#he is totally my soul mate 😂

[mamabirbsnz]

my bf has a cold rn and after sneezing cutely and blowing his nose he deadass said to me "damn, I'm having a heavy flow day."

HELP 😭💖

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

It's that time of turning another year older. These days, I totally appreciate chill days. Hopefully, I'll have a chance to relax and enjoy the small things like a good cuppa, reading some comics or fic, poking at cute crochet things and having some delicious food.

Since it's become a tradition to share fic recs and my heart has been pretty gone on Stiles and Derek for a while, this year I'm sharing 14 Teen Wolf Sterek fic recs that I absolutely love reading again and again. Yes...that was very hard to narrow down out of my...who the hell knows how many bookmarks I have. 😂 Anyway, whether you need a pick-me-up, want something new to add to your TBR, or you really need your fix of our dumb boys, I've gotchu! Make sure to give these authors some kudos, comments and love! [P.S. If folks are looking for their fix of HP fics...I may swoop in a little later this month to make an HP summer reading list. Lmk if that's something y'all would like to see!] Happy reading, and enjoy!

🎈 heart-flower by hoars (T, 4.7k)- Flowers, Soul Manifestation, Flower Romance, Black Cat, mental health, allergic reactions, Suicidal Thoughts, Maiming, Car Accidents, Hallucinations, Courtship

Heart-flowers are a reflection of your heart, mind and soul, if you're a romantic. Scientists call them a reflection of mental and emotional health instead. As long as you're happy or content, the flower is healthy too. But if you're distraught the petals will close or brown. It depends person to person, emotion to emotion. When Derek tells Stiles to take care of it, he means, take care of me.

🎈 A Growl-to-English Dictionary by churkey | @churkey (T, 14.9k )- Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Derek Hale Leaves Beacon Hills, Derek Hale Leaves, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Darkness Around The Heart, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, He's a Failhuman, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Werewolf Mates, Mates, Werewolf Culture

In which Derek finds his words and Stiles learns to growl.

🎈 One Hundred Miles an Hour in Reverse by suburbanmotel (M, 24.6k)- Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Baggage, Insomnia, Panic Attacks, Depression, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Boys Kissing, Blood, Injury, Blood and Injury, Mental Health Issues, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Stiles understands that leaving is hard. He understands because Stiles always understands. Leaving is hard, got it. Check. But late at night, alone in the dark in the quiet with the shadows, alone with his thoughts and his shallow, slightly panicked breathing, he also understands that it’s always harder for the people left behind. * Five years after everything, after everyone is gone, Stiles remains, because someone has to, right? He’s become good at staying, at being ok with staying, because he’s good at what he does and so many people need him here. So, he’s stayed and he does what he’s always done best: he figures things out. He figures things out and he makes lists, lists of spells, lists of magical herbs, lists of people who have left. He also makes lists about himself. Stiles is: the fixer, the writer, the librarian, the keeper of words and memories in Beacon Hills. He’s a healer, a helper and he remembers. He remembers everything.

🎈 Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup (G, 14.4k)- Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Meet-Cute, Meet Awkward, Professor Derek Hale, Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Romantic Comedy, alternate Derek Hale backstory, Stiles Wears Glasses, Derek Wears Glasses, Derek walks with a cane, Disabled Character, Fake/Pretend Relationship, With a twist!

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.” “Oh thank god!” “Stiles?” “I, uh, I need some advice.” “Advice?” “Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?” Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.” “That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.” “Stiles…what are you doing right now?”

🎈 The Witching Hour by loserchildhotpants | @loserchildhotpants (T, 8.3k)- Radio, Romance, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Alternate Universe - Human, Music, Humor

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born [Or: A radio show brings Stiles and Derek together, even though they've never met before]

🎈 Windows by dr_girlfriend | @drgrlfriend (E, 83.3k)- AU, Disability, Disabled Character, Misunderstandings, Angst, Fluff, Blind Character, Blind Stiles, Eventual Smut, Derek is a creeper, derek has no social skills, In Other Words Canon!Derek, Epilepsy, seizure disorder, Panic Attack, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe, Slow Build, Pack Feels, Slow Burn, Communication, Ableist Language, Demisexuality, Demisexual Derek Hale, Families of Choice, Found Families, POV Derek Hale, Friends to Lovers, Body Dysphoria, Alpha Derek, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek is a socially awkward potato, Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Good Pack Alpha Derek Hale

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking. * “You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails. “Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.” “Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered. “What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —” “Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.” “Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

🎈 Wolves in the Timber by adeepeningdig | @adeepeningdig (T, 17.2k)- Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feral Derek, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Dog Fighting, Rated For Violence, Full Shift Werewolves

Stiles had always thought that Derek would understand, maybe. If Derek had been around to talk about it. He would know what it was like to think that maybe it wasn’t a fluke, maybe there’s something in you, something twisted that pulls blood and betrayal and death to you, like a remnant of your mother’s disease, her monstrous confusion, still encoded in your genes. Stiles still dreams of that day in the loft, the water lapping at his ankles and the dirty light. Derek’s stricken face. He wonders if there are days when Derek wants to tear his own hands off too. But Derek wasn’t around, and now he’s a wolf. So. He’s 28 years old, it’s been years. He’s past all that. He should be past all that. There’s a black wolf panting on the floor of his apartment like an accusation. Stiles knows that there’s nothing that Lydia can say or do. He’s not projecting, it’s the truth, it’s the kinship he’s always felt with Derek, and if he could curl into his animal self, he would, and maybe he would stay there. It would be easier that way.

🎈 Way Back Home by matildajones | @matildajones (T, 14.2k)- Alternate Universe - Human, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, PTSD Derek, Anxiety Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, End Sterek, We like Heather though, getting better

He wasn’t ever expecting to get out of that hellhole, and he always wondered about Stiles. He wondered – even hoped – that he would move on.

🎈 Bones Straining Under the Weight by weathervaanes (E, 15.6k) deaf!derek, Food Blogger!Derek, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe

One of Stiles' favorite things about life is Derek Hale's food blog. He never expects to meet the man in person. * “Derek,” he says again, and the name feels very strange on his tongue. “You don’t mean Derek Hale.” His professor’s eyebrows reach up, eyes widening. “You read his blog?” "Uh. Worship. Would be a better more descriptive word. That is Derek Hale?" Jimmy chuckles. "Good-looking guy, huh?" "You mean to tell me the Food Network hasn't snatched him up to dethrone everyone else from daytime TV." Jimmy smiles a small private smile. "I don't think TV is his medium." Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Shy?" The man laughs heartily at that. "No, I wouldn't say that. He just has particular forms of expression, like eyebrows and chili powder."

🎈 A Healing Silence by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | @insecure-neurotic-control-freak (Not Rated, 36.3k)- Depression, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Eichen | Echo House, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Reunions

Stiles is slowly pushed out of the pack following his fight with Scott about Donovan's death. After receiving a phone number from an old friend, Stiles is surprised to find that it belongs to the one person who may be able to bring him back to himself.

🎈 36 Questions by Leslie_Knope (T, 8.1k)- POV Stiles, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, First Kiss, Talking, like a lot of talking, Emotions

“So I’m doing my senior psych thesis on friendships,” Erica says, not-so-accidentally elbowing Derek in the ribs as she turns to face Stiles. “How they develop, how intimacy is fostered, stuff like that.” “That’s cool,” Stiles says agreeably. “What’s our part?” “Well, I can’t really tell you the point because that would influence the results. But it’s a set of 36 questions that you have to ask each other.” “Just the two of us?” Derek chimes in, finally, and Stiles sighs. “Okay, dude,” he says, making a face, “could you try not to look quite so offended? Like, my ego’s pretty strong, but come on, man.”

🎈 like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me by allyasavedtheday (T, 8.4k)- Future Fic, Derek Comes Back, Fluff, Emotional Healing, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Derek Hale, Rebuilding the Hale House, (kind of), Hale Family Feels

Stiles is the only one who hasn’t spoken yet and when Derek looks away from Isaac he finds him appraising him, a look on his face like he’s cataloguing Derek for invisible injuries. (Or injuries that have long since healed, maybe.) He’s older now, obviously, but he’s never lost that shrewd ability to appear as if he’s picking Derek apart with just one look. Eventually though, a slow smile spreads across his face. “Good to see you again, big guy.” Derek huffs a laugh and then promptly bites back a smile when he sees Stiles’ eyes light up at the sound. “You too,” he replies, his voice that strange mixture of resigned and fond that only ever seems to come out when he’s talking to Stiles. * Derek comes back to Beacon Hills almost four years after he left it. Alternatively titled: Derek Hale finally finds some peace.

🎈 Days Like This by rlnerdgirl | @rlnerdgirl (M, 18.8k)- Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Derek Comes Back, Post-College AU, S3/S4 Divergent

Returning to Beacon Hills is a big step for Derek. He's starting his own business, rebuilding his old family home, and enjoying the feeling of being home. When he runs into the Sheriff and finds himself invited to a Stilinski family dinner, it's not nearly as strange as he would have expected, and when Stiles starts becoming a regular part of his new life, it only feels natural. * The first thing Derek notices is that Stiles is taller. The second is that he’s more filled out. This shouldn’t be a surprise. Not living in Beacon Hills doesn’t stop the machine of social media, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen pictures, but it’s different in person. Stiles, now Derek’s height, maybe an inch taller, still has the same wide smile and loose-limbness about him that he did when he was in high school. Between the height and the muscles though, this Stiles wouldn’t make anyone second guess that he played lacrosse. The only thing people would second guess about this Stiles is the fact that he was always on the bench.

🎈 Blind Date With A Book by thepsychicclam (M, 30.4k)- Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alive Hale Family, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Board Games, Meddling Hales, Human Hales, Slow Build

Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books. Derek didn't know how he kept getting set up on blind dates by his family, or why he kept going on them. The highlight of his night was when the date was over and he could go to the little bookshop in town and buy something to read for the rest of the night. He wanted to read, not date.

[freyjas-musings]

Our favorite Azriel stan 🦇🖤💙 !!

1. Why is Azriel one of your favorite characters?

2. Is there a specific scene that made you like them?

3. What theories/headcanons do you have for Azriel?

4. Feel free to share anything else about Azriel that the questions didn’t cover!

Hello Anon,

As a die hard Az stan this ask is like hitting a jackpot .... Get ready for a mini thesis 😂

1. Why is Azriel one of my favourite characters

Azriel is complex and intriguing. Him being tall, dark, broody and sexy is the only thing that is not unique about him. I love that he is messy.... there are things about him that are dark and lets face it fucked up... and things that are a total contrast to that dark side... but he is messy in a way that allows him to have the most satisfying journey of discovery , growth, healing and progress.

What makes Azriel so dear to me is the fact at the core of it all he is that little lost child who was locked up for 11 years in a dungeon without sunlight, where he was hidden away like a dirty secret and had to earn an hour of his mother's affection... until he was convinced he deserved to be cast away, rejected and remain unloved.

He yearns for that unconditional acceptance , for that unburdened love, to be someone's completely, to share a soul .... which explains his desire for a mate ( thank you mother SJM for creating Gwyn he just hit the mate jackpot) ... so yes that's why he is my favourite character because of the potential his story holds and I clearly have a thing for dummies who are oblivious to how amazing they are....

2. Specific Scene that I fell in love with him -

ACOMAF - there is this scene where Feyre comes to Rita's for the first time and Az sits with her ,he keeps her company and they make a game of it ... of taking a shot everytime Rhys flirts with a female there. That scene just has a spl place in my heart ... this guy who is introduced as one of the most lethal and cold predators known... someone who can make anyone tremble with fear and is literally termed the obsidian knife in the dark ... has this complete flip side to his personality, one that is so kind , so accepting and so adorable 😍 yea that was it for me 😂...

I love a lot of other scenes of Az but the moment I fell in love with him was that.

3. Headcanons and Theories ...

I can write a mile long post on all the theories but I am going to name one . Enalius and Azriel are connected/related and that's my favourite theory for him based on the latest book. It's such a monumental thing that this guy who hates his origin and people is related to their most revered hero.

4. My hope for Azriel's book is that SJM gives him a compelling journey of self reflection and discovery. My hope is that he finds that unconditional love in the form of Gwyn. My hope is that he understands that his brothers love for him is not conditional to the value he adds to the court or the work he does for them.

I am truly excited for his book 📖 😍

Thank you for sending me this ask it felt like I wrote Az a love letter 😍😍

[lottacomics]

Since I written this

I thought (and I still thinking) so much about it thanks to some of you guys and I get a new point of view about it.

1 ) So I just realize that “Everyone" thinks that nana replace yasu with ren .. I received so many messages and comments in every social I post about it like this :

Hell No.

Ok. She love him , (yasu yes.) I think it me too indeed like I said before. ….But she also loves ren too! In 57👇chapter she felts so sad when ren said to her that perhaps it would be better to cancel the wedding because their love no needed to anything else especially of a piece of paper. So why she felt like she was dying there?

Because she loves ren. (!)…In another way but she loves ren too so much .

And another thing: no, yasu is not asexual. lol

2) I received something like this too👇

Just to be honest in the story nana say that she becomes “in love“ or she feel she bonded with yasu, but after this moment.. and during That period of time that nana and ren were apart.. i believe in nana x ren... now I was just confused😐

Because ren has a very sad fate in the end in everypoint you can see his life . So even nana it is like this . Their are really our Sid An Nancy For real 😳😆…

SO again, ren was not perfect.. but either love it is perfect like dreams sometimes and it’s so illogical for everyone who we love. So I think they loved each other no matter what happened.

Its so clear that yasu loves nana (anyway poor miu for be “the replaced “ by yasu for his secret love for nana😅 😂 😳 no? ) and her love his presence … maybe she really loves him as well but its not my point now, I know she runs to yasu whenever she has a problem or when she has afraid of something. But sometimes we escape from the person who we love more because we are afraid of being hurt by the person we care most about. I know it’s illogical thing but it’s so real .

That’s why I believe and I hope, no matter in the manga or in the anime , Nana and Ren are soulmates. I think we have this idea that soulmates are "perfect" in a way and Ai Yazawahas a great way of showing you that'snot exactly true! Even soul mates don't get a happy ending because that's how Life is.

In the end my only hope is that nana love ren a little more no matter what .. despite knowing that yasu was or is still so special for her…🙏🏻 . i know im crazy that i still believe in nanaxren and their “love” no matter what Despite knowing that shions “thank you theory”in 77 chapters 👇 and that shin speech with nobu in 50chapter … im totally insane yep 👍

Anyway i feel that Nana still was hurt about rens decision of leave her years ago for his career but worst of it she was cold to him because she was jealous of reira for have steal ren s heart(especially just only Singing…) so I think nana was so confused about her ego and no because she doesn't love him anymore... that's why she didn't want to see him. She escapes from him because She was hurt.

So Their love its full of suffering about past issues not yet resolved.

… and despite this👇

Yea it’s so deep this panel, 👆 that I feel so sorry for ren sometimes just only thinking about it…(maybe it’s true this theory so this is the end of the story! ) but now I remember to myself there’s no a love of first class and love of second class in the end…. especially in this manga.😂

I think also in a strange way anyway that takumi loved hachi and her loved him despite the fact that he was a raper …..! ( For example . )

Omg 😳 yes ….and hachi still wanted to be there for him . This is so crazy but its like the story goes.

So what!? Love is not perfect. In the end.

————————————————————-

(Nana was so cute in this panel ☺️)

I decided to write it today because it’s Christmas so this means it’s a very special day for nanaxren lovers and supporters .

So… merry Christmas everyone 🫶

[seriouslysam8]

I have a little mini challenge for you and you can’t veto it!

Stick the following Brumous couples with someone else other than who they’re paired with (you can’t use someone who is dead):

Harry x Ginny

Ron x Demelza (I know it’s endgame)

Sirius x Tegan AND Sirius x Marlene (you can put Sirius with any of them)

Remus x Tonks

Arthur x Molly

Andy x Ted

You made this unnecessarily hard by banning dead people. I am in my right mind to ignore this rule. 🤣🤣🤣

First up, the easy ones.

Harry/Ron: There is at least one universe in which these two are together. You cannot change my mind.

Ginny/Demelza: Again, there is one universe these two are together. There has to be a universe where you are just getting it on with your bestie. You can't change my mind.

Tonks/Sutton: She is so sunshiny that she needs a slightly grumpy man. While Sutton isn't self-deprecating like Remus, he's not happy-go-lucky either. Plus, he's older than her and she digs older men.

Andy/Hugh Slughorn: Andy and Ted are soul mates, right? So, the only way she's not with Ted is if she followed in the Black family footsteps and was a good little pureblood girl like Narcissa. Who better than a pureblood from the Sacred 28 who isn't a raging blood purist but wildly successful? IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW. If you don't, well, then you haven't read all my stories. 😂😂😂😂

Arthur/Random Muggle Girl: I could totally see Arthur meeting some Muggle girl and falling head over heels in love with her. He'd be FASCINATED by everything. She'd find him endearing.

Now, onto the hard ones.

Sirius: He's hard in my mind. My first thought was, of course, James, because if any of them dated in that group it would be James/Sirius and NOT Sirius/Remus. But you said no one dead. I could see him getting with some random Muggle girl to stick it in his parents' faces.

Tegan: She's hard as well because her entire schtick in Brumous is that she can't move on from David and she's just a serial dater. I can't see her dating any Auror because it would remind her too much of David. Being an Auror, I could see her becoming close to some lawyers. So, I'll pair her with Magnus Shacklebolt who is only a year younger than her.

Marlene: I want to just say Charlie because if you know you know, but that seems like such a cop-out answer and we all know about hot girl Christmas on here. I could see her dating an Auror because of her family connection to Aurors. She'd know a lot of them thanks to her dad and brother. I could see her dating someone like Axel Lowe who is charismatic and friendly.

Remus: I know you said no one but seriously... no one. Remus is a major commitment-phobe. The only reason he even had a relationship with Tonks was because she was fucking in-love and wouldn't give up. She wasn't about ready to let him wallow either. So, I'm breaking the rules and saying I legit cannot see Remus with anyone except for Tonks. He'd die alone.

Molly: I think Molly would have married a pureblood, not because she's a purist or anything but just because the Prewett family is a part of the Sacred 28 and it seems like something Aunt Muriel would advocate for. I don't think it'd be any DE line, but perhaps an Abbott or Longbottom or a Macmillan.

Ted: He obviously likes the mysterious girls. I think Andromeda probably had an air of mysteriousness about her. Proper and gorgeous and tall. Yet, there was a soft side to her and she laughed in a way he never expected. So, it couldn't be anyone in Hufflepuff or even Ravenclaw. I could see him either getting with another Slytherin girl from a prominent family but not a blood purist because he reeks forbidden love or I could see him being with a Gryffindor who was fierce and fiery.

[acourtofthought]

Message sent from @sanfangirl

“So I was thinking on Lucien’s buildup and how it will eventually relate to Elucien, when I noticed something. Now I borrowed the books from a friend and wasn’t able to reread or quote much, but I remember noticing how Feyre is constantly hinting as Lucien’s inferiority. Like, not in a bad way, but when she talks about Lucien winnowing in ACOMAF she says “Lucien couldn’t winnow as far as Tamlin or Rhys, but he was fast” or something along those lines. But she’s saying he’s not as powerful as these other High Lords. And later on in ACOWAR she was totally planning to leave Lucien behind despite knowing he was desperate to meet his mate and she should have been able to sympathize, since she was missing her own mate quite strongly. My slight issue with Feyre and Lucien’s friendship aside, Feyre doesn’t see Lucien as very powerful until he’s able to break free of his chains, and even that is kind of dismissed as a freak accident. But to me this draws a parallel of how she also sees Elain. Elain was always portrayed as weaker compared to Feyre and Nesta. And then she’s Made by the Cauldron and comes out a powerful Seer. Interestingly enough, her mate, her soul bonded equal, discovers or is unknowingly able to tap into a wealth of spell breaking powers that break through Hybern’s chains and it turns out his daddy is actually very powerful, knowledgeable, charismatic Helion and he’s a High Lord’s heir. Now again sadly I don’t have the books at hand right now but hadn’t Lucien compared his power to his brothers (or at least Eris) before? And been found lacking? Do I need to point out that with most of his potential somehow locked away his power was still plentiful enough it was clear he was a powerful High Lord’s son (just, you know, not that one). And we have already seen hints of Elain being stronger and more powerful than people give her credit, I mean, stabbing the King of Hybern, talking back to Nesta, being willing to scry for the Dead Trove, need I go on? I hope in Elucien’s book we’ll be able to see their true potential bloom, and the IC’s reactions to the polite pair’s scary powers will be fun 😂”

My response to the above (for some reason it didn’t give me the option of “Answering” this, only “editing”.  I didn’t change anything from your original submission though, I’m just adding here at the bottom.

For only having read through the series on borrowed books, I’m really impressed!  I don’t think I picked up on anything my first or second reads, I was just sitting there thinking that SJM told me all I needed to know not realizing she was putting clues throughout. 

I know Lucien mentioned that he wasn’t particularly wanted or needed in Autumn and no one paid much attention to him which gave him the opportunity to train as long as he liked.  But that even with that, no one worried he’d bother killing his way up the long list of heirs.  And I know he previously acknowledged that Tamlin’s powers were much greater than anything he could do (since he’s still in the dark as to being Helion’s heir and doesn’t seem to realize it would be possible for him to display the markers of being a High Lord).  

But yeah, there are many examples of Feyre and the others thinking Lucien could never measure up to the IC.  That he may have trained but the IC would wipe Lucien off the face of the earth in a single blow.  She seems surprised that he doesn’t back down from Rhys or the Illyrians staring him down.  Questions whether he’d sell them out.  Az thinking he’s not good enough.  Nesta having problems with him for awhile. 

And the exact same thing can be said of Elain’s character.  Anytime she does anything, people are shocked.  She helped save Briar, helped save Az, saved Nesta and Cassian by stabbing the King yet they still think she needs protected and handled with kid gloves.  

I think it’s pretty purposeful on SJMs part though.  That the entire narrative surrounding Lucien and Elain is the people around them doubt them as capable, that they’ll always be secondary to the “real” warriors.  I think that makes them perfectly suited as Mates because it’s a struggle they can both understand.  And just because they aren’t as outspoken or fighters in the traditional sense doesn’t mean they can’t play a role that’s just as important to anything the IC has done and doesn’t mean they aren’t just as powerful.  

[teshadraws]

Hi, I just had to tell you, I’m really loving Seekers of Soul. It’s got to be my favorite ongoing PMD story right now! I hope at some point to do some fanart if the god of art block will release me lmao

I was wondering- and maybe the reason was given already and I just can’t remember (my memory is not great)- why did you choose to name the Crobat character Asra, but also call a prominent location in the story Asra? Giving two things the same name feels like a very deliberate choice. In the latest chapter, I think Asra’s mate mentions that he grew up nearby, so I assume he was named after the town, but I’m just curious about how significant the name is, and if we may learn more about it later. He did end up changing his name to Vesper to help hide his identity, but I like to think that- if the whole being dead thing is real and not a coverup, and everything the Swoobat said was genuine- the name change may also have been because he felt he was no longer worthy to share/represent the name of the town he came from. Because he was ashamed of the things he had done. Just a thought I had ^^

Anyway keep up the great work, I look forward to the next update!

Aw, thank you!!! :D I would love to see some Seekers art if the art block releases you, haha!

And since I already admitted to this in an earlier ask...the Asra thing was initially a total accident. 😂 I just forgot that I'd already named the crobat outlaw Asra while I was naming the town.

But! Since someone else brought the whole thing to my attention in time, I gave a little hint in the last chapter to try for a decent in-universe reason. Which is basically the inverse of what you said above! His real name from birth was Vesper, but he grew up near Asra and took the town's name as his alias while he was with Team Zenith. He returned to using his actual name, Vesper, when he settled down with his mate! He wanted to try distancing himself from his time as an outlaw as much as possible.

