their home. A stylist. She was the only other person allowed anywhere near his twin's hair. Once it reached Feyd's desired length—just above Lea's bottom—he would have her brought into their room to have it cut. He would stand closely by, arms crossed, ever-observant as she would trim the ends; the threat of having her throat cut open always looming if she made one wrong snip.

When she would finish, she would stand to the side as Feyd took the hair in his hands and between his fingertips, ensuring it was perfect. Once he deemed it so, he would give her a small nod, and she would leave without another word.

Inevitably, Lea became stir-crazy being constantly locked up, her only company her twin brother. She had one day begged him to allow her to go outside, just for an hour or two, but he had simply slipped his fingers through her silky hair, before looking into her eyes and giving her a firm 'no'.

She had cried that night as he fucked her.

Over time, Lea began to lose weight, her hair began falling out, both of which caused even Feyd distress. She wasn't eating, was hardly sleeping, and spent all her time with her face pressed up against the window in their room, constantly staring outside, like a prisoner trying to escape through the bars to his cell.

Feyd had had servants come in and do a thorough cleaning of their room, the furniture re-arranged to better suit the space—some of it replaced altogether—and he'd had shipment after shipment of books and puzzles and paints and new nightgowns, and beautiful new brushes and hair accessories brought in. He'd even had, for each of her meal's, Geidi Prime's chef make only her favorite dishes, hoping it would lift Lea's spirits, bring her back to who she'd been a few months prior. But she showed little to no interest in all of it.

Even lovemaking had become a hollow chore. She would simply lie there limp, like a dead fish, as he pumped his cock in and out of her, her cunt barely even wet for him—and she was always wet for him at all times of the day—dripping and ready whenever he needed to take his release. Not even the toy for her clit had gained him a response. He'd put it carefully into place, and put it on the setting she liked the most, while he slipped two fingers inside of her to observe how she reacted. Her tight walls didn't clench even once, causing him to deflate, along with his erection.

Feyd felt at his wit's end. He knew all along what it was that she truly needed: out of their bedroom. Outside, even just for half-an-hour. But he was afraid—actually afraid—of what would happen to her hair if he allowed it. Would it fall out immediately? He seriously doubted it. But how often, then, could he allow her out, before that risk finally occurred. Before all his hard work to get it to grow in the first place became all for naught?

He couldn't understand why it meant so much to him. Something so simple. But he also did: his twin had something no other woman on their entire planet did. His lover, her beautiful head of hair, was something for other men to lust after. But only he was allowed anywhere near her.

Finally, one day, after she had not eaten for three in a row, and had only spoken a handful of words to him—only after he had spoken to her, at that—he relented.

“Let's go outside.”

Her head shot up and in his direction, her eyes wide against her now-gaunt face.

She slid toward the edge of the bed. “Do you really mean it?”

He nodded, while holding out a coat in her direction.

He slipped it on over her now too-slender shoulders and waited patiently as she slipped on a pair of shoes, barely paying enough attention to even make sure they matched, before she looked up to him excitedly.

He gave her a small smile in response, pleased to see the old her returning to him. He took her hand in his, her fingers now cold and bony, before he unlocked their bedroom door from the inside, then locked it behind them once they were in the hall.

They were only a few steps down the hall before Lea stopped in her tracks, Feyd looking to her. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

She didn't hear him as a roaring started in her ears. How long had she been locked in that room? Being outside of it now was overwhelming—no, more than overwhelming—she felt like she was going to be swallowed whole.

When had this hallway gotten to be so large? It engulfed her. It was never-ending; the world was. Too big, too much. Too much space. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe and she dropped to her knees, causing Feyd great alarm at the sight before him.

He kneeled in front of her as she curled into herself. What was happening?

He tried to pry her hands away from her face, but she swiftly put them back over her eyes.

“Lea, stop this.” he hissed.

But she couldn't hear him. She was whispering to herself 'no, no, no, no, no' over and over again. Both of them wondered if she had gone mad.

Finally, he scooped up her fragile frame in his arms and carried her back to their room, her face buried in his neck, terrified to look at the space around them.

Once she heard the door shut firmly behind them and lock, did her vision behind to clear and her breathing return to normal. Her heart rate slowed.

Feyd set her on the edge of the bed, while once again kneeling before her as he brushed her hair behind her ear, out of her face.

She began to silently cry. “I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know what happened.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before standing. “I'll fetch the doctor.”

Before she could tell him that that wasn't necessary, he was out the door and gone.

Lea had nearly started drifting off to sleep before Feyd finally returned, doctor in-tow as promised.

The same doctor who had implanted her birth control device some years prior. He was nearly the same age as their father, a few inches shorter than her brother, and thin, with a very serious disposition.

Feyd hovered over her protectively as the doctor retrieved a chair from the nearby table and sat it in front of her. “Can you tell me what happened today, My Lady?”

Lea glanced up to her twin, who gave her a small nod, his arms crossed, and she looked back to the doctor, then down to her hands.

“Earlier, Feyd and I were going to go for a walk. And when we left our bedroom, I... I felt like I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. I felt...so afraid, simply because we were standing in a hallway. One I've been in thousands of times before. It felt like it would never end. Like the world might swallow me.”

Finally, when she looked up, the doctor's features were overtaken by a sudden sense of understanding.

He stood then, Feyd following him a few feet away from her.

“What's wrong with my sister?” Feyd demanded answers from him in a low, gravely, but threatening voice.

The doctor somehow wasn't intimidated. “She has a condition, psychological, known as agoraphobia. When was the last time she left this room?”

Feyd didn't answer.

“It can manifest due to different things, and in different ways. I would say her particular case can be attributed to her being closed up in this room for months-on-end. She was made to feel comfortable, until there was no reason for her to leave. That is, until her body started urging her to do otherwise.”

“How do I fix her?”

“She needs to gradually work back up to being used to being outside of this room again. It won't be easy, for either of you. She'll battle you every step of the way, terrified of what may lie beyond that door, despite the fact that she already knows the answer.

“Start small, the hallway, then a nearby room, then another and another, until, finally, she's ready to go outside. You need to reassure her that she's safe, and that everything ends: the hallway, that the rooms she's in are just four walls and a door, even our planet is only so large. Everything has an end.”

“And if I allow her to stay in here, where she's most comfortable?”

The doctor glanced back to Lea, then to the young man before him and shook his head. “You already know the answer to that.” He sighed. “I can give her something for anxiety, and something to help her sleep, but the rest is up to her. It may help, for her to have a professional to speak to about how she's feeling, so as to gauge her progress. If so, I'd be happy to help.”

Feyd already knew that much he wouldn't allow. If she wanted—needed—someone to speak to, she had him. She didn't need anyone else. Especially another man. Doctor or not.

“Have the medications delivered once they're ready.”

With that, the doctor knew their conversation was at an end. He nodded, then made his way to the door. He briefly glanced back to the siblings behind him. “Please let me know if either of you need anything further,” and then he was gone.

Feyd walked over to Lea, kneeling before her while tears shone in her eyes. “What's wrong with me?”

He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “A condition, called agoraphobia. To put it plainly: you've been closed up in here so long, it's messed with your mind. Made you afraid of what's on the other side of the door.”

Her brows furrowed. “Ag-agor...” She trailed off, then shook her head. “How do we fix me?”

Feyd looked over his shoulder to the door behind him, then back to his twin.

Her eyes grew wide, then she began to shake her head. “No, I can't go back out there. Feyd, please. I know what I want now. I want to stay in here, with you. And when you leave, I'll wait for you to come back like I always do. I'll-”

He shook his head. “Being kept in here isn't helping you, either. You'll do as I say. I know what's best for you.”

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, then, and when Feyd opened it, he was greeted by a slave holding a tray with two bottles, pills inside, meant for Lea. He took them without a word, closing the door in the young boy's face.

That night, Feyd didn't allow his little sister to leave the dinner table until she had eaten every last morsel from her plate. Once finished, he handed her a sleeping pill. Before taking it from his outstretched palm, she looked at him hesitantly.

“To help you sleep.”

She nodded, placed the pill on her tongue, then drank a sip of water. “How long until it takes effect?”

Feyd shrugged while standing. He pulled Lea's chair back and watched as she walked over to their shared wardrobe and slipped off her clothes from the day, dropping them to the floor. She went to put on one of Feyd's plain shirts, before he told her to stop.

She glanced back to him, already in bed. And naked.

She felt heat pool between her legs then, and she padded over to him. She came to stand before him, between both of his legs, and he gripped the backs of each of her thighs, then kissed her stomach. He then took his right hand and placed his palm firmly against her sex and hummed in satisfaction when his hand came away glistening and wet.

He then slipped two fingers between her folds and his cock hardened at the slick sensation. A proper diagnosis, treatment plan, and a decent meal later and already her body was coming back alive and responding to his touch again.

He eased one finger inside her tight cunt, and she gasped, her hand coming up to grip his shoulder. He then eased in another, and grinned as he felt her clench around him. It was when he eased in a third that her knees suddenly felt weak. He curled them upward, massaging the sensitive ledge inside of her and she threw her head back, closing her eyes.

When she began to moan, Feyd's grin grew wider, and he stopped.

Her eyes shot open, but before she could ask him to continue, he nodded toward the bed. “Lie down.”

She did as commanded and spread her legs, allowing her twin brother access to her.

He sat back on his haunches and placed one hand firmly on her stomach, while he slipped four fingers inside of her this time. He began fingering her so quickly she barely had a chance to catch her bearings. He pressed down on her lower stomach and she gasped at the heightened sense of pleasure.

Soon, Feyd's hand was coated in her, and obscene sounds were coming from between her legs.

She looked down, her eyes meeting Feyd's, which had grown impossibly dark, and watched as the muscles in his arm worked at finding her release.

She threw her head back against the mattress beneath her and opened her legs even wider then and could swear she heard her twin groan in approval.

The stimulation of him continually hitting that most pleasurable spot inside her, after a few more minutes, finally sent her over the edge, with her nearly screaming at the release he finally helped her find. Liquid shot out of her cunt, soaking the sheets beneath them. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before at his hands.

He didn't stop until the squirting did, and then he dove in with his mouth.

Lea whined in pain, still too sensitive down there, but Feyd paid her no mind as he began to suck at her wet folds, circling his tongue over and over, lapping at her juices like a man desperate for water in the deserts of Arrakis.

“Feyd, please, no more.”

He responded by gripping her hips, pulling her closer to his open mouth.

She sat up on her elbows and looked down at him. “Please,” she panted, her cunt growing more and more sore as he continued on.

He rolled his eyes and began to fuck her with his tongue.

It'd been weeks since they'd been properly intimate. She wasn't going to deny him this. Something they both desperately needed.

Lea lied back down, bringing her hands over her eyes and trying her hardest to keep herself together as Feyd dined upon her body.

He'd be done soon enough, she was sure.

How deeply wrong she had been.

Once Feyd made her orgasm not once, not twice, but three times—the second orgasm sending her to tears at the pain of it, the third near-excruciating—he had slipped himself inside of her. She had cried quietly beneath him as he took his time easing himself slowly in and out of her.

She wasn't sure which she wanted less... Or perhaps more... For him to be gentle with her, given how sore she now was, or for him to pound away inside of her to get it over with more quickly.

Feyd began to run his thumb over her clit, which was now red and raw, while she pressed the heels of her hands into her wet eyes. “Feyd, I can't again. Please. It's so painful.” she choked out between sobs.

He ignored her pleas as he palmed one of her breasts, continuing to rub her clit.

Two more orgasms later on her part, Feyd finally came inside of her. She was exhausted by then. Her cunt was throbbing painfully, her brother's hot cum leaking out of her, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the sleeping meds having kicked in some time ago.

Feyd had crushed his lips to hers, satisfied that he had finally gotten to cum in her after being patient for so long.

When Lea fell asleep, it was with Feyd's arms around her, his naked frame wrapped around her own, and his cock buried inside her.

Lea lounged back in the bathtub large enough to be a pool and ran her fingers over the scars covering one of her thighs, then the bite mark on the other, which Feyd had given her the first night they had sex so long ago.

The scars on her left inner-thigh were her twin's doing. One for each year of their being together. Not as siblings, but together. As one flesh and soul and blood. He told her it was so she would never forget a moment between them.

It was to always mark the anniversary of that first night. And each time he would cut her, he would then drink until the blood stopped flowing.

He had matching scars on his own as well, administered by her. The first one she had done, she had tried it—his blood, per his request—and promptly gagged as the metallic taste filled her mouth. She, thankfully, didn't have to again after that first time. So long as the marks were made by her hand, he was satisfied.

She's removed from her reminiscing at the sight of her brother entering the bathroom. Feyd stands over the tub, looking down at her, her looking up at him in anticipation, when he finally reaches into the depths of the tub, removing the silver stopper.

She stands and her twin grabs a towel to wrap her in, but not before taking a moment to admire her wet, naked body.

Finally, he wraps her up and she follows Feyd out of the bathroom and watches patiently as he chooses a gown for her to wear for the day. He finally settles on a see-through lavender one. He then opens a drawer and retrieves a pair of nipple clamps.

Lea blanches at the sight of them. The gown was bad enough, but the clamps? Completely unnecessary.

Feyd gently tugged the towel away from Lea, and she let it drop to the floor. He took one of her breasts in his hand, and slipped the nipple clamp into place and adjusted the tightness until it stayed in place, then repeated the motion with her opposite breast.

Then, he slipped the gossamer gown over her head and retrieved a brush from a nearby table and ran it through her damp hair.

Once he deemed her appearance appropriate, she wrapped both her arms around his right one, and held on tight as he unlocked their bedroom door. She squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment at the sound of it, her heart already beginning to pound just at a lock coming undone.

Feyd led the two of them into the hall, locking their bedroom door behind them, and Lea’s grip only tightened. She didn’t want to look—to see the never-ending hall before them. 

Feyd looked down to his twin, who along the way had become so incredibly fragile, and spoke lowly to her. “Open your eyes, my darling. You have to look.”

Lea slowly opened one eye, the other side of her face still pressed against Feyd’s upper-arm. As she looked around, she couldn’t help but feel like she was trapped in a tunnel with no exit. 

They took one step forward, then another and another, Lea’s heart beating wildly the entire time, a feeling of such surety that if they went any further, something terrible was going to happen. Her feet halted where she stood and Feyd gave her a moment to catch her bearings. He planted a soft kiss upon the top of her head.

“A few more steps and then we’ll be in the library, my love.”

The library. With towering bookcase after bookcase. A labyrinth to get lost in. 

She shook her head. “I want to go back now.”

Feyd drug her along another few steps. “You’ll do as I tell you.”

She wanted to beg further. How could she have ever wanted out of their room? Their bedroom where it was warm and pleasant. A large glass window to look out of at an unsafe world, in their safe and very comfortable, over-sized bed, piled with pillows and blankets. She had two large bookcases of her own, she didn’t need to peruse the nearby library. 

She wanted to go back to bed with her brother and get lost in the feeling of him buried inside of her, his arms wrapped around her, where she was most safe. Or at the very least…felt most safe.

Once Feyd had finally gotten them to the library a few doors down from their room, he promptly shut the large doors behind them. Lea’s heart-rate slowed as she slowly took in their surroundings. She could make out all four sides to the room and the windows against the back helped illuminate the darkness, driving the shadows which threatened to swallow her away. 

She let go of Feyd’s arm then and he watched her, studying her reaction to being in a new room for the first time in months. She hadn’t collapsed in on herself yet, but he wondered if it was all her, or if the pill he had given her for her anxiety played some part in it. Perhaps both. 

She began to wander and wind through the bookcases, Feyd’s steps following closely behind her own. She pulled this book and that from the shelves, perusing, looking for a few novels to take back with her. 

Her sheer skirt clinged to her naked body and her twin’s cock hardened at the sight of her being completely on display for all to see. He’d never caught them, but he was sure more than one guard had taken her in, her pert breasts, her round ass, her perfect cunt—his absolute favorite part of her which he never stopped thinking about. The thoughts that constantly circulated within his mind were all the things he wanted to do to her. The things he wanted to shove inside her cunt, just to see what her reaction might be. Even now.

Feyd pressed his chest against her back, then ran his hands under her gown, squeezing her ass in his grip. She laid her head back against him, closing her eyes. He then slid his hands higher, to her hips, then higher still, until he had both her breasts in his palms. He tugged gently against the clamps he had placed on her nipples and she moaned in the back of her throat. He tugged again and again and again, and she felt herself growing wetter with each tug.

Feyd took her hand, leading her over to an empty table and he gripped both of her hips, lifting her onto it. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, but before she could pull away, he gripped the back of her head and crushed his lips against her own. She opened her mouth, allowing him entry and he flicked his tongue against hers over and over.

Finally, he pulled away and took her in. She had grown so thin. He intended to rectify that as time went on. He wanted her hips and breasts and ass full and healthy like they had been. 

“Lie back.” 

She did as her twin told her. 

Feyd ran his hand from between her breasts, to her stomach, to her sex, then used both his hands to trail down her thighs, all the way down to her ankles, which he gripped, placing both her feet flat upon the top of the table, spread wide.

Lea’s heart pounded with excitement at whatever her older brother was about to do to her.

Feyd reached up to the neckline of her gown and ripped it open in one swift motion. 

Lea’s mouth fell open. This one had been one of her favorites... 

“What will I wear back to our room?”

Feyd smirked, then shrugged. “I suppose nothing, darling.”

Heat settled between her legs.

Feyd stepped away from her for a moment, disappearing around the edge of one of the shelves and Lea waited patiently. She heard the sound of a drawer opening, then closing and she tugged gently at both of her nipple clamps waiting for him to return to her. Her wetness was slipping down her ass and onto the table by the time he returned.

She lifted her head, looking at him standing at the edge of the table, something glinting in his right hand.

Her brows furrowed as he set it down.

Feyd dropped into the seat behind him, then scooted it forward, making himself comfortable before he got to work. He quickly pulled his cock from his pants, not bothering to pull them down. Just wanting some relief as his erection was now straining painfully against the material.

He reached forward, spreading Lea’s lips between her legs open with two of his fingers and groaned as he watched her clench.

He picked up one of the slim silver pens he had found in a nearby drawer and slipped the bottom-end of it into her. 

She jerked at the cold feeling of the metal entering her, then relaxed.

“Stay still,” Feyd said, and she didn’t dare argue.

He slipped in another and watched as the two pens bobbed as her walls clenched once, then twice.

He slipped in yet two more and she whimpered, liking what was being done to her. She always enjoyed when Feyd filled her to her limits, if not sometimes a bit past it.

Lea stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, spreading her legs wider for him and Feyd hummed his approval as she lowered herself back down onto the table. She started gently pulling against her nipple clamps once again as Feyd slipped another pen inside her eager cunt.

That made five, and he knew she was wet enough to take a few more easily.

He slipped in two more at the same time and Lea sighed, wishing he would play with her clit. She knew better than to do so herself. She’d only tried that once while they were being intimate together and he’d told her sternly she was never do so again, that that part of her was for him alone to touch and she had nodded, indicating that she understood.

She’d gotten punished thoroughly, however, the day Feyd had come into their room and saw that she’d been busy playing with herself without his knowledge or permission. Her right hand had been rubbing away between her legs, fingers plunging in and out of herself, a pillow placed under her hips.

She’d been so engrossed in pleasuring herself that she hadn’t even noticed her twin, who was now seething, standing at the side of the bed. She’d been broken from her near-orgasm at the sound of something shattering against the wall. She’d jerked and yelped, now-frightened, and the expression on Feyd’s face had been one of pure rage.

She quickly removed her hand from between her legs, but there was no trying to hide what she’d been doing. Feyd had climbed on the bed and she tried to scoot away from him, now afraid, but he’d gripped her hips, yanking her back down to him. All she could do was stare up at him as he seethed, his anger palpable, rolling off of him in waves.

All was deathly quiet for a few minutes, until, finally, he gripped her cunt painfully in his hand, his eyes boring into her own as she withered underneath his gaze. “This belongs to me. It is my property. Mine to do with as I wish. It is for only me to touch, and me alone. I own it. If you need relief, you come find me. You will never touch yourself like this again without my knowledge. Is that understood?”

She nodded over and over again, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Say it,” he commanded, with acidity.

“I understand, I’ll do whatever you say.”

He nodded, then gripped her hips and threw her onto her stomach while he lowered himself onto her calves, holding her into place as he spanked her ass red and raw until she couldn’t sit down for a solid week afterward. He then flipped her back over and spanked her cunt until she was sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe and it was beyond raw, swollen and blood-red. Feyd had fingered her brutally then until she bled, his fingers covered in it, and came so hard she screamed in agony at the feeling. 

Any temptation to touch herself after that day was more than removed. She had learned her lesson.

So, Lea lied there as Feyd shoved pen after pen into her, until the count was up to ten and she was sure she couldn’t take anymore.

Her twin’s own heart pounded, appreciating the view before him of his own doing. Her hole stretched nearly to its limits, full. 

He had three pens left and shoved another in and Lea’s head shot up, looking down at Feyd. “Feyd, please, I don’t think anymore will fit. It already hurts.”

He glanced up to her. “There’s only two more left. Can you not handle it?” He asked, twirling one between his fingers.

She considered him for a moment, then concentrated on just how full she currently felt. She brought one of her hands down between her legs and lightly brushed her fingertips over all the pens currently sticking out of her. She then leaned back on that same arm. “I don’t think so.”

Feyd considered her for a moment, then nodded and she let out a sigh of relief, lying back down.

Feyd leaned back in his chair and pulled his pants down, stroking his cock at the beautiful sight before him. 

Lea knew what he was doing just from the sound alone and she felt her walls clench, causing Feyd to chuckle at the sight of the pens bobbing half-in half-out of her. She was just grateful she had something to clench around, even if it was something rather unusual. But she liked it; it felt good to her.

Feyd had only tried it himself a handful of times before, but he wished for something to put in himself now as well, feeling it was only fair.

He stood, walking back to the desk from before and removed a thin letter opener. He returned to his seat from before and sat. He used the grip of it and gradually eased it into the slit at the opening of his cock. It was painful, yes, but it only made it all the better for him.

He kept stroking, watching as Lea’s tight walls kept those pens bobbing every few seconds, her hands fondling her breasts. Once he was close, he removed the letter-opener, letting it clatter to the floor and he stood, stroking furiously before he came all over his sister’s stomach.

Lea looked up at him lovingly. “Do you feel better now, brother?”

Feyd’s lips twitched. “Nearly.” 

He never stopped stroking, despite his cock protesting against him. But the pain of it, turning him on all the more, his skin hot, made him come quickly yet again, this time on Lea’s naked breasts. Finally, when he came a third time, it was on her outstretched tongue, some of it shooting into the back of her throat.

She had licked her lips, savoring the taste of him and Feyd had gently gripped the back of her head, bringing her closer to his throbbing cock and she swallowed him whole, cleaning him with her tongue, swirling it around him this way and that, the only sounds to fill the silence around them being that of her sucking him off.

Feyd threw his head back, bucking his hips, making her gag, then settling again as she continued her steady rhythm. He thought with a wry smirk that her having two out of three holes filled at once wasn’t too bad.

He had trained her so well.

Finally, his lust got the better of him and he gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, and began to fuck her mouth. Brutally.

She gagged and choked and struggled to breath—tears stinging her eyes at the inability to—but Feyd kept wildly bucking his hips, shoving his thick cock in and out of her mouth until a few seconds later he came, her throat filling with hot cum.

When he removed himself, she gasped for breath, sputtering and coughing through his seed.

She wasn’t upset, however. Sometimes he liked doing things roughly. Sometimes she did, too.

Feyd removed her gown from under her and used it to wipe the spit and cum from around her mouth, then threw it onto the floor. He walked around to the edge of the table where all eleven pens were still lodged firmly inside of her, and gripped them all in his fist. 

She shot up, however, gripping his wrist in her own. “Don’t.”

Feyd looked at her with a raised brow, surprised. 

“You want me to leave them?”

She nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks and breasts.

Feyd smiled wickedly. “So be it.”

He did, however, shove them a bit further in, then pulled them back toward him, then repeated the motion over and over again, and she moaned his name, tangling her fingers in her hair. Her walls gripped them all so tightly, so firmly in place. He hummed his approval. 

He stopped for a moment and watched as they bobbed and bobbed as her walls continued to clench from the stimulation. Feyd wanted to take her back to their room and stay up all night seeing what other sorts of things she’d enjoyed being shoved and fucked inside of her. 