[doratheexplorer23455679]

If you will have me

Ron and the golden trio have always bullied you for being a Slytherin. But what if Ron discovered that he started to have feelings for you during your later years of Hogwarts.

first time writing one of these pls read with love and kindness in your soul 😂😂

Ron couldn’t understand what was happening to him, all his life he’s seen you as the annoying Slytherin girl who was chasing after Fred and George but now every time he sees you it’s like his heart stops and all he can do is watch you pass by him with a look of concern while he stands there looking like a complete moron. Now he’s in the great hall watching you watching you eat your pumpkin pasties and wondering to him self why can’t he just get the balls to go and tell you how he feels, and then it hits him, YOUR HISTORY. Luckily Harrys there to bring him out of his shame spiral. “Mate what’s wrong with you, you look like you just saw an angel get crushed by a bus”. “Me, no nothing’s wrong, this is just my thinking face. Though I’ve never heard described as “angel getting crushed by a bus” before”. “ Why were you looking at her”, Hermione said with a tone that said “don’t bullshit me Ron I know you’re lying”. “Um who, as you can see there are a lot of (she, her) around our vicinity Hermione, well as far as I know”. “At YN”. “ was I looking at her I didn’t even notice thanks for telling me Hermione next time I’ll make sure to keep my eyes away from anything, Um her.” And with that I got up from the table hopefully still leaving with my dignity. The next few days just got tougher and tougher, Hermione and Harry wouldn’t leave YN alone and let’s just say things got a little awkward in the common room when I suggested that we should just leave her alone. But the whole time all I was thinking about was how I wish I could tell you how I feel. And finally the moment came you were in the twins dorm planning a prank like always. It’s now or never I told myself as I walked into the dorm ready to pull you aside and tell you I love you, wait what, no I like you, yeah that seems about right. “Hey YN can I talk to you”. “ About what” Fred asked. “Stuff”. “What kinda of stuff” George then said. “Um stuff”. “Guys I got this” you said. At that Fred and George got up and left. “So what do you want”. “Um I want to talk to you”. “Well”. “Oh yeah, um well you see the past few weeks I’ve been feeling some sort of way toward you, which is why I came to talk to you. okay let me start over, I have feelings for you, positive feelings don’t worry. So I’m yeah I have a crush on you and yup and yup”. “So you came here to tell me that you like me”. “Yes”. “And what did you think would happen”. “Um I don’t actually know but I kinda expected um magic”. “Magic, Ron you do understand that you were a total dick to me”. “Oh um yes but I was hoping we could get past that and um I don’t know”. “Ron is this some kind of joke Becuase if it is then I swear to merlin I will punch you in the balls”. “ no it’s not I promise” I said starting to get really frantic. “Ugh I can’t believe I was so stupid of course it’s a joke” you said getting up and storming to the door with tears in your eyes. “Wait please” I said while grabbing at your wrist to stop you from leaving. “It’s not a joke please” I said holding tightly onto your wrist. “Please I meant every word I said I do like you a lot, please you have to believe me”. You let out a loud sigh as you sat on the nearest chair. “You don’t understand Ron, I liked you first. I tried not to because you were a complete asshole but I don’t know there was always something about you and I’m finally getting over you and now you come here with all this. What am I supposed to say”. “Tell me you want this” I said while reaching for your hands then holding them. “it’s just how am I supposed to trust you after all that’s happened” you said while removing your hands from Ron’s. “I can’t do anything about the past but I can do something about the future and I know I want to be with you, I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you just let me prove how much you mean to me”. With that you couldn’t help but kiss him. The kiss was soft but passionate . When you broke the kiss, you peppered kisses on Ron’s temples, forehead, cheeks, and chin. “I really like you” I sighed. “I like you too” you said dreamily.

[the-kr8tor]

You're almost caught up yay!!

Oh definitely! R stocked it inside Bucky's saddlebag so they plenty!

Oof that sounds terrifying!!! 😱

Cue credits!

Sameee! It's so cozy! We had an airbnb with a wrap around porch and i was having a great time just rotating around it lol ooohh!! Very cool! Your oc is a vibe based on their house

Yikes 😬

Literally soul mates!!!

YEEESS THE SCAR KISS!!!! I love it! Thank you for letting me use it 🫶

Somebody call yuri!

Hobie is such a mood lol literally anyone with a broken heart and a whiskey bottle

Lmaoooo she didn't need to her actions spoke louder than the hat rule

BAHHAHAHAHHAHA IMAGINE THAT'S HOW IT ENDS 😂 Poor r tho

Yeess fifty thousand hundred billion plus a million more of good times

My doggo will forever live in this fic 🥹 I miss her sm

Yeah! R is so lucky

Yoooo very cool! It's not my dog's real name but it's such a cute name tho! Reminds me of that one character from totally spies! Momo lore

LMAOO you could! Like covering your ears and going la la la

Riri pulled a to all the boys i loved before lol she did them a favour tbh even tho it might've went very badly friendship wise with hobs

Gahhhh i need to watch princess bride!!

HAHHAHAHA i pulled the rug under you! No billie and ramona tho 😔 instead you get horse babies!

Mm-hmm a proof that anything can grow if you cherish it enough (definitely not some symbolism at how hobie and R's relationship blossomed even after being ripped apart 🤭)

Karl mention!

Oof that would've sucked!

You are always right with your theories!!!!! You need a medal at this point 🏅

I think so too! He's the only hobie from my aus that would probably want marriage

THEY'RE MARRIED!!! Clover is the flower girl! While riri is the maid of honour and miguel is the officiant 😆

BAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA r is a husband magnet

To Live Simply

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 13.1 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing) (Hobie is mentioned taller than her), CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW abuse mention, CW drinking, CW violence mention. Wild west AU, Cowboy AU.

A/N: I wrote my late dog in this to remember her by, please be nice to the dog ❤️

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

The journey to Hobie's farm was excruciating, yet quiet and peaceful. If not for both yours and Hobie's still healing injuries it would've been a more pleasant ride. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't anyone who wanted to ambush you, and no one to point a gun at; no one to hurt you and Hobie.

The entire time you were afraid, afraid that something would happen the least you expected it. You were waiting for disaster to hit, you've never been at peace on the road, so you were high strung, hands gripping tightly around the reins while you kept your gun fully loaded and ready on your back. Luckily, nothing noteworthy happened during that one whole month of traveling west and away from the south.

Hobie clung to you like sap on wood, and you did too. You both never spoke of what happened that day, it was horrible, even now hallucinations still linger in the back of your head. Sometimes you see her staring at you on the side of the road, sometimes you smell burnt coffee out of nowhere. Hobie understood what they put you through while he lay asleep dreaming of you. He did everything he could to help you return to reality with every grasp of your hand, and with every kiss on your temple— effectively shaking you awake. You take care of him too, changing his bandages in camp, wincing with him whilst you clean his wounds.

It was just you and him, and you've got everything to lose if they ever find you.

You both were careful on the road, always traveling at night under the stars. Lighting small fires that are enough to keep you warm. You've even started to hide your face under a bandana. If it was absolutely needed to go into town, you and Hobie never stayed too long to make an impression. To everyone else, he was Larry Smith and you were his wife. To him, you were his wife in everything but on paper. To you, he was everything. You suppose it was all the same.

The horses are well kept despite the long rides, they slept well, ate even better than you and Hobie. You've noticed Cherry has become friendlier towards Bucky, and Bucky seemed to like the added attention.

Your back aches from the long ride, dawn has just begun to break. The breeze hums in your ears as you and Hobie finally make it to his farm. A piece of land in a valley and in between monstrous mountains that rise up into the clouds; and what seems to be thousands of miles of nothingness. There's nothing but land everywhere you look, the town you passed through hours ago is nothing but a dot in the far distance.

You're situated in the middle of nowhere.

“It's not much, but it's home.” Hobie stands before you, shoulders relaxed, eyes glancing towards you as if he's waiting for approval.

The farmhouse isn't as grand as your old home, it doesn't have the gilded awnings or marble pillars that seem to rise up towards the heavens. The house is made out of wood, two stories high with a simple porch that wraps around the entire structure. Its white paint is chipping, doors weathered by the elements and time. Empty flower pots sit nearby, just waiting to be used once again. Further away, a barn sits near a small pond. The structure’s red paint faded into a murky brown with dead vines covering its side. A windmill stands next to it, the blades squeak in the wind, wood creaking whenever a harsh breeze blows.

The picket fences around the property lay broken with its old chalky paint cracking and melting away. The land surrounding it doesn't look any better, it's barren and dry save for the tall brown grass growing everywhere. There are also stumps left behind by cut trees, a couple have survived long enough to grow as tall as the barn and they both sit behind the farmhouse a few paces away. It lacks any greenery you'd expect for a farm. With its dry soil underneath your feet, you're sure that there's nothing that could grow here. But you can try, plant and sow over and over again until a single leaf will sprout, until a plant bears fruit.

There's nothing else all around the place, nothing but stretches and miles upon miles of empty land. You like it that way. It's just you and him, him and you. You'd never have it any other way.

For the first time in a very long time, you feel like you can finally breathe. Fate has finally granted you reprieve.

“It's perfect.” You smile, stepping forward, reaching for his hand and then squeezing it once. “It's home.”

Hobie's lips slowly curl up into a smile, intertwining your fingers around his own. “What are we waitin' for?” With a sudden arm around the back of your knees, he gracefully carries you in his arms, earning a surprised yelp and laughter from you. You grasp at his vest, giggling against his chest. “Let's get inside.”

Even in his arms, you still feel the gnawing in the back of your mind. The danger that lurks behind the mountains, a danger that you both are ignoring for now in place of bliss. It's as if a heavy blanket is laid upon your chest, crushing you under its weight, breaking your rib cage in half, squishing your heart until a mush of blood and muscle is the only thing left in its wake.

Then, there's the nature of the man from the place you once called your home. You think he'd kill you the moment he sees you in the arms of Hobie, laughing against his chest, holding on to him as if he's your husband. Should I tell Hobie? You thought to yourself, it will ruin him. It will ruin you in his mind. Your heart thuds against your chest akin to a train engine just from thinking about it. You think it'll never go away, that it will continue to eat at you like you're a carcass left for the vultures in a dry humid desert. But for now, you stay laughing against his skin, kissing every inch of his face as he brings you inside. Until you're ready, you promise yourself that you'll tell him, even if it ruins you.

Hobie, unbeknownst to the inner turmoil you're having; kisses you back gently, dry lips against your sweaty forehead, he doesn't mind as he peppers your face. It's a battle, where you two are the winners.

You kick about in his arms, the stubble on his chin tickles you, and of course he notices it. He decides to hear you laugh, really laugh— so he nudges your head away, rubbing his stubble up and down your neck. Your giggles immediately fill the home, leaning away, hands patting his chest rapidly. If not for his hold on you, you would've fell seconds ago.

“Enough!” You shriek, but your own laughter betrays you. With every nudge, you forget about your thoughts, only focusing on the man before you.

Hobie wheezes, moving an inch away from your neck. “You sure? I don't think ‘m done yet.” He fixes his grasp on you, hand placed just above your ribs, fingers flexing, threatening to tickle you there.

You scoff, a sound similar to a giggle. “We've been on the road for a long time, Hobie, and we haven't had a proper bath in weeks!” He opens his mouth to speak. “A dip in the river doesn't count.”

With furrowed brows, he leans closer, lips curled mischievously. “You tellin’ me that I smell?”

You chuckle, hand patting his cheek lovingly. “No, I'm saying that I smell.”

“Really?” Hobie starts to lean closer but you stop him with your hand on his forehead. He smiles, trying to wiggle his head. “I was just about to check!”

There's the same glint in your eyes. You hum, cradling his jaw, pushing him gently upwards. The scar on his neck is in full display to you, Hobie tries to shake his head in protest, his sudden insecurity for the raised scar makes him think that you were second guessing your choices. But with your simple movement of pulling yourself up, enough to be eye level to the scar, and with your lips resting upon it makes him think otherwise.

He turns into honey under your touch, and you're the one licking his sweetness off of your finger tips.

You feel his staggered breath under your lips, Hobie almost drops you the second you kiss his scar. He feels your love through it all, fingers digging into your side but not enough to leave a mark. Closing his eyes, he lets you peck as your thumb runs along his Adam's apple that bops up and down with every nervous swallow. He even leans upwards to give you more space.

“I missed you.” Hobie says in a breathy whisper while you continue to attack his skin, hand pressed on your back, helping lift you up. “I should've told you that when I first—” You hold onto his nape to kiss higher, nipping gently, earning a shaky exhale from him. “—fuckin’ hell, you'll be the death of me. Five minutes in and you're already tryin’ to—”

“Knock knock?”

“Oh fuck—!” You suddenly drop down to the floor, butt aching as you stare at the visitor standing in the doorway.

“Shit—” Hobie fumbles, none of the coolness he exhibited during your journey. He tries to help you up, but then immediately decides to get his gun out that he also flounders over. His gun falls, bullets falling out, metal clanking on the dusty wooden floors. “Ah, fuck!” Kneeling down, he tries to pick up all the scattered bullets.

“Caught you in a bad time, huh?”

You glance between Hobie and the woman in the doorway. Hobie sighs, eyes staring daggers at the stranger. Her curly hair is styled in braids, leather chaps and jacket matching, hands casually placed inside her jean pockets. The sun behind her drapes her in gold, the same colour as the hat sitting atop her head. Her genuine smile is one of those contagious smiles that turns your frown into a friendly grin, you smile wider when you meet with her eyes that are laced with amusement. She gives you a wink, and then returns her attention towards Hobie who has given up on picking up his ammo.

“No, no, take your time, Hobie.”

He sighs, head falling down in shame. “What are you doin' ‘ere, Riri?”

“I was on my routine check. Imagine my surprise when I saw Bucky frolicking outside with a new horse.” Riri enters, hand reaching towards you. “The name's Riri, a friend of Hobie's.”

You smile up at her, taking her hand as she gracefully lifts you back up on your feet. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” She shakes your hand, leaning slightly to whisper in a louder tone. “You're even prettier than what this loser told me.”

Hobie sighs, “Riri, c’mon—”

“Why don't you get up, cowboy?” Riri lets your hand go, she then crosses her arms over her chest whilst you watch them interact.

Hobie stays kneeling, turned away from you and Riri, hand conveniently on his lap. “Don't you dare tell her shit, Riri.” He says, green eyes narrowed into slits.

You tamp down a laugh, glancing down at Hobie who just shakes his head with a ghost of a smile. You're tempted to tease him too, but Riri catching you two in the act was enough embarrassment for him.

“You told stories about me?” If your cheeks could run any warmer, you can boil water on it.

“He's a chatterbox when he's drunk.”

“He is?” You turn towards the said man, beaming at him.

“Don't you have anythin' better to do—?” Hobie gets ignored as Riri continues to chat with you. He resigns, huffing in place.

“Mm-hmm, he says the craziest shit. You think he's all that out there but the second he drinks his third glass, he's out in my saloon yammering about something. Sometimes that something has to do with you.” She pauses, nudging your shoulder. “Don't worry, he only tells me the good stuff. I practically already know you.” Your eyes widen. “Not in a weird way, in a…”

“Good job, Ri, you made it awkward.” Hobie eggs her on.

Riri rolls her eyes. “She knows what I'm talking about, right?” She turns to you, smiling softly like she's already trying to apologize.

“That so? Don't worry, I understand what you meant.” You flick your eyes towards Hobie, who's still unable to stand up. “Since you already know me—”

“Ah, yes!” She claps her hands in understanding. “You may go to my saloon and dig more details about what Hobie's been doing these past five years.” Riri meets Hobie's eyes. “You never know, you might even come across our old gang.”

You copy her, teasing Hobie even more. “The more the merrier then.”

“Great,” Hobie huffs, finally standing up. “You've created a monster, Riri.”

“Don't call her a monster!” Riri acts offended for you.

“Yeah! Don't call me a monster!”

Hobie could only sigh in defeat. He mumbles under his breath, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “If I wasn't so tired.”

“Oh that reminds me.” You say excitedly, you've finally found a friend after everything that has happened. “Do you want to stay for tea?”

“We don't have anythin', love.” Hobie gestures towards the near empty kitchen cabinets that were left open.

Riri smirks at the name he used for you. Hobie warns her with a look. “That would be great, but I gotta go back out there. I heard there's a huge deer roaming around and I want to be the one to get it before anyone else does.”

“That's too bad.” You're genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah, that's too bad.” Hobie copies sarcastically, less disappointed.

Riri chuckles, “don't worry, Y/N, my saloon's always open for you.” She clasps your shoulder. “Welcome to Scarlett Meadows, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Riri. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, love,” Riri mocks him. Hobie audibly groans, she smacks his chest. “Welcome back, loser.” With a flourish, Riri exits the house and then jumps back on her horse to ride away. Hobie closes and locks the front door behind her.

“I like her already.”

Hobie wraps his arm around your middle, pulling you close for an embrace. “‘m glad, she's a good friend.”

You nuzzle his shoulder, to which he takes your cheek, already leaning down to meet you halfway. “The mood's ruined, Hobs.”

“Goddamnit.” He says, yet he still chuckles against your lips. Letting you go, you stay locked with his eyes while walking backwards towards the stairs. “Where are you goin'?” There's a growing smile on yours and Hobie's lips.

“You coming, cowboy?” You ask, and you see him flustered once again. Biting his lip, tapping his foot, and hands on his hips. As you head upstairs, you hear his heavy footsteps follow you; until you feel his arms wrap around you impatiently, carrying you the rest of the way while your laughter rings around the house.

—

Hobie, under the gaze of the sun, with his sweaty work shirt sticking to his skin as he hammers the windowsill in place; fixing the once shoddy workmanship left by the previous owner. You ogle him unabashedly. The ring that was previously hidden under the fabric of his bandana now sits upon his ring finger, you cried when you first saw it there for the first time in five years. He held you then, just like how he cradled you back when he gave the identical one to you.

He clings on the tresses that are filled with dried vines and creaking from his added weight. He hangs precariously, as if he's an expert climber at heart; you can't help but stare at him as he works on your shared home. You suppose you could use the old shakey tresses as your excuse on why you're watching him instead of tilling the land like you're supposed to. Telling him that you're only keeping watch of him just in case he falls so you could catch him. Which is impossible by itself, you'd break all your bones if you tried. But you suppose it'll be alright if it's for him. As if he feels your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, a smile slowly curling on his lips as he spots your form still kneeling on the same spot he left you in twenty minutes ago.

The soil balled up into your hands sits there forgotten. A bag of cherry tomatoes sits next to you, wind almost taking them in its breeze as one passes by. You don't look away when he calls you out after you were caught. Instead, you stare harder, unabashedly winking at him. To which earns a hearty laugh from Hobie who almost falls from his bout of laughter.

You stagger, hands raised towards him as if you can catch him from where you are. “Careful!”

Hobie continues to laugh, calming your worries. “‘m alright, you should watch your tomatoes—” a strong wind picks up, with summer almost completely gone as the colder breeze carries your bag of seeds away from you. “And there it goes!” His guffaw fades from behind as you scramble for the seeds.

“Fuck!” You yell, hand placed on your sun hat so it doesn't get blown away. Despite you running at full speed towards what could be next season's meal, you smile widely, you're at peace here.

Hobie follows after you, running and catching up to you in a mad dash. “Hurry slowpoke!” He passes you, laughing as he goes.

“Slowpoke?! C’mere you little—!” Hobie suddenly stops and then turns around to catch you mid sprint. Your body slams into him, earning a grunt from Hobie, but his smile stays as he holds you in his arms.

“Gotcha!” He embraces you in place, face nudging your shoulder fondly.

“You're all sweaty!” You shriek out happily, hand placed upon his waist, fists clumped in his shirt. The seeds belong to the wind now, you suppose.

“You're no better! You're covered in dirt, lovie!” Hobie playfully wipes his cheeks on your airy shirt, leaving streaks of sweat on the soft linen. You laugh louder, trying to scramble away. And he feels like he has finally found his home in your arms.

You wipe your soil marred hands on his shoulders, leaving your hand prints on his once pristine shirt. You suddenly stop giggling, Hobie thinks he did something wrong until he follows your line of sight. There, a few ways away from the two of you, stands a black dog eating from your bag of seeds.

“Is that a coyote?” You ask, still holding on to him.

“Don't think so.” He whispers back.

“She shouldn't eat that, it might get her sick.” You untangle yourself from Hobie, and then you slowly make your way towards said dog. Hobie stops you halfway, hand gently on your shoulder.

“It might bite you.” He roams his eyes over to her black coat and long tail, her ears are floppy on the side of her head as she continues to munch on the crunchy seeds. There's no collar or any indication that she has an owner, she looks fine and somewhat healthy. Before he could take you away just in case the dog decides that you're a better meal, you're running back towards the house in a mad dash. “Where are you goin'?”

“I'm getting some jerky!”

“What? Why?!” He yells back as you get further and further away.

“Just stay there and watch her!” Your dusty boots are already stomping away inside as Hobie does what you told.

Hobie crouches down, elbows sitting atop his knees, watching the dog chow down. The black labrador pauses from eating from the presence watching her, head peeking out from the bag. Her dark eyes blink at Hobie, he waits for her, hand reaching out in a friendly manner and trying not to scare her away with any sudden movements. The dog sniffs, tail slowly wagging as she walks forward.

You watch from behind, eyes growing wider as you see Hobie let the dog sniff at his hand. When she finally lets him pet her head, Hobie looks back at you with a soft smile.

“Look at you, you're an animal whisperer.”

“Nah, I bet she was just hungry and knows how to swindle.”

Chuckling, you saunter towards them slowly, kneeling beside Hobie, you place the dried meat beside her. “There you go, it's better than some seeds.”

Hobie observes how you gently smile at the friendly dog as she tentatively sits in front of the meat. You let the dog approach you, waiting patiently as she eats until there's none left. She sniffs your knee, nudging you with her snout. He laughs as you surrender the rest of the beef jerky.

It's a peaceful silence of him and you just sitting there on the dry grassy ground while the strange dog eats his entire supply of jerky. He suppose he can always run to the general store for more.

The sun is high up, yet it's a comfortable heat on his skin. He preferred summers here, the searing heat always kept him awake and alert. But with you now here, he prefers how the cooling wind nips at his skin, how the leaves are now turning into sunsets that you always adore. And how much you wake up clinging to his side every morning. He prefers this, living with you, finally experiencing life again as if he picked up a book from where he left off years ago; it took some time and a lot of hurt to get here, but he would've done it all over again if it ended just like this. Maybe he'd do better, maybe he would make better decisions— for now, instead of lamenting about all the things that have happened, he'd rather stay in the present where you're currently in.

“I think we should keep her.” You say after a few moments. Hobie just now noticed how the dog now lays on your lap, probably sleeping off her meal. Your hand rubs softly on her back, eyes shining under the sun. “My aunt never let me have pets, she said that a proper lady shouldn't smell of wet dog.”

“Look at you now, covered in dirt, sweat and dog slobber.”

“She'd fucking die.” You laugh, it's the first time you've ever laughed after mentioning her. You finally feel like the shackles of her memory are starting to loosen up against your ankles.

Your happy laughter is slowly replaced with a sob, Hobie, with tears in his own eyes, holds you against him. Arms enveloping you, hands cradling your head as if the simple movement would take it all away. He wishes it did, but he knows that it will take time, and he'll wait, and be there for you no matter how long it takes. Even if it doesn't fully go away.

Under the sunshine of autumn, dry blades of grass underneath you, breeze whispering and carrying your sobs into the wind; Hobie holds you like nothing else matters, like it's just you and him, him and you against the bloody, forsaken world.

—

Clover the dog has taken upon you, you named her after the first piece of clover that sprouted along the property after you and Hobie toiled away for weeks just trying to keep it all alive. You've both fallen into a routine, you two wake up later than you both intended, snuggling under the thick covers. Always rushing through the routine to have more time to tend the house. You share chores, you cook in the morning while he cooks dinner. He fixes the house, while you try to revive the farmland. At night, you check all his previous injuries for any signs of it opening up; and he does it to you too, as gentle and careful like you were. All in all, you're proud of what you two have accomplished.

It's your very own borrowed heaven.