He helped her down from the table, her gown ruined and in tatters on the floor, her cunt filled to the brim, and her skin covered in his dried cum.

He took her hand in his and grabbed the books she had chosen, placing them under his opposite arm before he opened the doors to the library and they exited. 

The feeling of utter fullness between Lea’s legs was enough to distract Lea on their way back to their bedroom from instead focusing on the space around them.

Once Feyd unlocked the door, he allowed Lea to enter first, and when he glanced over his shoulder, a feeling of being watched suddenly present, he saw their mother halfway down the hall, knew she had seen his twin covered in him, something protruding from her young cunt.

He gave her a satisfied  smile before following Lea inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

Lea sat back on the bed, her legs spread apart, hoping Feyd would come give her some form of relief, her clit now swollen. Instead, he went into the bathroom and drew a bath for her. As the water ran, he returned to her, kneeling before their bed where she sat and slowly remove the pens one by one, dropping them onto the floor, until her cunt was just a gaping hole needing desperately to be filled. 

Slowly, he eased his fist inside of her and she groaned in satisfaction. He used two fingers to massage her vaginal walls and her toes curled at the sensation. He kissed her clit and she whimpered. “Please, Feyd.”

“Not right now.”

She threw her head back in frustration.

After a few more strokes of his fingers inside of her, he removed his fist and she pouted at the sudden feeling of being empty. 

Her twin simply offered her his hand and guided her into the bathroom. 

[wifiwuxians]

i haven't forgotten about the revival AU!

more instalments: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[ID: a four panel grayscale comic featuring xue yang, wen chao, and an unnamed seamstress simply referred to as 'miss tailor.' they cross paths while walking in opposite directions, and the seamstress, recognizing wen chao, calls out to him by saying 'young sir!'. wen chao replies with a surprised 'miss tailor!', and is then immediately shocked and embarrassed as she asks 'how did your girlfriend like the glove? did it work out?' xue yang beside him looks at the floor in humorous disbelief, the word 'GIRLFRIEND' hovering over his head at an angle. then, as they continue walking, he throws an arm around a blushing wen chao and pokes his cheek, declaring 'she loved it' with a playful smile. the seamstress replies with an 'oh, how nice'!. /end ID]

[severedfromthesource]

Heart of the Forge

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

With Adam in cardiac arrest, Tav scrambles to revive him before the Pennydurren loses power. And before the choice is taken out of his hands.

Original concept by @emptycalories-splitlip . Features M resus, M rescuer, CPR, mouth to mouth, intubation, open heart massage.

In the other cars, the lights had been going haywire. Brightening to terribly hot globes on the walls and ceiling, flickering, going dark and then reigniting with the Forge’s heart struggling to maintain him. The entire Pennydurren knew something was wrong. No one knew more acutely than the seamstress in the upper cars garment manufacturing. There was a great shudder running through the train and the sewing machines went silent for the first time that day.

She stared at the needle buried in cloth and folded her hands over her mouth. She knew better than anyone what that meant. “No,” she whispered, tears springing up before she could even register she was crying. “No, my baby��” The backup generators kicked in and once more the machines came to life and the lights popped back on, but it brought her no relief.

Adam’s heart had stopped. Her son was dying.

—

There was a moment, holding up Adam’s limp head with his shoulder, that Tav couldn’t comprehend what had happened. His brain short circuited. He held him there for- too long. Entirely too long. He couldn’t take a breath. What air remained in his lungs left his mouth in short huffs, his eyes wide and fixed on some inconsequential spot on the floor. He couldn’t look at his charge. He couldn’t begin to understand, or maybe accept the truth, that his Forge’s heart had just stopped.

He was dead weight in his arms. The seizure had faced, replaced with an earth shattering stillness. His hands shook where they had been braced against the larger man’s back. Somewhere beyond the ringing in his ears, Marsh’s deep timbre was shouting. He realized, feeling something warm slip from his eyelash, that the ringing was the EKG. He’d flatlined. And Marsh was grabbing his shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“Gustav!” He bellowed. “Sit him back!” Why? He wondered at those words, He’s dead. I can at least hold him like this, I can feel his warmth until it’s not there anymore. I- Marsh slapped him hard across the face. Now his ear really was ringing, but only on the left side, a high pitched whine where he’d been struck. His cheek stung, reddened and almost immediately beginning to swell with an angry, hand shaped welt. Any harder and he might have knocked him unconscious. It was enough.

Tav was shoved back into his body and he moved, laying Adam back against the metal throne. Immediately the engineer tipped Adam’s head back into one of his large hands, supporting his neck as he forced air into his body. Adam was big, but Marsh had been working his whole life with machinery weighing twice as much as himself, and he looked like it. Even just pinching his nose for artificial respirations, he covered half of the Forge’s face so his slack mouth was the only thing really visible.

Tav scooted back as far as he dared on his charge’s lap, stacking his hands in the middle of his slick chest. He felt the air welling in his lungs once more, then he started compressing his chest. “One and two and three and four, five, six-“

The light was dimming in Adam’s chest. He tried not to turn back into a stunned bystander, forcing himself to focus instead on the rhythm of CPR and the depth. But even that was hard. Focus was impossible. Not when his fingers bent over Adam’s ribs as he pumped his heart manually. Not when his Forge’s arms swung limply off the arm rests of the chair.

He heard the hollow whoosh when he reached thirty and Marsh filled Adam’s lungs. Tav glanced over at the monitor, seeing the flatline making a comet trail over the display. He once more beat his hands against his sternum and the straight line was broken up by sharp, irregular peaks. It was comforting, as much as anything was comforting right now, to watch the line on the monitor. It was picture proof that he was doing something good. He was actually making his heart beat, and not just fracturing his bones needlessly.

A voice crackled over his comm watch, “Gustav? Gustav, what’s going on?” Father Shep. He ran the entire operation, the Pennydurren’s conductor and king and named protector. The one who had tethered Adam to the engine with ropes and cables. Tav swallowed and managed to huff, “Adam is in cardiac arrest. I’m trying to resuscitate him as we speak.”

“Damn it all.” There was movement on the other end before he continued, “We caught your little viper. He confessed to everything. They used some kind of poisonous mushroom powder from the back cars, distilled a cardiotoxin.” Tav nearly collapsed. He reached a count of thirty again and rested his hand over Adam’s heart as Marsh filled his lungs.

“I’m still waiting on the medic,” he ground out as he took up his task again, forcing his sternum inward.

“I had him diverted,” said Shep.

Tav’s stomach bottomed out. “You… what? Why? I need help here, I’m not a-“ “He’s preparing the next Forge candidate for surgery. The auxiliary power will just barely last two hours, the surgery and instillation of a Forge take a little longer. We’ve never had such short notice of replacement.”

Replacement. The strength nearly went out of Tav’s arms. They were going to let him die. Worse, they were asking his Keeper to let him die. “Sir, I can… I can bring him back, he’s only been in arrest a few minutes-“ “This isn’t a stroke or heart attack, or something we can treat. Even if he recovers, his heart will be considerably weakened. He’s of no use.” Tav felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

Marsh stared down at him, holding Adam’s head up. Both had paused their efforts to revive him. Something clicked nearby and a panel slid open on the wall. An emergency measure he had only been briefed on his first day. Scalpels, bone saws, and other surgical equipment gleamed behind the glass case, upon which read IN CASE OF EMERGENCY in red block letters. “Go ahead and call him, Gustav,” said Father Shep. “Then retrieve his spark so it can be implanted in the replacement Forge. If we do this right, we should have just enough time before the backup generators go out.”

Tav was shaking. His hands trembled on Adam’s pectoral, his skin cooling under his palm. They weren’t just asking him to let him die. They were asking him to cut him open and peel away the thing that made him special. The device affixed to his left ventricle and glowing dimly now behind his sternum, the thing that had made him a Forge in the first place, and made Tav his Keeper. Marsh had stopped giving him breaths and looked on with an expression of pity.

“I can bring him back,” he rasped lamely, “I can save him. Just let me save him…” “You have your orders. It’s already underway, if you hesitate then you are risking the lives of everyone else on this train. We’re already losing power to the diving bells outside. Do as I’ve asked you, Gustav.”

He looked to the silver instruments, pristine in their glass case, and his own heart hammered painfully in his chest. Butchery. They wanted him to cut open the only person who had ever given a damn about him, who smiled when he smiled and laughed at his stupid jokes. He looked up at the engineer, pleading with his eyes without knowing it. Marsh shook his head, gingerly adjusting Adam’s head so it rested against the back of the chair. His throat made a limp arch and his eyes were closed. He looked small and ordinary.

Tav made a decision. “Get him to the floor,” he muttered, as much on his back as you can manage.” “Should we disconnect him?” “Not yet. Just lay him down.” It took them both to lay him in a heap on the floor. He was partially angled as the cables lifted one of his shoulders a bit off the floor, so he couldn’t lay flat. Tav settled back onto his knees beside him. He interlocked his fingers and began forcefully pounding on his chest again.

Marsh looked at him with wide eyes. “Lad? What’re you doing?” But it was obvious. Tav wasn’t giving up. “I can save him,” he said, his eyes never straying from Adam’s face. “Keep breathing for him.” “Lad,” Marsh said low and sympathetically, like he was trying to explain death to a small child, “We have to get the engine running again. We can’t waste time.”

“He is not some piece of machinery you can just replace when it malfunctions,” Tav snapped, “He’s not useless. Or a waste of time. Fucks sake, he’s a human being!” He threw his weight behind each thrust, forcing Adam’s chest to cave and rocking his body. His impassioned plea made it obvious that Adam was more than a human being to him. He had been his one constant since they were children. He’d protected the Pennydurren since he was a teenager, and Tav had protected him. “I’m not just gonna let him go,” he whispered in hoarse, aching defiance.

Marsh watched him for at least two cycles of CPR. Tav rocked against his chest, Adam’s shoulders shrugging inward with each compression. He pulled open his jaw, making a seal against his pale lips, and blew down his throat. The Keeper had started hyperventilating from adrenaline and exertion by the second round of breaths, and spit bubbled up at the corner of his mouth as he blew. Shiny strings of saliva connected their lips as he drew away to plunge once more against his unmoving heart.

The engineer moved to the other side and gingerly shouldered him out of the way. “Focus on giving him air,” he said in a gruff murmur, locking his hands between the Forge’s nipples. He had a lot more muscle to throw behind each pummeling thrust, and Adam’s entire body shook with them. His head danced back against the floor, his hand, angled against the cables, thumped quietly at his side. Tav did as he asked and focusing on giving him air. “…Twenty-eight- twenty-nine, thirty, breathe.” He breathed for him. The cycle began again, “One, two, three, four…”

In between rescue breaths, he sat on his knees, bent over his charge. He kept a hand on his cheek, panting, his forehead pressed against the other man’s. “Come on,” he whispered to him, “Come on, kid… Take a breath, just breathe… Breathe-“

It had been ten minutes since his heart seized and went still. The light between his ribs was nothing but a faint ember now, and his deep skin was waxy and colorless. Tav kissed his temple, clutched his face. “Anything,” he whispered, “Anything, Adam… just give me something. Tell me you’re not gone…” They beat his chest. They shocked him, the current making him jolt like a puppet shaken by its strings. His heart wouldn’t move. It didn’t budge under the efforts of both men to get him back.

“I have a courier headed your way now,” Father Shep suddenly announced over the comm watch, making them both jump. Tav, for one, had forgotten utterly that he was waiting for them to deliver Adam’s life on a platter. “I trust you’ve got it in hand?”

He didn’t say anything. He looked over at the surgical tools on the far wall, his thumb stroking Adam’s cheek. “Gustav? Do you copy? Have you got-“ He clicked it off. Maybe they’d throw him off the nearest platform for this, but none of that mattered half so much as getting the Forge back.

He went and retrieved the surgical equipment. Gloves, laryngoscopes, intubation tubes, rib spreaders, saws. He laid a few implements he might need on the tray and ferried them over. Adam had been without a pulse for nearly twenty minutes. He’d been without artificial pulse for a little over one. Tav knelt beside him. “Hold compressions.” Marsh warily eyed the surgical tools but obliged and leaned back in his heels.

“You know how to intubate someone?” “My brother’s one of the medics, I seen him do it a few times.” “Good,” said Tav, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. He set the ventilation device between them. “Intubate him.”

Marsh huffed, but grabbed the silver laryngoscope blade and slid it over Adam’s tongue. He fed the intubation tube down his throat and kept it in place with a endotracheal tube holder looped around his cheeks and the back of his head. Then he switched on the little portable ventilator Tav had brought over and it hummed as it worked, the accordion like squeezer in the glass tube rising and falling with a seesaw rhythm to his chest now. When it expanded, his chest fell, and when it squeezed down towards the bottom, his chest rose.

Tav liberally slathered iodine over the curve of Adam’s ribs, where they were slightly elevated against the wiring. It dripped in lazy amber rivulets, staining his skin as it went. Then he snatched up a scalpel and slid it over the hollow between two ribs. He kept the incision open with the spreader clamp, wide enough that meat and muscle were visible through the wound.

More importantly, wide enough to slide a gloved hand into Adam’s chest cavity.

His fingers probed blindly through the walls of his organs and ribs until he touched something hard and metal. The spark. Its light was mostly dead by now, but with the open wound, some of its soft orange glow spilled out in weak beams of light. Tav peeked at the outside of his sternum. He could see the shadow of his hand as it closed around the organ in the center of his chest. He felt the rubbery texture of compact muscle even through the gloves he wore, and the disconcerting sensation of his lungs expanding and shuddering with the ventilator, like jellyfish brushing up against his fingers.

He cradled Adam’s heart in his hand. It was bigger than he anticipated, athletic from the years training the cardiac muscle to their peak. Tav swallowed back a sob and a laugh at the same time. He really did have the biggest heart of anyone he knew. He would make it beat again, no matter what it took. He should have felt some kind of nausea or panic at performing a surgery he had little knowledge of, but a cold calm had settled instead.

He worked his thumb in against a ventricle. His fingers made a soft cradle around the organ and he slowly began to massage it, unsure, somewhat timid strokes at first, until finally he worked himself into a steady rhythm. His other hand he braced against Adam’s sternum, watching the shadow play reflected there. He could see the contour of his hand coaxing the silent organ, pumping and squeezing life back into it. And life was going back into it.

The light was beginning to grow hotter, the shapes more distinct in his chest as Tav worked his fingers around the dense muscle. “Come on,” he urged again, “Beat… beat already…” As if hearing his command, there was a brief quiver. The light grew hot for a moment and then dimmed into the dim half light again. Tav resituated himself up on his knees and pat Adam’s chest with his free hand. “I felt that, there we go! Cmon, Adam, gimme another.”

He did. The chambers swelled into his palm and a ripple of movement ran up into his fingertips. The monitor showed a blip, then another, then went still again. He massaged his thumb against it, squeezing it into the space between his thumb and palm. It ballooned and swelled up against him and he loosened his hold, allowing it to fill and empty a few times as he held it. It stuttered and he gingerly soothed it. It beat erratically and he held it still. He could have wept if he had any energy to give to anything but this moment. Adam was trying so hard, even lying there, motionless, looking dead.

Marsh’s attention darted between the grief stricken young man and the moving shadows under Adam’s skin. Tav lowered himself over the unconscious man, wrapping his free arm around his shoulder and half embracing him. He couldn’t hug him fully, but he wanted to so badly. “Come back,” he whispered, lips grazing his arm as he folded himself over the Forge. “Please…”

His heart thumped hard against Tav’s palm. His fingers stilled as he cupped the center of his entire being. It took a moment but it beat again, flexing between his fingers. The ventilator hissing was the only sound in the room, and he felt it expand inside him, again brushing the tips of his fingers. And again his heart moved against him, the chambers sluggishly moving as if remembering how. He brushed his thumb one last time over the left ventricle, as if trying to offer it comfort. You can do it, he told it with touch alone, You can beat again. Then it did.

Tav sat, staring at the strong light cast from the spark in Adam’s sternum. He could see more clearly now the silhouette of his hand, the light shining between his fingers as, for a few moments, he could only marvel at the feeling of his heart coming back to life. Once he was sure it was well and truly beating on its own, he slid his hand from the incision and for a brief second could only sit, stunned, blood up to his forearm. He’d never imagined a world where he failed, yet by the same token he never imagined a world where he’d succeeded either. Torn between a million different reactions, he leaned his forehead down against Adam’s shoulder and wept.

—

The engine room was filled with the quiet hum of machinery when Adam finally started to stir. He suck in a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open. He was in his cot. His limbs felt heavy, they barely obeyed his command as he stretched out his arms and legs, then winced as the motion pulled at something in his ribs. He reached up and pressed blindly at the bandages looped around his chest.

He had no idea how close he’d come to dying, though he had the sense something serious had happened. He remembered air being short in his lungs. The uneven thrum of his heart as it struggled to beat, the air forced in his lungs and the defibrillator on his chest. Then it was all black. In my vague shapes and feelings. He dreamed, and wasn’t entirely sure it was a dream, that Tav had held him and kissed him over and over again. Something had punched him in the chest, then as if in apology, had stroked him there instead. He dreamed of a snake going head first down his throat and constricting his heart.

He became aware in the dark of a warm shape at his side. He looked over and made out a familiar silhouette. His inner spark was the only nightlight he really had, and its light bounced off Tav’s face. He looked exhausted. The cot was barely big enough for Adam’s large frame, and somehow the Keeper had managed to squeeze himself into the space between the Forge and the wall, sleeping there deeply. Deep enough he didn’t stir as Adam touched his cheek.

He would never know the terror he felt. He was unconscious when Father Shep arrived himself and looked for any excuse to declare Adam a lost cause, even when they’d turned the engine back on and his heart had been as strong as ever. Tav would never tell him the full story of those long minutes of death.

But nuzzled against him now, Adam didn’t think of any of that. He slid his arms around the smaller man, ignoring the twinges of pain here and there, and drew him in close. All he knew was that somehow, his Keeper had saved him. Tav hummed in his sleep and nuzzled up against the wall of warm muscle he was dimly aware of. His ear pressed to his Forge’s heart and he sighed, content.

The terror had passed.

[nkirukaj]

Our Renaissance (2)

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing, Racially Degrading Language, 1920s Slang

Genre: Slight Angst/SMUT (& Humor!)

Word Count: 8.2K

1922

“Let me go get my son,” she leaves the room to call out. “Alastor! There are some people here I’d like you to meet!”

Alastor comes down into the small kitchen, seeing there a man, a woman, and a little girl. All three of them dolled up in garb that Alastor would only consider wearing for the fanciest of occasions. These must be rich people, he concluded. “This is the Bates family,” His mother continued “That is Cassius Bates, the head of the household.” Cassius nods towards him in a greeting “Daphne Bates,” who waves “and that is little miss Brynn, who’s been begging to come to see our city.” this little girl curtsies, and her mother responds 

“She’s been practicing a curtsy but she doesn’t know when to use it,” Daphne says, eliciting laughter from the rest of them

“How do you do?” Alastor asked politely

“Didn’t you say you had another daughter Mr. Bates?”

“Oh stop, call me Cassius. And yes, I’m not sure where she is-“

A young woman bursts through the door in the kitchen holding about four flowers “Daddy! They have Encore Azaleas here! Remember? From the flower book I read?”

“Yes indeed, but you’re late. And what did I tell you about removing things from people’s property?”

She lowers her head “Yes, of course. I apologize.” She hands them to Alastor’s mother, who laughs 

“Keep ‘em.” 

The young woman brightens up “Thank you!”

Daphne clears her throat “Dearest, please, introduce yourself.”

“Oh! Hello, I am Vera.”

Vera? Alastor lifts his head at the name, looking toward the young woman over his glasses, who happens to place her hat further back on her head. She was the same girl, the same eyes, the same cheeks, the same hair, and definitely the same lips.

“Alastor, isn’t Miss Vera so pretty?” his mother nudges him slightly. Vera looks up at the mention of his name and studies his face, likely going through the same thought process as he had a minute ago

“She’s quite beautiful.”

She tilts her head “Thank you, sir.” Showing a smile that was surely fake

“I’ve been trying to get my Alastor to think about marriage since he is getting to that age.” She says to Cassius “How old did you say Miss Vera was again?”

Cassius looks to his daughter to answer “I’m 19,” she says

“Perfect for my Alastor!” She hugs his shoulders and he blushes

“I keep telling my Vera the same thing! She wants to be a famous actress! But I keep saying, when you do, where you gonna keep all the money? You gotta find a husband!”

“Very true!”

The adults chuckle cordially as the children just stare around. Alastor catches Vera eyeing him directly, playing with the flowers in her hands as their eyes meet. When the laughter dies down, Alastor’s mother speaks again “Alastor, I wanted you to meet them because they’re staying the next town over and they want to work with us!”

“I heard that you were the best, colored seamstress this side of New Orleans Ms. Fontenot,”

“Oh, you can call me May, no need for formalities here,”

“And I heard your son is a genius at lawn care,”

Alastor waves him off “I don’t know about a genius,” he chuckles politely

Cassius nudges his wife gently “And humble! I like that! That’s really important if you want to make something of yourself son,”

He fakes a smile 

“While you’re here, why don’t you take a look around? Maybe Alastor can show you the rest of the flowers?”

“Oh, I’m not one for flowers, but we can discuss the terms of you and your son’s employment, but Vera,” Cassius turns to his oldest daughter “Vera loves flowers. Why don’t you let the young man show you all the flora?”

Vera’s eyes flit up at Alastor, who purses his lips and raises his eyebrow. “Well, I do like more than Azaleas,” she shrugs slightly

“Can I come?” Brynn pulls on Vera’s dress

“Of course,” Vera pulls her little sister close

May puts her arm around her son’s shoulders “Be a gentleman, like I raised you, okay?”

Alastor nods “Right this way,” he leads the girls out the back door “So here we have the Southern Magnolias, Louisiana Iris, Louisiana Phlox, Goldsturm blooms-those haven’t bloomed yet- and of course, you’ve obviously seen the Encore Azaleas” he sounds bored, but mumbles under his breath “Since you helped yourself to some,”

“What was that?” Vera’s head snapped up

He turns to her quickly “Since you helped yourself to some,” he turns back to the flowers “These are the-“

She’s taken aback by his brazenness, “I was unaware that these were being sold, it was simply a mistake,”

“You would think if one didn’t know something, one would ask, so mistakes like that wouldn’t happen,”

“Well, maybe one is used to flowers being free and has never heard of them being a commodity,”

He quickly turns to face her once more “Well now you know not to steal,”

Vera drops her sister’s hand “I would hardly call it stealing! I offered to give them back as soon as I knew they were not free! To steal means to take another person's property without permission or legal right and without intending to return it,”

“Mhmm sure,” Alastor crosses his arms

“What do you mean ‘sure’? You saw me! You all saw me!” She gestures around the empty air

Brynn looks up at her sister “You’re shouting again,”

Vera takes a breath and drops her arms, looking down at her sister “I’m sorry. I did not mean to,” she cups the little girl’s cheek

“Shall we continue the tour?” Alastor asks smugly

Vera stews silently as Alastor continues to go through the flowers they sell.

“What do you do exactly?”

He turns to her slowly “What?”

“What do you do here? What is your purpose?”

“I’m in charge of all the flowers. Planting, potting, and delivering,”

Vera scoffs “Such backbreaking work that is, isn’t it?” she asks mockingly

Alastor furrows his brows “It is actually. And anyone who’s ever had to do it would know that. In fact, anyone who’s ever worked at all would know that,”

Vera rolls her eyes but says nothing in response

“Any more questions?” Alastor asks through his teeth

Brynn raises her little hand and Alastor blinks, he’d almost forgotten that she was there “What’s that?” she points to the woods

“That’s the forest, it’s a very famous hunting ground for professionals and hobbyists, like me,”

“You go hunting?” the older sister chimes in skeptically

Alastor’s eyes roll back so far they’re almost in the back of his head “Yes,”

“Sounds scary,” Brynn says, clutching her sister’s leg

Vera bends down “Yes, that’s where the crazies will drag you off to before they bump you off!” she shakes her sister’s shoulders

“AHHHHH!!” Brynn runs into the house the same way they came out as Vera laughs heartily and Alastor offers a bit of a chuckle

“You like to scare your sister?”

She rolls her eyes “She knows I’m just being goofy,”

“I don’t think she does,”

She waves him off “Psh,” Her laughter dies down and she clears her throat before looking at him, he’s staring at her, trying to read her expression. “What?”