The house is now fully painted a soft blue; the same shade you both saw when you crossed the ocean to this new land. The door that was once a murky, muddy brown is now in a snowy white that matches the windows and picket fences. The fences aren't complete yet, the rest are still laying next to the barn where Cherry and Bucky hunker down every night after an energetic ride around their pen that used to be covered in piles of old wood and metal scraps. It took an entire week to clean it up even with the combined powers of you, Hobie, and Riri, who decided to pay you two a visit from time to time. She said that she was only making sure that the ‘loser’ hasn't hurt you in any way. To which Hobie promptly rolled his eyes and threw a plank of wood at her feet, to his words ‘make yourself useful instead of being a pain in my own home.’ You joked that he's starting to sound like one of those old men who would chase people out of their property if someone would step a foot onto his grass. And of course he had to call you grandma for the rest of the day in front of Riri because of it.

You sigh in content, smiling eyes roaming along the greener grass from the porch where you sit; and following along bucky and cherry who are running freely around their paddock. Clover huffs in your lap, and you chuckle, wondering what she's dreaming about. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees, and carrying it in its breeze. The swing under you shifts from the strong wind, hinges creaking along as you push with your socked feet. Hobie built you this swing right on the porch when he found you looking at the stars with your back aching from the lack of a seat. To add to it, he made it so that it'll fit you and him together with Clover sleeping on your lap.

You cover yourself more with Hobie's jacket, shivering slightly, nose and fingers cold. There's a sudden warmth on your cheek, you don't flinch or gasp from the surprise, knowing that it's Hobie with a warm cup of tea.

“Hi,” you smile up, Hobie returns the grin. He looks softer, edges rounded up. He's fresh from a bath, skin smelling of lavender and citrus. He prefers to wear softer and fleecy clothes now, leaving all the leather behind unless he's going for a ride towards town. Now he likes wearing knitted jackets that keeps him warm and comfortable without the stiffness of leather. He prefers jeans now too, and shirts with no collars that clings to his scar uncomfortably. A testament to how the first two buttons on his work shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his chest. “You look handsome.”

“When do I not?” He holds your cup in one hand and a glass of amber in the other. The golden ring in his ring finger shines in the afterglow.

You tilt your head playfully, taking his glass instead of the mug, eyes never leaving his own. He raises a brow when you take a sip from the glass, feeling the burn from the alcohol line your throat. “You're right, never. You always look good.” Your words are only for him and him only as you whisper it.

“Damn right.” He accepts defeat, letting you drink his whiskey while he drinks from your mug of tea. Clinking his glass against your own, you let out a snort, scooching to allow him space as he sits.

The warm liquid seeps into his calloused hands, eyes flicking over to you and between the land that he once thought was barren. Your plants still haven't borne fruit, but the greenery has sprouted like a miracle on dead soil. You almost gave up on the first month when nothing was working in your favour when the ground was still dry and grey. But you didn't, you kept at it everyday, tilling the soil, planting and replanting, watering everything until a single sprout appeared overnight. You jumped for joy when you saw, he still smiles remembering you running towards him with Clover in tow, and slamming yourself against him just to snog him until he was breathless.

He couldn't have made this into a house without you. This wouldn't be a home without you either.

You poke his cheek, feeling how much softer it is than before. “Whatever you're thinking about, stop it.”

“You want me to stop thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

You groan with a smile, head plopping down on his shoulder. “You never fail to rile me up.”

“Pot meet kettle, love.” He looks at you lovingly, like how a man would stare into the eyes of his wife.

Smiling, you place the mouth of your glass on his lips, letting him sip from the amber while he does the same with his tea placed on your own lips. You both drink, arms crossed over the other, lending each other's hand over the other.

You gulp down the warmth, letting it seep through your bones and muscles, letting it relax into you like a hug from a beloved.

Meanwhile, Hobie never let his eyes off you. Deep green eyes, the same colour as the sea of clovers in front of the home, has found its place on your lips, watching you drink from his cup while he drinks from your own.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you. Clover snores on your lap, happy and content after finding her home. Hobie's hand kneads at your nape, letting his cool hands settle over your warm skin. With your head placed on his shoulder, you bask in your personal paradise. The birds chirp just a few ways away from you, finding their nests settled on the windmill that you two haven't fixed just yet. The sunset paints the entire farm in shades of orange and pink, hues of autumn blanketing the peaceful place you and Hobie built.

This is home, not the marbled walls of the manor you used to reside. Not the fine silks you used to sleep on, *this is home; with it's rough edges, broken pipes that groan in the night, with its walls made from wood and brick that feels cold on your skin— it's home, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You feel him shift closer to you, lips pressing softly against your temple. His hand tracing above your scar. “Shoulder feelin’ alright?”

Humming, you close your eyes as he peppers kisses from your temple down to your wind whipped cheek. “It's feeling much better now, thanks to you.” He takes your glass and places it down on the floor right next to his own mug.

“I didn't do much.” Hobie chuckles, returning to your side not a moment longer, his knuckles brushes along your collarbone. “‘sides, you did all the healin’”

You sigh, eyes meeting up with his own. He can see love in your simple gaze. “Yeah, only because you've cleaned it every night before bed.” Hobie chuckles when you poke his stomach, in return, he nudges his nose against your own, earning a soft hum of approval from you. “How's your head? And everything else?” You narrow your eyes playfully, “can you still count to a hundred?”

His loud guffaw makes you laugh. Shaking his head, he pulls you closer. “It's good,” he says against your lips, breath fanning across your soft skin. “I've got a good nurse.”

“Your nurse didn't go to school for it.” You joke again. Hobie pecks your lips once, twice, until you're pulling him in by his shirt. You feel his smile throughout it all. He kisses you gently, yet he holds you like he's about to lose you.

The much needed kiss is interrupted by Clover sneezing on your lap, snot covering your flowy skirt. You pull away with a laugh, eyes still closed as his fingers still grips your chin, already feeling him pull you in once again.

“Hobie.” You call while he continues to snog you, kissing along the shape of your lips, etching how your lips feel, and how you sigh against him; how you kiss back wholeheartedly.

He hums, murmuring your name while the sound of his kisses echo around the porch and atop the songs of birds flying overhead.

You giggle as his searing hands find its way under your shirt and onto your stomach. He pauses, eyes blinking slowly at you. You clamp down, shining lips shut closed as he raises a brow.

“What? You ticklish now?” Hobie asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shake your head with a smile. “Nope.”

There's a grin slowly forming on his equally shiny lips. “I think I need to reacquaint myself, I don't remember you being ticklish—” he pokes your side. “—right ‘ere.”

You gasp in feigned offense, “I'm not!”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Wiggling his fingers, you laugh, reaching for his hands before he could attack.

“Okay! Only on that part.” You confess with a breathy laugh. He nods, tucking that information inside his head to be used one day.

Hobie returns to his drink, opting to sip at what was supposed to be your tea. The tea is now tepid, but he still drinks it anyway. You push the swing with your feet, softly, the swing sways back and forth while Clover lays asleep with your hand petting her head.

“We should take Riri up on her offer.” You say into the growing dark of the farm, watching the sun go further down and the light fade away. “It's been three months since she first invited us over.”

“She can wait,” Hobie has latched himself on you, arm snaked around your middle as he finishes his tea.

“Want to hog me all to yourself then?”

“That obvious?” He glances at your beaming face before his eyes stare at Bucky and Cherry trotting inside the barn on their own. Sometimes he thinks those two are actually humans trapped inside a horse's body. He has never seen smarter horses than them.

“Are you worried? About me getting back out there?” You play with the button of his work shirt, letting his scent waft over you when a breeze carries it towards you.

“What if…” Hobie sighs, eyes staring at you with worry. It's a grip taking hold around his body. “What if someone finds us again?” He remembers all the times you two were found by both the law and your aunt’s hired guns even when he took extra precautions. There's still that looming threat especially with how suspiciously peaceful your journey to the farm was. He has every right to be worried, you are too. “As much as good you are with a gun, I don't want to see you shootin’ it at someone again. ‘m… not tryin’ to control you, I just—”

You hold his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw tenderly, feeling all the tiny scars left on his skin. “No, I understand. You're not like them, Hobie. No one will ever control me ever again.” At your words, he leans towards your touch, hand lifting up to meet with yours. “I won't let them.” Nodding, he kisses your palm, you notice how his hand shakes above your own. You don't mention it. “It's been five months since the train, they might have given up.”

“Let's hope so.” He softly says, green eyes gazing at you. Eyes that haven't seen peace in years, until now.

“Yeah, hope.” It's a fickle thing, but it's enough to light a fire in you. If they come, you'll fight with everything you've got. You've got everything to lose now, and you're willing to wield a gun once more to protect it all. If not, then it'll be a gift that you won't throw away, you'd live here peacefully, live the life you've always longed for. You're afraid that it would be the former.

—

You saddle up the horses in the barn, Buckeye watches your every move as you strap the saddle over to Cherry. There’s worry in his inky eyes, a look that you're all too familiar with. Clover runs around the barn, sniffing everything she comes across.

“You alright there, Buck? What's got you all worried, huh?” You don't expect him to answer, but he neighs in response, a sharp one that has you raising a brow. You've never heard him make that irritated sound. “What's gotten into you?” As you slide your hands down on Cherry's stomach to finish the saddle, Bucky, neighs loudly, hooves thumping against the ground. He looks like he's about to rush into you and throw you over. “Bucky, calm down!” You put your hands up, staying away from both horses.

“Buckeye!” Hobie's booming voice ricochets around the barn as he enters, putting a stop to Bucky's tantrum. Even Clover stops running for a second before returning to her adventure. “What's gotten into you, boy?” He pets his snout, effectively calming him down.

“I was putting on Cherry's saddle and he suddenly got mad.”

“He looks alright.” Nodding, Hobie roams his eyes all over his horse, checking each of his horse shoes in case there's something embedded in his feet. “Nothin’s wrong with him. What about Cherry? He's been overprotective of her lately.”

“Ah shit, do you think I put it on too tight?” Hobie keeps his hold on Bucky's reins, just in case. You check all the belts and buckles on the saddle, finding the fit just right. Until you get to her stomach. “Wait—” hands roaming around, you feel a bump. “What is that?” Cherry looks at you, if horses could raise their brow, she would've done it already. “Are you—?!” You gasp, eyes meeting with Hobie. Glaring at the horse next to him, you embrace Cherry. “Bucky, what did you do to Cherry!”

He already knows what you found. “I think it was a combined effort, love.” Scratching the back of Bucky's ear, Hobie chuckles at your reaction. “You did not waste time, huh, boy?”

“She's smaller than him!” You look at Bucky as if he can explain himself, to which the horse just huffs at you. Hobie keeps patting Buckeye on his back, while Cherry isn't even listening in on the conversation anymore. She prefers the pile of hay next to her, eating without a care.

“And? You are too compared to me.” Hobie unabashedly answers for Bucky. You gasp then laugh, a laugh that changes to a playful offended chortle. You grab a bucket from the ground, ready to throw it at him.

“You should run, Hobie!” Before you could finish yelling, Hobie's already sprinting back inside the house. You run after him, bucket in hand, ready to throw carrots at him.

Hobie waits for carrots to be pelted at him, only to turn around to see you gawking at the planted vegetable patch before you. He stops by the steps on the porch, hands on his hips as you let go of the bucket with a thud.

“What's wrong?”

“They've grown.” You whisper in disbelief, Hobie almost didn't catch your words. Chuckling, you look at Hobie with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got tomatoes!” Pouncing on him, he catches you, arms holding you in place while you celebrate against his neck.

He roams his eyes downwards towards the tomatoes until he spots a handful of it just under a bunch of leaves. “Holy shit!” Hand behind your head, he jumps up and down, matching your excitement. “You did it, love!”

You lean away, and then immediately peppers his face with a dozen kisses, leaving him almost dizzy. Before he could kiss back, you're already back on the ground, plucking the ripest looking one. It's as big as your hand, red and plump; ripe for the taking. All the countless times you've read botany books have finally borne fruit.

Wiping the dirt off of the tomato on your shirt, you hand it to him. “Wanna do the honors?”

“This is all you, lovie.” He gently places it back in your palm, hand lingering on yours; identical rings shining brightly.

You nod as thanks, heart beating rapidly. With a tentative bite, you let the juice coat your mouth, overflowing until it's dripping from your chin. It's perfect, and Hobie thinks you look perfect even with juice sliding down your chin and arm.

“Do you want a room? Because I can go.” Hobie jokes, you laugh heartily.

“Here,” you say, mouth full. “Try it.”

Hobie takes it, biting down just as the same as you, with juices flowing down his arm and onto his shirt. “Fuck!”

You nod rapidly, pride filling your chest. “Right?!”

“Y/N,” he calls, mouth still taking bites of the produce. Gesturing towards the neighboring plants, he watches as your expression morphs into pure elation when you spot your potatoes growing out of the soil, like bald heads peeking out from underneath.

There's dozens of them all lined up and ready to be harvested. You almost guffaw, satisfied and successful at growing something on the once thought barren land.

“We're gonna need a basket.” Perhaps your trip to Riri's saloon will have to wait.

—

The trip to town took longer since Cherry was out of commission, and you only had Bucky to take with you on the ride. By the time you and Hobie make it to Riri's saloon, lunch was in full swing. The place is smaller compared to the other establishments you've been in, and yet, it doesn't lack the energy. Customers line the bar, eating and drinking their fill. Jaunty music fills your ears just as when the saloon doors close behind you, Hobie's hand is placed on the small of your back, fingertips pressing softly, leading you towards the far end of the saloon where the bar is placed.

You roam your eyes around, the band plays on a stage in your right, cello, fiddles and trumpets play alongside the piano. Customers dance around with their partners, smiling faces whizz past you, giving you a polite greeting as you go. There are numerous tables littered around with the people sitting there and chatting energetically, their conversations rising above the music.

A hearty laugh above reaches your ears, when you look up, you see a spiral staircase that leads to the second floor with a balcony. A few patrons look down at you with their drinks in their hands, some are watching the poker game with amusement in their eyes. Drinking glasses clink around while you continue to make your way towards Riri who happens to be tending the bar.

The walls are in a creamy white with rows upon walls of paintings full of portraits and landscapes. There's a giant moose antler above the bar, looming over everyone. The place smells of booze and whiskey. Oddly enough, the scent of melted chocolate lingers above the fog of rum and moonshine. A crystal chandelier hangs high up on the ceiling, the centerpiece of the saloon. Sunlight from the windows filters through the brightly coloured glass, drenching the walls and floor with a kaleidoscope of light.

“Hey, Hobie!” Someone yells from above, Hobie gives them a curt nod. A handful of people recognize him, some greet him kindly like an old friend would. Some gaze at him with trepidation in their eyes.

A stranger with an eyepatch clasps his shoulder before staggering outside. Hobie chuckles and rolls his eyes at the older man.

“Someone's popular.” You whisper.

“A side effect of my reputation.” He smiles gently, fingers tapping on the small of your back. Leading you towards the corner of the bar, the far end where the back door sits behind it; he settles the two of you there, further away from strangers that could make you uncomfortable.

“Finally!” Riri exclaims, “the prodigal son returns!” Everyone at the bar hoots and whistles at Hobie. He ignores each of them, earning some booing and hissing from the crowd. You chuckle from seeing Hobie hide his smile under the brim of his hat. Riri slides in front of you, beer bottle in hand and then plops it in Hobie's waiting hand. “And with the prettiest girl this side of town has ever seen. What have you two been up to in your little slice of heaven, huh? Haven't seen you in months.”

“Busy with the farm.” Hobie says against the lip of his bottle, hand never leaving your back.

“Farm? Your dirt farm? You sure it's not you getting busy with our girl here, eh, Hobs?” Riri gives you a knowing look, you're flustered enough as it is. Hobie just shakes his head, eyes roaming everywhere but your eyes or Riri's.

You clear your throat. “We actually managed to grow something out there. We've got tomatoes, potatoes and even some carrots and strawberries blooming.” Your genuine smile turns Riri's playful one to a proud grin. “We'd bring you some of our harvest but we only rode on Bucky. We didn't want to stress him out further.”

“Why's that?” Riri cleans a glass with a cloth, “Is Cherry sick? We've got a veterinarian here for that.”

“No, she's pregnant.”

“Goddamn, Bucky did not waste any time.”

Hobie nods, “that's what I said.”

“Let's hope his rider doesn't do the same, eh?” She sends you both a wink.

“Fuckin' hell, Riri.” Hobie squeezes the bridge of his nose whilst you're left blubbering from her words. “Is there lunch left for us?” He says with a sigh.

“If you're nice about it, yeah.” Riri looks over at you. “Except for you, pretty, there's always a meal here for you.” You smile, head tilting towards Hobie's shoulder from bashfulness.

“Roast beef still on the menu?” Hobie asks, bottle half empty, stomach growling.

“Say please.” Riri says pointedly.

Hobie huffs, flicking his eyes towards you briefly before surrendering. “...please.”

Riri smirks, “it's always on the menu.” Hobie rolls his eyes at that.

He pokes your back, knuckles tracing around where he poked you. “How ‘bout you? Riri's chef can cook anythin’ you want.”

“Don't steal my words, Hobie.” Riri raises a brow. “Karl can make you anything you want.”

You laugh nervously at the eyes staring and waiting for you. “Uh, I'll have what he's having. And…” Hobie encourages you with a smile and a squeeze on your back. “Soup, any kind of soup you've got available.”

Riri pats the back of your hand with a soft smile. “We've got pumpkin, is that alright?”

“It's perfect.” You turn towards Hobie who's beaming at you, hiding his face with the brim of his hat from the rest of the customers.

—

You watch and listen with a smile in your seat, hand clasped around a glass of orange juice. The band ramps up their set, the music has gotten jauntier and happier right after you finished eating. More people have left the bar to either dance or play poker upstairs. Hobie still sits behind you, fingers curled around your belt loop lovingly. You feel him tapping rhythmically to the sound of the snare drum.

Looking over your shoulder, he nods at you with a soft smile. “They're good, aren't they?” You ask, chin atop your shoulder.

“Yeah, but I think you can beat them.”

You roll your eyes with a chuckle, fully twisting around on the bar stool to wipe a drop of sauce at the tip of his chin, fingers lingering there for a moment. “It's not a competition, Hobs.”

Before Hobie could give a reply, Riri slides over with a slice of chocolate cake. “You know how to play?”

You eye the dessert. “The piano, but I haven't practiced in a while.”

“She's bein’ humble. She's bloody brilliant on the keys.” Hobie takes the plate from Riri with a quick thank you, and then he places it in front of you casually.

You almost protested, thinking that Hobie yanked another customer's order. But Riri proves your thoughts wrong when she, herself, hands you a small fork for your dessert. You mumble a soft thank you, too shy, too grateful to say it louder lest you burst into tears. The cake has chocolate swirls with a large, plump strawberry on top of it. You don't waste time digging in.

“Isn't there an old broken piano at your place?” Riri continues the conversation, eyes flicking to your happy face with a soft smile.

“Yeah, been thinkin’ ‘bout fixin’ the damn thing but I have no idea how.” You almost actually cried on your cake when Hobie said those words.

“I think old man Roberto can fix it.” You savour the cake, listening in on the conversation.

“Your pianist?”

“Yeah, he's a doctor too, did you know that? Pretty great if you ask me—” Riri pauses, you follow her confused look. You see Hobie's stony expression, green eyes aflame like greek fire engulfing an entire fleet of ships. You and Riri have the same idea by following his gaze. She clears her throat at the sight, while you only see a broad shouldered man on the stairs, watching the band play.

“You okay?” You feel worried all of a sudden, what if this was another Culver situation? “Do you know him?”

“An old…acquaintance. Don't worry, he just owes me money.” Patting your back, he doesn't want to lie to you. What would that even bring?

“Oh, alright.” You slide the plate over to him. “I saved you some cake.”

Hobie chuckles, “nah, it's all yours, love.”

“Thank you,” you take the plate back. “I was just being nice.” Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, you miss how he's having a silent conversation with Riri while you chow down.

“What did you even put in this, Riri? It's so fucking good!” With your fork, you scrape the plate to gather the rest of the chocolate icing. You have no shame at this point, it's the best cake you've ever had.

Riri takes a while to reply, so you lift your head up to see what's going on. You're met with her genuine smile. “Don't thank me, thank my grandma, it's a family recipe.”

“Well, thank you, Riri's grandma.”

Hobie stares at something behind you, Riri interrupts you before you could look over your shoulder. “Do you want to meet the band?”

“Holy shit! Really?” You grin from ear to ear, turning to see Hobie give you a nod and a small smile. “Do I have something in my teeth?” You grin widely, Hobie shakes his head, amused by you.

“Yeah, they're really nice. Come on, let's get you acquainted.” Riri jumps over the bar effortlessly, taking you by the hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

“I'll be back, Hobie!” You excitedly say over your shoulder as Riri twirls you around in the middle of the crowd. Hobie chuckles in his seat, drinking a cup of tea. He hears Riri ask you to dance, to which you happily agree.

Hobie keeps an eye on you, and he trusts Riri to keep you safe until he's done dealing with him. Hobie watches as Miguel saunters off towards him, spurs clinking as he sits down on your seat.

“Looks like Riri took your girl.” He says while ordering a beer from the other bartender.

“Why didn't you tell me that it was her, Miguel?”

Miguel catches the drink in his open palm as the bottle slides from the other end to his hand. “Simple, I didn't know who she was.” He cracks it open by banging the cap against the edge of the bar. The metal clanks on the floor as it falls.

“Bullshit, O’Hara.” Hobie says through clenched teeth.

“She has a sweet tooth doesn't she?” He refers to your almost clean plate.

“Miguel.” Hobie utters more pointedly, taking the beer from his hand before he even takes a sip. “Why didn't you tell me it was her?”

Miguel sighs, “I didn't know it was her. But I had a hunch. People at camp talk y’know. And you're a blabber mouth when you're drunk. A deadly combination.” He eyes his beer bottle, Hobie waits for more answers. “The guy who gave me the job just gave me her description. The same description I gave you, Hobie. Not my fault you didn't recognize her.”

“Who gave it to you?”

Miguel flexes his hand, asking for his drink back. Hobie clenches his jaw before sliding the bottle back to him reluctantly. “You should thank me. I got you two together again.”

“Just tell me, Miguel, or I'll ask for that bounty you owe me.”

“You technically didn't complete the job, so…” Hobie stares at him with the same look that Miguel has only seen him sport when he has his target in his crosshairs. “It was a middleman. He said his boss was an oil baron of some kind.” He’s about to take a sip, but doesn't. Grimacing when he brings the bottle back down to only see Hobie having the same fiery look. It brings a shiver down his spine. “Can you stop?”

“Who?”

“Don't know, didn't ask.”

“She could've died, Miguel.” That thought has him trembling in place. Hobie balls his fists, hiding how the mere thought of it shakes him to his core.

“She would've died either way, Hobie. But she had you, if I gave the job to any other person, she would've. Trust me, I did not know it was her, or that you even knew her. It's not like I made her come here.”

Hobie inhales sharply. “It wasn't you who sent the letter?”

“What fucking letter?”

“I sense some tension in the air. You know, conducting business in my establishment isn't allowed. Except if you involve me.” Riri jumps to Miguel's side, taking the beer from his hand, chugging it as sweat drips from her brow. With a sigh, Miguel orders another beer.

“Where's Y/N?” Hobie answers his own question when he sees you playing the piano with the rest of the band. His lips curl up into a smile, fists unclenching at the music you're playing. You're having the time of your life.

“Relax, Romeo, she's fine.” Riri claps to the rhythm. Hobie hears your hearty laugh from where he's sitting. The saloon's band seems to be having fun too.

In Hobie's mind, everything clicks in place. “It was you who sent my letter.” Hobie jabs his finger on Riri's shoulder blade.

She snorts, “of course it was me. I couldn't handle your sulking any longer. Seriously, I was losing customers because of your weekly letter writing and crying session.”

Miguel laughs, he sees Hobie's glare and tamps down to a snicker. Riri leans in the bar to yank a bottle of whiskey from underneath the shelves.

“Why?”

“You weren't happy being a lone ranger.”

Hobie feels like lightning struck him. “Fuckin' hell, Riri, you could've said somethin'. Warned me ‘bout it.”

“And? You'd somehow find it in your heart to immediately forgive her and pick her up from the docks?” Riri pours the whiskey inside three glasses, handing it to each of the men. “You’re like a brother to me, Hobie. We came up in this fuckwad’s gang—” she points at Miguel who's caught in the middle. He just pinches the bridge of his nose. “—at the same time. Do you think I'd let you wallow and die alone in that dirt farm of yours?”