He taps his cheek “You’re a swanky tomato,” he raises his eyebrow “Your whole family is,”

“And?” she asks

“Never seen that before,”

She tilts her head “People who are taken care of?”

“Rich coloreds,”

Vera shakes her head “We don’t like to call ourselves that,”

“Well everyone else will,”

“We are Black people, and that’s that.”

They stand in silence for a beat.

“I guess there’s nothing else to see,”

Vera shifts her weight, hands on her hip “Let’s address the elephant in the garden,”

“And that is?”

“We’ve met and you recognize me,”

He strokes his chin “Hmm, I don’t think I do,”

“You’re full of baloney. I saw it in your eyes. You remember me,”

“Hmm,” he continues playing dumb “Doesn’t ring a bell,”

Vera blinks dramatically before approaching Alastor “You mean to tell me that you don’t remember this face?”

He stares down at her smugly “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,”

“My face is unforgettable,”

“Then why can’t I remember it?” she can feel his breath on her face

“You’re just a liar,”

“Or maybe you aren’t as important as you think you are,” he smirks

She raises her voice “And just who are you?!”

“Alastor,” his smirk widens “Did you not hear my mother introduce me?”

“Quit yapping wise guy, you don’t know me,”

“I know rich people like you,”

She pushes him lightly “You don’t know anyone like me,” 

“Your kind is all the same,”

“What exactly is my kind?”

“Rich, uppity, pompous-“

Vera smirks “Sounds like you’re jealous that my family isn’t poor,”

His eyes turn dark “I’m not jealous of the money,”

“Then what’s eating you?” she radiates confident energy

“That even though you’re rich, you love to steal,”

She drops her arms dramatically “Give it a rest! I didn’t know they were for sale! I thought they were just growing on the street!”

“Ah yes, give someone stealing from our business a rest. You sound just like them,”

She rolls her eyes “What? What do you want? Do you want me to pay?” She reaches inside her purse and pulls out money “How much is it? One, two dollars?” she waves it in his face “What? Take it!”

“Are you sure you’re Black? Or are you white?”

“What? You keep bugging me about the flowers, so I’ll pay for them!” she waves the money

“It’s not just about the payment! It’s about how entitled you have to be to just take them without even thinking to ask!” He leans in toward her

“For fuck’s sake I made a mistake! I’m sorry!”

He crosses his arms “Are you sorry or are you just annoyed that I’m bringing it up?”

She groans “I’m sorry! That’s why I tried to give them back! You don’t think I was embarrassed?!”

“So you’re not sorry? You’re just embarrassed because you made a fool of yourself!”

“You didn’t know that you can feel two things at once?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not sorry,”

She steps up on her toes “Again, you don’t know me,” she squints

“I think I do, you’re a thief, just like a white person,”

Vera pokes him and he swats her hand away “Fuck you, I am not a thief,” she speaks in a hushed tone, his grin wide as ever, as if he’s taking pleasure from her irritation.

“Are you all still out here? It’s been a bit,” May sticks her head out of the back door “I made gumbo, do you two want some? I know you do Alastor,” she gives her son a warm smile

Alastor’s smile warms and shrinks “Of course I do Maman,”

“Well come on in! Of course, you are welcome to have some as well Miss Vera,”

Vera nods “Thank you,”

Both Vera and Alastor approach the door, Alastor grabbing it and holding it open for her and gesturing for her to walk inside, smiling the whole time

“Ladies first,” it rolls off his tongue and past his lips like a true gentleman

Vera holds her head high and her nose in the air as she walks past him, entering the house. He watches her from behind, hips swaying all the while. Alastor’s bottom lip slips up between his teeth before he follows her inside.

  _____________________________________________________

“You gave your sister the heebie-jeebies!”

“Daddy, it was a joke!”

“It does not matter, you don’t scare your little sister like that,”

“Okay, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t tell me, tell her,”

Steps are heard “Brynn, I’m sorry for telling you that crazy people are going to bump you off in the woods,”

Alastor could hear them talking from the backyard as he planted the flowers around the back door of the property that the Bates had purchased. Alastor found that while Vera had the utmost love for her family, it didn’t stop her from causing small mischief, including her morbid humor. This wasn’t the first time she’d scared her sister with one of her ‘jokes’. Alastor wipes his forehead, as he kneels on the ground patting and flattening the dirt. He happens to look up, seeing a curtain close quickly.

Alastor smirks to himself, sitting on the ground with his legs open. He looks down again, allowing her to look through the curtain again. He catches her this time, a light blush adorning her face when she pulls the curtain shut. 

Alastor hoists himself up and approaches the window, removing his gardening gloves to tap it. Vera opens the curtain and the blush on her cheeks rises when she sees how close he is to the glass. Her eyebrows go up, communicating to him silently as he waves for her to join him outside. The curtain closes and a few moments later she appears in the doorway.

“You got in trouble?” He slips his glove back on

She scoffs “No,”

“Sounds like it,” he flashes her a grin

“I think you just want me to get in trouble,”

“I would love that actually.” Alastor squats in front of her, planting the next flower

Vera’s dress almost touches the dirt, she stares down at Alastor as he sits on the ground, urging her to sit with him. She shakes her head vigorously before he shrugs and continues planting. 

“I don’t get in trouble very often,”

He doesn’t look up as he responds “So your daddy lets you do whatever you want huh?”

“Not exactly,”

He chuckles “With money comes privileges,”

Vera puts her hands on her hips “Privileges impeded by my gender,”

Alastor looks up at her “What? You a flapper?”

Vera shrugs and waves around her arms “Somewhat,”

“And just what does your daddy think about that?”

“My daddy supports the movement, but he says I shouldn’t dress like that because he doesn’t want me to draw attention to myself, and I told him ‘But daddy, I love attention’!”

“He doesn’t think you’re drawing attention to yourself now?”

Vers looks confused “What do you mean?”

He snickers “Nothing,”

“No, tell me,”

“You wearing your glad rags all over the place and your loud mouth,”

She rolls her eyes “Of course my mouth is an issue. But your mouth isn’t?”

“Nope,”

“Of course, and what’s the difference between you and me?

Alastor rolls up his sleeves “You’re ignorant?”

“You are a man,” she gestures toward him “Therefore you are automatically afforded more opportunities than I.”

“I am a poor man,” he corrects her “Not many opportunities would be coming my way. You are rich, which is guaranteed to open many doors for you,”

“My father is rich,” she corrected his correction “All the money is his. I have nothing to my name. If I were to head out into the world alone, I would have nothing. On the other hand, you may be poor, but if you were afforded some funds, you would be allowed to keep them. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. You heard my father, even when I am to become a famous actress, I would have nowhere to keep my riches. They would go to my father or…”

“Your husband,” he finishes for her

“Indeed.”

“You have no idea what my situation affords me,” he points up at her “You are up there,” and touches his chest “And I am down here,”

Vera purses her lips “I suppose we both have disadvantages then. Can we agree on that?”

“Hmm…no,”

  _______________________________________________________

Vera stood with her arms out as May sewed the sleeves of the dress her mother had ordered for her. Vera felt the purple, green, and gold wasn’t exactly the greatest color combination against her skin, but who was she to go against Mardi Gras tradition? May sewed the sleeves to the correct size and length, she had clearly been working on this dress all night, as she’d heard her mother request it the day before and the bags under her eyes were evident. 

“And I think you are finished, Miss Vera. You may look in the mirror,”

She turns to the full-length mirror, revealing the gorgeous deep purple gown embroidered with golden beads at the top around the chest and the bust. The beads adorn the hemline as it draped over her ankles. Around the back, there was a deep green trimming attached to the waist, with golden beads on the bottom of it as well.

“This is gorgeous! You are the best seamstress in New Orleans, not that I have any frame of reference, but still,”

May is flattered “Why thank you, Miss Vera,” she goes to help Vera remove the dress

“You must be the best dressed at every party you go to with this skill,” 

May is slightly uncomfortable with the assumption that she attends parties. She doesn’t respond as she peels the dress off the younger woman’s body. 

“How many of these cute dresses do you have in your closet?” Vera tries to make conversation

The mother shakes her head “None, Miss,”

Vera raises her eyebrows “Really? I figured you’d have so many. If I could make dresses like this I’d constantly be the belle of the ball, how are you not taking advantage of such skill?”

May smiles at the girl, knowing she meant no harm “I don’t really have time to make dresses for myself Miss, or the money,”

“Money? You should be drowning in customers with work of this caliber. What’s stopping you?”

She sighs “Most seamstresses get work over the phone these days. Where I have to get the work in person,”

“You don’t have a phone?”

May shakes her head

“How much is a phone these days? 20? 30 dollars?”

“No ma’am it is about 14 dollars.”

“Oh? Is that all? Here,” Vera reaches into her coin purse and gives her a 50 dollar bill “This is for my dress,” she hands her two 50 dollar bills “And this is for the dress for yourself” She hands her two 20 dollar bills and a 10. “So all together that’s….” she thinks “200 dollars” Vera claps her hands in delight

“Oh, Miss Vera I can’t accept this,”

“May, please, this is a drop in the bucket for me. You see how easily I gave it to you? This money means much more to you than it would to me. Please, take the money, and make yourself a nice dress.” she touches the older woman’s shoulder “And get yourself a phone! So you can get more customers! More people need to know about your work”

The mother nods her head “Thank you,” and hangs up the dress

Vera turns to the mother “Say, were you upset by me taking the Azaleas?”

May isn’t sure if she’s allowed to tell the truth, she doesn’t want to offend the poor girl, or her parents “Oh no, of course not,”

“Please tell me the truth,”

May tilts her head “Well, it was a bit irksome, but I don’t hold it against you. I know that you didn’t know that we sold them.”

“I do sincerely apologize for that, it’s a habit I’m trying to break. My father always has to remind me,”

“It’s quite alright Miss,”

She drops her head “Thank you,”

May starts putting away her supplies “What made you want to ask?”

Vera shakes her head “Oh nothing,”

“Tell me the truth dear,”

“Well, your son called me a thief,”

The mother furrows her brows “Oh Alastor? Do not worry your pretty head about it. He’s protective of the flowers. You did nothing wrong, the only thing he’s more protective over is me,” she waves her off “Don’t think about a thing he says. I’ll talk to him about it,”

“Oh you don’t have to, I just wanted to make sure it was all well with you,”

“It’s alright thank you, Miss,”

“Alastor,” May called for her son

He wipes his hands as he approaches her from outside “Yes Maman?”

“I was talking to Miss Vera and she said that you called her a thief?”

Alastor blushes and looks away “Oh…”

“Did you say that?”

He rubs the back of his neck “I suppose I did,”

May’s palm connects with the side of Alastor’s head “What is wrong with you? Is that how I taught you to treat ladies? And a client at that? Just ‘cuz they ain’t white doesn’t mean you can act up,” 

“I was just joking around Maman,”

“Don’t ‘I was just joking’ me Alastor, you need to watch yourself. I know you’re grown, but this could affect our business, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Thank you, sweetie,”

Alastor lingers in the room “What else did you two talk about?”

She raises her eyebrow “Is that any of your business?”

“I just want to know what you Janes were talking about,”

She purses her lips “We just discussed me buying a phone to get more clients,”

“Where are we getting a phone from?”

His mother pulls out the money from her purse “The Miss gave me some money for it,” she puts it back in her purse “Though I may use it for extra groceries. Or we could get a new icebox,”

Alastor is shocked “A new icebox?!”

His mother nods “She paid me for the dress, gave me money for a phone and enough to make a dress for myself, though I don’t know where I’d even wear a nice dress like the one I made for her,”

“You don’t find that odd Maman?” He crosses his arms “We don’t wanna be taken for saps?”

“Don’t be a killjoy Alastor, the Miss is such a nice girl, why are you being like that?” her eyes soften “Alastor?”

He looks at his mother, confused by her tone.

“Are you stuck on Miss Vera?” 

He blushes hot “Stuck on her theft, yes,”

She puts her hands on her hips “Alastor?”

“Maman?”

“Level with me please,”

He looks away from her “I suppose that she is….pretty spiffy,”

“Aww baby,” May cups her son’s cheek “This is your first crush,” she caresses his cheek “If you like a lady,” she slaps the side of his head again “Charm her, don’t bother her!”

Alastor taps Vera’s shoulder while their parents discuss payment. She turns to him rolling her eyes.

“Yes?”

“What are you playing at?”

Vera’s expression is mixed with confusion and annoyance “To what are you referring?”

Alastor’s lips form a straight line “Giving my mother extra money? She’s not some project, and we’re not a charity case,” he says, completely serious

Vera stares at him, full of disbelief “Are you screwy?” she asks in complete sincerity “What kind of poor person complains about getting more money?”

He looks away “I just don’t want to feel like an experiment,”

Vera looks disgusted “I enjoy your mother’s company.” She speaks with her back to him “She’s a charming woman. I think she deserves to have a phone of all things. If I can make her life easier, then I shall. It’s the least I can do when my family relies on her labor. It just so happens that I am in a fortunate situation where it costs me very little to be kind. And even if it cost me much, such a wonderful woman, deserves something wonderful for herself.” She turns to face him “So no, I am not out to get your mother or you, and I resent the accusation.” Her brows are furrowed and she wears a deep scowl to show her displeasure. 

  “Spend time with your own mother,”

“I do.” she looks around “What’s eating you? Why are you treating me like I’m the opposite of a gold digger?”

“I don’t need some lousy dame who thinks she’s the cat’s meow giving my Maman and I the run-around,”

Vera tilts her head “Maman?”

Alastor blushes “My mother,” he mumbles

“Is that what you call her?”

“And what about it?” he gets defensive

Vera puts her arms behind her back “That’s cute,”

His eyes widen and he drops his guard. Alastor opens his mouth to respond when his mother calls for him.

“Alastor! Come on, unless you want to stay here with Miss Vera!” she jokes

Alastor blushes deeper, looking back at the young woman “Bye,”

Vera pouts her lips “See you tomorrow,” she says batting her lashes.

___________________________________________

Vera woke up to the scent of baked goods, she danced down the staircase to find her entire family in the kitchen, May by the stove just finishing some pastries with powdered sugar. She had prepared pancakes, eggs, hash browns, french toast, bacon, sausage, and grits.

She took a seat at the table, her entire family in their sleepwear. Alastor enters the kitchen, heading for the back door.

“Pardon me,” he states, passing by the table

“Say son, did you eat any breakfast?” Cassius questioned

Alastor turns “No sir, I figured I’d get right to work,”

Vera felt a bit exposed wearing her nightgown in front of a fully dressed Alastor, but she knew better than to give him that satisfaction.

“Sit down! Enjoy a meal why don’t ya? You don’t wanna work yourself to the bone! Your mother’s made a delightful meal! Pull up a chair!”

Alastor forces a smile “Oh I’d rather not, I think I’ll get started early,”

Cassius widens his eyes “I insist,”

May gives her son a look

Alastor exhales, removing his gardening gloves and sitting in an empty chair, far from everyone else.

“Why don’t you move closer?” Daphne suggests

“I’m fine here,”

The Bates family collectively stares at him and his mother shoots him a glare. Alastor reluctantly drags the chair across the floor, slowly and loudly until reaching the table. Once reaching the table, he finally takes a seat.

Cassius clears his throat “I hope that didn’t leave any dents in the floor,” he snaps in May’s direction “When you’re finished with that, take a look at it would you May?”

“Of course,” she says not looking at the man, instead shooting her son a slight glare

Cassius turns back to Alastor, “So son, tell us about yourself,”

“What would you like to know?”

“Do you have an intended?” Daphne smirks as May puts the food on the table in front of the Bates “A young man your age should be thinking about marriage,”

May stands behind her son and lightly taps his back

Alastor ‘ahems’ “Oh no, I haven’t been interested in any women,” Cassius, Daphne, and Vera give him wide eyes, while Brynn reaches for the eggs and fails. May taps her son’s back harder “Or men, of course,” She pushes her son’s head and returns to the stove “But, I have never thought about it,”

“Well, you should! It’s usually around now when young men start courting!” Daphne gives him a grin

“Yes you’re right,” Alastor turns to the youngest Bates “Brynn, may I have your hand?” he jokes, holding out his palm

Brynn dropped her fork and gasped “Yes!” grabbing his fingers with incredibly sticky ones

The rest of the company laugh, Cassius laughing particularly loud as Alastor pulls his hands away, wiping them on the napkin that May handed him. Vera, on the other hand, is not laughing. She does not understand the comedy behind it. She keeps a straight face as May places the square pastries in the middle of the table.

“What is that?”

May turns to her “Hmm?”

“The things you just put on the table,”

“Oh! Those are beignets!”

Vera is confused “What’s a beignet?”

Alastor swallows his eggs and dusts off his hands “They’re a bit like French donuts,”

Vera chuckles “You have egg on your face,”

Alastor raises his brow “Hmm?”

“No, literally,”

Alastor turns to his mother, who points at her own chin, signaling where the food sticks. Alastor blushes and wipes his face with a napkin. Vera giggles and Cassius and Daphne slightly grimace.

“Hmm, how…simple,” The father comments

“Quite,” his wife agrees

Cassius “Oh May, you’ve made enough food, why don’t you join us over here,”

“Of course,” She stands behind her son’s chair

Alastor puts his head down, seeing Vera’s arm reaching past him for a beignet. He watches her wrap her lips around the pastry, licking the powdered sugar from her lips. He feels her pull her foot back and it brushes against his leg on its way to her chair. As the adults continue talking, Alastor reaches his foot toward her, lightly tapping her slipper with his shoe. Her head snaps up.

“Everything alright sweetheart?”

She shakes her head “Sorry, I thought I felt something on me,” she glances at Alastor who gives a sly smirk, letting her know his intentions. They continue the conversation and Vera taps Alastor’s shoe with her foot, to test out her theory, and feels his foot graze her ankle. She was right! He did it on purpose! She rubs his ankle back with her foot, taking it as a challenge, while he pokes her with his toes. She lightly kicks him and he raises his foot her calf slowly. The blush on Vera’s face makes her skin her favorite color and she does the same to him. This time, however, she feels his foot go up much higher on her leg, lifting the hemline of her nightgown much higher, over her knee-

“Mommy! Daddy! Vera is foot wrestling with the garden boy!”

Vera reaches over the table to pinch her sister but is then pinched herself by her mother “Ow!” she rubs her arm 

“You don’t pinch your sister!” Daphne reprimands her older daughter

Cassius clears his throat “Perhaps son, you should get to work,”

“Of course sir,” he says, dragging his foot back down slowly and standing up from the table.

Vera watches him exit through the back door, finally noticing how his trousers fit his legs.

      ______________________________________________________

“You all are going to the Mardi Gras parade, right?”

Alastor turns to the voice talking to him and it’s Vera standing in an outside dress, covering her arms, as the thin material did nothing to shelter her from the cool breeze. He lowered the shears to respond to her.

“You know your daddy will be on my ass if I don’t get this work done,”

Vera shrugs “So get it done,” she states plainly

“I would, but a little doll keeps distracting me,”

She stares up at him, over her glasses and he stares down under his

“Look at me over your cheaters all you want, I got a job to do,” he returns to the branches

Vera stands beside him and looks at his face as he prunes the branches “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to the parade,”

He clamps the shears shut over the dead branch “We’re gonna swing by one of them,”

“One?” she seems confused

“Yeah,” he glances down at her and grins “You didn’t think there was only one did you?”

She blushes. She did think that. “My family is going to the one run by the Krewe of Iris, my mother is a member,”

“Oh?” He lowers the shears “Is that why you all requested those ritzy-looking clothes?” she nods “This is their first year,”

“Oh,” she says, leaving a beat of silence “Which one are you going to?”

“Krewe of Endymion, and no I’m not a member. I like to watch,”

“What are you going to wear?”

He raises his brow “Probably nothing very different from what I’ve got on right now,”

Vera looks shocked “What? You’re going to wear that?! Your mother’s a seamstress, why not wear something nice?!”

Alastor places the shears on the ground and turns to face her directly, he puts his gloved hand on her shoulder and she flinches a bit. He sets his brows and his lips in a line “I want to make something clear to you. Some of us, namely my mother and I, do not have everything you do. And we do not have the time, the money, or the resources to get them because we’re working for fat cats like your daddy just to survive,”

Vera had no idea what to say to that, at that moment, all she could feel was the warmth on her cheeks and the weight of Alastor’s hand on her shoulder. Without his eyes leaving hers, he lowered his hand down to her arm. The wind blows as his hand travels down to capture her silk-covered fingers.

“Do you dislike me?” she asks

“No,” he responds, the winds perfectly combing through his hair “I do however, dislike your talks of your possessions and your ignorance. But what I dislike the most,” he steps closer “is your father getting in the way,”

“In the way of what?” she asked, her chest unexpectedly warming and her stomach shockingly flipping.

He gives her a giant silly grin and puts her hair behind her ear. The gesture is useless, as the wind blew her hair back, but her skin tingled regardless.

“Vera!” she turns to see her mother at the back door “Let that boy do his work! Should you not be in here studying your mathematics?”

Vera doesn’t look back as she answers the call, walking back to the house and to her mother. When she steps into the door frame, Cassius comments on the leaves and dirt on Vera’s sleeve, giving a dirty look to Alastor in the backyard.

Alastor takes a long blink and picks the shears up once more. This time, however, when he cuts off the dead branches and watches them fall, he imagines that he’s cutting Mr. Bates’s neck and watching his head fall with a thud.

__________________________________________

Vera knocks on the front door of the house. “May?” she calls inside “It’s me, it’s Vera! My father sent me over?” she knocks a few more times, standing on the small porch, waiting before the door swung open with force and Alastor stood behind it. Vera’s cheeks warmed “Oh, hello,” she wiggled her gloved fingers

“What’s up?” His expression seems somewhat dark as he leans on the doorframe

“I thought your mother was here,” she says, not really answering the question

He crosses his arms “She is not,”

Vera blinks “Is she coming back?”

“Hopefully,”

Vera stares past the man and into the house, blinking rapidly.

Alastor glances behind him “Would you like to come inside?”

She nods “Yes, please,” he moves out of the frame to allow her to walk in before him, and he closes the door behind them. Once inside, he makes a beeline for the living room, where music can be heard playing.

“What brings you here?”

Vera chuckles “I volunteered to come over to give your Mama the money for the rest of the year, but I suppose I can give it to you,” her gloves are white as snow, and she removes her hat and hands him the wad of cash “What are you listening to?”

“WWL,” he responds, sitting up

“Hmm,” she says, trailing her fingers over the couch 

Alastor leans back with his head against the wall “I know you don’t care much for radio, but I don’t need to hear it right now,”

“It’s not that I don’t care for it,” she comes closer to the young man “I just don’t understand the urge to be on it,” she chuckles “Tell me,”

He turns to her “Hmm?”

“Tell me why you want to do radio,”

She stands over him as he sits up in place “Well, radio stars are the pinnacle of celebrity,”

“And?”

He doesn’t know what to say “And…everybody listens,”

“Mhmm? Is that all?”

Alastor shakes his head “No, you don’t understand. Everybody listens. Not just some people, everybody. Radio hosts and late-night stories have everyone on the edge of their seats, hanging onto every word they say. To the point where people don’t even get up to use the toilet for fear of missing what will come out of their mouth next. The people are gripped, practically chained to it. They don’t miss a single broadcast, at least, I don’t. I want to do that. I want to be that because I need to know that when I talk, there’s always someone who will listen,” He had started staring out the window as he spoke, but he turned back to Vera when he finished and saw the tears almost fall out of her eyes, he looks away in embarrassment. “It’s not sad, I don’t know why you’re doing that,”

“I’m sorry,”

His neck snaps with how fast he turns to her “What?”

“I’m so sorry. For the things I said when we met. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my whole life. I think I’ve been moved by your words. Honestly,”

Alastor blushes “I don’t think that it was that serious,”

“I didn’t mean those things anyway,” she went on “I only said it because I got my feelings hurt,” she smiled awkwardly 

“What did I say that hurt your feelings?” 

She tilts her head “Well… you laughed at me and implied that being an actress is a useless pipe dream,”

“Right…” Alastor readjusts himself “Well, why do you want to do acting?”

“Well, I want to be seen. The same way you want to be heard, when you’re on the stage and you see the crowd, they paid to be there. So you know they want you, want to see you. I want that to be me,” she clenches her fists as she imagines herself on the stage, spotlights on her in the center, with the audience’s undivided attention. There’s a glimmer in her eyes as she tells him this, one that tells him she means every single word of it.

His expression softens a lot “Wow, you’re so beautiful,” she looks back at him, her thoughts broken “Well, that was so beautiful,”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she places with the ends of her hair. 

The two of them sit in comfortable silence, with her staring off into the distance and him staring at her. At a random moment, she snaps back into reality.

“Well, I should get going, my parents are expecting me,” she snickers, replacing her hat “And I don’t think my father likes you very much,” she laughs, but Alastor doesn’t find it funny

Alastor doesn’t want her to leave, and her father was getting on his last nerve. As she exited the living room, he made quick strides to black the front door, as he had come up with an idea. One to get a secret one up on Mr. Bates and to make sure that even if she left, a piece of her would always be here, with him.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he puts on his celebrity smile as she pulls back slightly shocked at his appearance in front of the door

She smiles nervously “Do you need something?”

“Well yes, I need you to come see something with me,”

“Where?” she questions

“Follow me,”

She could decline, or insist on heading back home, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. “Fine,”

He leads her out the back door and into the woods behind the house. Not very deep, however, more like where a child would play. She did her best to not get dirt on her blouse, skirt, or gloves, as it would be very difficult to hide. When he stopped it was in front of a small structure made of wood that if one squinted, they could say it looked like a house.

“Ta-da!”

Vera tilts her head “What am I looking at?”

Alastor chuckles “It’s a fort,” 

It amuses her “For a child,” she snickers “Did you build this?”

“With my own two hands, my dear,”

She crouches “When? When you were a boy?” she laughs

It has enough room to fit them both, but only if they lie down….on top of each other. She looks back at him

“Indeed,” he grins

“This is adorable but, why did you bring me here?” she questions

Alastor pulls her back by her waist and she blushes at being held there. He crouches and kneels, removing his jacket and laying it on the floor of the fort.

“Go on in,”

“Are you screwy?”

“Trust me, go in,”

She shakes her head with disbelief and chooses to trust him. She crouches once more and enters the tiny fort, Alastor entering behind her. There is more space than she thought, but not by much. She fit inside fully, but Alastor was so tall that his feet threatened to stick out of the door. Vera giggles at the sight. Alastor smiles at the sound of her giggle and removes her hat.

“Miss Bates?”

She flutters her lashes “Yes?”

“Have you ever…been with a man?”

The blush overtakes her face and she covers her mouth with her gloved hands. Alastor grabs her hands and pulls them back down to her lap, waiting for an answer

“Is that an…appropriate topic?”

He stares over his lenses “I thought you were a flapper at heart,”

“I-“ she looks away, embarrassed slightly “I am, but-“ she closes her eyes, trying not to giggle anymore

“But?” he goads her

“Well, I haven’t been with any men, but…” she pushes some of her hair back “I have…done things with some of my friends.”

“What kind of things?” He raises his brow

“Like with our fingers?” She bites her lip in embarrassment

Alastor raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes “So you haven’t tried the newest trend?”

“What trend?” she looks interested

Alastor leans in “The trend where you have a man taste what’s between your legs?” he smirks, he lids his eyes at her

Vera’s face quickly turns pink “I-I’ve never heard of that..” she stammers

“It’s a new thing, cher. All the free-thinking women are doing it. Isn’t that what you stand for?”

She glances to the side “Well, yes, but I don’t know if we should be talking about this.”

“Don’t you believe in equal rights for women?”

“Of course I do!”

“Doesn’t that include sexual freedom?” he leans toward her

“Well, yes but-“

“Then why don’t we try it? It’s supposed to represent a role reversal of the subjugation of women.”

Vera’s breath starts to get heavy, thinking about the man in front of her being between her legs. She also started feeling hot in the space he was asking to taste. She knew that this wasn’t the first time she had thought about Alastor this way, but now that he was asking, it all felt so real. She wasn’t sure if she was still too young for this kind of thing. She was 19 and they weren’t married. This moment had shown its face in all her fantasies, and now she had the chance to make it true. She was a young, free woman goddammit! She could make her own decisions, including who and what goes between her legs! And besides, who said her future husband ever had to know?

“Okay, but you’ll be gentle right?” She looks up at him through her lashes

He crawls towards her, thinking about how pretty she looks right now “Of course,” he whispers against her lips before connecting with them. He kisses her with passion, and although she is startled, she quickly sinks into it; running her hands up his chest and landing around his neck. Allowing his tongue to enter her mouth and him to press her up against the wall to the small area. Her heat pooled underneath her long skirt, full of anticipation for what was coming next. 

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, only for Vera to pull him back in, once, twice, three times. He smirks and licks his bottom lip. “I promise it will be worth it ma chérie.” He gives her a few more small kisses before descending and lifting up her skirt to go under it. She felt him pull down her tights and panties halfway down, then felt his warm breath on her heat. Her breath hitched in her throat as he planted a light kiss on her wet heat. She laid back waiting for something else to happen.

Alastor slides his tongue into her vagina, Vera is shocked by the sensation of the intrusion. At first, it felt strange, but then it started to feel good. The feeling of his wet tongue on the inside of her wet core was something magical. He begins to massage the nerves inside her with the curve of his tongue, and each curve and twist had Vera making a symphony of moans in different octaves. Alastor stayed inside of her for what must have been an hour, but it was entirely too short for him. He was tasting paradise and did not want to leave. 

When he did remove his tongue he made his way to her clit, Alastor licked and flitted with it. Vera starts moaning at the sudden influx of pleasure. He drags his tongue around and around her clit, then begins sucking on the bud. Her moans get louder and louder, so she has to cover her mouth to avoid being heard by anyone else who might be in the woods. He sucks the bud like his life depended on it; like he needed this little bean to survive. Vera couldn’t help but moan louder and louder as the pleasure built up inside of her. She bites on one of her fingers to keep the volume of her voice down. The volume of her voice grows louder and louder, the longer he sucks on her clit. Her breath is growing heavier than before. She looks down at him, not knowing what else to do while feeling this, and sees his arm sitting up, palm open. She grabs his hand and grips it, squeezing her thighs around his head, as the knot in her gut grows tighter and tighter. Alastor uses his lips to pull on her clit and the knot snaps as she is overwhelmed with pleasure, she begins moaning at the top of her lungs.

Alastor comes from under her skirt and embraces her in another passionate kiss, swallowing her moans. She wraps her arms around him as he lowers her onto the coat he laid under her. He lays on top of her, kissing and feeling her as she rides out her first manmade orgasm.

It may have looked awkward when she finally did leave, her face fully red while trying not to smile, and the gigantic smirk on his face. He tried for a goodbye kiss as she walked out the door, but she simply placed her hand on his chest and silently walked out. He was right in his plan. She’d left her taste with him, and nobody, not even her father could take that from him.

Imagine his surprise when his mother called him down on her way out one morning, telling him that he had mail. He tore open the envelope with confusion, only to have to fight the gigantic grin from crawling onto his face as he read it.

Dear Alastor,

Hello, this is Vera Bates. I’m not sure if you know any other Vera’s. Ha ha!

Anyway, I will just get to the point and say that I can not stop thinking about you and…

what we did.

Oh, I’m so embarrassed just thinking about it. I can feel my face turning red. Ha ha!

Anyway, I was hoping that we could write until we see each other again. I don’t think I want my father to hear me on the phone, haha.

Write back, please.

Love, Vera

Immediately he went to find a pen and paper to respond. 

Dear Vera,

Hello to you as well! This is Alastor, haha!

I hope all is well with you, my dear. What we did is on my mind as well, and I am hoping that perhaps we could do something

like it again? If I am allowed to be so forward with you Miss Bates. Catch me up on your adventures in New York City!

I’d love to hear more about your Broadway dreams. And maybe other types of dreams…about me?

It is an honor to write to you.

Sincerely, Alastor

He smirked as he wrote the letter, knowing it would make her blush. They went back and forth like this for the rest of the year. Eager to see her once again and perhaps continue what they’d started, he was up bright and early, ready for the day the Bates came back. But she didn’t come that year, or the next. Her parents did, but Vera was absent, and the letters had stopped too. Of course, he had made it all up in his head, he wasn’t even sure if what he was feeling was real. He had never felt this before, in his entire life. He could have asked her parents about her, but that would be admitting that he cared, and he didn’t so, he did his job and left—day in and day out until the Bates were gone. 

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Summer | JJK

Hello Darlings!!!

Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)

Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only on your memories but also in your heart.

Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of arranged marriage, eating, love, historical au, forbidden love, betrayal, royal au, more angst (prepare yourself for it), ancient traditions. (I think that's all, if I forgot to mention something and you consider I should put it here, please let me know!)

Word Count: 9.4k

*A/N Hello everyone, thank you for giving this story a chance. This is my first time posting for Jungkook in here so I really hope you'll like this first chapter of my four-chaptered series. If you liked this, please let me know in the comments!! I'd also like to know your thoughts for the next part :)

*Banner made by me.

The sun was shining outside the big halls of the palace, the golden rays kissed the freshly cut grass and illuminated the place beautifully. How you wished you could go out there and sit under a tree, enjoy the warmth of the season and live without a care in the world.

However, you found yourself only wishing to do those things as your eyes stared out of one of the many opened windows of the palace, watching how the guards paced from place to place while the maids carried important things.

"Your highness, which silk would you like for your wedding dress?"

That brought you out of your thoughts, turning your gaze down to where one of the maids was presenting you with different kinds of silk but to you, they all looked the same. It was getting tiring having to decide so many things for a wedding that would be celebrated up until winter.

There was so much to do in such little time. And it was stressing you out not only because of the time but you weren't enjoying the preparations at all. This wasn't what you wanted, you didn't even know who your husband was going to be and that just wasn't right. If your father arranged your marriage the least he could offer was to know who your soon-to-be husband was going to be and get to know him as best as possible.

"I can't decide. I'll leave it to your professional opinion."

You said to the royal seamstress, she bowed at you and said, her eyes glued on the floor as you stood up from where you were sitting.

"I'm honoured, your highness."

A small smile graced your lips before you made your way out of the room, your dress trailing behind you as you left the place without another word.

A sigh escaped your lips once you were outside of your room, the sun kissed your skin delicately as you kept your gaze forward, admiring the beautiful gardens of the palace.

You still couldn't grasp the fact that you were going to get married in a couple of months. It was just way too sudden that your brain hadn't processed the information yet.

Every week, you were allowed to leave the palace for a day followed by guards and only able to walk around certain parts of the city. The people welcomed you with smiles and open arms each and every time you visited the city. You, the princess of Gyeongdong, were loved by the people and they couldn't wait for you to be their queen.

But since your engagement was announced, you leaving the palace was out of the map now. Your father couldn't risk something happening to you when the wedding was so close, furthermore, you were his only daughter after your mother passed away after giving birth to you, your father's princess as well as the kingdom's next ruler.

"Princess!"

You turned around at the sound of the voice of one of your closest people in the palace. The royal counsellor's son and a dear friend of yours, Jung Hoseok.

When he arrived next to you a smile was painted over his lips, he bowed down at you making you frown a bit.

"Stop it, I've told you many times before that you don't have to bow in front of me."

He chuckled, his hands behind his back as he straightened back up.

"Yes, I have. There are so many guards and court ladies that could see and that wouldn't be good for me, princess."

You sighed at his answer. He had said it time and time again but you just wanted to have a normal friendship, was that too much to ask? Maybe it was. At least for now.

"I'm sorry, you are right. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because me."

Hoseok smiled and that made a small smile paint over your own lips. That was a power only he had, he would smile and it would make you smile too.

"It's alright, I can be sneaky when I want. Especially to the kitchen. They never know when I was there."

That made you let out a snort before laughing completely. Forgetting about proper manners or who could be watching you at the moment, you just lived that fragment of time. Enjoy it how it should be enjoyed.

"Speaking of..."

He continued, bringing his hands in front of him only for you to notice the small package covered with white fabric. You smiled widely at him.

"...I managed to sneak out some fish-shaped pastries."

You let out a squeal while Hoseok unwrapped the package and opened the lid for you to see he had bought your favourite dessert.

"Thank you, Hobi! I've been craving this since last week!"

With that, you took one and immediately began eating it, savouring the sweet flavour inside your mouth as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"Why didn't you just order for the maids to bring some pastries to your room, your highness?"

You sighed, swallowing the sweet treat only for then to say, your joyous face turning slightly sombre when the bubble of happiness was suddenly popped with reality.

"I am not allowed to eat anything like this, at least not until my wedding day. King's orders."

Hoseok's eyes widened in surprise at your words. Panic flared through his features as he came to the sudden realisation that he was disobeying the king's direct order. He looked around frantically, searching for people nearby that had witnessed him giving you the pastries while you continued to munch on another bite of the sweet treat.

The next thing he did, however, made your eyes widen as the remainder of the fish-shaped sweet was taken from your hand rather abruptly only for Hoseok to throw it in his mouth at the end. It all happened too fast you were left staring at your best with a dumbfounded face.

"Yah! Why did you d-"

You cut your sentence when you spotted one of the court ladies followed by a group of maids appearing in your peripheral vision. You quickly straightened your back while Hoseok hid the package he was holding behind his back, swallowing the remains of the pastry he took from your hands.

The court lady bowed when she stood in front of you, the other maids mirroring her actions. When she stood back up, she said, her voice cold and her attitude as strict as always.

"My Lady, His Majesty; The King, has requested your presence at the main hall."

You curtsided softly, a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you, I shall go there immediately."

And with that, you turned around and began walking along the large gardens with Hobi following you at a proper distance. When you rounded a corner and were out of the court lady's sight, you sighed. Hoseok caught up to you and you smiled at him.

"Thanks, Hobi."

Those whispered words made him smile, he looked back before saying.

"I should probably go back, I'll see you later, princess."

You nodded at him with a soft smile over your beautiful features and he bowed slightly at you only for then to fast-walk to the opposite direction from where you stood. You were left alone again and took a deep breath before you continued on your way to the throne room where your presence was requested.

"Her highness, princess Lee (y/n), has entered the main hall!"

The eunuch announced, you walked towards the throne with your hands clasped in front of you, your head low as you made your way across the place.

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"

You said, you gaze glued to the floor after you bowed at your father. He chuckled a bit, before saying.

"Princess (y/n), your fiancé, Prince of the Park family will be visiting us this autumn, the wedding will be held here, in the royal palace. I expect you to behave accordingly, dearest."

You bowed to him, not surprised at all with the news as you were already aware that the man you were going to marry was coming to stay at the palace, thanks to one of the maids who eavesdropped a conversation between two of the court ladies.

"I will do as you wish, Your Majesty."

He nodded, allowing you to retreat back to your room. The moment you were out of the main hall you let out a deep sigh. This was it. You were really getting married by the end of the year. You just hoped that the Prince of the Park family would be a nice person and would treat you right. Perhaps there would be no love in that marriage, you didn't expect it at all but the least you could get was the rightful place as his wife and Queen of Gyeongdong.

It was unfair, yes. Had you hoped to meet your only true love while being a child, of course but that wasn't your story anymore. You weren't a princess that needed to be rescued by a charming man only for then to fall in love. You had a duty with the kingdom, with your father and with yourself.

This marriage had to happen, even if you didn't totally approve of it. It was something that had to be done and there was no turning back.

"The Princess is getting married this winter."

The announcement made the royal guards look towards their superior as he stood at the doorway of the place they were having dinner.

"Her Highness is so lucky."

"She is marrying a Prince."

"Obviously, she is really beautiful."

"I wish I could get someone as beautiful as the Princess."

These and more murmurs could be heard in the room where all the guards enjoyed their warm food. But then, their superior, Captain Min Yoongi said, his voice back to its commanding tone.

"Yah! I didn't tell you all this for you to fantasise about your non-existent love life. This is important, the Princess needs to be guarded with more attention now that the wedding is close to the agreed date. Now, finish all your dinner and we will begin with the night's patrol in a couple of minutes."

With that, the captain left the place. Going back to his own personal quarters until it was time for the patrolling.

Meanwhile, at the guard's dinner table, the murmurs and comments didn't stop.

"They say Her Highness is marrying the Prince of the Park family."

"No, no, no, you heard it wrong. She is marrying the Kim's family first born. I heard they are the wealthiest family after the royal family in all of Gyeongdong."

You paced back and forth in your room. Tomorrow was the day that you usually went down to the city and left the confinement of the palace. But now, you were prohibited from leaving the royal grounds. The hot summer air entered through the opened windows and you stopped pacing. It would be of no use if you tried to convince the head court lady to let you go out.

She would immediately tell your father and that wouldn't do any good. Right now, you don't need any more prohibitions, what you needed was to get out of the place, just for a day. Clear your head from all the wedding plans and stuff that was forced into you.

You sat down with a huff, your skirts puffing out with your action. There was no-one that would take you out of the place tomorrow as they'd all fear the consequences if they got caught.

Perhaps I can beg father one last time. I'll beg on my knees if I have to.

With that thought in mind, you stood up from your crouching position and grabbed one of the lanterns in your room before you left the comfortable place and walked along the gardens, the lantern illuminating your path as you made your way to the King's palace.

-

"Your Majesty, Princess (y/n) has requested an audience with you. She said it was urgent."

Said the king's personal royal guard. He then told him after taking a sip from his cup of tea.

"Let her in."

The guard bowed and walked towards the closed doors, he opened the entrance way and you entered your father's room. Your head hung low. When you found yourself standing in front of him with the table with his dinner being the only thing between you both, you commented in a soft voice.

"Your Majesty, forgive me for coming here late at night but I have a request to make you."

The king sighed, putting his small cup on the table and giving you his complete attention.

"Go on."

You gulped, preparing the words you were about to say. It was now or never.

"I... I wish to go down to the city tomorrow."

You heard him take a deep breath and you screwed your eyes shut. Had you been, perhaps, too direct with your petition?

"We have already discussed this. I will not let you leave this place until you are married. Go back to your room."

His words made you feel hopeless, trapped in a cage. A golden cage. A lump began forming in your throat due to his harsh tone but you wouldn't back away that easily. Your father's eyes widened when you sank down on your knees, your eyes leaving the ground only to lock them with the man who raised you.

"Please. I beg you. I'm not asking you this as the Princess and future Queen of Gyeongdong but as your daughter. I feel trapped here, it's suffocating. I promise I'll behave completely when the Prince and his family come to the palace but I plead to you to let me enjoy the little time I have as an unmarried woman.

I promise I won't disappoint you, father. Please, don't keep me here like a trophy. Please just let me go out once a week. That's all I'm asking."

There was silence after you finished, a silence that was beginning to feel asphyxiating. There was no noise that could be heard, not even the rustling of the wind outside and you could swear that you'd be able to hear a drop of ink landing on the ground with how silent the atmosphere had suddenly gone.

"Go back to your room, (y/n). I don't want to discuss this any further."

You let out a defeated sigh, blinking back the tears that had gathered in your (e/c) eyes. Standing up, you bowed at your father and said before leaving the room.

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

When you found yourself back in your room was when you finally let your tears go. The lantern you were carrying was left abandoned near the entrance way as you made your way to your bed setting. You didn't even bother to change from your dress and laid down over the soft covers.

You already knew that once you got married you wouldn't be able to leave the palace unless it was some kind of political matter that would require your presence otherwise you'd stay in the palace grounds forever.

And now, when you had the chance of enjoying the last remains of your time alone, your father prohibited it. The tears rolled down your cheeks as you curled yourself under the blankets, the tears were a reflection of your anger and sadness but mostly a feeling of hopelessness that had settled in your heart since the news of your engagement was announced.

You didn't know when exactly you fell asleep but when you opened your eyes again, you were met with your room illuminated by the early sun rays. You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, when you stood up you heard one of your personal damsels say from the outside of your room.

"Your Highness, your new clothes are ready."

Walking towards the entrance way, you opened the door and let the maid as well as two more women who always assisted her in dressing you inside the place you had slept last night.

One of the three women inside began arranging your bed setting while another one displayed your clothes for the day. You had to admit it was a beautiful dress with a deep blue purple and puffy skirt and a white top which had details in light blue. The silk of the dress seemed soft at the touch and you could swear it was as all your dresses were made with the best fabrics of Gyeongdong.

"My Lady, can we assist you in getting ready for today?"

The maid who had spoken not even five minutes ago outside of your room asked, her voice was gentle and she kept her gaze lowered. Her words triggered something inside you. What was the point in getting ready if no-one was going to see such fine clothes? No-one, other than the people at the palace saw you walk around the gardens so, was it really worth it using these clothes when all you did was stay inside all day?

No.

That was what you answered to yourself. It wasn't fair, it wasn't needed. It wasn't worth it. You were deep in thought as you let the three maids dress you up with the beautiful dress that was, indeed, very soft to the touch.

When you came out of your thoughts, you were sitting on the floor as delicate fingers ran through your hair, combining it and styling it properly. Just as the maid was about to put a couple of pins in your hair, another one of the damsels suddenly said, making you look up from your lap.

"Princess, His Majesty is coming here!"

You stood up, dusting off your skirts only for then to go to the door. The three maids followed you. When you opened the entrance way and found yourself in the doorway of your own palace you saw how your father stood in the garden in front of your door. Captain Min stood at his right as four other guards stayed behind the King.

You bowed, your damsels mirroring your action until you spoke in a clear yet emotionless voice.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. What can I do for you this early in the morning?"

The king let out a deep breath, you lifted your head and looked at your father, your hands clasped together in front of you.

"I am assigning you a personal royal guard,"

That instantly caught your attention, the look in your eyes changing to one of hope upon hearing that sentence.

"only with him by your side are you allowed to leave the palace grounds."

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the smile that threatened to grow on your face.

"First Officer Jeon,"

Your father named out and one of the four guards stepped at the front, kneeling in front of his king. From your perspective, you could tell he was tall and well built, you stood in the doorway without moving, expecting your father's next words.

"you are to keep the princess safe until the day you die. Her safety is in your hands. You must accompany her to wherever she wishes to go and never let her out of your sight. That is your duty as the princess' personal royal guard."

The man you came to know his name was Officer Jeon then said, his voice low and certain of his next words.

"I swear no harm will ever fall upon Her Highness as long as my heart is beating. I'll protect her with my life."

You swallowed at his words, the severity of his vow downing on you.

"Very well, stand up Officer Jeon. Princess (y/n), you are now free to leave the palace just remember the rules, I don't want you going out everyday or staying out until late at night."

You bowed once more, a wide smile over your lips.

"I appreciate your generosity, Your Majesty. I promise to follow the rules to the fullest."

The king chuckled and you straightened up, a gleam of happiness in your eyes.

"Very well then, I shall take my leave."

You all bowed as the king left, Captain Min Yoongi and the other three guard following him as they began discussing some plans of safety for Gyeongdong but your mind couldn't care about their strategies at the moment as the happiness of going out once more clouded any other thought that could cross your mind.

First Officer Jeon turned around, facing you. You smiled at him before looking at one of the maids that were smiling among themselves.

"Bring me my outer robe and small handbag, please."

"Right away, Your Highness."

The damsel quickly went inside your room to fetch the items you just requested, in the meantime you turned towards the man whose duty was to protect you at all costs. He was looking across the garden, perhaps he hadn't been this much in this part of the palace. You thought to yourself.

The summer outer robe in white silk was placed over your shoulders and you grabbed the bag from the maid's hand. You thanked her before skipping along the small steps until your feet landed on the green grass that covered the outside territory of your palace.

"Shall we go, Officer Jeon?"

You walked down the first steps of the palace, the main gate opened and you felt like you could suddenly breathe again. A sigh escaped your lips as you ventured through the gate and out of the palace, a golden prison.

Your personal guard was trailing behind you, keeping a proper distance between you both. You watched him from the corner of your eyes, approaching the city as you two walked towards it.

"You can walk next to me, you know?"

First Officer Jeon looked at the back of your head upon hearing those words.

"That wouldn't be proper of me, Princess."

You pouted slightly before you turned to face him while still walking backwards to the city. His eyes widened a bit at your action and took in how care-free you looked.

"But what if someone attacks me and you are standing behind me? You should always walk by my side."

A soft smile was plastered over your features while still facing him. However, he ignored what you said and commented, his voice a bit more distant than before.

"You will trip if you walk like that."

It was a statement rather than a possibility and that had you frowning up at him. If he was going to be like this then your little trips to the city and nearby villages were going to be a bit dull, at least until you got to your desired destination.

"I won't! I don't lik-"

But your sentence got cut off when, just as he predicted, you tripped with a small rock. You gasped when you felt your body being pulled down to the ground by gravity, the heavy skirts of your dress not allowing you to gain back your footing.