Hobie doesn't answer. He knows that the journey was needed. But if Riri actually warned him about it beforehand, would you be here right now? Or would you be dead somewhere along your journey to him because he couldn't find it in his heart to come to you?

“See? Not everything's my fault. Just a freak coincidence.” Miguel pipes up, now eating a slice of cake just as you have.

Riri ignores him. “I know you had a slight apprehension towards her because of what happened.”

“She could've died, Riri. When I found her, she was trying to steal food.”

Riri breathes shakily, eyes glossing over. “And I'm sorry for that, truly. I never thought that would happen, or that her people would put a bounty on her. I only knew her from you, Hobie. I'm sorry. And I'll apologize to her, I promise.”

“She's really good on that piano.” Miguel comments before returning to his cake. Hobie and Riri continue to ignore him.

Hobie sucks in his teeth. “‘Slight apprehension’ didn't cut it back then.” He whispers.

Riri looks at him with a frown, eyes downturned. She knows his story, and she knows his side of it. “You know when I was a kid I used to hate the edges on bread. I always asked my mom to cut it off for me which added more workload for her, but she still did it.” She smiles fondly. “And now as an adult I love the edges, it's the best part of the bread for me.”

“What are you sayin'?”

“I'm saying that people change. And I'm not just referring to her.” Hobie understands her double entendre.

Hobie scoffs, stealing a quick glance at you. “It's bread, Riri.”

“I can see that she may have thought you were a burden back then but I highly doubt she has the same thoughts now.” Riri takes a sip from her glass. “How would you even know that you were a burden to her when the exact words didn't come out of her own mouth?”

“She told me it wasn't her, I know that now. It was all Hicks, the same fucker that did this to me.” Miguel straightens in his seat, Riri flicks her eyes at his scar knowingly. “They're still lookin’ for her, I know it.”

“If they ever find you both, we have your back.” Riri clasps Hobie's shoulder. He holds her hand briefly before letting go with a thankful nod. “It's the least I can do.” Miguel agrees with a grunt and a pat on his gun.

“It's more than enough, Ri.”

You wave towards Hobie from the small stage, jumping down to walk past the crowd and to him. Hobie's heart feels a little bit lighter from the conversation, like a bullet taken out from his skin.

Miguel stands up, and then pats Hobie and Riri in the shoulder before putting his hat back on. His hazel eyes meet with yours for a second, you give him a polite smile as you navigate your way out of the jam-packed audience.

Miguel fixes his hat, eyes zeroing in on the ring around Hobie's finger. “Nice ring. You two tied the knot without inviting me and the rest of the gang?” You pause by the menu, acting like something caught your eye while you listen in. The saloon is noisy enough for his words to be muffled, but you understood it perfectly.

“Not really,” Hobie glances towards you for a second before flicking his eyes over at his ring that he keeps twisting and turning around his finger.

“Well you've got everything else covered. And I've seen the way you look at her. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.” Miguel clasps Hobie's shoulder in a parting goodbye, his face is unreadable from where you are. Miguel leans in closer this time, hazel eyes staring into Hobie's soul. His expression turns serious, lips pursed into a thin line, whispering words that you couldn't hear from where you stood. “You gonna tell her all the things you've done to survive this place?”

Hobie stands up to greet you halfway. “Worse, she has seen it.” Miguel leaves, and Hobie holds your hand with a proud smile, but you can tell something happened while you were gone. He sees it, so he leads you back to the bar where Riri waits to tell you everything.

“Did he pay you back?”

“Nah, he didn't have the money on him.”

“What an asshole.” He laughs, not bothering to hide his affection for you in front of the whole saloon any longer.

—

You lean back, smiling at the lavender sunset before you. Hobie's hands are occupied with the reins, but he still finds the time to nuzzle his chin on your shoulder. A small act that has you grinning as you cup his cheek for a moment.

Riri's confession was a surprise to you, but after the shock ended, you couldn't help but let out a loud guffaw in the saloon. You stood out like a sore thumb whilst Hobie rubs your back from how much you were laughing. You even thanked Riri for what she did on Hobie's behalf, to which she sighed in relief from your reaction. If she didn't send that letter, you'd still be in that wretched place, you'd still be half dead, surviving but not living. The journey to Hobie was tough and marred with pain and bloodshed, and yet, you'd take that journey all over again if you knew that he'd be holding you like this once again; that he still loves you despite everything that has happened to him and to you. With a parting hug, and a promise that you'll visit again, you and Hobie set off back on the road towards home.

The route home is filled with an abundance of scenery. Fields of flowers and tall grass line the sides of the bumpy dirt road. Daisies, poppies and baby's breath are in full bloom, its colours bringing even more brightness to the land. Cows and horses graze all over, they look up at the sound of Bucky's hooves thudding against the soil.

Hobie gathers up the reins in one hand, arm holding on to your waist before bending down from his saddle. Buckeye still gallops away as you immediately try to get a hold of Hobie before he falls.

“What are you doing?!” You ask, voice shaky, eyes up front while he has his palm open, gathering flowers on the side of the road.

“Just hold onto me!” Numerous flowers gather in his hand, its petals are filled with dew, sweet smelling and colourful against his leather gloves. Some of the stems are broken from the motion of the galloping horse. But you don't mind as he sends you a wink while he's on the side like he's doing the most mundane thing.

Laughing, you help pull him up. He hands you the bundle of flowers from behind, lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “That'll be five bucks.”

You giggle, thumb brushing along one of its red petals. “That's expensive for a roadside bouquet.” Hiding your face behind the flowers, you take a whiff of the sweetness whilst you gaze behind you through your fluttering lashes. “I think you're swindeling me, cowboy.”

“Fine,” he dramatically sighs, earning a soft laugh from you. His viridescent eyes remind you of the clovers back home. “I'll give you a discount.”

“A kiss then?”

“I was goin' to say ‘three bucks’ but that works too.” His eyes are on the road, but he briefly gazes into yours with tenderness.

“I'll pay my dues then.” You crane your neck back as far as you can. With a hand running up behind his head, you push him gently to meet with your own for a quick peck. “There, all paid.”

Hobie grins, trying hard not to indulge more lest he crashes Bucky into a tree. “Nah, that was half.”

“Half?” You feign a scoff. “Fine, I'll give it to you in installments.” Your neck is starting to ache from the position, but you can't help but keep still when he even looks this good in this awkward angle.

Bucky slows down, you hear the rush of a body of water before you see it. Hobie clicks his tongue, Buck completely stops from the command. “I'll take it.”

“You're not gonna ask when I'll ‘pay’ you?”

Hobie places his hand around your throat, not clenching, nor digging in; no, he does it to gently straighten your neck to save you from a crick in your nape. You follow willingly, never have you felt this soft kind of grasp around your neck— it's been the opposite before this, before him.

The pads of Hobie's fingers rub along your nape, soothing the growing ache. “Surprise me.”

Your smile grows when you quickly look forward, you see a small dock in a shining lake that's surrounded by oak trees and cattails growing on the side. The water shimmers under the afterglow like diamonds laid upon silk.

Hobie raises his brows with a smile, you're sure he's patting himself on the back. He smoothly gets off his horse with a flourish. With his feet back on the ground, he holds your waist, waiting for you to push yourself off so he could help you down. As if you ever need it, but you sometimes like to be spoiled this way, especially if It's Hobie spoiling you with his affections.

You hold the bouquet against your chest while he looks up at you lovingly, not telling you to hurry up or attempt to yank you off. “They told me that you're so mashed. What does that even mean?”

“Who's they?”

“The band, they said and I quote, ‘that Hobie is properly mashed for you! We've never seen him look at someone like that unless—’” You pause, hands on his wrist, pushing yourself off as he guides you down on the ground carefully. You floated for a moment, you then tuck the flowers in Bucky's saddle bag for safe keeping.

“Unless what?”

You bite your lip to tamp down a laugh. “‘Unless you're one of Riri’s homemade chocolate cakes.’” Poking his chest, you playfully jab him while he has his hands up in mock surrender. “I knew you wanted that cake!”

“It was yours! And I've had it a thousand times before, love.” He grabs your wrists, stopping your poking to pull your hand over his neck so you'd hold him closer. Toe to toe, you close the gap even more by scooching closer.

You poke him with your chin on his clavicle. “And here I thought you were being nice.”

“I was,” Hobie utters against your lips, “don't worry, I ordered one for myself while you were playing on stage.”

You gasp in feigned offense. “You dare?!”

Nodding, Hobie pulls you closer by your wrist. “I dare.” He mocks teasingly.

“Guess I have to jump in the lake to let the waters wash away this betrayal.” Moving away, you walk backwards towards the dock while keeping an eye at him.

Hobie watches you go. The second he steps forward, you sprint away, giggling. Milkweeds and poppies brush along your legs as you run while stripping off your boots and jacket, you then throw it all behind you. The fabric hits Hobie's face, he hears a splash as he yanks it off, laughing with you. Stripping off his coat, belt and boots, he jumps in right after with a louder and bigger splash.

The water is colder than you expected when it hit your skin. But you suppose it's worth staying for a little while even if it means getting a cold. You wipe your face from the splash that hit you, shivering slightly and incredibly happy without a care for the rest of the world.

“Hobie?” You twist around, swimming in a circle to look for him.

Hobie doesn't resurface after his jump, your grin slowly turns into panic when you see bubbles rise up from where he jumped.

“Hobie!” You feel bile rise in your throat, panic and worry settling in your stomach. “Hob—!” You're suddenly lifted up, thighs perched on his shoulder with his head in between. “You ass—!” You see him give you a smirk before tossing you behind with a splash.

He once again lifts you up, by your waist this time. He's met with a glare from you, and he has the audacity to laugh at your face. You splash, wiggling and thrashing in his hold. “‘m sorry! I saw the opportunity!”

“Not funny! I thought you drowned!” Continuing to splash at his face, Hobie embraces you against his chest until you've tired yourself out. You manage to give him one last splash to his face before you gave up, and then you slouch against him.

“Good thing I taught you how to swim, huh?” He softly says, floating around the lake.

“Yeah,” you hide behind the crook of his neck, nose nudging his skin while you try to forget how your aunt reacted when you came home drenched and dripping on her carpets.

“You okay?” Hobie rubs in between your shoulders. “‘m sorry, I thought it was funny.”

You sniff from the cold, leaning away to meet with his eyes. “It was, just don't take too long to resurface.” Smiling, you wipe water droplets off his pierced eyebrow. “Remember the day you convinced me to let you teach me how to swim?”

“Yeah, I told you that you wouldn't be able to swim if the ship you're on capsizes.”

“It scared the shit out of me.”

“‘m sorry that scared you.”

“Stop apologizing,” you cup his jaw, feeling his stubble, “besides, we ended up here years later. It's a good ending.”

“Yeah, a good ending.” He fixes your blouse, laying the collar flat so the edge doesn't poke your eye out. Noticing your far off stare behind him, he imagines the worst. But when he turns, he sees a huge deer with large antlers drinking from the side of the lake. “Holy shit.” Hobie moves, but you stop him so he doesn't startle the deer.

It continues to drink calmly. A bush from the side shakes, Hobie almost went for his gun but he's proven wrong when a white tailed doe appears.

“She's gorgeous,” you whisper, hugging him from behind while you watch the doe drink next to the deer. “Do you think they know each other?”

“Maybe.” He doesn't believe his eyes, “maybe they're mates.”

You kiss his cold cheek. “You think so?”

With your hands intertwined with his own underwater, he pulls you closer until there's no space left in between. He once dreamed to be this close to you, now that he's skin to flesh with you, he will never let go. He'd rather be buried alive again rather than be apart with you.

The deer nudges the doe's head before they gallop away from the lake. Hobie sniffs, finger brushing along your ring. “Yeah, they are.”

—

The sun has fully set now, dark blue engulfing you with the night howling its cold breeze against your wet skin. The large oak tree behind you shields you from the harsh wind. It reminds you of the one back home where he carved both of your initials on the trunk. Hobie embraces you from behind, sharing his warmth while you two wait for the clothes on your back to dry before riding home. Bucky sleeps next to you, huffing in his sleep. The bonfire roars, warming you in its orange glow, flames dancing in your vision.

Hobie hasn't taken his fingers off your ring that he rolls around your finger since you sat down. His eyes stare at the fire, shoulders relaxed, yet his jaw is clenched. You think his body is acting on instinct, and is still getting used to the calm.

“You're quiet, I'm worried.” You say, head leaning on his chest, back slouched to look at him.

Hobie raises a brow, eyes glancing down at you before returning back to the fire. “‘m thinkin’.”

“That's a first,” you joke, squeezing his hand. He chuckles, pecking the top of your head once before sighing in your hair. “Okay, now I'm worried. What's wrong?”

“I was thinkin' that we're practically married.” Something flashes behind your eyes that he missed. “We've got the rings, the house, the love and everythin' else.” He can't let Miguel get to him, but he can't get his words out of his mind either. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.

You give him a soft shaky smile, eyes glossy against the light of the bonfire. Cradling his face, he leans against your palm, placing a heavy kiss on your cool skin. A sob threatens to escape you, clawing at your chest to be let go. You don't let it.

“We kind of are, huh?” He asks, eyes closed while holding your hand against his lips.

“I–it's close.” You manage to choke out. “I suppose we are, Hobs.” Tears collect in your lashes, blurring him in your vision like water colours bleeding in together. “Are you afraid of it?” Of us? You fear waking up one day and finding his side of the bed empty except for a note addressed to you. It's irrational, you know it is.

“No,” he sniffs, “it's the opposite. My fear isn't anywhere near that.”

You blink to clear the tears, letting it fall without a sound. “What are you most afraid of, cowboy?”

Hobie opens his eyes and you're met with a sea of green, shining and glittering just like the lake near you. “You, you're what I'm most afraid of.” You turn to fully face him, body placed in between his legs that comfortably cage you in. You don't let him go even when he burrows his chin on the top of his chest. For a moment, he doesn't say a word, until he sniffs and returns to meet with your eyes. “Losin’ you, seein’ your blood stainin’ my hands.” He holds both of your hands in his own. “That's what I'm afraid of, not my own death, yours. Because I can't live another five years without you. Especially a life lived without you isn't a life well lived.”

You feel his love and all the ache he carried in those five years like never before. He doesn't want to lose the life he built with you here; he doesn't want to lose all the mornings with you, he doesn't want to sleep without you by his side. He doesn't want to lose you.

You never even thought for a moment that you deserve this kind of tenderness after all the hatred that was thrown at you like a hail of firestorm. And yet, here he is, he loves you, the kind of love that reverberates through your very bones and settles into your soul. You still don't think you deserve it, but who are you to deny such love, especially from him? You did not beg for this kind of love, nor prayed for it. It's not the kind of love that the fates or the universe have thrust upon you in a shower of meteors. It was gradual, it came in a trickle and then a wave. And when you two were finally on the same page— you love him with every single bone in your body— you love him intentionally and wholeheartedly.

Kneeling to level with him, hands holding his cheeks, you hope that your simple touch is enough to let him feel all the love and affection you have for the man before you.

With your forehead against his own, you softly utter the same three words you've been telling him every morning and and every night before bed. “I love you.” He nods, whispering the same words atop your lips like a mantra; a song that replays in his head over and over again. You kiss the corner of his lips before leaning away. “I–if that ever happens, I'll live for you. I'll bring back my blood inside me if I have to.” You wipe away his stray tear, “Just promise me you'll do the same.” You know that you won't be able to do anything if it does happen to you, nor he, if it happens to him. They're empty promises meant to fill the holes in your chests for comfort to hold onto— to help ease your minds throughout the night whilst he lays his head upon your chest at night.

The weight of the looming threat feels like a reality. As if someone laid a pillow to his sleeping face. Hobie takes you in his arms, embracing you; hand placed on the back of your head as if he's already trying to shield you from what he fears most.

The mere thought of you loving him so much that you'd defy death itself, and despite the blood underneath his nails has him tethering upon the precipice of paradise. Maybe that's all there is then, to be loved despite the blood staining his hands, and despite his gnashing teeth that could take your flesh if he so desires; that he'll never desire to do to you— It's enough for him to be with you, and for you to be with him until you're both old and frail, until you're both six feet under; behind the same house he made into a home for you.

He has everything to lose, and he'll raise hell itself if need be just to bring you back. *When they come for you, there won't be enough bullets in the world for him.

With determination in his eyes that fans the flames in his chest, he utters an impossible promise on your skin.

“I promise.”

You hug Hobie, hand splayed on his back while the other kneads at his nape. Opening your eyes, you see the same deer and doe on the other side of the lake, standing side by side peacefully with their reflections on the lake. The sounds of the night echo above the glimmering depths of the water. It all brings you hope despite the conversation, they won't find you, that's your hope. You get to stay here forever with him, that's your only wish in this world.

Amidst the swaying grass, and in his arms, you feel infinite. You finally feel like you exist with the gentle wind and the raging rivers. No more do you feel like you burn everyday, where there's ash in your mouth, embers hidden underneath your hands; living in a house built to be kindling in your all consuming flames of loneliness. Earthbound once more, alive again.

[ashwhowrites]

Can I request an angst to fluff Eddie story where Eddie is an oblivious little golden retriever and his girlfriend hates/loves that about him? He starts dealing to Chrissy who then starts hanging around more, starts changing her style to be more like Eddie and also his girlfriend, breaks up with Jason, and then suddenly is everywhere. Eventually the reader loses it in front of everyone when Chrissy goes a little far with her flirting and Eddie tells the reader she's being dramatic. To him that's his girl, his soul mate and he even plans on proposing after graduation. He doesn't even think of other girls. The reader is hurt he dismissed her in front of everyone and feels like he chose Chrissy, and Chrissy thinks she won because Eddie chose her. Then the next day Eddie doesn't pick up the reader for school like he usually does, instead he shows up late with Chrissy in his passenger seat. The final offense though? Is when Chrissy sees the reader looking and grabs Eddie and kisses him. Now Eddie realizes his girlfriend fears were very valid and now he's not sure if he can fix this, but he will move heaven and earth for just a shot at forgiveness.

(This got super long, and I really didn't mean for it to 😂 you can totally cut it down or change whatever you want. I don't really care I just really enjoy your angst to fluff.)

Yes, you may ask for a request!

Thank you so much for requesting and enjoying my work :)

And details are always helpful! If this is not what you wanted, let me know so I can rewrite it. ( Alternative ending in master-list - still ends with her going back so fair warning)

Master-list

Y/N has been smitten with Eddie since she met him in her sophomore year. He was confident, charming, funny, and so hot. It was very easy for them to become friends as they had a lot in common. They enjoyed the same bands and laughed at how many of the same shirts they had. They have an equal number of records all over their rooms. Both have a hidden stash of weed in their drawers. It was like they were meant for each other.

Eddie was obsessed the second she walked up to him. Her Metalicia shirt was cropped, and small bleach stains were scattered. He smiled, knowing he had one just like it in his closet. But when he started to get to know her, he was so dead. He thinks he already loves her since the first day. and just kept falling. when she asked to join DnD and was somehow better than he was. He knew he was going to marry her.

~~

During Y/N's junior year, she spent the whole time trying to make moves on Eddie. She cringed at how obvious her schoolgirl crush was, but he either wasn't getting the hint or did not like her.

Every morning when he picked her up, she had a big smile on her lips and a touch on his knee (that got higher each day): "Wow, Eddie, those jeans frame your thighs so well." She even fucking winked. He smiled and drove on, like she had not said a word.

Then, when they went to the pool, she did not bother to hide her staring. "Eds, your tattoos are always so fucking hot to see when you are on full display." She even trailed her fingers over the design. And nothing. He blushed and basically walked away.

She decided to bite the bullet and ask him on a date. If he said no, then at least she knew where he stood.

When Eddie saw Y/N walking up to him with purpose in her eyes, he had no idea what to think.

"Okay, Eds, I have the house to myself this weekend; want to rent some movies and hang out?" She twirled a piece of her hair with her finger. batted her eyelashes as she looked up at him. A smile lit up his face. "Of course, I'll go tell the group." Before she could correct him, he took off.

She signed, "I meant just us."

~~

"So Y/N has the house to herself, so movie night at her place." Eddie announced as he walked into the video store.

"She never asked me." Robin protested, and Steve agreed.

"Well, maybe she just thought I'd tell you." Eddie shrugged. 

"Well, did she tell you to ask us?" Steve said, "She always asks us."

"Well, no, but I just figured." He shrugged again. What is with the questions?

"Dude, you are telling me Y/N told you she has the house to herself, invites you for a movie night, and you think she wants us there?" Robin pipped me with an eye roll.

"Dude, she was so hitting on you." Steve smacked him on the shoulder.

"No, she is just friendly; she does not like me." Eddie responded back, but Robin was quick with an answer.

"Eddie, she does not flirt with anyone but you."

~~

When he showed up at her house that night, alone, she was confused.

"I thought you asked the group?"

"someone told me the intention was for this to be a date?" He asked with a shy smile pointed towards her.

"Yeah, but I get it. You make it quite clear you do not like me."

"Why would you say that?" He asked confusedly; he loved her.

"I flirt with you, and you ignore me. I ask you on a date, and you ask the group. It's okay, though. We can just be best friends."

"You never flirted with me." He was even more confused.

"Eddie, when a girl is touching your knee, complimenting everything you wear, winking at you, touching your chest, batting her eyelashes, and twirling her hair, you know she's into you."

That night she finally kissed him, and he finally understood the feelings were mutual.

~~

Now that it is senior year for the couple, they are more in love than ever.

Y/N was a bit more on the tough side, and Eddie was soft. She hated new people, but Eddie wanted to welcome everyone with open arms.

Being with Eddie meant watching people take advantage of his kindness. He is quite oblivious to the intentions of people around him. I mean, it took him two years to see she liked him. She loved and hated that about him.

And right now, the hating side has been flicked on.

Chrissy Cunnignham has been following her boyfriend around like a lap dog. It started with a deal. And Y/N thought that was the end of it, but she kept showing up.

 Eddie and Y/N snuck out to the parking lot to each take their lunch together in the back of the van. They sat in comfortable silence when a voice cut in,

"OMG, Eddie! "There you are; I have been looking for you." Y/N rolled her eyes at the high pitched voice. Eddie smiled at the girl, and Y/N hated the jab that landed in her gut.

"Just having lunch with my girl, what's up?" She smiled at the fact that he reminded her that he, in fact, does have a girlfriend. Because Chrissy likes to forget that piece of information.

"Huge party this weekend; I want to invite you," Chrissy said to Eddie and Eddie only. Her eyes never drifted from his brown ones.

Eddie looked over to Y/n with a question in his eyes.

"Baby, want date night at a party?" She did not want to spend her night with Eddie at a party, but if he wanted to go, she would suck it up. She gave him a nod.

"We will be there."

~~

After the little run in with Chrissy at lunch, Y/N felt a tad bit sour. She knows Eddie is hers, and Eddie only wants her, but that insecurity was settling in.

She shook it off and headed to Hellfire. She and Eddie are now partners in leading the campaigns. Her seat was always next to Eddie, so a huge scowl landed on her face when she saw a familiar ponytail sitting next to Eddie in her seat.

"Chrissy, welcome, but that is my seat." Y/N said it as nicely as she could.

"Oh well, I would prefer to sit next to Eddie." She giggled as she looked at Eddie.

Eddie was once again oblivious to Chrissy's disinterest in their relationship.

"Well, I do not care; I would prefer to sit in my own seat with my boyfriend." She did not care to be polite now.

The group was walking in behind them but stopped at the tension in the room.

"Well, if Eddie wants me to move, then I will move." Chrissy bit back, and she crossed her arms.

One thing about Eddie is that he does not like to say no to people, and he does not like to hurt people's feelings, except apparently his girlfriends'.

"Baby, don't be so dramatic; it's just a seat. The spare chair is in the closet." Eddie smiled softly, truly believing he could easily fix the situation. Chrissy cheered.

The boys gasped at his response. Dusitn went to say something, but Y/N gave him a look. With the biggest breath she could manage, she grabbed the chair and placed it next to Gareth. Her boyfriend could fuck off.