It was only when you felt a firm hand grasping yours and a pull over your body when you were back on your feet.

"I told you you would trip over."

Officer Jeon said, his voice cold and distant but you were able to catch a tinge of humour behind his words. A soft blush painted your cheeks when you realised he was still holding your hand in his surprisingly warm one.

Out of a sudden you felt shy, retrieving your hand from his grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him as you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were a mere second ago.

"That... that was- it wouldn't... aish. I don't like for people to walk behind me, I feel like I'm being followed. Just... just do me the favour, could you? Just walk next to me, I promise you won't get in trouble."

He sighed, looking around before agreeing with a silent nod.

"And, thanks by the way. For not letting me fall down."

He bowed slightly, the both of you continuing your path down to the city.

"I was just doing my work, Princess."

You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile from shining all over your face. He indeed took that vow to heart. You thought. Looking up at him, you noticed just how handsome your personal guard was and a warm sensation spread all over your body.

"So... tell me. What's your name? How would you like me to call you?"

Your question made him look down at you for a split second but you continued to watch him with curiosity. If he was going to always be with you, at least you could be friends?

"I am the First Officer of the Royal Guards, Jeon Jungkook. You can call me as you please, My Lady."

Jeon Jungkook.

You had to admit the name suited him. You blinked at him and said with a smile, more of asked him though.

"Is it okay if I call you just by your first name?"

Jungkook kept his gaze straight forward as he answered your question.

"As I told you, Princess, you may call me as you please."

You smiled at him, some silence falling between you both. It was a comfortable one and you just knew that you and Jungkook would get along pretty well. You could feel it.

"It's the Princess!"

A villager exclaimed when he caught sight of you with your royal guard walking by your side.

"She's back!"

"Her Highness has arrived!"

This and more exclamations were heard among the people that were suddenly surrounding you and Jungkook. You gave a sweet smile to all the people who greeted you and bowed respectfully at you, their Princess.

Jungkook was alert, keeping an eye on you while checking the place. The crowd began getting bigger and bigger and to him, that only meant the risk of something happening that could put your safety on the line was increasing.

He had never seen the people from the city so enthusiastic about someone, however he could tell you were really loved by Gyeongdong's citizens.

With a smile, you received the little gifts from the people all while Jungkookk never left your side. You could feel how tense he was when there were too many people around you but, even if you had only met him that same morning, you felt safe with him.

You knew that as long as he was next to you, no harm would come over you. It was strange but for some reason, he radiated that sense of protection.

Later that day, you sat under a wide tree located in the middle of the village, Jungkook was standing at your left side, his eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You opened one of the bags you were gifted that a kind, older woman had given you. A smile was painted over your face when your eyes landed on the fish-shaped pastries you loved so much.

Jungkook looked down at you as you giggled softly and began eating the sweet treat.

"You can sit down, you know?"

You voiced out after having swallowed the pastry. When you looked up you found him already looking at you.

"And don't say "it's not proper" you can sit down and still keep me safe."

Jungkook sighed, of course it was not proper for him to sit next to you however, your care-free spirit slowly but surely got to him and he was about to crouch down on the floor next to you. But how could he? He was just your royal guard, people could misunderstand his actions for wanting something from you which wasn't true. He had one duty and that was to protect you at all costs but it seemed you were making it difficult with your soft aura and kind spirit and it was just the first day with this new job.

"No, Princess. I must stay here, I have a place next to you and that is as your royal guard."

Now it was your time to sigh, you knew he was right but was it really that harmful to just try to be friends with him? Perhaps he viewed it that way but you couldn't help it, you had been so alone your entire life that it was only natural for you to try and establish some kind of relationship in terms of friendship.

"I'm sorry. You are right."

With that, you stood up, not feeling in the mood to stay there any longer.

"You don't have to apologise, Princess. It is, after all, my job."

Another sigh escaped your lips as you began walking along the path that led to the palace. Jungkook following you from behind and he couldn't help but think how his action ruined the enthusiastic mood you were in some hours ago however, he knew it was necessary to set the boundaries since the very beginning otherwise something harmful could happen between him and you, the lonely princess who was destined to be queen and possessed a big heart.

When you were back at the palace, Jungkook made sure to escort you to your room but as you were about to enter the place, you turned to him and said, a soft smile over your lips though not as wide as when the both of you had parted from the royal grounds.

"Thank you for coming with me to the city."

He bowed down at you, not saying a word. When he straightened back up he was met with the sight of you holding a small bag towards him.

"You can have them, you looked like you wanted some of them. I won't be able to finish them all anyway."

Jungkook took the bag from your hand hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours for a split second before the contact was broken.

"I appreciate your generosity, Princess. Rest well."

You smiled a little wider at him, your hands clasping in front of you.

"You rest as well, Jungkook."

With that being said you entered your room, sliding the door shut. Only when Jungkook saw that you had closed the door did he begin walking back to his own room.

He let out a deep breath as he sat on the floor, the little bag you had given him before going back to your room was still in his hand and he couldn't help but open the small package. Surprised struck Jungkook when he saw the fish-shaped pastries inside. Had he been too obvious when he looked at you while you ate them? Maybe he was.

A soft smile adorned his handsome face as he took one out and began eating it. He had never before met you in person, he had never before been in your presence and certainly not that close as today but he couldn't deny that the Princess of Gyeongdong was a kind-hearted woman, blessed with her mother's beauty and her father's intelligence.

As he finished the pastry, he couldn't help but think that his words were a little harsh to you. You were only being friendly with him but he was afraid he could get you in trouble for such indecencies. But if you didn't mind him being that close to you, was it really a problem?

He recalled all the times he had seen you. From afar. And you always looked to be quite lonely for the future queen of Gyeongdong. You were always immersed in yourself and, even in those countable memories he had of you before he became your personal guard, your eyes seemed to sparkle when someone talked to you, when someone, anyone, brought you out of your little bubble of loneliness.

You had been extremely happy that morning when you got to know he was going to be accompanying you to the city and Jungkook couldn't describe the way your eyes had lit up when you found out he was going to be around you until you got married, maybe even after that.

Perhaps there was still time to change your perspective of him, maybe he could get you to open a bit to him. Yes, he was supposed to protect you but that didn't mean only physical harm but emotional pain too. If what you needed was some company afterall, he was more than capable of giving you that.

He would try, he had to. Jungkook couldn't picture you, the sweet Princess, not smiling at all. It was one of your many beautiful qualities. And maybe, he could be the person you needed to bring you out of your self-absorbed world.

Besides, he didn't intend to be involved with you, not even in friendship. So, was there a problem at all?

One Month Later

It was early in the morning when Jungkook found himself walking towards your room. His own bedroom was close to yours in case anything happened. Well, as close as it was proper for it to be. He made his way through a path he now knew by memory as every day, for the past month, he had waited for you outside of your room only to never leave your side throughout the day up until it was nighttime and the both of you had to part ways.

Jungkook could tell that you were now more relaxed in his presence than the beginning, even if you had seemed okay at first when he practically was glued to you, now it was so normal to you that you even felt strange in those rare moments when he wasn’t with you. 

He also kept his own promise, he set the boundaries with you and the pair of you existed as just that, employer and employee. He was meant to protect, you were the one he needed to protect. That was it. Or at least that was what Jungkook told himself every night before going to sleep.

When he stopped by your room, he got surprised, nearly alarmed as you weren’t there and the door was opened. He cursed under his breath and turned around, already with some places in mind to search for you until he spotted one of the maids.

As he approached her, he noticed it was the woman who always helped you get dressed in the mornings, she also did your hair and makeup for the day.

"Excuse me, is Her Highness in the royal grounds? I just came here but she isn't in her room."

The damsel put down her basket that had in it clean, white sheets and replayed almost immediately as she could sense Jungkook's panic laced voice.

"She is in the practice grounds. Or at least that's what she commented this morning."

Jungkook thanked the kind maid before jogging off to the practice grounds of the palace.

The moment he arrived, he was met with a swishing sound across the air followed by a muttered curse. Peaking over through some bushes, Jungkook sighted you standing in the middle of the place, a bow in your left hand while the other held an arrow.

You were wearing a fine and beautiful dress with a white skirt and light pink top all made in expensive silk. Jungkook watched you shoot another arrow to the target mark, your eyes focused and you breathing even. Your posture could be improved but you had gotten the hang of it. He watched as you took a deep breath before letting go of the arrow and he couldn't help but watch not your actions but you.

He admired how beautiful you looked dressed in such fine clothes, with your hair styled to perfection and how you carried yourself. He watched how your left hand gripped the bow tightly up until your knuckles turned white, such delicate hands that he had seen holding unharmful items like a paintbrush or a book, were now holding a dangerous and powerful weapon, if used correctly.

As the arrow travelled through the air, time seemed to go in slow motion as he watched a couple of rebellious strands of hair fly slightly with the movement. But his trance was broken when the arrow landed a couple of feet away from the target mark, on the ground.

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you walked towards where other arrows rested. Ignoring the quantity of how many arrows you had already fired and now rested on the floor, you positioned the arrow in your bow and prepared yourself to fire it.

"You need to relax, Princess."

The sudden voice said from behind you startled you causing the arrow to fall on the ground before you even had the chance to fire it. A gasp escaped your lips as you turned around only to be met with Jungkook who approached your figure with calculated steps.

He was wearing his usual uniform in a deep shade of blue, a sword attached to a belt that hugged his waist but something about his presence that morning intrigued you.

"You scared me."

Was your statement once he stood at arms length. He looked down at you and you held his strong gaze.

"I apologise, Your Highness. I didn't mean to."

You relaxed and let out a defeated sigh.

"You have good skills but your posture can be improved."

At Jungkook's words you lifted your gaze, meeting his dark brown eyes with your own once more. He gestured towards your bow with his chin and asked, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.

"May I?"

You nodded, handing him your bow. The warmth of his fingers brushed yours and you had to bite back a smile. He crouched down and picked up the arrow that had fallen from your grasp a moment ago.

Jungkook positioned himself and you watched his every move.

"You are too tense while holding the bow, if your hold is firm but at the same time gentle it will give you stability."

You listened carefully to his explanations as your eyes were glued to him and for the first time since he became your personal guard were you able to admire him. Properly admire him.

Your gaze landed on his focused face, on how his eyes were put on the target mark and nothing else. Then, you travelled to his lips and marvelled on the way he was pulling back the arrow until it touched the corner of his lips softly. His jawline was defined as if it had been sculpted by the gods.

His broad shoulders carried years of training and you could see how his muscles could be traced even with more than one layer of clothing. His veiny hands held the bow and the arrow with expertise and you found yourself trapped in a trance in which only Jungkook existed.

He fired the arrow, hitting the target in its centre. You looked amazed at the clean shot he did and he commented, giving you back your bow.

"Would you like to try again, Princess?"

You nodded and took the bow. Jungkook walked where the rest of the arrows were and picked one up. He handed it to you and you took it softly from his grasp. You positioned the arrow and prepared yourself to shoot.

You silently gasped when you felt a large hand over your left one, the one holding the bow and it took you less than a second to realise it was Jungkook who was guiding you. You smelled his scent from behind you and felt the light pressure of his body at your back but it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, you felt safe being this close to him. It was... Soothing, to say the least.

"You need to relax your hand a bit more."

Following his instructions, he smiled.

"Good, now take a deep breath. Straighten up a bit more and concentrate."

You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relishing in the comfort Jungkook provided. The warm feeling of his hand over yours was nearly overwhelming. The moment you opened your eyes again, the only thing you could focus on was on the target. Letting go of the arrow, it travelled through the air with a mute noise and landed directly on the mark.

A gasp left your lips and Jungkook let go of your hand just as you turned around and looked up at him. Your smile showed pure happiness, a happiness he was responsible for and for some reason, that settled a spark of proudness in his chest.

"I wasn't aware that you knew archery."

He lifted an eyebrow, almost in a teasing way.

"I am a royal guard, Princess. Of course I know how to shoot an arrow."

You laughed at his words. Stupid, of course he would know that. You scolded yourself inwardly, thoughts masked by a soft smile.

"Do you have any plans for today, My Lady?"

His question brought you out of your embarrassing state and you let out a sigh upon remembering what you had to do today.

"Not much really. I don't think I'll be able to visit the city today. The King ordered a seamstress to make a new dress for me, for my birthday ceremony."

Jungkook nodded, walking to a nearby bench only for then to sit down, all while keeping an eye on you as you practised your archery skills for a little more time.

"Isn't your birthday in autumn, Princess?"

You looked up at Jungkook while he kept his gaze glued to the front.

"Yes but the King prepares everything with so much anticipation as you may already know, the day I was born was when other events occurred at the same time like the Queen's passing and Gyeongdong's victory against the Jejin kingdom in the north."

He looked down at you only to lock his eyes with you and he was able to read the sadness behind your explanation. Jungkook couldn't imagine just how lonely your life had been, with your mother dying in childbirth and formally meeting your father when you were three when he returned from the war.

He knew you suffered as a child even when you were the Princess and had access to whatever you wanted at any time of the day. A lonely girl with a planned future. He knew you were to become Queen in winter, the ceremony occurring the same day as your wedding day was scheduled.

"Have you ever met him?"

His question made you blink, parting your gaze from his penetrating brown orbs.

"No. I've never met the Prince I was promised in marriage. But I guess that's how arranged marriages work, don't they?"

A humourless chuckle followed your words and Jungkook could easily tell that you didn't want to get married, at least not in this way.

When the both of you arrived to where the seamstress was waiting for you, Jungkook stood in the farthest corner of the room making himself invisible as the kind lady began taking your measurements and explained to you what kind of fabrics you were allowed to wear for your wedding day.

You picked everything with a dull expression, already tired of all the wedding preparations. Your eyes drifted here and there toward Jungkook, secretly hoping that he would also look at you but his gaze was lost in the place. He kept his head low and never did he make it for you both to lock eyes, even when he felt your gaze over him from time to time.

-ambience-

"Hobi, are you alright? I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks!"

You whispered-shouted at your best friend. It was early in the morning, so early that the sun wasn't out yet, the sky was still dark and silence drowned the palace. You stood outside of your room still wearing your sleeping clothes, your bare feet touching the fresh grass as Hoseok had woken you at such an hour saying that there was something important he needed to tell you.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me, Princess. There's something you need to know,"

Even in the darkness, with the only source of light being a small paper lantern he carried in his left hand, you could see the seriousness behind Hoseok's words, whatever he was about to tell you was, indeed, important.

You signalled him to continue and he said, his tone low, words carried with the hot summer breeze of the early hours.

"I've been away for sometime because I travelled with my father to the North. As you may know, the news of your wedding with the Prince of the Park family had reached every town of the country but suspicious activity was reported to His Majesty a month ago."

Now that was definitely urgent for you to know. There was someone that was organising something. Something bad.

"That's where Jejin was situated before my father conquered it, isn't it?"

Hobi nodded, his usually cheerful eyes now filled with worry. Worry for you, his best friend. For Gyeongdong and for his family. The possibility of war had increased and if the problem didn't get solved not only the royal family would be in danger but all the innocent citizens of Gyeongdong.

"His Majesty suspects that a rebellious group is taking Jejin's place, trying to take the throne which also means stopping your wedding, Princess. The King also believes that the group is being controlled by one of the Ministers."

Your eyes went wide when you heard the last sentence. Was truly a traitor sitting in front of the King in his own palace? You looked around you, suddenly feeling insecure about being in your own room. You realised then that Hobi had spoken of such secret information outside of your room, in the gardens. What if someone heard?

"Let's go inside, it's dangerous for you to be telling me this in the gardens."

Hoseok shook his head, his worried eyes never leaving your figure.

"No, Princess. That would look suspicious if anyone had their eyes on us right now. I only came here tonight to give you fish-shaped pastries."

His words were whispered, even when in the silence you feared they could be heard. The next thing you knew was that he was giving you a package covered by soft fabric, just like every other time he had given you sweets. A forced smile was latched onto his face, trying to make this look as normal as possible.

You eyes the package and slowly took it from his grasp.

"Smile, Princess. I just gave you your favourite treat. Smile and go back to your room and keep smiling until you close the door."

His instructions were said between clenched teeth and airy words, all while keeping the gentle look on his face. You did as instructed though Hobi could tell you were scared, it was reflected in your eyes.

"Thank you for the pastries, you know how much I like them."

With that said, you turned around and walked to your room, your smile never leaving your face. Once in the privacy of your quarters, you sat down on the floor while processing everything Hoseok just said to you.

A traitor.

A traitor in the court.

Marriage.

Jejin.

Traitor.

Danger.

Possibility of war

A traitor.

Your mind kept swirling around those words, not grasping the fact that there was someone who didn't want you to become Queen, who didn't want your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

You looked at the package Hobi gave you, something inside you telling you that what was inside it were not fish-shaped pastries. You untied the fabric and pulled out the box only to find a letter there. Without giving it much thought, you unfolded it and quickly recognised Hoseok's handwriting.

Princess, there wasn't enough time for me to tell you this but you need to be careful. Captain Yoongi informed me that you now have a personal royal guard to keep you safe, that's good. You can trust him, he is a good man.

You need to stay alert, don't trust anyone other than His Majesty, Captain Yoongi, my father, me and of course Jungkook. He'll keep you safe.

I wish I could tell you everything's going to be alright but I can't be sure, at least not now. You cannot be alone now, please. Stay close to Jungkook, it's for your own safety.

Hobi.

That letter was the last piece of information you needed for realisation to fall upon you. Whatever was happening was dangerous and it threatened your safety.

You felt a sudden urge to go to Jungkook, be near him. He made you feel safe and now, when things could get difficult, for some reason he grounded you from your own thoughts and fears. You could trust him, you knew that since day one. He was going to protect you and that night, you slept with the vow he made to your father about keeping you safe. You were aware that no harm would ever fall over you as long as he was with you.

However, little did you know someone had seen your entire interaction with Hoseok in the gardens. Someone hiding behind the bushes in the darkness of the early morning.

Jungkook rowed the small boat to cross the lake. You sat opposite him, your expression bored as you leaned over one of the edges, your arm supporting your head while your eyes were glued to the crystalline water.

You had barely talked since he went to your room that morning, the usual spark in your eyes was gone, leaving empty yet still beautiful (e/c) orbs behind. You didn't smile as brightly as before, your smile carried a sadness with it, a sorrow.

He wanted to ask you what was wrong, he wanted to know. A part of him needed to know. Jungkook didn't know why he was having such strong needs, such emotions. He was only meant to protect you, to keep you away from harm and that included any type of harm.

Suddenly, he stopped rowing but that didn't make you look up from your lost gaze in the waters.

"Princess,"

You hummed when you heard Jungkook speak to you though you didn't look at him, your eyes continuing to gaze down at the waters below.

"may I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

Was your response. It was dull, something in it ached in between the words. It wasn't normal of you, for as long as Jungkook himself could tell. He sighed, before speaking again.

"Are you alright?"

You blinked when he asked that as you rose yourself from your leaning position over the edge to finally look at your personal guard. Your eyes carried something he had never seen before.

Worry.

It was crystal clear, at least to Jungkook. You were worried about something and, for some strange reason, a reason he didn't know, it worried him too to see you like this. It physically pained him to see you, the care-free and sweet Princess in such a sour mood. Carrying such heavy weights over your shoulders.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. You were scared, you were worried for the kingdom, for your father, for Hobi, for yourself, for your life. It was too much. Too much to process in a single morning. Too much information that it overwhelmed you to the point of tears watering your eyes.

"Is it something about what the counsellor's son told you this morning?"

You gasped at his statement. Jungkook wasn't going to deny it. Yes, he had seen your interaction with Hoseok that very morning, he had seen the way you smiled when he gave you a small package, even when the gardens were drowning in the darkness of the early hours of the day, he could tell you were smiling thanks to the small source of light that was Hoseok's lantern.

"You didn't have the right to do that. You are my royal guard but you can't invade my privacy like that!"

The way you raised your voice at the end made him mentally curse himself. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that.

"I'm sorry, Princess. It was an accident. I didn't mean to spy on you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, somehow deep within you, you knew he was telling the truth but you didn't want to believe him, you didn't want to slide it off. He had invaded your privacy and that was out of the line.

"He went there to give me my pastries. You know I'm not allowed to eat them until my wedding day. Hoseok is my best friend but of course I don't have to give you any explanation of my decisions. You are meant to do a job so just... just do it. Stop trying to always make me happy, life is not like that! Stop it, just... stop it. Please."

Your words crushed his heart, not because of what you said to him but because they only proved his beliefs, something had happened, something that was hurting you.

"You only have to do what you were told to do. You don´t have to care for me, not in this way. You are asking if I'm alright and as you can see, I'm not physically hurt so stop caring so much, you don't have to do it."

The look he gave you the next second was enough for you to know that your words, even though they were cruel, had gotten to him. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes and you did your utmost to blink them back. Jungkook stared at you, his jaw clenched and you felt like he wanted to say so many things to you but he was refraining himself.

His eyes bored themselves into yours and in that moment you wished the water would swallow you completely so that you wouldn't face him.

That's good. You have to stay away. You have to stay away from me so that you can't get hurt. Please, Jungkook. Just back off.

You thought to yourself as you continued to watch each other. The atmosphere tensing.

"But... what if I care?"

A tear rolled down your cheek slowly. No, please don't say that. Please... He ran a hand through his hair and looked back at you.

"I care for you, Princess."

You closed your eyes, letting the tears freely fall down your cheeks.

"You can't."

Whispered words reached his ears. Making his heart shake with the need to hold you, promise you that it was going to be alright.

"But I do."

You opened your eyes, looking at Jungkook through blurry vision. His eyes were filled with tears and you felt an ache in your heart at the sight of his tears.

"You weren't supposed to. You were only meant to protect me, Jungkook. That's it, nothing else."

He sighed, his eyes lowering to your trembling hands resting on your lap. He had a sudden urge to hold them. To hold you. To comfort you.

"I know. Love is blind, Princess. No-one gets to choose."

You took a shaky breath, calming yourself a bit only for him to continue.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I'll... I'll accept the punishment for my actions, Your Highness."

He lowered his head, ready to accept whatever consequences there were for his actions. In that moment, Jungkook realised you were untouchable, the forbidden fruit he had come to desire, an expensive and beautiful jewel he could never have.

"No."

At that, he lifted his gaze and looked at you who gazed at him with such hurt in your eyes it forced him to swallow the lump in his throat.

"You are not getting punished for this. No-one should. It... It just happened and I couldn't... I wouldn't be able to see you go."

A tear left his eye, rolling down his cheek while leaving a wet trail over his honey skin.

"I care for you too, Jungkook."

That was the moment the seasons changed. The warm days were over and both you and Jungkook knew that. It was forbidden, it was socially unacceptable, a disgrace.

You were engaged, the Princess who was going to become Queen while he was only your personal guard. Meant to protect you of any harm. But he was just that, a royal guard. A handsome middle-class man caring way more than needed for you, King Lee's only daughter.

He, as well as you, were aware that colder days were to come soon. And just like that, with simple words that revealed each other's heart, the summer days were over.

Four Seasons Taglist: @seokout

May 28/2023

Likes, Reblogs & Comments are really appreciated!!!

~Masterpost

[hyukassubi]

🍪 03 | Parting Ways and Painting Ceilings

♡𓂃 Pairing -> (Former) Knight! Huening Kai x Seamstress! Reader

♡𓂃 Synopsis -> Growing up, you never believed in purpose, nor destiny. Simply following the path of life, becoming a royal seamstress didn't at all seem like a bad idea. Only thing is, it wasn't your idea.

Your best friend who just so happens to be the crowned prince knows what it's like to grow up having limited choices, and Prince Kang Taehyun doesn't want the same happening to you. The commander knight, in turn, has other plans for the future. After Huening Kai closes a profound chapter of his life, he seeks refuge from the chaos of his past, opting for a cozier lifestyle instead.

... And it just so seems that those plans wouldn't be fulfilled without you.

♡𓂃 Wc -> 634

Kindergarten was a small thing.

It was only by time Taehyun would have to attend elite schools with all the other princes and… not get to spend every morning eating cheese strings and chocolate buns with you. Or flexing his monkey bar skills you respectfully couldn’t care less about. Or rob the class pet hamster in his pocket because it’s cuteness is to die for only to be caught by the homeroom teachers for the fifth time that month and proceeds to get a timeout but then you smash the chair into a window so that you’ll also get punished with a timeout so now the both of you are in this together and start snacking on even more treats you’ve hidden in your overalls for the next nineteen minutes.

Taehyun looked out the window of his carriage as the pegasi descend from the sky… oh how all the clouds started to look like your signature chocolate chip cookies.

And then the carriage wheels hit the ground.

And then in front of the young prince was a couple bowing on their knees and a chubby little girl with frosting stained lips and a woven basket of treats.

“Hello, Taehyun.”

Taehyun hopped out of his seat and waved through the opened window with a toothy grin and a rumbling stomach.

Perhaps it couldn’t possibly sink into his six year old brain now, but he could feel it in his bones that the girl who smells of cookies and flowers will stick around with him for a very long time, regardless of them enrolling in the same school or not.

Taehyun knew exactly what to do when the both of you arrived back to the castle, in his bedroom.

Perched on ladders, inches away from the ceiling, at least four guards down below the both of you ready to catch the toddlers if they take the wrong step off the ladders, you and Taehyun were mustering up a cool summer sky.

Taehyun was in the middle of painting his first cloud when he asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

You dabbed more blue paint onto the ceiling. “A princess, but that won’t happen.”

“Why?”

“Because my parents aren’t like yours. They make bread and sell flowers and love each other a lot and I think I love them too just the way they are.”

“So… you want to become a cookie seller too?”

You shrugged. “I dunno.”

Taehyun continued with his cloud, rounding up the edges. “My mom says not all princes have to be king, but I want to be king anyways.”

“Why?”

“So I can be rich and ride horses and everyone will bow when they see me because that’s how great I am.” A small pause loomed for a while before Taehyun continued more somberly, “But… selling bread and flowers and stuff sounds nice, too.” Taehyun shook off the feeling. “But I like being powerful and rich even better.”

You finished coating the corners of the ceiling with blue paint, not knowing at all what you want for the future because you’re six years old and six year old village girls like you only care about playing with your friends and loving your mom and dad and hoping the sun won’t set because that’s curfew hours and you won’t get to see Taehyun until tomorrow which feels like forever.

“Y/n, look!���

You turned your head around, resting your squishy arms over the ladder.

In the middle of the ceiling laid a huge white circle.

“Is that the Sun?” You asked with genuine curiosity, “The Sun is supposed to be yellow.“ You say matter-of-factly, eerily similar to the way Taehyun states certain things sometimes…

Taehyun placed his hands on his hips and smiled with pride.

“It’s a cookie.”

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♡𓂃A/n: To compensate for this short chapter, I shall give away a minor spoiler *harrumphs and an orchestra suddenly appears* 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁 HYUKA WILL APPEAR IN THE NEXT CHAPTER LESGOOOOO 🗣️💥‼️HYUKA FINALLY APPEARING IN HIS OWN FANFIC WOOHOO 🙌🙌🙌

♡𓂃Tags: @sweetheartsaku @imcringebutimfree @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pengningie @marloree @stormy1408 @blossommi

Reblog & review if you like my work !!

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

🕯️

You do not know fully if you are trying to recruit her out of empathy or necessity, but part of you desperately wants to count her as a friend. It is rare to find others with powers of empathy similar to your own, and that alone is reason enough to desire her company. She shows skill in her work, understanding in her dealings with man and monster alike, care in her steadfast parenting as a single mother, and an enviable no-nonsense demeanor in her unwillingness to hold back when she feels criticisms are due. Truly, all around someone to admire and respect at the very least.

And yet... there is such a difficult disconnect between you two, isn't there? Whether it is her finding the disconnects and hypocrisies of your very existence something to be wary of, or your own mixed-up inner nature muddying up her ability to truly read you, it is clear that patience is needed going forwards if you wish anything you build with her to last, be it friendship or anything else... but who is it you are trying to convince that this is something to help her, truly?

"A leftover relic of the fickleness of the gods... to think I ever wished to be counted among their ilk in past lives. She has gone through enough, but clearly trying to bring her into the fold for her own sake will not be enough - the biggest part of any deal is making sure the other party thinks it was their idea to agree to it. Here is hoping he learns this lesson quickly with her help."

"Ah, another maiden fair, a beast who tore aside her shackles to make herself anew in the ashes? Truly, this young man has a knack for attracting the attention of the delightfully willful - perchance she can learn to trust him for that which he is, not what he is purported to be? Ah, the potential of two rebels of different stripes meeting in union is such a ripe tale for the chemistry alone..."

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Clipped Wings: Chapter Four

Clipped Wings: After living a life in seclusion due to an over protective father, you sneak away to experience life as it really is. Slowly building up the woman you always wanted to be, your quiet life is interrupted when you meet a rather elastic boy and his crew. This is just the beginning of trouble and your carefully crafted life starts to crumble around you. The past never really stays in the past, and now it has come knocking. In more ways than one.  

Warnings: Blood.

To Note: Dracule Mihawk x Reader, NAMED!FemReader, Some physical features have been given (hair & eye color).

Word Count: ~2.8k

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9 Months Since Rescue

“If you sit still it won’t hurt as much,” You chided the teen who had come to you to have a laceration stitched up. The story he had told you was that he was helping his friend with repairs to a market stall in town… but the gaggle of friends he’d brought with him told you otherwise. There were two girls in the group who appeared to be worried out of their minds yet gushing about how strong the teen was. The kid had probably tried showing off and hurt himself in the process. You’d seen a fair amount of it in your travels as a nurse and seamstress, and half of your clients end up being youth.

Of course you were still starting out in your job, you hadn’t even been on your own for a year… but the satisfaction of freedom was serendipitous. You had learned so much in your short time of travels that while you were still naive to most of the world, your thirst for the seas was never satisfied or hindered. Finishing your stitches on the teen, you wrapped it up in a few layers of gauze.

“You’re done, don’t touch or mess with it for a day,” You informed the teen who held his injured arm against his chest. “And if you want to impress a girl, don’t do stupid shit that’ll get you injured.” His face flushed and he was about to mouth off to you when you stopped him. “Girl’s that age like flowers and thoughtful gifts, don’t be a dumbass and land yourself back in my services, okay?”

He held his tongue with a grumble and dropped payment onto the table next you with a grunt before vacating his seat. Smiling as he returned to his friends, you watched the teen disappear from the doctors office.

“Ah youth, the’ve been getting more reckless as the generations go by,” The doctor you’d spent the last three months working for, complained. You pocketed the money the teen had left and chuckled.

“Doctor, they’re kids, let them enjoy themselves while they can.” You told the old coot, packing up your stitching supplies for the final time. You had signed on for a temporary stay with the doctor on Pufferfish Island while you explored the culture of this town, and with that time up, you were leaving port the next morning.

“Damn kids’ll never learn about life if they just keep gooffin off!” He continued to complain as you double checked that you had collected everything that you owned.

“Life isn’t all about working you know,” You told the doctor. “Does it not get boring only thinking about money?”

“What else am I supposed to do then? Hmm?” Looking at the doctors back, you pursed your lips and shook your head. Berries. Far too many people focused only on Berries rather than living life. It was a pity, really, because ever since you had left Esmereld Cove you had nothing but joy in traveling and exploration. You dropped your eyes to the floor and rubbed your cheek.

“Live your life the way you want to then,” You murmured before shouldering your bag. “I’m off for a final time, don’t forget to lock up the medicine cabinet. The last time you forgot the neighbors got into it.” More grumbles from the doctor and you shrugged. Oh well, you’d warned him and no longer worked with him so it was no longer your concern.

Walking down the path that led to the inner port harbor, you hummed to yourself and made the decision to have one least meal at the tavern before you headed out for your next island. You passed several houses of villagers that you had tended to and even waved hello to a few children running around. You’d miss their jubilant faces and wide smiles, but you were sure to see more on the next island.

Cresting a hill to the cobbled path leading to the busier port harbor, you stopped short when your gaze caught sight of a new ship docked. You stopped short and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Ah, the tavern is going to be busy, isn’t it…” You complained to yourself. “Oh well, even pirates have to eat.” You continued towards the port harbor, running your hand over the hair you had pulled back. It’d grown out from short and choppy, but was only just long enough to be tamed by string. It was still very short but at least you blended in now.

Getting closer to the tavern, you could hear the villagers grumbling about pirates. They weren’t fond of them, but had no quarrels as long as they respected the island. Turning down a curvy lane, you walked swiftly with dinner on the mind. You’d skipped lunch after a bunch of school kids had gotten into a scuffle over lunch games. Unfortunately, tear filled eyes doomed your lunch and you had spent it patching up busted elbows and knees. You were a bit of a sucker at times.

You made it to the entrance of the tavern, and weaved through several men loitering around with drinks in their hand. They were the regulars, so they didn’t bother you as you passed, but one did step forwards.

“Head’s up doc,” You looked to the man that spoke. “Pirates are in, they’ve been kicking up a fuss.”

“I’m just in for a last meal,” You said, pausing in step and eyeing the tavern. “I’ll mind myself, just make sure you all don’t get yourselves into conditions I have to treat, I have a boat to catch in the morning.” Hat’s dipped and you entered the tavern with a hand raised over your shoulder. The tavern was crowded with villagers and pirates alike, but you spotted a place you could sit for dinner and began heading there.

While you weaved and were jostled around by bodies, a drunkard lurched into you sending you almost flying. A small gasp departed your lips as you fell to the side. But rather than spectacularly meet the floor of the tavern, an arm caught your back and swung you back to your feet. You tottered in place, settled by the arm and blinked at the rather bare chest of the person who had saved you from sprawling flat on your face.

“That would have been embarrassing,” You murmured to yourself before looking up. Your eyes were met with yellow ringed eyes. You couldn’t help but blurt out your first thought. “You have beautiful eyes.” Both you and the man blinked at each other. “Apologies for stumbling into you,” With that you detached yourself and slipped back into the mess of the tavern crowd, food on your mind.

You found a place to sit at the bar top near the windows showing the port harbor and sat down. While you waited for the server to come over, your mind lingered on the eyes of the man that had caught you from falling to the floor. He really did have beautiful eyes. They were also unusual, much like your own. While you were thinking of yellow eyes, a server came over to you.

You ordered the tavern special, as it would be the last time you ate it, and leaned back in your seat to relax and think. You had a ship to catch in the morning, but at the same time, you really wanted to enjoy your last night on the island. There were still a few bars you were interested in checking out based on local recommendations. You’d been too busy with work to try them out at the time but now? Now you were free. But you also didn’t want to have one hell of a hangover to deal with while shipping out. Alcohol and open sea did not mix well.

But the wine…

“Here ya go, doc,” The server announced placing your meal in front of you. “Enjoy.”

“Not actually a doctor,” You called after them, making them chuckle at your words. With a smile on your lips, you picked up your fork and began eating. You enjoyed your meal, watched as ships pulled into the port harbor for the night, and all around ignored the pirates yapping on about their accomplishment. When your empty plate was cleared and you paid for your dinner, you took up discussing wine choices with one of the servers.

You really hadn’t ever developed a taste for alcohol other than wine. That was one win Mel could have. You didn’t mind because that was something you did have experience in. It was nice that you could discuss a topic that you weren’t entirely clueless about. Not to say that you lacked education, it was just there was a big difference between book smart and sea smart, and you were endeavoring to become sea smart.

The server of course had to get back to work so you took to watching the last bits of the sun fading from the sea line. Or at least, you were watching the sunset when a stool scraping on the tavern floor alerted you to someone taking a seat next to you. Even from just the corner of your eye you could tell, it was one of the pirates.

“What is a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a tavern like this?” You blinked and turned your head to look at the pirate.

“Getting… dinner…?” You replied in question tilting your head to the side while arching an eyebrow. “As for my solitude, it is by choice. I don’t dine with others.”

“That’s a pity,” He replied, reaching over and touching the hair ornament you had tucked into your small ponytail. You wanted to snap at him to not touch you, but your manners won out and you remained silent on the topic.

“A pity? For who exactly?” You said shortly, your eyelashes fluttering while you raised your chin in observation. “Certainly not me as I am enjoying the view. For you then? How so, there are plenty of woman in this tavern and around the village for company.”

“I don’t want their company,” The pirate continued, his touch abandoning your hair and reaching for your face. You leaned out of reach with an unamused look on your face. “I want yours, you have such pretty eyes.”

“Well I do not, please seek what you desire elsewhere.” Your calm response betrayed none of your true thoughts. “But if you require a more formal answer; no.”

“Do you know who I am?” He asked in a hard voice, narrowing his gaze at you. You blinked and answered bluntly.

“No?”

“I am Andrew of the Marked Branch pirates!” A few patrons around you winced at his thundering words.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I have absolutely no idea who you are.” He slammed his hand on the bar top next to you, eyes bulging and simmering in rage. He opened his mouth and threats poured from his lips, but you, once again, had no idea what he was talking about and just blinked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t seem to understand the situation your in, little girl,” He hissed at you. Your face was passive as you grabbed your hair ornament and slammed it directly into the hand he had pressed against the bar top. A high pitched scream erupted from his mouth and the entire tavern fell silent.

“It appears that you seem to have trouble understand the word no,” You calmly stated, surprised at how deep the hidden blade in the hair ornament had gone. You weren’t the strongest of woman and yet it had suck into the wood of the bar top. “I said no, leave it at that. Yes?”

Eyes that had once been bulging and simmering with rage… were now filled with fear and pain. The pirate whimpered, caught between wanting to yank his hand away and leaving it be. Your knife really was lodged good and deep.

“I am not a woman who likes repeating herself. Have I made myself clear?”

“Okay okay! Just take it out! Take it out!” He howled at you. Pleased that he had acknowledged your wishes, you went to take the knife out, only to find it difficult. You tugged on it a little harder and the pirate howled. Sighing, you used both hands to sharply yank on the hilt of the knife, it took several sharp tugs before you actually managed to get it out. Once the blade was clear of wood and flesh, the pirate staggered back and ran off, tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Chatter slowly returned to the tavern and you used a nearby napkin to wipe the blood from your hair ornament. You weren’t going to let that pirate ruin your evening, but you had to admit that your mood was soured by that interaction. Just as you were cleaning the last bits of blood from your blade, a voice called out from behind you.

“Well that was unexpected but it certainly made my night more interesting.” You were once again blinking, but this time it was at the man with the beautiful yellow eyes. He was looking at you with amusement dancing within his eyes and the curve at the corner of his mouth echoed what his eyes told.

“I do not appreciate pushy men who do not listen,” You stated simply, wiping your knife one last time before returning it to your hair. “I came here to enjoy a meal, not be harassed.”

“Clearly, yet you look like you’ll be blown over by a mere gust of wind.” Your eyes flashed with fire at his words and you nearly growled.

“I will not,” You answered hotly, your words only seemed to amuse the man further and he waved down a server with but a finger wave.

“You are a fiery little one, aren’t you.” He said as he leaned against the bar top. You glared at him for making such obvious fun of you and huffed indignantly as he spoke to the server that came over. Two wine glasses were pulled out and placed between you, then a bottle of wine.

“Two glasses?” You broached, eyebrow arched.

“You went to the trouble of taking out the trash,” He explained, pushing one of the glasses towards you. “You also seemed to be a woman of refinement?”

A glass of wine was a glass of wine. You grabbed the stem and brought the wine to your nose to sniff. You were instantly surprised. Most patrons bought out the classics and regular wines on the menu, this was one of the more refined brands. A brand that you partook in while living on Esmereld Cove. You had only the best there.

“And you the same,” You echoed before taking a sip of the wine and sighing in satisfaction.

“Now then, what is a lovely lady with such tastes, doing on an island like this.” You set your glass down and ran a finger around the rim.

“I’m a traveler,” You started, turning your eyes to the ocean in front of you. “I travel for work as a nurse and seamstress so I can experience the world. I grew up exceedingly sheltered so now I am trying to visit as many islands as I can to learn about what it means to live.”

“To live,” He repeated. That was such a… simple desire and yet you were being entirely truthful. You nodded thoughtfully before your brow scrunched.

“Speaking of which I never caught your name,” You mused, cocking your head to the side.

“Mihawk,” Mihawk answered you, waiting for a reaction for surely you had heard of him. You studied him for a moment, your face remaining unchanged.

“Mihawk,” You repeated thoughtfully. You hadn’t heard that name before, but then again you were still fairly new in your explorations. “Hmm, it’s nice to meet you Mihawk, I am Vee.”

Oh now you were starting to get really interesting.

Mihawk chuckled and took a sip of his wine, amused that you didn’t even know who he was. It was rather refreshing.

“Vee,” He echoed, observing you closer. You had black hair simply pulled back, a frame that was too skinny in his opinion, and violet eyes he’d only seen a few other times. Violet eyes that he’d never seen in the East Blue before. He had little interest in woman at his current age, but the way you stared at him before complimenting his eyes and then moving on had been the most peculiar thing to happen in twenty years.

“Yes,” You said, picking up your wine glass once more. “Now, you don’t exactly seem like the type interested in life stories so I won’t bore you with it.”

“But we were just getting to the interesting part,” Mihawk drew out, getting comfortable where he leaned and interested in broaching for more. You lightheartedly chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to hear my life story,” Mihawk’s lips twitched.

“Oh but I do,” Staring up into Mihawk’s yellow eyes, you contemplated his words for a few moments before shrugging. What’s the worst that could happen?

Date Published: 10/10/23

Last Edit: 10/10/23

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[chimcess]

→ Chapter Two: A Rock and a Secret Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 9k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warning: Non-con kissing, strong language, blood, self injury, nightmare, PTSD, pining, angst, heart ache, longing, long hair Jimin, I love Taehyung so much, he’s so much fun to write, crying, not much to report here tbh, let me know if I missed anything A/N: How do we feel about the updated versions so far? Yes, I have combined old chapters and combined them so we can have longer (and less) parts. I know some of you liked longer updates so you are getting your wish!

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I couldn’t see past the smoke. It was a roiling, black mass, punctuated by brilliant yellow flames that danced like demons in the night. Shiloh’s voice cut through the chaos, a desperate cry reaching out through the suffocating darkness, pleading for me to return. Inside, the screams were a cacophony of terror and anguish, and I ran, my small feet pounding the earth as I shouted for Auntie. Shiloh’s cries grew louder behind me, but I ignored her, driven by a singular need to reach the cottage. I had to get to Aldara.

But the distance stretched endlessly, the screams crescendoed, and Shiloh’s voice became an unbearable buzz in my ears. I was sobbing, calling Aldara’s name, feeling the forest around me weep. The spirits that had once tormented me now seemed my only solace, and I crumpled to the ground. No matter how desperately I tried, the cottage remained out of reach. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a movement that made my breath catch.

There it was, not even ten yards away—a large, midnight-black wolf with red eyes. The firelight cast a grotesque glow on its face, revealing a blood-stained muzzle. In its mouth was an arm, the ring on it gleaming malevolently. Anger surged within me, turning my vision red as I focused on the ring—a skull etched in fiery orange and yellow. Before I could stop myself, I was chanting a spell, my voice echoing through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled in response.

I jolted awake, my body trembling, gasping for breath. The dream was always the same, a recurring nightmare that never let me rest. At least this time, I hadn’t had to endure its full horror. The house was eerily silent, a haunting quiet that pressed against my ears. Shiloh hadn’t returned from her hunting trip and was probably curled up in the tree outside. The solitude was unnerving, so I forced myself out of bed and began preparing for the day.

My wardrobe consisted only of skirts and dresses, all sewn by my aunt. I’d become a proficient seamstress in my own right over the years. Unlike Aldara, who wore pants and used magic for her attire, I preferred the tactile pleasure of dressing myself. The chain locked to my leg made it impossible to wear anything without magical assistance, but I enjoyed the flowing fabrics. Today, I chose a yellow skirt, a color that felt like a small rebellion against the lingering shadows of my dream.

I ran my fingers over the rings displayed in my jewelry box, each one steeped in its own history. My gaze settled on one of my favorites—a large, clunky ring with an amber stone, its iron band painted gold. It had belonged to my great-great-aunt Heidi, a woman of sunshine and poetry, her magic fueled by the sun. I recalled her grimoire, filled with verses and peculiar tales written in the margins. Next to it, I touched the simple silver-painted iron band adorned with sapphires, a relic of Griselda, a blue jay gifted with telepathy.

My eyes then fell upon Aldara’s ring, and tears pricked at my eyes. Griselda had raised Aldara with a strictness that contrasted sharply with Aldara’s more nurturing nature. I remembered a story Aldara had shared about her ring—how she’d brought a decapitated bird to Griselda, sobbing over its fate. After much consolation, she’d given the bird a funeral, and the skull had become a ring. Aldara had sanded and filed it to fit her finger, and Griselda had charmed it to grow with her.

Slipping the ring onto my index finger, I then slid my own ring onto my right hand. Aldara had crafted it for me before my birth, bending and twisting gold into intricate patterns. The stones, collected from every corner of Bangtan, were engraved with coordinates that projected colorful numbers when exposed to sunlight. “I want you to remember the world when you can’t see it,” she’d told me. I had managed to find each spot just before her death.

Wiping away my tears, I laughed at my emotional display. Aldara would have scolded me for letting my emotions get the best of me. Though Bridd were seldom allowed to indulge in such feelings, I was human too, with thoughts and emotions that needed expression. I had learned that my vulnerability was my greatest strength, even if Aldara couldn’t see that. I heard voices and laughter in the distance and rushed to the living room, my rings forgotten.

The door to my cottage burst open, and the scent of wolves filled the air. In the lead were Namjoon and Hoseok, with Taehyung following close behind. I tensed as I saw a flash of white and my heart skipped. I hadn’t seen Jimin since our last meeting, and the uncertainty of our relationship lingered like a fog. Despite our late-night encounter, I assumed he was either too shy or too busy to visit. It was a relief to see him, confirming our standing, though the situation was far from ordinary.

An unfamiliar laugh echoed off the walls. I craned my neck and spotted Taehyung’s familiar posture. His humor was a stark contrast to his rigid stance. Jimin chuckled beside him, and I longed to share in their amusement. 

“Good morning, Bridd,” Hoseok boomed, his smile radiant.

I returned his smile, the positivity contagious, amplified by Namjoon’s dimpled grin.

With a quick bow, I greeted them. “Morning. What can I do for you?”

Namjoon answered, “We’re familiarizing Taehyung with our duties. He might not visit often, but Jimin suggested bringing him along.”

“It’s good to know where to find you,” Hoseok added.

Taehyung, the youngest alpha, shyly peeked over their shoulders. His wide, nervous eyes betrayed his excitement and uncertainty. Speaking with someone so revered by the council must be daunting. Most pack members treated me as a friend, aside from the Elder Council, who saw themselves as superior. Taehyung’s hesitation was understandable.

Stumbling over his own feet, Taehyung managed to step forward. His eyes darted around nervously, and he licked his lips. Without warning, he bowed deeply. My eyes widened, and I took a step back in surprise. This was new.

“Hello, High Witch Bridd. I am Kim Taehyung, eldest son of the east Kim clan, one of the four alphas of Foxglove Village and protector of the Bangtan Forest.”

Taehyung straightened and reached out to me. His bow had shocked me, but nothing compared to the wet kiss he planted on my mouth. Someone gasped. I stood frozen, horror-stricken. Kisses between wolves were common but usually reserved for mates or pack members of high regard. As an outsider, this gesture was deeply inappropriate, a slight against both his pack and myself.

Taehyung beamed, oblivious to the breach of etiquette. His cluelessness was astounding. I glanced at Hoseok and Namjoon, both equally stunned. Behind them, a low growl caught my attention. Jimin’s face was a storm of darkened fury. His eyes, barely amber in the sunlight, were a blazing warning. Jimin’s anger was palpable, his hair bristling with tension. I knew this was a severe breach of protocol, damaging not only to my standing with Foxglove but to our relationship with the pack.

Without hesitation, Jimin was on Taehyung. He gripped the back of the young alpha’s neck, forcing him to his knees. A deep, resonant growl rumbled from Jimin’s chest, sending shivers down my spine. Even when his anger wasn’t directed at me, my bird’s instincts screamed for escape. My heart raced, mirroring Taehyung’s panic. I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of shock and pity. Taehyung hadn’t meant any harm.

“Apologize. Now.” Jimin’s voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding as iron, his hand still clamped around Taehyung’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s voice was a pitiful whine, all pretense of bravado stripped away.

“That’s it?” Namjoon’s voice cracked like a whip. “You think a sorry is going to fix this?”

“You’re sorry?” Hoseok’s tone was hard as granite. “Is that really the best you can muster?”