Eddie frowned in her direction, but his attention quickly returned to Chrissy when she asked questions about the campaign.

~

Y/N rolled her eyes every time Chrissy would cheer on Eddie.

"Look, if you want to cheer so goddamn bad, why not go to practice?" Y/N snapped. Dustin tried to hide his laugh.

"Babe, no need to be rude. She is having fun; if you are going to sit there and be mean, you should just go." Y/N felt steam coming out of her ears. Did he seriously just tell her to go home?

She bit back her response and clenched the dice in her hand. It was going to be a long night.

~~

It got even worse. The news that Chrissy dumped Jason traveled fast.

Y/N had her theories of why this breakup happened so suddenly, but Eddie, of course, just wanted to help.

"Chrissy You deserve so much better. You will find someone perfect for you. I know it."

Y/N felt like her eyes never stopped rolling. She shot a glare at the back of Eddie's head as he hugged Chrissy.

~~

It was the night of the party, and the couple was heading to the front door.

"We shouldn't have come. All she wants to do is flirt with you and act like you don't have a girlfriend."

"She knows we are together, and she is not flirting. She just wants a friend so be nice," Eddie warned as Chrissy opened the door with a smile and only pointed to Eddie.

Y/N felt her blood boil when Chrissy laced her hand into Eddie's and yanked him out of Y/N's grasp, dragging him into the house. Eddie's head turned quickly to his girlfriend, "Babe." He said it with a smile as he used his free hand to reach for her.

 Y/N was very close to either killing Chrissy or Eddie. She understood that Eddie had no idea what was going on. He doesn't know Chrissy has been flirting with him for days. But she wanted to scream at him for being so stupid.

~~

She was dancing with Eddie, finally having fun since Chrissy got occupied with hosting. Her hands were in his hair, their hips grinding into each other, and matching smiles took over their faces. They were lost in each other, making out in the middle of the floor. This is what she missed about Eddie—being with him in this way. He has been so busy with Chrissy that she feels like she's been pushed to the back burner.

"Can we talk?" She asked loudly into his ear. He pulled away, worried, and walked her out to the backyard.

They stood on the grass and passed a joint back and forth.

"I don't want to be that girlfriend that controls you or picks who you are friends with. But this thing with Chrissy needs to either be talked about or stopped. I am not comfortable with how she flirts with you, how she touches you, and how she always needs your attention."

"Babe, I told you there was nothing going on." He sighed

"I do not care if there is nothing going on; it is the fact that she is trying to make something happen, and you will not shut it down. I know you think everyone is just being friendly, but I am your girlfriend, and if I am telling you that I feel our relationship is being neglected, you should be working this out with me, not trying to tell me I'm making shit up. I bite my tongue a lot, but the times that it splits, you turn on me. You tell me to leave it alone and go home. Do you know how embarrassing that is? and seeing her smug smile because she's winning."

Y/N noticed her friend Robin making her way out to the yard with Steve following behind. Robin could easily sense the tension, and she knew Chrissy had been a pain in Y/N's ass, so she could imagine what was going on.

"She is not winning! There is no fight or competition. You are my girlfriend, not her. So I don't see why we are having to talk about this. Why would I want to even try with her when I have you? Just get over this insecurity and jealousy so we can move on from it."

Robin, Steve, and Y/N's mouths dropped. Chrissy once again popped up with a big smile.

"I'm feeling some tension here; maybe we should take a breather." Chrissy offered adviced as she put her hand on Eddie's back. That's when Y/N snapped.

"Get your fucking hands off of my boyfriend!" Eddie was quick to jump in front of Chrissy as Y/N marched towards her.

"Seriously, you need to calm down. You are embarrassing yourself and me."

Y/N felt every piece of anger leave, filled with hurt. It was like Eddie wasn't even himself. He was replaced with the shell.

"I pour my heart out to you. I tell you why I am upset with everything going on. And you first told me I was insecure and jealous, and now you are fucking protecting her? Are you saying I'm embarrassing you? What's embarrassing is how she chases you around. how she dumped her boyfriend just to try to snag you. She's fucking wearing a Metallica shirt, Eddie! with fucking black boots. I have almost the same outfit in my closet. She wants you! Why can't you fucking see that?"

Eddie honestly did not know what to say.

"Let's take you home." Robin said as she grabbed Y/N's hand.

Y/N was hurt, but he didn't bother to say anything, didn't bother to stop her, and never bothered to follow her to Robin's car.

He just stayed; he stayed with her.

~~

Y/N took the time away from Eddie to breathe. She needed some space. So she waited until Monday to talk to him when he picked her up.

The only problem was that he never showed up. She begged Steve for a ride, and he said yes without hesitation.

She was relieved to see she made it on time. But her breath of relief hitched when she saw his van pull up with her in the passenger seat. She watched as they climbed out. Eddie looked like he was in the middle of a huge rant, then Chrissy's eyes caught hers.

If looks could kill, they would have murdered each other.

Y/N started to walk towards them, intent on calling them out, but she froze in her spot at Chrissy's next action.

~~

"Okay, I think we need to take some space away from each other because if it makes my girlfriend uncomfortable, I need to respect that." Eddie explained as he pulled up into the parking lot and getting out of his van. He tried to call his girlfriend last night to tell her he was going to give Chrissy a ride to talk some things over, but she never answered.

"Eddie I don't get it. You had a fight, and she left, and you stayed with me. You obviously just showed her that you picked me. Respecting her wishes is all out the window now." Chrissy said as she peered over at her. an idea forming in her head. This was her chance to end their relationship once and for all.

Eddie went to protest when he felt her lips crash onto his. His eyes flew as wide as they could. He cringed at the feeling of sticky gloss coating his lips. He went to pull away, but her hand grabbed the back of his head to shove him closer. When he finally got himself free, he had no idea what had just happened. He was telling her they couldn't be friends, and she kissed him? That's when he noticed it; Chrissy was twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes, and he felt her touch in his chest.

"Oh fuck, you are flirting. Look I'm in love with Y/N so this will never happen" He stated as he pulled himself away. He messed up. His girlfriend told him over and over, and she was right. Chrissy didn't respect his relationship with Y/N. And he allowed himself to disrespect it in the same way.

He was quick to head towards the school, but that's when his eyes caught his favorite ones. She stood there, unmoving. Tears flowed down her face, her hand tightly holding her backpack strap. His heart dropped. She saw it. She saw her kiss him.

He went to move, but she was faster; she ran off into the building.

"BABY, WAIT!" he screamed as he ran after her. He followed her into the girls' bathroom; he didn't care.

She was sobbing into her hands on the floor. His heart shattered. He was quick to kneel in front of her. He grabbed her hands away from her face and wiped off her tears.

"Baby, I promise, I didn't kiss her. I didn't know she was going to do that. I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. You told me over and over, and I just chose not to believe you. It's just that I'm so goddamn in love with you that I don't even notice anyone else. I didn't notice her flirting because half the time I don't even notice her. I'm thinking about you. I'm sorry I called you insecure and jealous. You aren't; you were upset, and I should have made you feel better. "I promise with everything in me that I only want you, and I only want you for the rest of my life." He didn't notice that he began to cry too. He was so scared that he'd messed this up so badly that she'd leave.

"Please don't leave me, baby. I need you. Please don't," he was sobbing into her now. His face was tucked into her neck.

"I'm not going to leave you, baby." "I love you too," she said, kissing his cheek. She knew he understood his mistake now. And she also knew he was going to fix everything he cracked.

He pulled away with a sniffle. Red, puffy eyes met each other's on the bathroom floor. He leaned in for a kiss, but she pushed him back.

"Not until you get that 30¢ gloss off of you," she teased. He took it as seriously as he should have. and began to scrub the hell out of his lips. After about three washes, he went to her with a smile.

"Now?" He asked, and she nodded.

Their lips met in a needy kiss. Every once of love and passion was sent to one another.

 

As the couple walked out of the bathroom, they were definitely late for class now. Eddie spoke up.