Jimin’s snarl was feral, “Apologize properly.”

“I-I-”

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. “Just let him go. Please?”

Taehyung scrambled to his feet, Jimin stepping back reluctantly. I was surprised and oddly relieved that Jimin obeyed without a fight. My eyes stayed locked on Taehyung, who now resembled a puppy that had just been caught making a mess. His youth and naivety struck me with a pang of sympathy. At eighteen, he was still a child, thrust into a world that chewed up and spit out the unprepared. The notion of him having to grovel and kiss countless others before me made my heart ache. I wished I could erase his discomfort, to make this moment one of light-hearted learning rather than humiliation.

“I’m sorry if I—” Taehyung started.

“Hush,” I cut him off, and he snapped his mouth shut, looking like he’d been caught in a snare. “I understand you acted on what you thought was right. You see me as more important than I really am, don’t you, Taehyung?”

He nodded, and I caught a sound of disapproval from Jimin. I almost smiled. Jimin had a high opinion of me, and that was a comfort.

“I’m honored you see me as worthy of such deference, but I’m just a woman. And a woman who doesn’t kiss anyone—ever. Are you following?”

He nodded again, his ears flushing red, like a boy who wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He had so much to learn.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up my cheeks. “Why did you think that was a good idea?”

“I didn’t know what to do or say!” Taehyung floundered, his hands flapping in desperation. “Everyone kept telling me how important this was, how honored I should feel, and all that!”

Unable to keep it in any longer, I burst into giggles. The alphas stared at me, confusion etched into their faces, but I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from my chest. I clutched my stomach and danced around the kitchen in search of a particular item. Kim Taehyung had earned a present for his earnest attempt at honor.

I had a tradition of gifting alphas on our first meeting. Hoseok had received a Lapis Lazuli bracelet, a talisman of friendship and warmth. Namjoon had been given a hand-bound notebook, a token for his tales and memories. I’d even gifted Jimin my favorite book at the time. It had been so long, I couldn’t recall its name, but I remembered his mention of wanting an escape and hoped it had provided some solace. Now it was Taehyung’s turn, and I needed to find just the right gift.

“Bridd?” Taehyung’s voice trembled with uncertainty.

“Aha!” I exclaimed, spotting the stone on a high cupboard shelf.

I retrieved the spherical carnelian, a semi-precious stone I’d found years ago in the forest. Aldara had been both shocked and thrilled when I’d brought it to her. It symbolized courage, a fitting gift for Taehyung, who would need plenty of it in the days to come. I polished it with care, admiring the vibrant red and the swirling orange and yellow patterns that danced in the sunlight.

“You must be the bravest man to ever step into my shop,” I said, handing him the stone with a grin. “This is for you. It’ll give you courage and strength when you need it most.”

“A...rock?” Taehyung’s brow furrowed as he examined the sphere, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

Jimin growled, a low, warning rumble, but I waved him off. There was no need for any more tension; this was just a misunderstanding. I handed the stone back to Taehyung, and he seemed to warm to it, holding it up to the light and marveling at its beauty.

“Ask someone in town if they can turn it into a necklace for you. If not, I can. This stone has healing properties.”

Hoseok peered at the stone and smiled, his Lapis Lazuli bracelet glittering in the sunlight. I remembered how he’d never taken it off since I’d given it to him, a sign of our enduring friendship. Taehyung’s acceptance of the gift filled me with hope that we might forge a similar bond.

Taehyung returned the stone to me, his voice tinged with regret. “No one in town would know how to bead this without ruining it.”

I laughed, “I can’t promise I won’t mess it up, but if you insist, I’d be happy to do it myself.”

Namjoon’s hearty laugh rang out, and he clapped Taehyung on the shoulder with good humor. “You’ve made quite an impression, cousin.”

Jimin’s gaze remained wary, but I quickly turned my attention away from him. The sound of familiar laughter reached my ears, and I felt a warm glow in my chest. It had been too long since Yoongi and Seokjin had been in my home together.

Jin, Yoongi, and Wendy were my closest friends. Their tangled history was like a web I had avoided for years. Jin’s feelings for Wendy and her flirtations with Yoongi had caused a rift, but now they were mending fences. I was glad to see them trying to repair their friendship, and Wendy’s absence was a small price to pay for harmony.

“It seems I have other guests,” I said, setting the stone down and lighting the stove. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m making tea.”

Seokjin’s exuberant laugh echoed through the doorway as he burst in, his usual over-the-top enthusiasm followed by Yoongi’s grumbled protest. I set the kettle on the fire and gathered ingredients for everyone’s preferred brew. The wolves and I would have plain black tea, but the witches’ cups required a little extra care.

Seokjin’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, and I shook my head with a smile. The kettle whistled, and I quickly removed it from the heat, readying the tea. 

“Good morning, darling!” Seokjin’s voice was a cheerful blast.

“Dear God, why are you shouting?” Yoongi grumbled, rubbing his ears.

Seokjin’s eyes widened in delight. “Wolves! How are you all?”

Both alphas bowed in greeting, and I smiled as they settled into my oversized table. Seokjin used magic to bring my reading chair into the kitchen area, while Yoongi took a seat on the floor. The kettle hissed and I poured the tea, adding the special touches each guest preferred.

“Good morning,” I said softly, preparing their cups. 

Yoongi’s murmured thanks was warm, and I returned his smile. I preferred my given name over the title of ‘Bridd,’ a word that once symbolized respect but now felt like a barrier. The wolves and animal shifters of old had called Rosette ‘Bridd,’ but tradition alone couldn’t bridge the distance between me and my true self.

The revelation of my real name didn’t usually bother me much, but with the wolves in the room, it was a different story. Their reactions were a variable I couldn’t predict. Nobody else in their village knew my first name, and I intended to keep it that way. I didn’t trust their Elders, not one bit. They were as slippery as eels, driven by greed and a hunger for power. Ahn was the sort who’d make deals with the ielfen for eternal life or whatever twisted desire gripped his heart.

Aldara used to curse the ielfen with a bitterness that could sour milk. “Manipulative, greedy little minxes,” she’d growl, her eyes narrowed into slits as she stirred her cauldron.

I’d never tangled with one myself, so I couldn’t say for certain, but Aldara’s word was gospel to me. She’d battled beasts that roamed the wilds of Bangtan, and if she claimed she’d stared down an ielfen and walked away with her skin intact, I had no reason to doubt her. I took a deep breath and decided to deal with any fallout if it came. If Ahn was foolish enough to engage with an ielfen without understanding their rules, then he was digging his own grave.

“What did he call you?” Namjoon’s question cut through my thoughts.

“Y/N,” I chuckled, though the laughter felt hollow, my insides chilled. “It’s the name Aldara gave me. She hardly ever used it unless she was angry, but I had my share of nicknames too.”

“Remember Bibbles?” Seokjin chimed in. “Mama Min still calls you that.”

“Who’s Aldara?” Hoseok asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“The previous Bridd,” Yoongi explained, cutting through Jin’s antics with an edge of irritation.

“You have names?” Taehyung’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Like real names?”

“Of course they have real names,” Seokjin retorted, “They’re people, after all.”

I gritted my teeth, irritated by Jin’s jabs at the alphas. He had no real issues with them but had absorbed some of my disdain for Ahn. I shot a nervous glance at the wolves. They seemed more amused by Jin’s behavior than offended, which was a relief. 

“Yes, we had names before this,” I forced a smile, my gaze sharp as I shot Jin a warning look. “Bridd was a nickname for the original shifter. Your people have kept it alive for tradition. It’s not offensive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Wow, cool,” Taehyung sipped his tea, the lightness in his voice a stark contrast to the seriousness of the topic.

Taehyung was a breath of fresh air amidst the tension. His carefree demeanor was a stark contrast to the other alphas, and I pondered the possibility of him becoming a pack leader. Sol would likely enjoy his company—his humor and optimistic outlook were a nice break from the usual grind. But I could see potential friction within the council. His easygoing nature might not sit well with Ahn. My gaze drifted to Jimin, the embodiment of the perfect alpha. The thought of him with Sol was unsettling, a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I hear your Luna will be of age soon,” Yoongi said casually, casting a sidelong glance at Jin before turning his attention to me. His smirk was infuriating. “Her birthday, I assume?”

“She turns 18 at the end of this month,” Namjoon’s voice held a stiffness, as if every word was carefully measured. “She will be of age.”

In my eyes, Sol and Namjoon were mismatched. While they got along, Sol had a softer spot for the white-haired man beside her. They grew up together, and their bond was evident. Namjoon was the heart of Bangtan, while Park Jimin was the heartbeat of the pack. I wasn’t sure how Sol would react if anyone else was chosen, nor how I’d handle Jimin being selected. I glanced back at Taehyung, hoping he’d be the one Sol would pick.

“Little young for you, wouldn’t you say?” Seokjin’s mischievous grin made my stomach churn. “Or do your people not mind those age gaps?”

My face flushed, and I quickly looked away. Seokjin had always been perceptive about my feelings for Jimin, more so than anyone else. His probing was a tad too personal for my taste. I had to control my temper.

“Their age gap won’t matter if they’re meant to be together,” I managed to say, my voice a flat monotone. “Ten years is inconsequential to the Gods. You should know that.”

My gaze drifted back to Jimin. He looked good today, his hair in a loose bun, clothes casual but fitting well. His skin was faintly flushed from the sun. A small scratch marred his eyebrow, and it bothered me. I couldn’t fathom who might have done that. Namjoon was too clumsy, Hoseok and the others too slow.

I looked at Taehyung, but quickly dismissed the idea. The boy couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone Jimin. With unanswered questions gnawing at me, I rose to prepare another round of tea. Plain black tea and sugar would suffice. I wasn’t about to go all out on a regular day, though perhaps for Yule, I’d be convinced to put in more effort. The cut on Jimin’s eyebrow remained a troubling distraction.

“Êow rôðres earfoðlic ætstillan,” Seokjin’s words echoed as he piped up, no surprise there.

I rolled my eyes and turned the flame back on, boiling more water. 

“I just noticed a cut on Alpha Jimin’s face and was curious,” I joked, trying to keep my tone light and casual despite the growing tension.

A small ‘oh’ was the only response from Jimin. It was the first time he had spoken since their arrival. I poured the tea and took care of the salve I’d made for situations just like this. I was relieved to see Jimin’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. He looked cute, though it only added to my turmoil. His shyness was endearing, and I couldn’t help but wonder how far that blush extended. I tried to shove those thoughts away. 

As I applied the salve to his cut, the room around us erupted into chaos. The men were laughing and shouting, and despite the noise, the quiet focus between Jimin and me felt almost intimate. I applied the salve carefully, trying not to let my emotions overwhelm me. Jimin’s breathing was shallow, his eyes fixed on the side of my face. The warmth of his breath made it hard to concentrate, and I found myself lingering longer than necessary on his skin. The cottage trembled with Hoseok’s laughter.

“At least I have a mate, Namjoon,” Hoseok’s voice boomed, full of mirth.

“And I’ll be the Luna’s,” Namjoon shot back with a cocky grin.

I disagreed silently. Jimin was destined to be the Foxglove Alpha, no matter what anyone said. Taehyung was kind but too inexperienced, and Namjoon was a poor match for Sol. The Gods would think twice before allowing that union. Seokjin’s comment about age rang true in my mind. Sol and Namjoon had nothing in common, while Jimin was her closest friend. I applied more pressure than necessary to Jimin’s neck, reciting a healing spell under my breath. When I finished, I pulled my hands away, feeling as though they’d been burned. 

“Please,” Taehyung’s voice cut through, “We all know Jimin is the alpha.”

I retreated to the kitchen, searching for a distraction. The conversation had done nothing but stir my thoughts, and I needed something to take my mind off it. As the arguing resumed, I decided on baking rose and cardamom shortbread cookies. It was a familiar task that might bring me some comfort. Yoongi joined me, handing me ingredients with his usual efficiency. 

“Êow d hnot pîslic these lâstlange under,” Yoongi commented, his voice gentle.

I shrugged, rolling out the dough and handing him my cookie cutter. He enjoyed this part, and I was happy to indulge him. I turned on the stove, greased a cookie sheet, and placed the dough on it. 

“Normally I’d chill the dough, but not today,” I said as he cut out more shapes. “They might be a bit different in texture.”

“Who cares?” I laughed, hearing Jin’s outburst. “Shortbread is always delicious.”

The cookies turned out fine—perhaps not the best, but good enough. The wolves ate them without complaint, and Hoseok even asked for the recipe. They stayed long after sunset, long after my friends had left. Their company was pleasant, their laughter a welcome backdrop to my own restless thoughts. As twilight approached, I finally asked them to leave. Taehyung stood, grateful for the extended visit.

“Thank you for letting us stay so long,” he said, his voice sincere.

I patted his head gently. “Anytime, pup.”

He scowled, folding his arms like a petulant child. Hoseok’s laughter rang out, and he gave me a theatrical bow, which I returned with equal flourish. Namjoon and Jimin followed suit, though Taehyung, ever the reluctant participant, finally bowed with a grimace that made me chuckle. His frown deepened, which only made me laugh harder.

“Lighten up,” Hoseok said, draping an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “See you in a few weeks, Bridd.”

“See you then,” I replied with forced cheerfulness.

The men shuffled out, with Jimin bowing one last time before closing the door behind him. His troubled expression lingered in my mind, and I hoped whatever was gnawing at him would resolve itself. The thought of him being in pain or distress was unsettling. I watched him walk away, feeling an unspoken sadness as the door clicked shut behind him.

A quiet knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I grabbed a large knife from the mantle, my pulse quickening. Late-night visitors were rare and unwelcome. I kept my eyes on the door, my senses straining. Last time we had an unexpected guest at this hour, it ended in tragedy. I enchanted one of my winter gloves, instructing it to peek outside the window and assess the situation.

Memories of screams and red eyes flashed in my mind, and I fought back tears. The blood, the terror... The glove gave a reassuring thumbs-up. I mouthed, “Who is it?” The glove’s answer in sign language was a relief: Jimin had apparently forgotten something. Dropping the knife onto the dining table, I swung the door open.

“Did you forget something?” I asked, picking up the glove from the windowsill.

I tucked the purple fabric into my coat pocket, patting its thumb. It held onto my hand, clearly enjoying the attention. Jimin stood in the foyer, looking at me with a mix of awe and curiosity. I wasn’t surprised; my unorthodox creations often drew stares. I noticed the glove growing lazy and quickly stuffed a handkerchief into it. The glove tugged at the cloth before settling into a contented sleep. The magic would wear off soon.

I looked at Jimin, waiting for him to speak.

“Oh,” he said, startled. “Right.” He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” I raised an eyebrow, drifting back to my comfy chair. “For what?”

“For the nice things you said earlier,” he clarified.

“Well,” I said, plopping down, “I was just speaking the truth.”

“Still, it means a lot, coming from you.”

I glanced out the window. Time was running short. I wasn’t afraid of Jimin seeing me transform; I trusted him. His cold exterior had always belied a warm heart. The thought of him with someone else twisted in my gut. The very idea made me sick.

Swallowing hard, I replied, “You think too highly of me.”

“And you don’t think highly enough of yourself.”

His words made me pause. I looked at him, surprised by his expression. I had never seen Park Jimin look so vulnerable. His shoulders were slumped, his eyebrows knit together in concern. His usually straight posture was now slightly bent, one leg nervously tapping the floor. I was caught off guard, feeling as if I was on unfamiliar ground.

“I-” he began.

The familiar icy sensation ran up my leg, and I scrambled up from my chair.

“I’m so sorry!” I shouted as ice crept quickly through me.

The world expanded, and I cried out in pain as feathers began to burst from my skin. Jimin stepped back, colliding with the dining table. Shame and guilt crashed over me. Seeing Bridd’s transformation had been horrifying enough; I knew how terrifying it could be. More feathers ripped through my skin, blood staining the floor.

“Leave!” I cawed, my voice a harsh croak.

Pain engulfed me as I fell to my knees, my beak breaking through the skin. Transformation never got easier. Aldara had once said it was the only true pain a Bridd could feel, and I would argue she was wrong. Flashes of fire blurred my vision as I fell, a loud caw echoing through the room.

When I awoke, my dress was draped over me. I had to navigate my way out of the fabric, using my beak to cut through the layers. I could hear Jimin’s anxious breathing. I pushed through the mess, finally finding a breach and squeezing out.

Jimin was leaning against the table, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. I felt a pang of guilt. No one should witness such a transformation. I hopped closer, hoping he might be receptive to me despite the horror he had just seen.

In the distance, I heard an owl hooting. Shiloh would be here soon. She had become more independent recently, and I felt guilty for keeping her cooped up all day. We had planned to forage together tonight. After exchanging a few deep, gruff croaks, I turned my attention back to Jimin.

He looked less petrified than before, which was a good sign. Unsure of how to proceed, I decided to try and make myself cute. I thought rolling around on the blood-stained floor might distract him, though it felt futile. I remembered the first time I’d seen Aldara transform and winced. Nevertheless, I pressed on, determined.

I sat prettily on the floor and stared at him, trying to be comforting. My anxiety was manageable, so I moved forward with my plan. Still unsatisfied with his confused blinking, I flapped over to the table beside him. The proximity was both terrifying and comforting. I could not speak or laugh, but at least I could be near him.

Earlier, we had been closer than ever since his blessing ceremony. Why was I so cozy with him now? The fact that I couldn’t speak or mess up was strangely reassuring. I basked in his warmth, leaning onto his side and clicking to show my comfort. I began to sing, a throaty, hollow sound.

The melody was gentle, a warble Aldara had once called “a sign of intimacy.” I snuggled into his arm, eyes closed. Aldara had once told me ravens sing only for their most intimate loved ones.

“Mates sing to one another,” she had whispered, playing with my hair when I was a child.

As I sang, I waited for Shiloh to arrive so we could find a new stone. 

“Hey Y/N,” Shiloh’s booming voice interrupted the quiet. “Are you ready to forage?”

Startled, I let out an angry squawk and flew to the windowsill, yelling at her impatience. Shiloh laughed and urged me to hurry. Patto had gathered our friends at Morla’s for forest gossip. After today, I was sure we’d be the topic of their nocturnal chatter.

“Bridd,” Jimin said as Shiloh flew away.

I looked at him. He understood what it meant.

“Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

I flew back to his side, wanting to close up the shop properly, but magic was beyond me in this form. Jimin offered his arm, and I perched contentedly.

“To be honest,” he began, sitting at the table, “I don’t want to be the alpha.”

I cocked my head, a silent question passing between us.

“I enjoy Sol as a person,” he continued, “and yes, she’s beautiful, but-”

He paused, looking at me with a helpless expression. My heart ached for him. The weight of responsibility, the burden of destiny—it was overwhelming. Even if Aldara had been present on my 16th birthday, I don’t think I would have been prepared. Jimin had an entire pack relying on him, and to not want any of it was heartbreaking.

“But she is not who I want to choose,” he finished.

I began to warble gently again, preening his silver hair. I hoped it was comforting. I thought of Sol—her dark skin, her freckled beauty. It was hard to imagine her in any way but perfect. The idea of her with Jimin twisted in my mind.

Jimin’s confession was a relief, though it was tinged with sadness. I continued to sing softly, hoping to offer some comfort.

Yet Jimin didn’t want her. He didn’t want to choose her. But as I dragged my beak gently through his hair, a sinking realization settled in my chest: no one truly chooses their mate. The goddess would have the final say in Jimin’s future. Both of us knew it well. And agonizing over it was a futile exercise. In the end, if they were destined to be mates, he’d laugh at this whole conversation. She’d be perfect then—so perfect he’d wish he could strangle himself for ever doubting it. Wolf bonds were like that.

Ravens mate for life, too, but their bond is built on trust and affection. A wolf’s mating bond, though, runs much deeper. It’s a primal connection that binds two souls completely. Once their scents mingle, nothing on Earth can keep them apart. It’s not like the soft, innocent affection of ravens, which burns through loyalty. No, this kind of love is a roaring blaze, unstoppable and all-consuming.

Not Jimin’s pre-ceremonial rejection. Not Kim Namjoon’s cocky bravado. Not even my own shattered heart if I had to watch it unfold. It’s a pure, unaltered rush that they’d never come down from. Deciding I was done, I backed away from Jimin and nuzzled his forehead with my beak, trying to offer comfort. He responded with a tight-lipped smile.

“Can I tell you something else?”

I turned my head bashfully but nodded.

“You’ve been very kind to me—” he said, stretching his arms wide. “—and I told you this because I felt like I owed you.”

Alarm surged through me. I squawked in frustration, but realized he couldn’t understand. My curse made communication a cruel joke. I wanted to reach out, to beg him for clarity, but my voice was trapped. Jimin seemed to notice my agitation.

“Thank you for helping me the other day,” he said.

I racked my brain, trying to recall what he meant. All I’d done was bring him tea and medicine. What else could there be? I hadn’t left my cottage since Taehyung’s ceremony, save for Jimin’s visit. Oh. Oh…

Jimin was my little wolf. He was the one who’d brought me the lantern. The realization touched and embarrassed me. He’d come back to express his appreciation. No wonder he was so stubborn about shifting back into a human—Jimin was supposed to be the strongest wolf in Foxglove. As much as I wished we could discuss this further, or that I could offer reassurance, I knew it would have to wait. For now, I’d let him know I wasn’t upset about his secrecy.

I flitted around his head, performing a few somersaults for good measure. Jimin laughed heartily as he left, and I felt a thrill at having finally made him smile. I savored the moment—his tousled hair, his flushed cheeks, that wide, toothy grin that lit up his entire face. I had never seen his dimple before, and I knew I wanted to preserve this memory forever.

“I have to get back to the others,” he said with a giggle, bowing. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Goodnight, Jimin, I replied silently. As he walked away, I took to the air, heading toward the spot Shiloh had mentioned. Even as I joined my friends and laughed, all I could see was the way Jimin’s eyes crinkled into crescent moons when he smiled.

Back at my altar, I breathed evenly, eyes closed. I had spent the better part of the afternoon praying and meditating, preparing for the energy I’d need for tonight’s ritual. The gods' support was crucial for a successful mating ceremony. When I opened my eyes, I glanced at the grimoire in my lap, sighing. Sol’s presentation tonight would reveal the pack’s new head alpha. My heart clenched, but I pushed through the discomfort, focusing on the text.

Each Bridd kept meticulous records of their spells and ceremonies, and Jordana’s writings had been invaluable. I absorbed her step-by-step instructions for the ritual, paying special attention to the parts where I was to exit the circle promptly. This would be my first time aiding a Luna in her mating ritual, and I was grateful for her guidance.

The cottage was silent. Shiloh was asleep, and none of my friends had visited. While I appreciated the solitude—it helped me stay focused—the emptiness was stifling. My mind wandered too often, becoming a distraction. I was glad Jimin and I were writing letters to each other now. He said he valued the privacy my mind provided, and I just liked him. Today, however, we hadn’t spoken. We were both too preoccupied with preparations for the night.

A few days ago, I’d stopped pretending my feelings weren’t hurt. I was already mourning Jimin before anything was decided. My adoration and love for him made it physically impossible to feel happy for him or anyone else. That letter had only deepened my sorrow. Now, with only hours remaining, I was sick with worry, selfishly hoping Namjoon would be chosen instead. If I couldn’t have Jimin, I didn’t want him with anyone else. As new tears welled up, I wiped them away roughly and closed the grimoire with a decisive snap.

I stood, surveying my home with desperation. I was tired of sewing—bored of it after a week of endless stitches. Wood carving could be fun but also exhausting. The same went for blacksmithing. I didn’t want to disturb Shiloh; she needed her rest. My gaze landed on the large red carpet in the living room.

Slowly, I sank to my hands and knees and lifted the only corner not weighed down by furniture. The black cast-iron handle of the basement door stared back at me, along with the bear carvings I’d painstakingly etched into the wood years ago. I traced the fading lines with my finger, sighing deeply. I’d carved something similar before the fire. Aldara had been furious when she discovered my handiwork, but it took her mere minutes to join me in the endeavor. For months after she was gone, I’d stared at the empty floor, feeling the weight of my loneliness. In a desperate bid for relief, I had started carving bears again—only managed three before I broke down in tears. I never tried it again.

Feeling a spark of inspiration, I drew a knife from my belt and began carving once more. My hands moved with ease, the lines straight and confident. Unlike my old drawings, these would never fade. Before I knew it, I had carved a wolf’s head and groaned in frustration. This wasn’t working. I sheathed the little knife and lifted the basement door. With a flick of my wrist, the scattered furniture rearranged itself into its proper places.