"Just so you know, I'm marrying you."

~~~~~

Tags- @bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson

@sage-the-z0mbie

[lovergurrl411]

My thoughts after Binge watching The Cleaning Lady

Ep 1 - "because I like you and I don't wanna have to kill you" ... did he just low-key call her his soul mate?? 😈😈!! Also, the chemistry between them, 💦💦 oh boy. ... "i still have a cleaner inside" WHAT?!!!! The look on my boys face tho!!!! He really risked his life for her. And when she was like "Do you trust me?" I literally screamed.

Ep 2 - "you couldn't even protect mateo, how do you expect to protect me?" 👀👀 giiirrl, spitting dangerous facts, but the sexual tension tho has me 🥴🥴💦💦💦💦💦

Ep 3 - "you're not the man I thought you were" -- ouch! The devastated look on his face when she said that broke my heart.

Ep 4 -- I just realized how messed up I am; we finally see Thony have a real conversation with her husband, Marco, and she's clearly in a normal and healthy relationship, yet here I am shipping her with Arman who is clearly a hot mess. But I can't help it because every conversation they have moves me🥰🥰🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Ep 5 --the fact that they are working together is beautiful and the only thing I care about is when the heck they are gonna kiss!😤😤🤣🤣

Ep 6 -- her crying in his arms--wait, is he gonna kiss her?? Omg omg omg omg lordy stop me from having a great attack. 👀👀💦💦🤯🤯🥳🥳

Ep 7-- at this point i almost feel like this is Arman's son not Marco's, haha. He's the one actively making moves to help Luka.

Ep 8 -- i thought her husband was a decent man, and even felt bad for shipping Thony with Arman, but I take it all back. He's a piece of shit. Also, i can't tell if Arman is lying to his girl or himself but he is so in love with thony its crazy. :: them dancing to "reloj" GASP :: omg, did she just name drop Arman?? 😂😂😂😂💀💀 :: also, nadia spitting facts "you love the way she looks at you when you do these things for her" 👀👀

Ep 9 -- "you did it" "no we did it" 😍😍😍

Ep 10 -- "you sure he's not the real reason you want to stay in Vegas?" 😱😱🤯🤯👏👏 I can't stand Marco but he's telling no lies here. I need Thony to stop lying to herself. Also, idk how Arman can do two separate power couple scenes with two different women and not come off as total trash, yet here we are🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤣🤣 :: "you asked me once if I trust you. I'm asking you now, do you trust me?" 👀👀🥰🥰💦💦 someone call a doctor cuz i think I'm about to faint. :: HE GAVE HER THE PURSE STRINGS, YESSS 👏👏👏; I'm content and idk why the ending(or begining) of their story is so satisfying, but it is.😊😊

[nikethestatue]

so in ACOTAR when Feyre is going to sneak out and attend Calanmai, she says she felt a pull to go like “a string tied to my gut that pulled me towards those hills.” and then she meets Rhys for the first time

ao we have a true mating bond being described a sting attached to the gut. almost like a gut feeling.

then we have Elain and Lucien whose mating bond feels like it’s attached to the ribs. the ribs and the gut are very different parts of your body, easy to distinguish from on another. i now 100% believe that the Elucien mating bond is a spell

Welcome to the club!! 😂

Now I’m totally pondering this and I’m wondering if the bond needs to ‘adhere’ to the people. So a real bond actually adheres to their souls, their hearts. And a spell of a bond still had to attach itself to the body, but since it’s a spell it only mimics the true bond and the attachment isn’t to one’s very essence but an actual body part.

🤔

Very interesting Anon. I’m going to think further on this.

I wonder WHY Azriel can smell it? And why it’s so repugnant yo him? Is it because he can smell the falseness of it? But can’t understand what it means?

[colormepurplex2]

I feel like I should say I'm sorry but at the same time...I'm not sorry at all 😂 I've been ruminating on your words for most of the day, letting it soak in as I'm elbow-deep in getting chapter 3 ready before the month is over.

Now, to your juicy review bits:

Potential spoilers below

Writing JK is honestly my favorite (don't tell Yoongi). His character has so many complexities that will be coming out in part 3, I'm so excited for him.

The smut. Oh, the smut. I had probably way more fun writing it than I had a right to. The best mix of clumsy awkward virgin energy and horny mate frenzy. I wanted it to be soft and sweet, mildly funny, but most importantly I wanted it to be genuine and full of self-realization for them both. They're total strangers, but at the same time, they're now bonded on a soul-deep level, knowing each other far more intimately than anyone else ever could without a bond.

Jimin. Jimin. Jimin. My poor, sweet Mini. I was on the fence about doing multiple POVs, but when I started to flesh out how I wanted the ending of chapter 2 to be, I knew I needed to let the reader see at least a glimpse of what it's like from his perspective. Here he is, a Fey torn between his duty to the realm and his nearly life-long love. I wanted the audience to have conflicting emotions (just as he does), think he's being a prick but then turn around and get bleary-eyed right along with him.

Ummm...the cliffhanger. Yeah, about that...👀 MY FINGER SLIPPED AND THE NEXT THING I KNEW HE WAS CAPTURED OOPS 😅

Flowers of Fate | Lavender & Thyme

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 20,683 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

The man looming over you narrows his eyes before he flicks them up to JK, who looks smug behind you. “They are supposed to be willing. This does not look willing to me. The bitter stink of her fear is burning my nose.” His nose wrinkles as if to accentuate his observation. “Can you not smell it? And…is that,” he sniffs the air, “the loch I also smell? What the hell happened?”

JK shifts his feet and clears his throat. “She may have had a slight incident going through the gateway. And, of course I can smell the fear. But what would you have had me do differently? She was unprotected, the first we’ve encountered in nearly a decade. I did what I had to.”

That makes the man’s eyebrows rise, and his eyes fall back down to you. “Unprotected? Is that so?”

“More or less,” JK mumbles.

“And that means?” The question comes from a man that steps around the side of the one in front of you. “That sounds a lot like loophole shenanigans to me.” He is pretty, with sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and ears pointed similarly to the man now glaring down at you. 

“Well, Joon, it means when I first arrived at the gathering, not a soul was without protection. Then, suddenly, she lit up like a dry stick of tinder, and I did the only thing I could think to do…I took her.” His placating shifts from the man he called Joon back to the one standing before you. “We’re losing time, Yoons. We can’t keep waiting around as we have been with our thumbs up our asses. This was the break we needed, don’t sneer at me over something I’ve done for you.”

The man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Seven Hells. I hate that you are right.” Suddenly he’s in your face, crouched down with an elbow resting on a knee. He tilts his head slowly from side to side, those faceted green eyes roving over your face. “What is your name?” he finally asks, a long, slender finger lightly tapping your chin.

You jerk back, appalled. “Oh, fuck you, man! I’m not giving you my name! I’m not stupid. I just want to go home.”

“You’re stupid enough to get snatched up by a Fey,” JK snarks softly.

The man standing behind Yoons slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Do be fair, JK. It is not like the poor girl really knew what was happening. It seems she may have become a victim of vandalism,” he muses, the words slightly muffled behind his hand. He steps forward and fingers a yellow petal from your wet hair. “Honey bell petals.”

JK snatches the petal from the man’s fingers. “Fuck,” he curses. “I saw the damaged crown, but I didn’t see any honey bells. Well, she was unprotected when I approached her. That’s what matters, right?”

“Mmm, technicalities,” Yoons scoffs, swatting JK’s hand, making the petal flutter down and land in your lap.

You pick up the tiny, crumpled, yellow petal. “This is why I’m here? Because my God damn flower crown got destroyed?” you ask, incredulously. The petal turns a dark ocher color as you roll and mash it between your fingers in anger. “Monica, you fucking drunk asshole with your flailing hands.”

“JK does have a point, though, Yoons. You are running out of time, and beggars cannot really be choosers. Sure, she is maybe not…ideal, but she will provide you with what you need.” For some reason, your hackles rise at the idea that you’re apparently not ideal for whatever it is they seemingly need you for.  

Yoons straightens and brushes his hands along the front of his shirt as if absently ridding himself of the slight touch he exchanged with you. “Yes, so it may seem. Well—,“ he glances at JK before continuing, “—Beautiful, it seems that either way you look at it, you are stuck here for the time being, and I do, indeed, have need of a human mate. Perhaps, we can come to some sort of…uh, agreement?”

All the warnings your grandpa ever gave you about making deals with the fae come crashing down on you all at once. “An agreement? You want me to make a deal with you, a supposed fae? Do I have ‘fool’ written on my forehead or something? Absolutely not!”

You scramble to your feet, backing up and putting as much distance as you can between you and the formidable forms standing around you. It’s a shorter gap than you’d like as your back bumps into the now-shut wooden door JK hauled you through. A cursory glance around shows a small open space serving as a kitchen, dining area, and living space. There are two doorways on the backside of the space, the doors slightly ajar, but the rooms beyond are too dark to discern.

“If you could just listen to my proposal, you may find yourself a bit more amicable to agreeing,” Yoons explains softly, gesturing behind him to the wooden dining table with benches to either side. “Please, sit and let me explain as much as I can. If you do not like what I have to say, then you will be free to walk back out that door, and we will not follow—”

“Yoon—!”

Yoons holds up a hand, silencing whatever protest JK is about to spew. “You have my word,” he says to you, slowly and deliberately. His eyes are wide and sincere, even though they’re still quite jarring to look at. They glimmer in the light emanating from the few wall sconces and the fire humming in the hearth across the room, the green shifting to soft gold and back again.

“The fae can’t lie, right?”

Yoons’ lips twitch, the corner tugging up into a slight smile. “Right.”

You sigh. “Even if you could lie, you probably wouldn’t admit it. God, maybe I really am a fool. Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out, but just so you know, I’m about two-point-five seconds away from just running out that door and never looking back.”

“Right back to the kelpies,” JK mutters. You catch Yoons giving him a stern look that makes him drop his eyes to the floor and take up a guarded position by the door, his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

“Despite his seemingly irresistible need to be so harsh with his words, JK does present another point to consider. Outside of this home and the clearing it sits in, you would be at the mercy of the creatures and beings of the Hollow Lands. Though we are closer to the Seelie Court, perhaps if you choose the right direction to run in…” he trails off, rolling his lips between his teeth. You can see how his prominent canines stretch the fullness of his upper lip.

The other man, Joon, gives you a gentile smile and gestures to one of the benches. “Please, have a seat. Oh! You must be freezing,” he titters, moving across to a large woven basket beside the fireplace. “Here.” He grabs out a large, thick woolen blanket and promptly drapes it over your shoulders. “If you decide to stay here, I am sure I can rustle up some garments that will fit you while yours dry properly.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Yoons places a hand on Joon’s arm as he passes by, heading toward the sink in the kitchen area. “My thoughts are scattered. I am grateful for your courtesy.” Those flickering green eyes shift to you, and you can see Yoons’ shoulders sag a little as he sighs. “Apologies, truly. I am normally not so…lacking in hospitality.”

Yoons takes a deep breath and settles on the bench across the table from you. The wood is smooth, dark with age, and worn from use. A steaming pot of what smells like lavender and thyme tea and empty teacups are set on the table between you by Joon. “Lemon sugar and sweet honeysuckle cream if you want it,” he says softly, placing small lidded ramekins and a tiny wooden spoon beside the pot.

You eye the steaming pot of tea, tempted but shake your head, keeping your hands fisting into the soft woolen fabric of the blanket instead. “If you are worried about accepting food from a Fey, thinking it will leave you ensorcelled or trapped here forever, you need not worry about that with Joon. He is not a Greater Fey. He does not possess the ability to entrap a human with his food or drink,” Yoons explains, helping himself to a cup of steaming tea. The fragrant brew is a light plum color, deepening as he adds a spoonful of lemon sugar. “For the sake of transparency, JK is not a Greater Fey either.”

“And you?” you ask when he doesn’t offer up that knowledge as well.

Yoons blows gently over the lip of his cup before taking a slow sip. The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace and the soft sound of Joon now kneading dough on the kitchen counter. “I…am,” he finally says, setting his cup back down and cupping his hands around it as if seeking its added warmth.

“What does that mean exactly?” you ask, tentatively, eyeing the steaming pot of tea again. Your throat is dry, and you are awfully cold, even with the wool blanket and heat coming from the fire. Can you trust his word?

Yoons shift uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes staring into yours as you assume he thinks of how to respond. Instead, though, Joon comments, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “He is right. I am a simple woodland nymph. I barely have the magick needed to encourage my garden to grow and protect my home, much less entrap a human here in the Fey Realm. JK is but a simple Seelie guard. His prowess is more related to the thickness of his muscles than the ability of his glamor.”

JK scoffs from his position by the door. “Yes, let’s tell the human everything.”

“Half-truths are not the way to receive her trust. You, better than anyone, should realize that after the foot you have started her off on,” Yoons admonishes JK, waving a stern but dismissive hand in the air.

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” you grumble, cutting your glance between Yoons and JK.

Yoons’ lips press firmly together before he gives you a slight nod. “Right, apologies again. It has been some time since we have had company other than those who know about this glade.”

“Let’s just get on with whatever this proposal is so I can decide whether or not I’m actually going fucking mental.” You finally relent and reach out to pour yourself a cup of tea, if only to have something to hold for extra warmth.

The lavender and thyme scent is comforting, reminding you of your grandpa. The heat and warmth suffusing through the porcelain cup seep into your hands, helping pull back a fraction of the chill from your tumble into the loch.

“I will try to speak as plainly as possible,” Yoons begins. “However, there are things that you still may not understand. For starters, it may be hard to believe, but you are indeed in the Hollow Lands, the expanse of land that sits between the Seelie and Unseelie courts. We are outside of your realm. JK brought you through…a portal of sorts—one that we have been using for centuries when the veil between our worlds is thin enough. You see, the myths and stories you may have heard all have at least a little truth about them. Do faeries kidnap humans? In a way, perhaps. Though, there are safeguards that humans have been using for just as long to make their desire and status known to the Fey. The honey bell flower is a ward, protecting any and all who wear a circle of it against the glamor of a Fey. Anyone not wearing a circlet of the honey bell is seen to be willing.”

“That doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, now does it?” you question.

Yoons sucks a breath between his teeth. “It does, but this seems like a very unusual situation we have all found ourselves in. You see, JK is sworn to me as a protector. He was acting on my behalf, trying to find the key I need in order to stop something bad from happening to my people.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” you say, laying the sarcasm on as thick as you can. “I thought you were going to speak plainly?” You wet your lips with your tongue, so tempted to take just a tiny sip of the tea.

There is a momentary pause as Yoons takes another sip of his own tea. “I think this might be your best brew yet, Joon,” he murmurs softly. “Plain. Okay. I have been banished from the Unseelie Court. If I do not find a human mate before the next full moon, I will be permanently banned from crossing into the border of my home…locking away all of my people and my family in endless darkness with the one responsible for the turmoil that has befallen my court.”

“Why have you been banished? Banishment usually means you had to have done something to earn it. People don’t just get banished for no reason.” The last thing you want is to be fooled into thinking you are helping the good guy, only to find out later that he’s really the bad one.

Yoons shifts, again looking mildly uncomfortable by your question, which makes you glad you asked it. “It is believed that I killed my father and my brother.”

A chill slithers down the nape of your neck with that admission. “It is believed—believed but not true?”

“I would sooner take my own life than that of my kin. I loved my father dearly for what he did for our people; my brother was my best friend. I did not want nor seek their deaths.”

“What’s so important about the next full moon? Why is that significant?” Every piece of the puzzle he provides will help your decision-making. You just have to be sure to ask the right questions.

Tapping his fingers lightly against the outside of his cup, Yoons explains, “The longer a Fey is away from their origin of magick—for me, that would be the Unseelie Court Moon Stone—the less connected we are to it. It has been nearly a decade since I last was within the borders of my home, since I last felt the cooling mist of the lunar winds on my face. I can already feel how significantly depleted my magick is, how much weaker I grow by the day. If I do not secure a way to access the inner well of my power before the end of my tenth year away, I will lose touch with it completely. So, having a human mate is not only crucial to me being strong enough to defeat the one that started everything, but it also means I’ll retain my ability to touch magick at all.”

“What does a human mate have to do with any of that? How can that help? Couldn’t you bond with anyone?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least somewhat intrigued now—if this is indeed the truth. The idea that you’re on a different plane of existence seems to be unquestionable at this point. How you’re not completely coming apart at the mental seams is beyond your understanding. There is a small glimmer inside, though, that you recognize as the same feeling you once got listening to your grandpa’s stories.

Yoons spreads his hands out in front of himself in a placating manner. “Everything. The reason there are tales of Fey taking humans is that they have taken willing participants as mates because humans can open the inner well of a Fey, unleashing their full potential of magick.”

“So, I woul— I mean, a human would allow you to access a secret well of power that’s just supposed to magically…what? Make the bad guy go away?” You hope they don’t read too much into your slip-up of words. It’s not like you’re actually considering his offer…whatever it is, as he still hasn’t truly laid that out yet.

He’s nodding before you finish asking. “Humans are like a conduit, an open channel for magick. They can amplify the strength of existing Fey magick and allow more to be harnessed safely. Having a human mate is the only way I can access enough of my power to save my people.”

“And you haven’t had any luck finding a human mate so far, so you send your muscle bunny over there to kidnap one for you?”

JK steps forward, intent to protest, but Yoons holds up a hand, silencing him. “Look, I know you did not come here of your own free will, and for that, I will forever apologize. But, I would be remiss to say I am not also grateful that you are here. Once, it may have been easy for my kind to come into your world and find someone willing. But, over time, the stories have changed how humans react and perceive our kind. In your stories, we are monsters, tricksters, and sly thieves. That is just a warped perception based on exaggerated presumptions. All I want is someone to help me save my people.”

“Say I do agree, then what? What will happen to me?” The tea in your cup ripples as you clench your hands around it in agitation. “You say I’m trapped here regardless. What happens if I say no? What madness awaits me out there?” You nod toward the door behind JK.

Joon turns from placing his dough into a deep pan, dusting his hands off on a blush-colored towel. “If I may?” Yoons gives him a slight nod. “Beyond my glade, await things that are far worse than being a mate to a Greater Fey. My magick is a ward, tethered to the soil where I plant my seeds. If you agree to stay and help Yoons, there is a chance you could see your world again…but if you leave here, that chance diminishes greatly. You would be lucky to make it to the Seelie Court, but even then, you would most likely end up as a captive rotting away the rest of your existence in the dungeons. The Fey take great care in choosing the outsiders they allow to walk freely within their courts. They would spend your entire human lifetime discussing what to do with you. Your bones would molder in the dark before they made up their minds.”

“I really am stuck here.” The resignation in your voice is apparent.

You see the moment Yoons thinks to reach across the table and console you. His hand lifts from where it’s resting on the wood, but he drops it back down and clenches his fingers instead. “Unfortunately, yes. At least, for the next six months or so, until the veil thins again and a gateway is accessible. As to what will happen to you if you agree to help me, well, you will become my mate. It is similar to what your kind calls marriage. There is a ceremony where we are bound and then a…um, consummation to solidify the link to my magick.”

Ignoring that blatant statement of having to have sex with this man, you ask another question, “Tell me more about your home and what’s going on with this supposed bad guy?”

Yoons’ face closes down, and he straightens his shoulders, hands dropping into his lap. “The male who murdered my father and brother, and holds my mother captive is using dark magick in order to steal and manipulate his way through my court. He has bewitched the whole of the Unseelie Court and uses his connection to the Seelie Court as a ruse. His ultimate goal is to see the end of my people and the absolute rule of Seelie. He thinks we are no better than a people to be enslaved, fodder for his kind to use as building blocks so they may reign supreme over all of this realm and the beings within it.”

“Do the Seelie support this? Why aren’t they doing something about it if they’re not in agreement? Are you fighting one man or an entire people? You make it seem like an impossible task.” You can’t help that some part of you feels sympathy for this man—faerie, whatever he is—despite your indignation over his methods of finding a solution.

JK harrumphs softly from the door. “It’s only impossible if you say no. The Seelie are just as much victims of this maddening farce as we are. The entirety of our realm, our world as we know it, is on the line and you can be the force to tip us one way or another. Look,” he sighs, taking a few steps forward from the door to stand beside the table, “I’ll be honest. It’s my fault you’re here. I didn’t realize you actually had a circle of honey bells on at some point. But, even if I had…I can’t say for certain I wouldn’t have still tried to bring you back with you being unprotected. Over the last decade, I have gone through the Carterhaugh gateway every chance I could. I have walked among the festivities, danced around the May-poles with oblivious humans, tried to ask for help, created friendships, anything I could think of that might allow me to do my job, but every time, it’s been the same. No one cares; no one believes me. They chalk it up to too much whisky or too many hours listening to childish fairy tales. It wasn’t until you that there was ever even a glimmer of hope for us.”

“Peace, JK,” Yoons murmurs. “It is the truth—The Seelie are victims in this. You see, the Fey responsible for all of this first came to the Unseelie Court as a liaison from the Seelie. It is no secret that though we are of the same people, we have conflicted against one another since the dawn of our time, at least until some fifty years ago. The Unseelie and Seelie Kings had enough. They were tired of seeing their people suffer. They came together to spark a truce. All conflict ceased, and trade began—bringing near-instant fruitfulness for both sides. The Hollow Lands remained neutral ground where markets were held at the beginning of each new moon phase, and things were going wonderfully. Then Chaddick, the Seelie Queen’s brother by marriage, came to the Unseelie Court to continue with the politics, and it has been darkness and decline ever since, beginning with his murder of the Unseelie King.”

“And you’re the only one that can save your people? Why you? Why your family? What exactly happened?” The more you learn, the harder it becomes to find a reason not to agree to help. It’s not like you have many other options. Perhaps if you decide to help, you can barter for your own help in return.

“As Greater Fey, we posed the biggest threat to thwarting his plans. I escaped, but only barely. I am the only remaining Greater Fey of the Unseelie Court who knows the truth and has the ability to do something about it. I represent the only hope there is.”

Silence settles between you and Yoons, his last words sinking in with a finality. You glance down at the cup nestled between your palms. As if without your permission, you bring it up and slowly press it to your lips. The slightly bitter and floral scent fills your lungs before sliding over your bottom lip and coating your tongue. It’s the tiniest sip, barely enough to wet your throat, but already you feel better—calmer. There is no apparent mindlessness, you’re not consumed with the desire to obey, and something inside you tells you that you know you could still leave if you wanted to.

“If I agree to help you—to become your mate…I want you to promise me that you’ll take me to a gateway and allow me to leave at the very next Samhain, unharmed, and with no strings attached.” The cup rattles gently against the tabletop as your trembling hands place it back down. “This is the only way I will agree to help you.” The words you choose are careful, constructed, and spoken in a way that is plain and concise, with no room for misinterpretation or fae foolery. “There will be absolutely no tricks, deceptions, or wayward attempts from you to keep me here. I want a guarantee that you will do all in your power to ensure I get back to my world in as much the same condition at which I left it as you can manage.”

Yoons studies you for a moment, his eyes unreadable as they flicker over your features. “I will agree to this…with one variable if you will. If I am able to free my people and see to it that Chaddick is no longer a threat, I will personally escort you to the Carterhaugh gateway come next Samhain and will allow you to leave with no further obligations. I, however, can not guarantee there will be no strings attached, per se. You see, becoming my mate would mean we are mated for all of our respective lifetimes. Being the mate to a Greater Fey, even living in your mortal realm, will mean you will still see the effects of our bond. Your life will become irrevocably longer. You will experience greater strength and stamina; you will, for all intents and purposes, be Fey yourself. Know that there is always a danger in being one of our kind living in your world. Even across the distance of parallel realms, we would still be aware of each other…the mate bond is an intimate one.”

Joon clears his throat before giving you a gentle smile. “I do know of a way to create an herbal suppressant, though. It will not completely blanket the bond, but it would ease the ache of separation. I could show you how to make it. Thankfully, all the herbs and spices you would need grow in your world, too.”

“The ache of separation?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at Yoons.

“As I said, I can not guarantee no strings. After many years apart, bonded mates may feel…ah, well, something akin to discomfort of the soul. A sadness that no amount of sun or sweets can remedy.” Yoons straights again in his seat, quickly bringing up his teacup to take another sip. “It is something I am willing to endure for the safety of my people. No pain could possibly compare to the pain I know in my heart currently.” His green eyes flash, hatred and malice darkening his features before he swipes his free hand over his face and sighs. “It has been a long day, longer for you, I am sure. If you would, Na—ahem, Joon, see to it that our guest has dry clothing and a place to rest. You may have an hour to rest and think about my offer.”

Pushing up from the table, Yoons places his cup back down and makes his way to the door you came in through. JK beats him to it, wrenching the knob and yanking it open. Yoons walks through the open door, JK disappearing behind it. The door thumps closed, sealing the interior of the small cottage in silence once more.

“Come, my dear, let’s get you more comfortable.” Joon gestures toward one of the doorways at the back of the room.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“This is a terrible idea. I swear, if you had wings…I. Would. Clip. Them,” Yoongi seethes, rounding on Jungkook, punctuating the last few words with sharp jabs to the center of his chest.

Jungkook swats Yoongi’s hand away, baring his teeth in turn. “The only terrible idea is you agreeing to let her return to her world in the end! You know the consequences of that. Are you really willing to accept an eternity of crippling pain for her?”

Yoongi sighs, turning away from Jungkook. His eyes fix on the large, green leaves of Namjoon’s seeded oak that are closer to the ground than they were yesterday, faintly twisting in the hazy breeze wafting from the west—the direction of the Seelie Court. The air holds a floral scent, one that Yoongi knows fondly.

“I do not think I have much of a choice, my friend,” he finally admits, resigned. “We need this to work. You have said so yourself that we are running out of time. The next full moon is just a few days away. If I cannot access the rest of my power by then, all will be lost, and you and I will never see the stars of the Unseelie Court again. It is a thought I can barely bring myself to contemplate. My mother…” Yoongi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Jungkook knows exactly what would become of Yoongi’s mother—the woman that is just as much a mother to Jungkook—if all of this fails.

Jungkook closes the distance between himself and Yoongi. He hesitates, warring internally on whether or not he will be crossing a line, but finally places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi instantly tenses, making Jungkook flinch, but he keeps his hand where it is. “You know I would do anything for you. If there were even the slightest possibility that we could do this any other way, I’d dump her back in the loch myself in a heartbeat. Just know this, Yoongi, you have agreed to see that she returns to her world if she so wishes…but I have made no such promise.” Letting his hand slip from Yoongi’s shoulder, he huffs in irritation and disappears into Namjoon’s garden beyond the seeded oak. “I’ll gather some food for dinner.”

Yoongi watches Jungkook until he’s lost among the foliage. He knows agreeing to your terms was foolish. He just wasn’t sure what else he could have done to help convince you to agree. It took everything in Yoongi not to lunge across the table, grapple you to the floor, and use his magick to force you into submission. It would have been easy, a simple feat in just a matter of moments. But it would have been too risky.

There isn’t much known to him, personally, about the bond between a Fey and a human other than what his mother told him during his childhood. What he told you was mostly true, with perhaps a few omissions. It is true that the Fey took willing humans for their mated bonds, but that is such an archaic practice that Yoongi has never actually known a mated human-Fey pair. In all his years, it has only ever been Fey mated with Fey. It has been a very long time since a Fey needed access to their full power.

From what he knows, a mated bond can only work to its fullest potential with a willing human. Forcing a human into a mated bond has been known to have the opposite effect than desired. A Fey that takes an unwilling human will be tainted by the bond, their magick forever infused with darkness and pain. At least, that’s what the stories say. Yoongi entertained the idea in the beginning when he first escaped from Chaddick. Jungkook even captured a human man, hauling him back through the gateway just to have to take him back after Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to bond the man against his will. It’s been a very precarious line to walk ever since.

“A damned fool,” Yoongi whispers to himself before following Jungkook into the garden. He knows there is no use in arguing with Jungkook over his last declaration, so he will just have to tread carefully and hope you don’t catch wind of that revelation.

Namjoon’s garden is something of pride and bounty. Glowing, magick-infused spheres dot the meandering paths between beds of vegetables and fruits. Vines slither along runners of trellis, and branches ladened with juicy fruits dangle within easy reach at the end of each path. Everything in the garden, except for a few vegetables and herbs, is mortal. Just another precaution that Namjoon personally undertook to help Yoongi in this quest. Without the help of Jungkook and Namjoon, Yoongi knows he would never have had a chance.

“Do you think we should have asked if she has any allergies?” Jungkook muses as he digs up a cluster of red potatoes. “Maybe she only eats meat. I did find her by the grill pits. I have a few snares in the western glen that I can check.” He rattles off the different locations and how he’s learned the best runs to set up traps on, and how they change with the seasons.

Yoongi can’t help but smile as he listens to Jungkook. The youthful swagger left Jungkook’s step around the same time the roundness of his face did—when they escaped the Unseelie Court nearly a decade ago. Yoongi wonders if Jungkook mourns the playful nature that once possessed the guard as he does. Despite Yoongi’s status as a Greater Fey and Jungkook’s lack of, growing up together solidified their bond. The day Jungkook got down on his knees and swore himself in service of Yoongi only helped to strengthen it.

It’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to talk about you, to muse along with Jungkook about what you do and don’t like. But, he holds back, choosing a different thought to voice aloud, lest he somehow gives himself some odd sense of false hope by letting you linger too long in his conscious thoughts. “I think Namjoon, at least, would appreciate some meat to add to the stew.” Yoongi moves to grab one of the harvest baskets Namjoon keeps in the garden, depositing the vegetables and fruits he chose. “I will take these inside and help Namjoon begin dinner if you want to check your snares.”

“Sure,” Jungkook agrees, depositing his own armful of goods into the basket. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

Yoongi makes his way out of the garden, parting ways with Jungkook at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. Pausing at the top of the stairs, Yoongi takes a moment to look east, toward the Unseelie Court. For all the years he’s been in hiding, the constant drive to return home hasn’t lessened in the slightest. He can feel the longing deep in his heart and soul, his magick calling out to be within the barrier of his home. Perhaps, he’ll be returning there sooner than he imagined. Hopefully.

He hefts the basket onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to open the door. It swings open slowly, revealing Namjoon tending to a boiling pot over the fire. The welcoming smell of baking bread fills the small space.

“Where is she?” he immediately asks when he realizes you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Namjoon smirks, his warm brown eyes twinkling in the light from the fire. “I offered her the courtesy of a warm bath. You are welcome to go in and check on her if you would like.” He nods toward the second door across the room, now firmly shut—a tiny sliver of light peeks from under it.

Yoongi scoffs. “You have a poor sense of humor.”

“Do not worry. I did not let your precious human mate escape. As much as I am of the middle ground, our friendship means more to me than neutrality,” Namjoon comments quietly. “After all, I have been harboring a pair of wanted Fey for nearly a decade now.”

It’s not a jab by any means; Yoongi knows that, but those words add a slight ache to the crushing weight already on his shoulders. Just a reminder of how important this all is. Yoongi and Jungkook aren’t the only ones that would be facing irrevocable consequences should this not succeed. Even though Namjoon has been able to hide Yoongi and Jungkook behind the ward of his magick here in the clearing, Namjoon’s magick has slowly been depleting. With each passing year, the ward weakens. The drooping branches of Namjoon’s seeded oak are proof enough of that. Whereas the tree once stood tall, proud, with limbs extended high into the air—they’re now far closer to the ground than the clouds, a very alarming reality.

Before he can reply to Namjoon, a thump followed by a muffled yelp has him dropping the harvest basket—sending fruit and vegetables scattering across the floor—and racing to the closed door. It swings open, the hinges squealing in protest of the force at which Yoongi opens it. “Are you okay?!” Yoongi exclaims, eyes wide on your naked form, bent over to retrieve the towel puddled on the floor by the sink.

“What the—close the fucking door!” you yell, snatching up the towel and trying to cover yourself.

Your words barely register before Yoongi lets out his own yell and scrambles to close the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” he yells through the now-closed door. “I heard you scream! Seven Hells consume me. I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Your voice grows louder as you walk closer to the door. “I’m fine,” is your breathy reply. Yoongi can hear the barely concealed laughter in your words. “I missed the last step getting out of the bath and caught myself on the sink. The only thing wounded is my pride at this point.”

Yoongi jerks away from the door when he feels you opening it. He tries to look anywhere but at you when it slowly opens, revealing you now with the towel tucked under your arms. His traitorous eyes lock onto a water drop that slips down your neck and traces the curved mound of your breast before being absorbed by the towel. He clears his throat, taking another step back and forcing his eyes to the floor. “I—uh, that was—I am terribly sorry. I should have knocked or…”

You do laugh now. It’s a pretty sound, one that has Yoongi’s eyes flickering back up to take in the slight smile now curling your lips. You take a deep breath. Yoongi is proud of himself for refraining from watching the rise and fall of your towel when you do so. “Well, I guess that will help with the awkwardness of seeing me naked before we have to…you know.”

A choking sound echoes from across the room, Namjoon trying to suppress his own laughter. Yoongi’s brows bunch together as he frantically tries deciphering some hidden meaning behind your words. Because, surely, you don’t mean what he thinks you do. “Is that your way of saying yes?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he fights the need to heave air into his lungs for fear of breathing too loud and not hearing your response.

“Not how I intended to say it, but yeah…umm,” you pause, shifting awkwardly on your feet, wet your lips, and try again. “I mean—yes, it’s a yes. I’ll help you if you promise to help me return at the next Samhain.”

Yoongi can’t believe what he's hearing. He was sure he’d have to barter and spend several more hours trying to convince you, despite his earlier words of only giving you an hour to decide.

“Yes, yes, okay. Agreed.” Yoongi hesitates, wondering if he should let you get dressed. But decides he doesn’t want to give you any more time to possibly talk yourself out of the agreement. He steps toward you quickly, extending his right hand. “You have my word, I swear it. For your agreement to be my mate, I will do everything in my power to see to it that you return home at the next Samhain if that is your wish.”

Yoongi watches a myriad of emotions play out on your face as you stare at his long and slender fingers hanging in the air between you. He can see the moment you mentally leap over whatever last hurdle there was. You take a soft breath–that Yoongi allows himself to watch swell your chest this time–and slide your hand into his.

“It’s a dea—“ a loud yell outside the front door cuts off your words. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, and he lets a trickle of his magick leech into you, cementing the agreement.

The smell of jasmine and chamomile floods the room as the front door is slammed open. That combined fragrance makes his heart ache, but not nearly as much as the look on the face of the figure now standing in the open doorway. He was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized the scent in the air around the cabin had changed.

In strides a striking figure, regaling in beautiful blush-colored robes with silver accents. Jungkook follows quickly behind, a string of fuzzy hares tethered to his belt. “If you would just listen to me!” He stops in his tracks, eyes flicking from the newcomer to where you and Yoongi are standing across the room, hands still clasped together. “Ah, Seven Hells…you did it, didn’t you?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, intent to address the room, but a sharp hand is slashed in the air, cutting off anything he could possibly say in his own defense. “Sixty years,” whispers a voice Yoongi knows intimately. He is beautiful as always with his dark brown hair, the silky strands shifting to reveal his ears' soft, pointed tips. His plush lips help conceal the points of his canines, but as he speaks, they peek out. “Sixty years gone in an instant. I knew this day was coming. I knew it needed to come for the world to be right again…but I thought you would at least afford me the decency of allowing me to be here to help, to witness, to ensure you did not bind yourself to someone unworthy of the status of the bonded mate of a Fey Prince!” By the time he’s finished speaking, his voice has risen to a booming volume that fills the entire space.

“Mini.” Yoongi winces as Jimin sneers at his nickname—the name Yoongi has moaned into his ear many times over the last sixty years.

“Wait—a Prince? You’re a fae Prince! Oh, for fucks sake, what else are you keeping from me?!”

Tightening his grip around your hand, Yoongi prevents you from snatching your hand away in anger. He groans, tasting the sudden sour flare of betrayal coming from you. “Fuck.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoons and the stranger, who you heard him call Mini, disappear out the door quickly after it’s revealed that Yoons is actually a fae Prince. He gave you a guarded look, dropped your hand, and stormed out the door with Mini hot on his heels. JK shut the door and has been standing with his back to it like a guarding sentinel ever since.

That was hours ago now, you’re sure. It’s hard to tell, considering what Joon explained about the passage of time in the fae realm. When he ushered you back into the lone bedroom, where he had clothes waiting for you laid out on the bed, you asked how long you had been there. He shrugged, explaining that time passes as it needs to based on the power demand of the sun and moon, but if he could guess, it would be nearing midday back in your world now, leaving you to balk at that realization as you got dressed.

Now, you sit cross-legged on an overstuffed pillow on the floor, elbow on your knee, and chin resting in your palm. You watch the fire crackle in the hearth. The stew Joon made with the vegetables and hares brought in earlier sits heavy in your belly. It was tasteless on your tongue, the flavors lost to your senses as you tried to come to terms with your situation.

You cringe at a loud curse from outside. It’s been a near-constant yelling match since the front door closed. The voices are muffled enough that you can’t make out every word, but it seems Yoons and Mini enjoy punctuating their sentences with very loud profanities.

Joon sighs from his spot in a rocking chair on the other side of the fire. He has a block of alder situated in his lap, shearing off small fluffs of wood with a tiny whittling knife. “I think this is the longest lover's quarrel they have ever had,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

“Lovers quarrel?” you question, glancing away from the fire and toward Joon.

“Oh,” Joon laughs awkwardly. “I did not realize I said that so loud. I—uh, well, I suppose you will find out eventually. They,” he nods toward the door, “have been together most of their lives.”

That’s an interesting revelation. “Cool. So, I get to be the Jolene in this situation,” you scoff. “Typical. Apparently, fae males are just as bad as human ones. They can’t be honest and think it’s okay to have multiple lovers just because you didn’t specifically tell him you wanted to be exclusive. You’d think that would be a given, right? But also, shouldn’t transparency come from the person who wants to do the hustling? Fuck me, I guess, for assuming men have the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship or, heaven forbid, know how to communicate beyond the twitch in their pants…” You let your words trail off, realizing you just let them vomit out in frustration.

“Well, I am not sure who or what Jolene is, but I know Yoons has had nothing but good intentions for this whole situation. Things have moved a lot faster than any of us could have anticipated. It is not like he was intentionally keeping Mini from you, nor you from Mini. They both know good and well that this is far more important than whatever feelings they have for one another. Fate is a cruel master that we are all at the mercy of.” Joon's speaking is oddly comforting, even if it is pretty blunt. He reminds you of your grandpa in many ways, seemingly knowing what needs to be said and when.

You may not understand the situation to the degree that they do, but you can still relate to and sympathize with their desperation. There was a point where you wanted something so badly you would and did do anything to obtain it. Granted, a sterling silver and amethyst engagement ring doesn’t quite equate to the lives of an entire people, but you still know what it feels like to fight tooth and nail for something you wholeheartedly want. It’s part of why you were so adamant about Monica enjoying herself with Malcolm and trying not to put so much expectation and demand into the situation. You’ve learned that life and its opportunities are fickle at best, so it’s inherently important to grab onto them while you can.

As opportunities go, despite Yoons apparent inability to not be the stereotypical fae you heard about in your grandpa’s stories, you know you don’t have many right now. Your best one is still to keep to the bargain you’ve agreed to. The faster you help Yoons, the quicker you can leave. Though, you reckon maybe you won’t be able to go all that fast. From your recollection, JK said Samhain wasn’t for another six moons.

“Joon, what happens once things are back to normal around here? Do I just stay here with you until Samhain?” you ask.

The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. “You are more than welcome to stay here, but I imagine Yoons will want his bonded mate as close as possible until he can see you back through the gate himself when the time comes.”

“Why would you even want to go back?” The question surprises you, coming from JK. You had almost forgotten he was standing by the door.

You drop your hand and turn to look at him. The fire casts his face in shadows, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. He looks every bit the fae of lore that you once fantasized about. His eyes bore into yours, lips mashed into a severe line as he waits for you to respond.

“Why would I want to go back?” you parrot back incredulously. “Are you serious? Why wouldn’t I?! That’s where my friends, family, and all other things important to me are. It’s not like you took me from a life of nothing. You haven’t done me any favors…I can only imagine the domino effect this will have on the people in my world.”

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“Mal, why isn’t she back yet? She’s abandoned me after everything I’ve done for her…traveling halfway around the world chasing after woo-woo kids' stories all because she can’t cope with losing someone.” Monica mumbles into Malcolm’s shoulder. If the way her stomach is clawing at itself, she’s sure it’s been hours since you left to get food. “I’m hungry.”

Malcolm shifts Monica in his lap, getting ready to stand up with her in his arms. “Well, I am glad she brought ye half wey aroond the world. And, I’m sure she’s braw. She likely got caught up in th’ festivities again. I will have mah pal, Finn, keep an eye oot for her. I think I should be getting ye in kip. Otherwise, ye’ll be in a fankle come mornin’.”

“At least send her a text or something for me, please?” Monica whines. “What about my food? Can you ask her where my food is, too? Ugh.”

Swinging Monica into his arms, Malcolm cradles her close, whispering assurances that he’ll take care of everything and not to worry. He calls out to his friend, Finn, asking him to keep an eye out for you and, if he sees you, to let you know that he’s taken Monica back to his place to sleep it off.

After getting Monica strapped into the passenger seat, he shoots off a quick text to your number that he got from her phone, reiterating his intentions and providing his home address if you wanted to come to check on her after you’re done at the festival.

When morning rolls around, you’re still nowhere to be found and aren’t responding to any texts or calls. The hangover is nothing compared to the guilt Monica feels recalling her words and actions last night. You may not have heard what she said to Malcolm, but she hates that she said it regardless.

“Where is she?” Monica voices for what feels like the thousandth time, wiping at the smeared mascara under her red-rimmed eyes.

Monica was nearing her wit's end when you still hadn’t shown up by lunchtime. Malcolm took her down to the local Police Authority to file a report; they immediately went into action. So far, the entire Bowhill House estate and surrounding woods have been searched with no luck. The rental car is still parked at the estate, and all your luggage and credentials are still in your hotel room. It’s like you simply disappeared.

Malcolm pulls the hot kettle off the burner, setting it aside to begin preparing coffee. The bakery sits empty, aside from him and Monica and the occasional officer or concerned friend who pops by with any updates. The time in between information has grown increasingly more significant, putting Monica even further on edge.

“She’ll turn up, lass. She would nae have left ye.” The assurances don’t seem to be doing as much as they had before.

Monica sighs, staring out the bakery window, trying to think of anything important that might lead to finding your whereabouts. Deep down, though, she can’t shake off the niggling thought that you’re no longer here…but somewhere else.

🌸🌸🌸

JK glares at you as if you’ve somehow offended him with your words. “At least your loved ones are safe, protected back in the human world…not mere days away from utter destruction.” His words make you grind your teeth, irritated in your own way that they make you feel selfish and ungrateful.

Joon clears his throat, breaking the thick tension in the air. “That will be enough of that; from both of you. Far too much negativity has permeated through the eaves of my home, and I will not allow it to continue.” A soft breath leaves him as he returns to his wood, murmuring something else you barely catch, “I do not think my magick can handle much more strain anyway.”

Drawing your legs up to your chest, you return to watching the fire dance in the hearth. The silken fabric of the pants Joon gave you slips along your legs as you shift, bringing with it soft whiffs of cedar and clove. The entire outfit smells faintly of it, like mulled spices and freshly chopped cedar chips. It’s comforting, much like the lavender and thyme tea from earlier. It reminds you of your grandpa. Your thoughts shift to him and his stories. A sad smile tugs at your lips, and you wonder if he’d believe you if you told him where you’d found yourself. You’re sure he would.

The voices outside have quieted down. Your eyes begin to droop as exhaustion creeps in. Since time holds little meaning here, you wouldn’t be surprised to see the sun peeking through the windows soon or several hours from now.

When the front door creaks open, you’re nearly slumped over on the floor asleep. You jerk upright and blink rapidly to bring your eyes back in focus. Yoons walks in, followed by a very somber-looking Mini. They both look as if they have been crying, eyes red-rimmed, and cheeks blotchy.

Mini approaches you, back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. He looks down at you along the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a startling turquoise color, something you missed when he first stormed through the door hours ago. They are soft, unlike the glinting green and gold of Yoons’ eyes. “I am sorry.”

You’re taken aback by his apology, balking up at him in confusion. “What?”

“My behavior was unbecoming of someone of my stature. I formally extend an apology to you on behalf of the entire Seelie Court and my position as Crowned Prince, Protector of The Sun, and Guardian to The Stars.” The words are stilted, sounding rehearsed and lacking any genuine emotion. “I hope you do not allow your first perception of me to color the view you hold for the rest of my people.” He cuts a short bow, looming over you as he does, before straightening and turning toward Yoons, standing by JK near the door. “I will be going now.”

“Mini, it does not have to be like this, and you know it.” Yoons crossed his arms over his chest, eyes fixed in a glare.

You can’t see the look on Mini’s face, but you can’t imagine it’s a nice one. “I would rather chew off my own tongue than witness the love of my life fornicating with a magickal void. I will return tomorrow night to move forward with our agreement of attack. Until then, goodnight.”

Yoons moves quickly, cutting off Mini’s advances toward the door. “Please, just stay. They will not miss you at court if you are gone for a few nights. They already think you are patrolling along the border.” He hesitates, flexing his fingers where they are wrapped around Mini’s bicep. “I was hoping you would do the binding for us as a way of offering your blessing. I would not want it to be done by anyone else.”

Mini scoffs. “You want me to be the one to bind you?” Bitterness coats his words, “Do you have no shame? You would ask me to do this, for your sake? What about my sake?”

“Please, Mini, I need this from you. I need this to know that once all of this is over, we will still be okay, that we will still be us” Yoons pleads, moving his hands to grip the lapels of Mini’s jacket. “I cannot do this without you. There is no point in doing this without you because, without you, I might as well not have a people, a kingdom…I would have nothing.”

“Fuck you,” Mini whispers, resignation taking the heat out of it. Yoons pulls him into a fierce hug, clinging to him in desperation. “Seven Suns knows this is not fair. I do not know what I did in a past life to deserve this.”

“I promise to spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” Yoons responds, his words choked with emotion.

You feel like you’re witnessing something private, something you shouldn’t be present for. There is no doubt the connection between them. You’re suddenly feeling something you haven’t in a long time; envy. To love and be loved, in turn, is a desire you hold close to your heart. Tearing your eyes away from where Yoons and Mini are still held in each other's arms, you let your gaze slide across the room, briefly landing on JK and then Joon, who seem to be ignoring the other two as you’re trying to do.

Running Mini’s words back through your head, you realize he mentioned his position as crowned prince of the Seelie Court. Of course he would also be a prince. No wonder he doesn’t think you’re good enough for Yoons. You’re nowhere near having a status like that. You feel a pang of sadness, knowing they can’t be together as mates all because Yoons needs to have access to his full power. It seems that Joon is right; fate is, indeed, a cruel master.

“The sun will be rising soon. We should hurry,” Yoons murmurs, finally pulling away from Mini. “Um, Beautiful,” he stumbles over the nickname given to you by JK, “I also want to apologize.” He turns to face you, quickly rubbing the sleeve of his top over his cheeks to clear away the residual tears. “This is not how any of this was supposed to pan out. I know you must have many questions, but time is not on our side. We are both bound by our word and agreement. I promise to answer any more of your questions once we have fulfilled the bond we have agreed to.”

You chew your bottom lip a moment, focusing on the knot you can feel sitting in the center of your chest, which you know is tied to the agreement you made. There is surprisingly little waiver in your voice as you speak, “What happens if I go back on my word? What if I have changed my mind and am no longer willing?”

The room falls into an uncomfortable quiet. As he stares at you, darkness boils in the mossy depths of Yoons’ eyes. “What can I offer you for that not to happen?” His words slice through the silence, quiet but teetering on the edge of barely restrained frustration.

Smoothing your hands along the front of the borrowed top you’re wearing, you stand from your place on the cushion and face Yoons fully. “I want you to give me your true name.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” JK roars immediately.

“Let us be reasonable here,” Namjoon tries, knuckles turning white as he clutches the wood in his hands.

Mini hisses, baring his teeth at you in challenge. “How dare you! I will—”

“Yoongi. Yoongi of House Min, Crowned Prince of the Unseelie Court, Protector of The Moon, and Guardian to The Stars.” A sense of power settles next to that knot in your chest. You weren’t sure if the stories about the power of given names were true, but it was worth asking; you’re glad you did. Holding leverage over this fae gives you a sense of peace, despite the circumstances.

You nod, satisfied and finally feeling in control for the first time since coming through the gateway. “Okay, Yoongi, what do I need to do?”

“We begin with the binding of our fates,” he says, glancing at Mini, who has a guarded expression on his face. “As the moon gives way to the sun, and the lines between the planes of magick blur, allowing them to embrace and kiss like lost lovers, we will exchange vows bound beneath a knot of eternity.”

“Under the oak?” Mini asks quietly.

Yoongi nods. “It is the closest that we have. JK, if you will?” He holds out a hand to his guard. You watch as JK slowly reaches up and undoes the silver necklace with the crescent pendant from around his neck.

“May I witness?” JK questions, his eyes wide and rounded with curiosity and wonder. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the flickering light or not, but you’re almost sure you see the glossiness of unshed tears in their depths as well.

“I would not have it any other way, my friend,” Yoongi answers in kind, taking the silver necklace from JK with one hand and clapping him gently on the shoulder with the other. “Joon, you are welcome to bear witness as well.”

Joon hums thoughtfully, setting aside his wood project and tools on the floor. “It would be the greatest honor to stand in observance.”

“What exactly is going to happen?” you ask. You clench your fists at your side, fighting off the sudden wave of nerves barreling through you. You might have power over this fae, but you’re essentially about to marry him, and that feels far more daunting now that it’s about to happen.

Yoongi steps forward and takes one of your hands, gently uncurling your fingers and soothing them with his own. “There is an incantation, ancient words that bind souls together. We will clasp each other's arms like this,” he explains, sliding his fingers along your wrist and forearm before firmly grasping it so his wrist presses against the inside of yours. “We will wrap the silver chain of JK’s necklace around our wrists to keep the pulse points connected as we are bound, my magick to you and you to my magick. This opens the doorway to access the well of my magick. The act of…giving ourselves to one another—removing all barriers—will allow you to step through that doorway, anchoring my connection to my inner well through your access.”

“It sounds so mysterious and, let’s be honest, crazy.” You shake your head, silently pleading for some sort of sign that this is the right thing to do and that you’re not blindly putting your faith in a group of deranged strangers. The breath in your lungs wheezes out, and with the next inhale, you catch the faint cedar and clover scent of the borrowed clothes you’re wearing. It has a calming effect, one you latch onto and allow yourself to cling to. Everything happens for a reason. That’s something you have always believed. Perhaps the thing you’ve been chasing, that something that drove you to fly across the world on a whim, is this. Why else would all of this have happened? “So crazy that it has to be true, right? Fuck. Please don’t let me regret this,” you mutter to yourself.

Mini gestures impatiently toward the door. “Come on, before I have sense enough to change my mind.”

Yoongi guides you out the door and around the side of the tiny home. This is your first time getting a good look at the area. Joon’s cottage sits in a grassy clearing, a massive towering oak in the center, like everything else was built around it. The outer wall of the house sits just under the lowest branches, the fat leaves lightly brushing the lip of the roof. A small picket fence surrounds an expansive, full and lush garden with greenery and crops.

Mini, JK, and Joon follow you and Yoongi around the oak's far side. A large stone wall with a circular opening spanning through the center is hidden on the other side of the garden. Through the space, you can see a pathway into Joon’s garden, lined with blossoming white and purple flowers. “A moon gate,” you whisper in awe.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You know moon gates?”

“Well, yes, I’ve seen them dating as far back as the 17th century in China, though they are also popular in Bermuda. They’re often associated with wealth or good omens,” you rattle off the generic information you know about them. “Though, my grandpa always had a theory that, like structures such as Stonehenge and the Carnac Stones, the moon gates—given the proper implements—could be used as ceremonial gateways to and from other planes or as conduits of power.”

All three of them give you mild looks of astonishment. “You must tell me more about your grandfather once all of this is over,” Yoongi requests, much to your own surprise. “He sounds like an extraordinarily intuitive man.”

“He was, yes.” And with that, you decide you’re no longer acting on your sole behalf but on his, too. You know he would tell you this is the right thing to do. He would be proud of your sacrifice and commitment to helping Yoongi. “I think I would like that very much.”

A distinct pink hue begins to infiltrate the horizon, just over the treeline surrounding the clearing. “The sun is rising,” Joon comments lightly.

Standing together in the opening of the moon gate, Mini and JK work to secure the silver crescent moon necklace around your and Yoongi’s wrists. There is a fervent way to how they work, methodical with nimble and sure fingers. “You said before that we would exchange vows under the knot of eternity?” you say it more as a question than a statement, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Surprisingly, it’s Mini who answers. “Moon gates are an infinite symbol. They have no ending or beginning. They represent eternal continuity. The masonry of the moon gate is a form of stone knotting, precise cuts and measurements that allow the stone to secure together like a knot. It is integral to how the stone retains its perfectly rounded opening, thus a knot of eternity.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper under your breath, having a newfound interest in the symbols and nature of things here that are considered relatively mundane in your own world.

Yoongi’s hand is cool against the heat of your skin. The tips of his fingers graze lightly along the underside of your forearm, sending a slight flush of goosebumps up your arm. Those green and gold eyes meet yours, holding all his worries and relief, reservations and hope within them. He’s such a complex creature, you realize, full of facets and depths deeper than you can imagine. He’s a drowned soul, just someone looking for a way back to the surface . Fate may be a cruel master, but it seems also to have a poor sense of humor.

As the sun replaces the moon, darkness melding into light, Mini speaks words that you do not understand, but you know for sure that they are beautiful. The poetic words chanted over your union are rhythmic, flowing in a way that tugs at your heart. Joon and JK stand on either side of the moon gate, watching in silence as Mini recites the words of the bonding incantation. Finally, his words trail off, and he looks to Yoongi, giving him a slight nod.

Yoongi takes a slow breath, his eyes dropping to where your hand is clasped to his forearm. “As the moon gives way to the rising sun, so too will I give way to you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

With his words, you feel an effervescent tingle beneath your skin from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. You’re not sure what to say or if you need to say anything at all, but you feel like you should.

“I—uh…”

“Just speak from your heart,” Mini encourages, sounding genuinely friendly toward you for the first time.

You look at him, realizing just how hard this must be. Wetness is gathered along his lashes, and his hands are fisting into the sides of his linen pants. He looks at Yoongi like he created the universe, and you suppose that maybe Yoongi did create one—the universe he shares with Mini. 

The words come easy now, flowing like you knew what to say all along. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you not as the sun but as the ocean, so that you may look upon me and see the reflection of yourself with every cresting wave, to see yourself as others see you and know your full potential. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.” 

There is a small glimmer of playfulness that you can see in the awe on Yoongi’s face. His hand is no longer cold against your flesh. The buzzing beneath your skin has begun to increase to a staccato pulse, centered in the middle of your chest. The smell of fresh cedar and mulled spice reaches you suddenly, making you realize it is, in fact, Yoongi that smells like that. The subtle scent of jasmine and chamomile mix with it as Mini moves to begin unwinding the silver necklace from around your and Yoongi’s wrists.

“Thank you, Mini, for this gift you have given me.”

Mini gives Yoongi a sad smile. “I am sorry for the way I acted before. I know I have been selfish and a fool, but I will never stop loving you.” His eyes drift to yours. “I thank you for everything you do for Yoongi and our people. Your act of selflessness and kindness will be forever marked in our history.” He finishes removing the small silver chain, allowing you and Yoongi to release each other.

The sun is starting to peak above the treeline, flooding the garden with soft light that catches in the silvery strands of Yoongi’s hair and makes his eyes glitter. Yoongi’s hand slides down your arm until his fingers meet yours. It feels like he’s beneath your skin, the touch heightened in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“We will remain out here for the day, I think,” Joon comments. “It is sure to be a pleasantly beautiful one and perfect for a nap under the oak.”

“I should return to my patrol. I shall return here before nightfall to move forward with the plan.” Mini hesitates, looking uncertain as to what to do. Finally, he briefly grips Yoongi’s free hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. “Until then.”

You watch as he crosses the clearing, his shoulders tight and his steps stiff. He glances back over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the treeline heading west, back toward the border of the Seelie Court.

“What plan is he talking about?” you ask, turning your attention to Yoongi. His hand still lingers on yours, his fingers lightly tapping against your palm in a calming rhythm.

Yoongi nods to Joon and JK, who have started to meander into the garden through the moon gate. “We think it best to move as soon as possible. My powers are at their greatest when the moon is high, so once night falls again, and we are fully bonded…I should be powerful enough to enter back into the Unseelie Court and finally confront Chaddick—to kill him and his swamp hag, Borgia.”

“That seems so…soon, so sudden. Would it not be better to wait a few days to get used to your new level of power?”

The look Yoongi gives you makes you want to cry. There is so much anguish and hurt you’re certain you can feel the extension of it in your own chest. “I have waited for nearly ten years. I do not know the extent of what horrors have befallen my mother. Every day I do not return is one more day that that bastard gets to extort and pull the strings of my people.” His fingers drop from yours. “Please try to understand.”

Yoongi turns and begins walking back to the front of the cottage. You mean to follow him and apologize, but Joon calls out to you from the garden. “Just a moment, please.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching Yoongi disappear around the corner before turning and finding Joon standing just on the other side of the opening of the moon gate. “What’s up?” you try not to sound too irritated, but you’re not sure it works.

Joon rubs the back of his neck, eyes locked onto the ground at your feet. “I was not sure when would be a good time, but I wanted to give you this before you went back in.” He looks up, extending his hand toward you. In his open palm rests a single white flower, the petals wide and curling haphazardly. “It is called Silver Ward. We use it to control the moon cycle of a female. I believe from what JK has told me of your world…you would call this birth control.”

That has warmth settling into your cheeks. “Oh. Thank you, I think.” You take the flower, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. “What, um, what exactly do I do with it?” The bud left a chalky residue on Joon’s palm, and you can feel the powdery texture between your fingers.

“You need just one petal. Let it dissolve under your tongue. I am told it tastes like sweet cream. It offers protection for up to one moon cycle. I grow it here in the garden if you have need of more,” he says the last part hurriedly, giving you a shy smile before gesturing back through the moon gate. “If you need anything, we will be…here.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you,” you offer, blowing out your cheeks and eyeing the small white flower again. You turn to go, but Joon clears his throat, making you look back.

“I know this is unconventional, and you and Yoongi are practical strangers, but go easy on him. These are new waters for him to navigate. He will most likely make a fool of himself at least once.” And with that, Joon disappears back into the garden. You stand there easily more confused than you were before. You’re not sure what exactly Joon means concerning Yoongi, but there is only one way to find out.