Looking back at the door, my heart ached at the sight of the violent gouges I’d inflicted on the wood. It was days after the fire, and I’d locked myself in the basement, the only refuge left. Yoongi, Seokjin, and Wendy had come to help, alongside their families. After treating them horribly, I had locked myself away, destroying many of the treasures from my childhood. The door had almost been a casualty, but it remained. Aldara had drawn a fox playing with butterflies, overshadowing my simple bears below.

“Egnis,” I whispered, and a tiny flame sparked from my index finger.

Using the small ladder attached to the floor, I descended into the dark room. The flame flickered aimlessly, its energy depleted. I recalled a time when my magic danced and sang with vibrant life, and the memory saddened me. Once I reached the bottom, I reached out and stroked the flame. It flinched but then grew larger. I squared my shoulders and focused.

“Leohtielfent.”

The flame exploded, branching out in all directions. Candle holders on the walls ignited brilliantly. The flames flickered and danced, their movements once more lively. A memory of Yule years past came to mind, and the sadness returned. Back then, my flames performed acrobatic feats, competing for my attention. Now they were as mundane as Aldara’s had been. She was right—magic had become more serious than fun.

This room housed all the grimoires and books of Bridd’s past. It was the reason it had survived the fire. Eight hundred years ago, Jordana had cast a powerful protection spell. None of the other Bridd could decipher how she did it or how to reverse it. I had tried to figure it out at ten but quickly gave up. If Aneesa, the 4th Bridd and a genius, couldn’t unravel the mystery, I doubted anyone ever would.

I walked over to the large bookshelves, running my fingers along the spines. Even with all the knowledge in the world at my fingertips, I felt clueless. What do you do when what you want is unattainable? Pine away uselessly or pretend you’re over it? Cry alone or seek out someone who understands?

Aldara would have advised finding a middle ground. But what middle ground exists in this situation, especially knowing Jimin doesn’t want to be Sol’s mate? That thought alone sent a shiver through me, and I felt a surge of shame.

“Be patient,” a voice whispered in the quiet room.

I smiled sadly. The spirit’s presence was comforting, though I couldn’t quite make out who it was today. It was easier to discern if I let them in, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I had a ceremony to attend in a few hours. The spirit’s fingers brushed through my hair.

“All will reveal itself in time.”

I swallowed hard. “And if it’s what I fear?”

“You will survive it, little one,” the spirit replied warmly. It had to be Heidi, and the thought made my tears well. As much as I appreciated her reassurance, I longed for my aunt. Aldara always knew exactly what to say. A choked sob escaped me. “You are brave and strong. You have nothing to fear.”

But I had everything to fear. Watching Sol approach Jimin, blindfolded and kneeling as he held her protectively—it would be unbearable. Seeing the man I loved so desperately, irrevocably entwined with someone else, seemed impossible to endure. I felt the gentle brush of fingers on the back of my neck.

“I’m afraid,” I whispered.

“That’s what makes you brave,” the spirit replied.

Drawing a breath, I nodded. Aldara’s words provided comfort, but unease still gnawed at me. I knew I needed to study more. So, I sat on the floor, trying to clear my mind.

“Flotian,” I commanded, and a book flew straight into my outstretched hand.

I decided to walk to the village tonight. The memory of the first time I saw Jimin had been haunting me. I wanted to retrace our steps. We were both so young then—no more than thirteen. I had been possessed during Yule, and he’d walked me home after his brother found me in the forest. I wondered if he remembered it as vividly as I did or if he’d buried it away for a rainy day. I smiled sadly when I spotted a rogue ielfen circle. I had been so afraid of the ielfen back then.

The night was quiet. Shiloh had gone off with Patto to get good seats for the ceremony. Morla was already there, and the rest of the gossipers were likely chatting away. Seokjin was already asleep, and Yoongi, though indifferent to pack affairs, would stay up in case I needed him. I reached into my cloak pocket and felt the letter.

Wendy had written to me before I left, and I hadn’t had a chance to read it. It had been too long since I’d seen my friend. We wrote often, though not as frequently as I’d like. She was a busy witch, traveling to Northorn with her younger sister, Nixie, who was meeting a possible suitor.

Wendy had stopped visiting after a particularly nasty argument with Seokjin. I didn’t know the details, but from what Patto shared, jealousy and Yoongi were involved. Seokjin was hopelessly in love with Wendy, and I knew she felt the same, but the kitchen witch was an obstacle. They hadn’t spoken since, and I assumed they’d ended their relationship.

I heard rustling in nearby bushes and paused, scanning the area. Ready for a fight, I walked slowly. But nothing emerged. After five minutes of waiting, I grew bored and resumed my normal pace. The bushes remained still.

The walls of Bangtan loomed like the unyielding ramparts of some ancient fortress, their stone battlements cold and unapproachable, daring any who might consider breaching them. Just outside, a humble farm lay, the green fields stretching out like a patchwork quilt under the waning daylight. A human family toiled there, unknown and nameless to me but whispered to be kindly souls who welcomed travelers with open arms. Most humans, especially those from the north, eyed wolves with a wary, suspicious glare.

On the other side of those impregnable walls, a gentle stream meandered its way back to the ocean, the bridge leading to the ceremonial cave standing like a solitary sentinel. The town beyond was quaint, a postcard of pastoral charm. The church perched on the hillside was enveloped by the embrace of ancient trees, while the market bustled in the heart of town, surrounded by homes and businesses. The copiae, steadfast and resolute, nestled beside the stream, a small but mighty entity, and I adored it.

Tonight, the streets lay empty, a ghostly silence hanging in the air. Everyone was either ensconced in the cave or barricaded in their homes, leaving the town eerily still. The moon’s energy pulsed through me, a tangible force that foretold the grueling path ahead. Even if Sol chose not Jimin, the toll this night would exact on me was not to be underestimated. My prayers mingled with the night air, asking for the Gods to grant me Jimin, to ensure his recovery, and to bestow Sol a lifetime of happiness, as she so richly deserved.

The cave was a cavern of silence, despite the throngs within. The unmated wolves stood in orderly rows, awaiting the moon’s cue. I moved forward, preparing for the ceremony with the meticulous precision born of experience.

As always, I began by cutting my hair and changing my clothes. Tonight, the body paint would be different, a ritual transformation guided by Jordana’s grimoire. I had to embrace my feminine essence, which called for delicate, white lines.

I began by tracing two large circles around my eyes. With a puddle of water as my mirror, I let the lines cascade downward, creating a shape that cast a melancholic shadow across my face. I refined the lines, drawing them to meet at my jawline, and then added curved, moth-like wings that gave me a fleeting sense of satisfaction, reminiscent of the Grand Witch’s designs.

I adorned my face with crushed pearls, an optional but favored touch that promised some relief from the inevitable pain. With the altar set and the moon’s position noted, I performed a quick cleansing spell to ward off bad luck and signaled the ceremony’s commencement.

As I maneuvered around the alphas, creating a protective circle, Sol was escorted in, blindfolded and naked. Her dark, freckled skin and exposed hair were a sight both vulnerable and poignant. I averted my gaze as much as possible, granting her what privacy I could, though the sheer weight of the moment was impossible to ignore.

Chief Ahn, with a tenderness born of past affection, led Sol to the center of the circle. I glanced up at the moon through the cave’s opening. It was time. I stepped away from the circle’s edge, ensuring no one was too close, for fear of confusing or agitating Sol, or provoking a defensive reaction from her or her mate.

Watching from a safe distance, my gaze fell upon Jimin. His demeanor was one of resignation, his eyes fixed ahead, betraying a hint of nerves. I felt a sting of sorrow but fought to maintain composure. Now was not the time for tears.

I focused on the ceremony’s unfolding drama. Sol’s sudden, agonized cry and the sight of her crawling toward her mate brought a pang of desperation. Jimin’s eyes met mine in an unexpected lock. In that fleeting moment, the world seemed to pause. He looked at me with a raw, unmasked fear, an echo of our last conversation, where he had wrestled with his feelings of inadequacy and guilt.

Then came the gasp, the collective shock rippling through the crowd as Sol collapsed, her form draped over Taehyung’s legs. The astonishment in the air was palpable. Taehyung, his hands gently exploring Sol’s hair—something unseen until now—was the image of awe.

I cleared my throat and began to sing, a spell-charm woven into a song. As I sang, I felt the searing pain of my wings manifesting, each feather falling into a pool of my own blood. The process was agonizing, more so than any blood ritual I’d endured. My strength waned, but I placed two of my feathers on the altar with trembling hands.

The feathers, now pristine and white, floated gently to the altar. Taehyung’s reaction was mixed with discomfort, while Sol clung to him, seemingly impervious to the tumult around her. Chief Ahn’s look of fury was enough to set my nerves on edge, but I remained focused, hoping the others could temper his wrath.

“Nam initiis novis,” I choked out, my voice strained, delivering the feathers with magic as my accent thickened. I then cast a spell to dissolve the salt circle, finishing with, “Mêowle hîe l¯ædan êow frêod nâðýl¯æs lufen.”

With the ceremony concluded, the crowd’s discontent was audible, a cacophony of disbelief. I allowed myself a moment of rest, but Taehyung’s concern for my well-being was met with a firm dismissal. I had to gather my things, ignoring his protests.

“I will do this,” Jimin said, voice hard and seemingly coming from nowhere. “Lay down.” 

“But-” I protested. 

Jimin, his concern evident, took my hand, urging me to rest. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that, now unburdened, Jimin might still belong to me in some intangible way. As he packed my belongings with careful precision, the townsfolk departed, their anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Need a hand?” Namjoon’s voice cut through the dim light.

“No,” Jimin muttered, and Namjoon, after a brief pause, turned and vanished into the shadows.

Jimin moved with a swiftness that belied the weight of my belongings, scooping me up into his arms with an ease that spoke of his strength. I was a mere feather to him, but I winced at the thought of my blood staining his robes—expensive and painstakingly crafted. Yet he seemed oblivious to the potential damage, holding me close against his chest with a fierce protectiveness.

“You can’t go pulling stunts like that again,” he chided once we were clear of the village’s borders.

“Do what?” I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper.

“That feather trick. You look like you’re at death’s door.”

I managed a soft hum, “Sorry if I scared you.”

Jimin’s sigh was a deep, rumbling sound of forgiveness. “I forgive you.”

The walk back felt shorter, the familiar path seemingly imbued with a comforting sense of déjà vu from that snowy night. I couldn’t help but chuckle, and Jimin’s gaze softened, a grin stretching across his face that I was determined to imprint in my memory.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

I giggled, “Do you remember the Yule we first met?”

His smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes and revealing a slightly crooked front tooth. It was a sight that could melt any frost. “Of course,” he said, his tone warm. “I still favor that path. Can’t deny, it’s the best one.”

I sighed with contentment. “Except for the thorns, but it looks like someone took care of those.”

The trail, once choked with vicious thickets that sliced and jabbed at any unwary traveler, was now clear. Jimin, his cheeks tinged with a hint of shyness, shrugged.

“I took care of it once I started my rounds. Dodging mushroom circles is a challenge when you’re built like a tree.”

I snickered. “I can only imagine.”

Despite the shock of Taehyung’s unexpected rise to alpha, the sight of Sol on his back had eclipsed any lingering surprise. Exhaustion was beginning to pull at my edges, and I knew the reality would settle in come morning.

“I’m glad,” I murmured, “that you got what you wanted.”

Jimin’s eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead. “So am I.”

When we reached home, Shiloh was a whirlwind of concern, fussing over me with an intensity that bordered on the overwhelming. Jimin had assured her, as had I, that I was fine, but the owl’s persistent nagging was a test of patience. Jimin, ever composed, requested pen and paper to write to one of my friends.

Shiloh took care of that while I rested in bed, and though I was touched by Jimin’s gesture, it wasn’t surprising. He had never once left me to navigate such moments alone. I heard the flap of Shiloh’s wings as she departed, likely heading to Yoongi’s place.

“Thank you,” I called out, my voice already fading as sleep overtook me.

Jimin, standing in the doorway, offered a soft smile. He settled on the edge of my bed, his gaze gentle as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.

“Drohtian hnot drîfan,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn. “Yoongi will help me.”

Jimin’s hum was a comforting sound, and I fought to keep my eyes from closing. He chuckled softly, a tender sound that seemed to wrap around me like a warm blanket.

“I wish I understood everything you say,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “Get some rest. Your friend will be here soon.”

I smiled, letting my eyes drift shut. “I’ll stay with you until then,” he added.

I nodded, and as my hands brushed the note from Wendy, I sighed in resignation. It would have to wait until morning. The exhaustion finally claimed me, and I drifted into a deep, restful sleep.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus​

P.S. For future reference, I did change Hyun-Jin’s name to Enver. I thought it would fit better since Thelma was naming him, and since it means luminous, I thought it rather fitting. I have always believed he was the light in Thelma’s rather lonely life. Hope you like the wolves and witches having different languages. I thought it would make sense since the wolves came from a different country and would not speak Lustrian at all. We’ll dive into that later.

Translations: Ielfen - FairyÊow rôðres earfoðlic ætstillan. - You are very quiet. Êow d hnot pîslic these lâstlange under. - You have not made these in a while. Yonder forerynel êow? - Where are you? Nam initiis novis. - For your new beginnings. Mêowle hîe l¯ædan êow frêod nâðýl¯æs lufen. - May they bring you hope and peace. Drohtian hnot drîfan. - Do not worry.

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[steddieas-shegoes]

My top three headcannons for you to pick from:

1) Eddie is an excellent seamstress.

2) Steve thinks the kids still believe in Santa (they don't) and is very protective of maintaining that piece of childhood innocence.

3) I think that if Corroded Coffin made it big, Steve would pride himself on picking out the strangest (read coolest) formal wear pieces for Eddie like a Chainmail tie (a real thing my dads roommate has) or shark tooth cufflinks

Number 2 because I’m in my feelings about Liam believing in Santa 😩

Steve stopped believing in Santa when he was four years old.

He woke up to two presents under the tree: one from his nanny and one from his grandmother he’d never even met.

When he asked his mom on the phone why Santa didn’t come to their house, she said that Santa didn’t have time and had to be away on business.

Steve was a smart kid and connected the dots.

His nanny tried to find the magic for him every year, baked cookies with him and made him his favorite dinner.

But it didn’t make him suddenly believe.

So when Christmas with the kids came around, he went all out.

Decorations inside and outside, baking cookies in ugly sweaters, a holiday movie marathon followed by making snowmen.

Everyone loved it, and their parents loved that they had time to prepare for the holidays without the kids running around.

Eddie was currently watching Steve frantically wrapping presents, an hour behind his perfectly planned schedule.

“I can help, Stevie,” Eddie said from his spot on the couch.

“No, it all has to look exactly the same!”

“Why?”

Steve sighed and looked up at him, his hair ruffled and cheeks flushed.

“Because Santa would wrap them all the same.”

Eddie snorted.

“Yeah, but they don’t actually think Santa is the one who wrapped them.”

Steve’s face fell, his hands pulling away from the gift he was wrapping.

“You’re right. Yeah. Okay. You can wrap some,” Steve’s voice was wrong.

“Stevie…”

“No, you’re right. I know they don’t believe in Santa anymore. Don’t know why I was doing all this.”

Eddie shook his head and slipped down to the floor next to Steve.

“Look, they may not believe in Santa anymore, but they believe in you. They’re so excited to come over and celebrate Christmas Eve with us. They may act too cool for all this, but I know for a fact it’s all Dustin’s been talking about for a week. Even Erica is excited,” Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve and pulled him into his side. “Now show me how to wrap like Santa.”

Steve kissed his cheek and started showing him how to wrap.

He certainly didn’t wrap like Santa, but the kids were just as excited about it, and Steve got to keep it up for another year.

And maybe it was good to practice for the future.

Just in case they managed to have a couple nuggets themselves.

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Little bit of language.

Word Count: 1.8K

Note: This is really just to introduce the characters and the tone of the piece. I hope you like this little group as much as I do!

May, 1939

“Will you three get out of the way?” Cora Vaughn nudged her youngest sister, Dot, with her shoe as the cake in her hands slid on its plate. Dot was the first to jump up from the doorstep. Giggling, she grabbed the hands of Lois Bennett and hauled her to her feet. She, in turn, took the cake from Cora’s hands and went to place it on the table assembled in the street. Bunting was strung from a few of the lampposts, and newly laundered white tablecloths fluttered a little in the spring breeze. A few of the neighbours’ children ran by, chasing a leather football down the cobbles. The last to move was the middle of the Vaughn girls. Cigarette between her lips, she leant against the door frame, staring steely eyed across the street. Suddenly, she ran forward.

“Careful!”

The old piano her father and Douglas Bennet were wheeling through the front door teetered. Just as her hands found the piano, another pair did the same. She looked up to see grey eyes twinkling back at her.

“Alright, Bess?”

Tom Bennett braced the piano against his shoulder.

“Alright, Tom.”

“You finished the dress then,” he nodded to her.

“Yeah, though I’m not sure on the red. Think it clashes with my hair.”

“I like it, nice to see you wearing dresses outside the dance hall,” he teased.

“Can you two stop your whispering and help?” Fergal Vaughn was going red in the face. Douglas Bennett looked ready to faint. Together the four of them manoeuvred the old upright through the door, and no sooner had it come to rest was Tom jogging to play football with the little ones. After inspecting the strings, Bess joined Cora and Lois once more on the doorstep of the Bennett’s home. Dot was bouncing around in front of them, her freshly curled hair shining in the sun.

“Yes, Dot, we know you’ve got tongs.” Cora said, clicking her teeth.

“Well it’s better than sleeping in rollers every night.” Dot retorted.

“I’d rather sleep in rollers than get up at the crack of dawn to curl my hair.”

“What time is Albie gonna be here?” Lois asked Bess, keen to stop the burgeoning argument.

“In a few minutes, I should say. Queenie Warren’s taken him for a walk around the houses.” Bess replied, watching Tom pick up one of the little boys to stop him reaching the ball. She smiled.

“Not the first time Queenie Warren’s been round the houses!” Dot laughed. Cora smacked her arm with a shush.

“Shit.” Bess threw her cigarette to the curb and ran to the piano. She played the first few chords of Happy Birthday, and the street stilled their activities to join in the song. Albie Vaughn rounded the corner, an overdressed young woman hanging off his arm. He beamed at the sight of them; his family and neighbours assembled around the table as they sang to him, and laughed brightly when Bess began a chorus of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow. Dot swung her arm around her brother’s neck, causing Queenie Warren to stumble out of the way. Cora placed a hand on her back apologetically before kissing her brother’s cheek. Fergal hugged his son, while Douglas shook his hand and Tom clapped him on the back. Bess was the last to greet her younger brother, kissing his hand and smiling.

“My boy is twenty-one!” Fergal shouted proudly to the street. A cheer rang through the afternoon air and people settled at the table, tucking into the sandwiches and cakes that the Vaughn girls had prepared with Lois’ help. Bess lit another cigarette and resumed her place at the piano. Occasionally, while her fingers worked through ragtime and foxtrot, she glanced over the party.

Cora and Lois were laughing together about something, and it joyed Bess to see them leave their worries behind for a few hours. They had both given so much to look after their families. Fergal and Douglas, too, were laughing. A bottle of beer in each hand, their eyes crinkled in the corners as Fergal gesticulated wildly while telling some story about his life back in Cork. Albie and Dot were walking around, chatting to party guests. At the table, Queenie Warren was applying more lipstick. She leaned towards Tom and looked up at him through her lashes. To Bess’ great delight he ignored her, and instead stood to fill a plate with more food. Bess snorted. Greedy guts. She focussed her attention back on the piano, before something was placed atop it. She looked up.

Tom was leaning on the upright, eyes towards the party. When Bess didn’t speak, he looked round.

“I think we can manage without a few songs while you eat your lunch.” The plate he had placed on the piano was piled with sandwiches and a slice of Albie’s birthday cake. Bess reached for out for a sandwich and popped it in her mouth.

“Thanks,” she said through her mouthful. Tom simply smirked and sauntered back to his seat.

The afternoon carried on with much merriment. One of the old Irish dears from down the road brought out a wireless and a bottle of sherry to share with the Vaughn girls. Despite the warmth of the day, and the sherry, a chill descended with the start of the evening. Albie and Tom were sent to the pub while the girls packed away the party. They sniggered as Queenie Warren struggled to keep up with them in her heels.

*

By nine o’clock that evening, the Vaughns and the Bennetts were sat around the fire in the former’s kitchen. Albie had stumbled home not half an hour before and was currently asleep in the rocking chair by the hearth. Cora, Bess and Lois were washing up, while Dot looked through one of Bess’ fashion magazines. Tom was still at the pub. From the kitchen table, Fergal and Douglas watched their daughters.

Fergal was so reminded of his late wife each time he looked at his girls. Their dark, copper hair looked aflame in the firelight, and with each glimmer of their eye and hush of their voice he felt as though she were back there with them. Cora and her gentleness, Bess’ steely confidence, Dot with her joy. Thank God for his girls. He turned to Albie and pride swelled in his chest. With his dark curls and eyes, he was the image of his father. But just like his daughters, he too took after their mother.

“Twenty-one,” he said softly, causing Douglas to look up. “And Dot not long off eighteen.”

“Never thought I’d have a family after the war, let alone see them grown,” Douglas said.

“We were the lucky ones.” Fergal said sadly. They both drank to that and fell silent. After a moment, Fergal spoke again. “It does worry me, him being twenty-one.” He gestured to Albie, now snoring gently. “You know, with all this stuff going on in Poland. Sounds just like it was before.”

Douglas merely hummed. Fergal knew he was thinking of Tom.

“You want me to help you get him to bed?” Douglas asked.  

“No, me and the girls will manage.” Bess turned and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

By the time the Bennetts had said their goodbyes, and the Vaughns had collectively hauled Albie to bed, it was half past ten. Bess always liked this time of day. She loved her family, adored them, but living in a tiny house with five people left her craving solitude. She was just settling in the rocking chair with a small glass of whiskey when the door to the yard clicked open. Hair ruffled, hands in his pockets, gentle smile directed at Bess was Tom Bennett.

“Wrong house.”

He tutted. “I know,” he drew out the last word teasingly. Bess looked him over.

“Where’s Queenie?”

“How should I know?”

Bess shrugged. “She seemed pretty keen on you,”

“She’s keen on anything with a pulse,”

“You’re well suited then.” Bess slouched in the rocking chair and rested her head against its back. She heard Tom sit at the piano stool and pick a few notes at random to play. “Well, where were you?”

“Who put the pennies in you?” Tom laughed. Bess raised her eyebrows at him in question and he sighed. “Met a man down the pub who said he could get me some car parts.” Tom was used to her silence and accustomed to reading her mind. “For me to flog.”

Bess’ eyes never left his as she took a sip of her whiskey. Tom huffed. He knew she didn’t approve, but sometimes he wished she’d tell him this. Just behave like a normal girl and speak, rather than communicate with him telepathically. He didn’t realise how long their silence had lasted until Bess spoke again.

“Are you ok?”

He considered her before speaking. Tom often found himself at the Vaughn’s late in the evening with just Bess for company while the others slept. He found her quiet confidence calming. Tom imagined Lois and Cora knew that he snuck out to talk to her, but they never said anything. Tonight, though, he wasn’t sure why he was here and so simply nodded.

Bess stood and made her way to the piano and lightly played a melody. Tom copied. She did another four bars, and once again Tom followed. When she nudged his shoulder he looked up to find her warm smile.

“I think you’re the only person who understands me sometimes Bess,”

“Get yourself off to bed. Night Tom,” she rubbed his shoulder and made her way up the stairs. He watched her go, grabbed his jacket from the table and left through the front door, tucking his spare key into his trousers. Just as he went to open the door to his own home across the street, he heard the clicking of shoes on the cobbles.

“Here,” Bess thrust something into his hands as he turned around. “We’ve got plenty. Too much. Goodnight.”

Tom opened the tissue paper and found a few slices of Albie’s birthday cake. He watched Bess disappear back into their house. She didn’t look back.

Note: Things will start to pick up in the next few chapters, I promise! Expect unlikely friendships, angst, gossip, letters, maybe a little sauciness…

The Vaughn girls ages are 24 (Cora), 22 (Bess) and 17 (Dot). I’ve put Lois at the same age as Cora, and Tom at the same age as Bess.

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