The sun has risen above the trees by now, but the interior of Joon’s cottage is dark, the curtains over the windows drawn. A small fire burns in the hearth, illuminating enough to see the flower now nestled in your palm. You pluck off a single petal, the chalky coating feels silky against your fingers. You set the flower on the dining table and bring the petal up to your lips. It tastes like marshmallow fluff and disintegrates quickly under your tongue.

There are a myriad of new smells inside the small space, but the most prominent is a mixture of pine and orange blossom. With each breath you take, you’re sure you can distinguish the different smells on a deeper level than before, almost like you’re experiencing them with more than just your sense of smell. Already you feel so different, and you’re not even fully bonded to Yoongi. Before you can let yourself dwell too much on the changes and the unknown that’s to come, you take a deep breath and approach the door to the bedroom.

“Here goes nothing, I guess,” you mumble to yourself. The door to the bedroom is pushed nearly closed, leaving just a line of soft firelight revealed from within. You stand at the threshold, listening for a moment.

“You need this. You better not mess this up. We know the basics. It is not so dissimilar to—“ The floor under your feet creaks as you try to inch closer to hear him more clearly, cutting off his personal pep talk.

Knowing you’ve been caught, you ease open the door and step inside. “Sorry, I was just—whoa! Oh god!” You throw up your hands, slapping them over your eyes. “What are you doing?!” The image of Yoongi standing in front of the fireplace stark naked might as well be burned into your retinas. You can still see it just as vividly, even with your eyes now squeezed closed.

Yoongi makes a distressed noise, fumbling over his words in confusion. “I thought—is this not—umm, would you like me to cover up?” You can hear the rustle of fabric and his light footsteps as they draw near. “I am sorry.” He’s so close that his words, laced with his distinct clove and cedar scent, ghost over the backs of your hands where they’re still covering your face.

The stories got it all wrong, you’re sure. Fae don’t charm people with their glamors; surely all they do is remove their clothing, and the person is entranced. You can’t get the slow curve of where his spine meets his ass out of your head; the way his shoulders appear wider without a shirt, or how his waist tapers in to accentuate the angles of his hip bones. You only caught a brief glimpse as he turned from facing the fire to looking in your direction, but it was enough to fully flesh out all the intimate details.

You’re not a prude by any means. You actually consider yourself very sex-positive and forward-thinking. However, you suddenly feel like you belong in a nunnery, which is absurd. Shaking away the residual thoughts of habits and virtue, you lower your hands and open your eyes.

Yoongi is standing right before you, his black brows pinched in concern. The purple and green checkered quilt tucked under his arms seems comical now, considering you already know what it’s hiding. “You don’t have to do that,” you wave a hand toward the quilt. “I just wasn’t expecting to walk in and see you—umm, like that, is all.”

“I was nervous,” Yoongi admits shyly. “I thought if I went ahead and removed some barriers, it would make it easier.”

That makes you laugh and lightens the mood instantly. “Well, I guess that makes us even, at least. We’ve each seen the other naked without expecting it.”

“So it would seem,” Yoongi muses playfully.

You clear your throat, trying to think of something thoughtful to say that doesn’t involve asking him to drop the blanket so you can get another look. “Why are you nervous?”

He studies you briefly before opening his mouth but doesn’t answer your question. “JK chose correctly,” he says instead, a slight smile on his face as his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes. “Beautiful is the perfect name for you…you are absolutely exquisite. I hate that I am just now getting a true look at you up close.”

“Oh.” Heat creeps into your cheeks, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. “Thanks, I think. Umm, should we?” You nod toward the bed, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you.

Yoongi glances at the bed and then back at you. “Would it be okay if I kiss you first? Just to get over some of my nerves.”

All you can do is nod, caught as you are swimming in the serenity you find in Yoongi’s eyes. His lips are light against yours at first, just a soft brush. The flavor of clove and spice bursts on your tongue as you inhale, tasting his harried exhale as he presses his lips more firmly to yours.

Your fingers find themselves fisting into the blanket covering Yoongi’s chest as you try to draw him closer. His taste is intoxicating, spicy, and exotic. The first brush of his tongue against yours has your knees going weak. He brings his arms around you, effortlessly supporting you as you take over the kiss.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You feel consumed with desire and the need to mark this fae as yours. That intense pulse inside your chest is compounding, intensifying into a roaring storm. Yoongi lets out a soft moan that spurs you on, your fingers loosening the blanket and letting it drop to the floor between you. “What am I doing?” you pant, mildly appalled by your own brazen behavior. “It’s like I can’t stop.”

“My m-magick—ah, it is calling to you,” Yoongi moans as your lips break away from his to move along his jaw. You nip and lick down his neck and press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

Yoongi staggers back a step, breaking free of your hold, gasping and clutching at the center of his chest. “Seven Hells! It is like you are beneath my skin,” he speaks the words you thought to yourself earlier.

“I know,” you moan breathily. With the step he’s taken back, you’re now free to see what you only got a glimpse of before. It’s just as pleasing, maybe even more so, considering the very impressive erection that he’s now sporting. His cock is blushed pink at the head, a glistening bead of moisture pooling along his tip. “I need to feel more of that. Whatever that is,” you fist a hand over your own chest, “whatever this is.”

Licking your lips, you can feel how aroused you are. The pulsing between your thighs is accentuated when you step toward Yoongi. He backs up, and you continue forward, smirking at the shy alarm on his face. “I-I am not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, chuckling softly. “You have done this before, right?”

Yoongi flinches when the backs of his knees bump into the foot of the bed. “Well, I—uh, sort of.”

“Mini?” His name leaves your mouth as a breathy question.

“That is different. It is…not like this,” he admits, eyes wide as you press your body to his. “If you had a cock I might know what to do with it.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Take my clothes off.”

Yoongi gives you a sharp look, raising an eyebrow like he expects you to be playing with him. He settles against the end of the mattress, his weight dips the downy material, putting him now at eye level with you. “Your clothes?” he smirks. “I was annoyed, at first, when I saw you wearing these. Apparently, Joon thought it would be funny to have you parading around in my clothes, marking them with your scent.”

The linen fabric of the top shreds easily under his hands, his fingers sliding between two buttons and pulling until they all pop, scattering across the room. You can’t help but moan. Your chest heaves as you try to regain some composure, sucking in stilted breaths laced with cedar and clove. “Do you need me to give you a step-by-step guide to a woman’s body?” you go for a bit of snark to try and tip the power balance back in your favor.

All evidence of Yoongi’s previous shy awkwardness has vanished. “I think I can figure it out,” he whispers before leaning forward and pressing an opening-mouthed kiss to the fabric covering your left nipple. Your bra is lacey, quickly becoming sheer as Yoongi laves his tongue over it.

You shudder under his mouth, tentatively resting your hands on his shoulders. “Take it off,” you urge.

Yoongi leans back, strings of saliva connecting his parted lips to your breast. “You taste like solstice rain and moonlight. I do not know how else to describe it.” His fingers make quick work of the remnants of the tattered top. He fumbles with the clasp of your bra, but before you can move to help him, he simply snaps the strap—the sound of fabric rending  tears through the air with your own gasp of barely restrained surprise.

“I needed that,” you whine, trying to step back and away from Yoongi before he ruins any more clothing.

“No.” He bares his teeth, glaring up at you through a lust-filled haze. “It is unfair to keep yourself so restricted.”

You roll your eyes and giggle softly as Yoongi grabs at you and brings you back in close. “What’s unfair is how long it’s taking you to undress me.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let the straps of your bra fall down your arms and discard it on the floor.

“I will take my time, and you will be patient,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your now exposed chest. “You are making me ache in ways I never knew possible, like a hunger that can not be sated.”

He slides his hands up your stomach, letting his fingers spread across your ribs and thumbing over your pert nipples, kneading the rounded flesh of your breasts. “Does it always feel like this? Y’know, with a fae?” you question with a gasp.

“This is the first time I have experienced something like this,” he admits, a dopey smile tugging at his lips to expose his pointed canines. “I feel drunk whenever I touch you like I am high on moon wine and blue caps.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he dips forward and latches onto one nipple and then the other. “I might cum if you keep doing that,” you moan as he does it again, spreading his attention between them equally. “It’s like you’re sucking right on my clit.”

“I do not know what this clit is, but I would like to find out,” his words are muffled against your skin, reverberating through your chest and right down to your aching core.

You find your hands fisting into his silver hair, encouraging him to continue exploring your chest with his tongue and teeth. “Let me show you,” you plead. Relenting, curious to continue learning your body, he pulls away and pants against your sternum. “The pants.” He drops his hands down to the fastening on your borrowed pants and methodically unties the knot, letting them fall lax around your hips. Earlier, after your bath, you put your bra back on but decided to forgo your panties, thinking a slightly damp shirt was better than wet pants.

Yoongi’s eyes follow the pants as they slip down your thighs, and his breath hitches as they hit the floor, allowing your sweet and intoxicating scent to permeate the air of the room thoroughly. “You smell so sweet. Show me.” 

“Here,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his shoulders and slowly bringing one of your legs up, perching your foot on the bed beside his hip, opening yourself to him. Your half-mast eyes meet his as he stares up at you. The gold and green of his eyes are nearly consumed whole by the black of his blown pupils. 

“Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. “It is almost too much,” he grits, bringing one of his hands down to fist around his weeping cock. He hisses in a sharp breath, stroking slowly up and down before finally opening his eyes and letting them drift down to where you are exposed to him.

Slowly reaching down, you grab his other hand and bring it up between your thighs. You guide his fingers, probing them along your lower lips until they brush over your clit. “This is it. It’s very sensitive,” you suck in a breath as he swirls his fingers in a circle.

“Interesting,” he muses. “I wonder what would happen if…” his words trail off as he catches one of your nipples between his teeth and lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You jerk against him, crying out from the mix of pleasure and pain. “Yoongi!” When his name leaves your lips, you feel his body go rigid, and a strangled sound emanates from his throat.

That tether inside your chest pulls taut, and you’re pretty sure you can feel him even more now. Not only does it feel like he’s beneath your skin, it feels like he’s invaded every molecule of your being. His breath is your breath, his heartbeat thumps to the same rhythm as yours, and the arousal pumping through his body echoes through you with a shiver down your spine.

His lips come off your nipple with an audibly wet pop, the sensation making you both moan wantonly. “Where do I put my cock, Beautiful? I need to mate with you before I lose my mind.”

“Fuck me,” you correct. “You need to fuck me before you lose your mind. Mating sounds so clinical, fucking is far more sexy, dirty…naughty.” You push on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back. “Say it.”

“I need to fuck you before I lose my mind,” he emphasizes, voice going husky, letting the words curl his lips up in a smirk. His dark eyes track your movements as you follow him onto the bed, moving slowly on your knees as he shifts toward the pillows.

Stopping with your knees to either side of his hips, you settle your ass against the tops of his thighs. The glistening head of his cock smears drips of precum against his stomach as it twitches under your gaze. If you weren’t already so strung out, you’d take him into your mouth and draw more of those guttural moans from him. As it is, the ache between your thighs is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Yoongi isn’t the only one on the brink of losing their mind. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life.

“I want you to feel,” you encourage, taking up both of his hands. You guide one between your thighs, purposefully dragging both of your hands over his swollen cock. His bottom lip is puffy and red from the gnashing he’s giving it. Sticky strands of arousal drip onto your fingers as you press his to your clit again. “Spread your fingers,” you guide his hand further, nudging his fingers to either side of your pussy.

“You are so warm and wet. Is that normal?”

You hum in amusement. “Warm? Generally. Wet? Only if you’re doing it right.” Yoongi makes a satisfactory noise, his eyes taking on a smug softness as he gazes up at you. “Just wait until you feel how warm and wet it is around your cock.” That makes him lick his lips, his gaze sliding down your body until it rests on his fingers, now gently probing around your opening.

His thick erection pulses in your hand when you wrap your fingers around it. They don’t reach all the way around. You give him an appreciative squeeze that has his teeth sinking into his bottom lip again and his hips flexing under you.

You press his other hand against one of your breasts, encouraging him to knead and thumb over your nipple. “You are so soft everywhere. Delicate and sweet. It makes me want to mark you and dirty you up.”

That makes you shudder and whine, his words tugging at that place in the center of your chest. Not being able to hold back any longer, you shift up onto your knees and angle his cock up. With a slow and smooth roll of your hips, you work the head of his cock through your wetness. You can feel his fingers move, rubbing along the crown of his head, smearing your arousal around.

“Fuck. Me,” he growls. If words alone could elicit an orgasm from you, you’re pretty sure it would be those exact ones, spoken in that very tone, coming from this specific male.

Your lips part with a gasp, your walls fluttering in anticipation. A smirk kicks up the corner of your mouth as you give him precisely what he wants. It’s an empowering experience, watching the emotions and feelings morph across his face. The way his lips slowly part until you can see the pink of his tongue resting over his teeth, the hitch in his breath with each additional inch you take; perhaps most potent of all is the heat and all-consuming desire you see bloom in his eyes as he bottoms out inside of you.

There is a moment of suspended time when you can feel your body accepting his, the stretch is delicious in all the right ways. The universe shifts around you, clicking into place so he truly becomes the moon reflected on your ocean—realistically and metaphysically. You know this is the bond expanding and settling into place, the door opening for you to cement that connection to Yoongi’s magick.

Yoongi smoothes his hand across your breast until it’s pressed right over your heart. His other gently slides out from around where he’s stretching you, fingers splaying against your lower stomach and thumb settling against your clit. “I can feel everything, my hands on your skin, the pressure of my cock inside you, the way my magick is ardently beckoning to you. Reach for it,” he urges, flexing his hips again to grind himself inside you.

“What does it feel like?” the words become a moan as you lift up and then drop back down, rocking your hips as you do.

The full-body shudder that goes through him reverberates into you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck and making goosebumps cascade down your arms. “Ecstasy,” he moans, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. His back arches, and you find yourself mesmerized by the incandescence of his skin in the firelight.

You dip down, flicking at one of his nipples with your tongue before sucking a blushing mark beside it. The sound of your body meeting his repeatedly is obscene, the scent of arousal and sweat heavy in the air. With each rise and fall of your body, you accept him deeper until there is no discernible difference, no ending or beginning. You just exist together in the same space.

His magick is like a cool sip of water on a hot summer day, cooling and soothing your throat that you didn’t even know was so parched. It is the finest ambrosia, sweet silk on your tongue. Pinpricks of light break through the shadowy haze of your arousal, keying you into the well inside Yoongi. His eyes snap open, finding yours; glittering stars and fiery planets flit through nebulas of swirling galaxies in their depths, constantly changing with every beat of his heart.

The closer you draw to orgasm, the closer you feel to fully immersing yourself in that pool of starlight and cosmic energy. Just as the moon is forever connected to the tide, this will tether you to him for the rest of your existence. The fear of that, which was palpable before, is now nonexistent. You find comfort in letting your walls down and welcoming Yoongi in.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, moving faster against him. His thumb adds just the right amount of pressure to your clit with each roll of your hips.

“Make me yours,” Yoongi pleads.

His words are the beginning, the tipping of the scales into the endless abyss that is his magick. You cry out, your body surrendering to the pleasure that he provides. The orgasm begins at a violent peak, sucking all the air from your lungs and pulling your muscles so tight they feel like they will snap. The plummet down the other side is exhilarating in high contrast to the tempest, turning from a raging storm into a comforting spring rain. You pulse around him, claiming and marking him as yours, demanding he gives in, too.

You can see the moment he lets go and feel the muscles in his thighs bulge with strain. Warmth floods you with each jet of his cum, punctuated with sharp grunts through his bared teeth. Magick floods the room, encapsulating you and Yoongi in a fog of power so potent you can feel it caressing your skin, thin tendrils of smoke curling around your limbs and weaving through the strands of your hair.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, completely in awe at what you’re experiencing.

“Mine,” he murmurs in response, looking up at you with complete and utter devotion—surrender—in his lichen and ochre eyes. He raises his hands, cupping your face and gently pulling you down. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, lingering a moment before deepening.

Pulling back, you break the kiss with a breathy sigh of contentment. “Mine.” The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, he was nothing more than your captor no longer matters. He is yours as much as you are his. You know you are where you’re meant to be, doing what you’re meant to do. It was always written in the stars—how could it not be?

Easing one of your legs up, you brace yourself and, with his hands on your hips for assistance, pull off him in a gush of sticky warmth. The scent of clove and maple syrup invades the air in a thick wave. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t help but look down at the mess pooling around his half-hard cock and smeared over your inner thighs with a bit of hunger in your eyes.

“Here,” he says, amusement coloring his husky voice. He swirls a long, slender finger through the sticky mess and brings it to your lips. “Taste.”

Your lips part automatically, your tongue poking out slightly in anticipation. His finger presses down on your tongue, firmly depositing the mix of cum. You greedily suck at his finger, moaning at the taste of warm spices and sweet syrup that burst on your tongue.

It’s now on the tip of your tongue to request to suck his cock, but the flicker of seriousness you see on his face stops that line of thought. You shift, slumping onto the bed beside him, never letting your eyes leave his. The finger he had in your mouth goes into his, and he makes a pleased sound deep in his chest, but his face remains alarmingly impassive. You wonder if you concentrate hard enough whether or not the bond will allow you to hear his thoughts. You can feel him trying to tamp down his feelings as it is. The only thing you have clear and unfettered access to is the seemingly endless well of magick he now has.

“I guess we should go then?” you say after a stretch of silence.

He gives you a sharp look, brows pinched. After a moment, they smooth out, and his face softens. “I can feel your uncertainty. No, my beautiful mate, we do not need to go yet. I do not mean to appear so…distant. I am just trying to understand these new feelings,” he trails off in a whisper, dropping one of his hands onto his chest above his heart. The tips of his fingers prod at his skin like he could dig beneath it and find the answers.

“It’s kind of weird, huh?” You rub at your own chest, marveling at the echoed sensation of Yoongi still gently prodding at his own.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him as he rolls over to face you. It surprises you that his cock is fully hard again, resting against your thigh. “I would not call it weird. I would call it extraordinary.”

That makes you feel fuzzy, cottony-sweet in all the right ways. “Tell me about the plan,” you hesitate to ask, but can’t help yourself now. Your fingers brush lightly along his hip as you adjust beside him, absently moving closer.

Yoongi reaches up, brushing hair from your face. His eyes flick over your features, lingering on your lips several times. “We will leave as soon as the moon appears in the sky. It is roughly a two day journey if we move cautiously. We aim to reach an old turret house on the castle's south side. The last time JK did reconnaissance in the area, he found it abandoned. There is a tunnel through the gatehouse there that leads into the dungeons. It was filled with stones and rubble many years ago, but JK has slowly been excavating it over the last handful of years. It should not take long to break through the remainder and make it inside the castle. The rest…” he trails off, shrugging slightly.

“What about Borgia? The guards?” You lick your lips, trying to stay focused on getting some more clarity on his plan. The heat of Yoongi’s body calls to you. You slip your hand onto his side, trailing your fingers over the smooth curve of his hip bone.

“We can talk about those things later,” he dismisses. “I would much rather focus on something else.” He nips lightly at your bottom lip, trying to coax you away from the conversation. “Wait–you can’t really expect just to waltz in there and be welcomed with open arms. You said you were framed for murder. That leads me to believe that everyone believes it. Otherwise, they’d not be following this Chaddick douche in the first place. So, how are you—“ Yoongi cuts off your tirade with a searing kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth as you try to protest weakly. “What are you doing? I was just wondering about th–”

He shifts beside you, rolling so his body fits over yours, his hips pushing your thighs wide. “No,” he says, a light snarl sharpening the word. “None of that—not now. It seems I may have not fucked you thoroughly enough, if you still have a mind to wonder.” There is a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he smirks before adjusting his hips and sliding back into your wet heat with a groan. You gasp, clawing at his back as all thoughts of the holes in his plan are replaced with heady moans and delicious orgasms.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin

It was hard to walk away, leaving Yoongi standing there beside such a devastatingly beautiful creature. The thought makes his lips curl in agitation. It’s not that he hates you. It’s just that he’s jealous of you. So, painfully jealous.

Now that he’s on his way back to Namjoon’s, the sun having set a few hours ago, Jimin feels like he has a clearer head than before. He spent the entire day barking orders at his squadrons, pushing them to train harder than usual. Something he might come to regret in the following days, but he’s resolved to deal with that when and if it comes up. Right now, he focuses on what lies ahead and the journey Yoongi is about to embark on.

To most individuals traversing the Hollow Lands, Namjoon’s clearing looks like a standard meadow with a large oak in the center. Jimin feels a repulsion as he approaches it, something he has to consciously fight against as he comes up to the invisible barrier. It’s how Yoongi has gone the last ten years undetected. Not only does Namjoon’s magickal ward hide the power signatures of another Fey, it also acts as a deterrent, forcing those that don’t know it exists to walk entirely around it without even knowing.

After Yoongi escaped the Unseelie Court, the Hollow Lands were crawling with Unseelie and Seelie guards alike for several months. All in search of the rogue prince. Jimin lamented the entire time, knowing where Yoongi was but wondering whether or not Namjoon could hold the ward. Little did Jimin realize, Namjoon could hold it for far, far longer than any of them thought possible. Though, Jimin is hyper-aware of how much Namjoon’s magick is flagging. He’s glad the ward and strain on his magick won’t be needed much longer.

The large, seeded oak, swathed in shafts of moonlight, comes into view, and Jimin slows his pace, taking as much time as he can to control his breathing and temper. He doesn’t want to snap and snarl at you like a rabid hound constantly, it just happens, and the guilt of it is gnawing at him.

Plastering on a neutral expression, he pushes through the invisible boundary and enters the clearing. The first thing he sees is you and Yoongi, standing on Namjoon’s porch, haloed by the soft glowing lights, with your lips pressed together in a languid kiss. His nose is tickled by your sickly sweet syrupy scent, mixing with his lovers’. A growl forms in his chest, but he swallows it before it can come out.

Jimin clears his throat as he crosses the yard, startling you and Yoongi. Yoongi flinches away from you, putting several inches between your bodies. That familiar guilt rolls in as Jimin watches your expression drop as if Yoongi’s knee-jerk reaction hurts you. Jimin subtly shakes his chin, dismisses it, and looks to Yoongi. “The moon will be at its zenith soon. Have you prepared?”

Namjoon and Jungkook appear from around the side of the house, carrying baskets full of harvested crops. “We began preparing as soon as the sun went down. We’ve been waiting for you,” Jungkook states cooly. He eyes Jimin, daring him to offer up some pitiful excuse for why he is arriving so late.

“I was under the impression we were not going to leave until the moon was at its highest point, giving Yoongi the most access to his magick,” Jimin replies, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“There will not be a we, Mini. You are not going.”

Jimin jerks around to gawk at Yoongi. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi subconsciously brushes his hand against yours as he steps closer to skirt around you and descend the porch stairs. “We have been talking about it and—“

“We? I thought there was no ‘we’?” Jimin interrupts, his annoyance flaring again.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gestures back to you, “We—Beautiful and I—we, have been talking through the plan and agree that it would be best for you to remain behind just in case something happens. I do not want the wrong people to discover that you have been privy to my whereabouts this entire time.”

Jimin knows that makes sense and is exceptionally logical, but it still burns him inside. “What does she know?” he sneers. “She is barely Fey. What can she possibly offer in this situation other than her cunt!?”

“Watch what you say,” Yoongi warns in a voice like cold steel. “I have been nothing but patient with you, Mini. But I will not tolerate your tantrums much longer. Do not let my love for you blind you to all else. You will stay here, or you can go back to the Seelie Court, but you are not coming, and that is final.”

That burn intensifies, consuming Jimin in a conflagration of sorrow and anger. He chews his tongue until the metallic taste of blood bubbles in his mouth. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, wondering if they’ll be able to come back from this or if he’s lost him to the human forever. He finally drops his eyes, backing down from the argument. “So be it,” he mumbles.

Namjoon and Jungkook amble up the steps, setting the food baskets by the door. “The bags are almost ready,” Namjoon tells Yoongi. “I just have a few more items to add.”

“You honor me,” Yoongi replies, affectionately clapping Namjoon on the shoulder. “It will not be much longer, my friend.”

There is a haggardness around Namjoon’s eyes that Jimin hadn’t noticed before. The strain on his magick has never been more apparent. It helps break him out of his internal battle, pushing aside his grievances to deal with later.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Jimin hears you telling Yoongi.

“Everything will be fine, Beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin watches you shake your head and your brow furrow as you take up one of Yoongi’s hands. “I don’t like it. There’s still so much we don’t know about this,” you gesture between yourself and Yoongi. “What if it’s too much and we can’t navigate the flood properly? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin can’t help himself. He’s curious as to what you’re whining about. Curious about your bond in general, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your eyes slowly shift to Jimin, and he feels like a bug under a looking glass, being examined for flaws by you. “I want Yoongi to wait, a day at least, so he can experiment and get used to the new level of power he has now. I can feel it,” you absently pat your chest, making Jimin realize you’re wearing another of Yoongi’s shirts. He tries to shove down the envy that rears up, only barely managing to keep the sneer off his face. “It’s chaotic and unruly…it scares me.”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course it scares you. You are not Fey. You are not used to the ways of magick. Have some faith in your mate. I know you have barely known him for a day, but I have known him most of my life. Take it from someone who truly loves him. If he says he will be fine, then he will be.” He’s so intent on lashing at you that he misses the hurt he causes reflected in Yoongi’s eyes.

You frown at Jimin, chewing your bottom lip. “I do…um, have faith in him. I’m just…it’s hard to explain.”

Yoongi turns his eyes on you, and at that moment, Jimin almost drops to his knees. But, instead, he remains on his feet, swaying slightly as he silently anguishes over the adoration he sees in the depths of Yoongi’s gaze, the passion that was once meant only for him but is now shining so brightly for you.

“With you and JK with me, nothing can go wrong. We have two days of travel to work on control. We will be fine,” he assures, kissing your forehead softly.

“She’s going with you?” The words are caustic, like acid burning up his throat.

Yoongi sighs. “Yes. She and JK will accompany me. They will remain outside once we get to the castle while I confront Chaddick.”

“Ready to go whenever you are, boss,” Jungkook calls, coming out of the house ladened with three rucksacks and a string of metal canteens. “Beautiful, you get the tiny bag,” he chuckles, handing you the smaller of the three bags.

Jimin notes the amusement in your eyes as you swat at Jungkook affectionately. It seems the two of you have made up in the time he’s been away. It makes Jimin curious about what else you’ve managed to do. He glances at Namjoon, coming down the steps behind Jungkook.

“Packed enough food for the journey and then some.” Namjoon smiles, offering you a small loaf of something wrapped in a blue linen cloth. “Bread for tonight.”

“I tried to convince him that a loaf of bread isn’t really sensible for travel like this, but you know how he is,” Jungkook chides, playfully elbowing Namjoon in the ribs with a laugh.

“You will not be complaining tonight when you eat half of it yourself,” Namjoon murmurs. It makes Jungkook laugh again, their light banter continuing. Jimin watches, trying to come to terms with the myriad of emotions he’s feeling.

Yoongi takes one of the packs from Jungkook, securing it on his back comfortably before helping you with yours. “Joon,” Yoongi turns to Namjoon, embracing him. “Without you, we would have been lost long ago. It is time, my friend. Rest.”

Namjoon nods his head, eyes glistening with emotion. “It has been my pleasure.”

The moment the ward disappears, Jimin can feel it. His own magick prickles with the loss of such a powerful expression. He had never paid much attention to just how quiet the barrier made the glade. A cacophony of sounds infiltrates the small space around the house, bugs and birds, and all other manner of creature noises.

The seeded oak in the center of the clearing rustles in the wind, the leaves perking up ever so slightly as the strain of the ward lifts off of Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Take care while we are gone. I will send word as soon as possible, if you do not hear something beforehand.” Yoongi shifts his attention from Namjoon to Jimin. “Mini, it might be wise to check in with the Seelie Court sometime between now and three days from now to solidify your alibi just in case.”

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “This is absurd. I could just as easily wait outside the castle with JK. Besides, what if you need someone who can actually help if things go badly?”

“I already said—“ Yoongi begins but, to Jimin’s surprise, you step forward and cut him off.

There is no hostility in your eyes, which makes Jimin irritated all the more. He wishes you would yell and scream at him, shake a finger in his face or something to paint you in a negative light—to validate his dislike for you. “Mini,” the way you say his name so calmly makes him want to spit, “I know how much you care for Yoongi, but it wouldn’t be doing him any favors if you somehow got caught or found out to be with him. He explained to me much of what you have both endured the last ten years, don’t throw it away now.”

“You talked to her about us?” Jimin doesn’t bother to mask the hurt in his voice.

Shaking his head, not in denial but in exhaustion for this back and forth, Yoongi spreads his hands. “I do not know what you want from me. I am doing the best I can right now, Mini. Please…just, try. Try to be understanding. You and I both know this makes sense.”

Jimin wants nothing more than to lash out, continue arguing his point until Yoongi relents—leaving behind you and taking him instead. But, the way you look at Yoongi, almost like you pity him for having to put up with Jimin’s bullshit, has him swallowing down his next snide retort. The bridge between him and Yoongi is already hanging precariously by a fraying thread that’s maple flavored and you-shaped. He can’t afford to see it weaken further because of his own wounded pride.

“We need to move now while the moon is high. The darkness will help conceal us, but we can also use the additional power to cloak with,” Jungkook states, breaking the awkward tension, offering a brief nod in farewell to Namjoon and Jimin.

Jungkook has already moved to the edge of the tree line, waiting patiently for Yoongi and you to follow. An awkward moment passes as Yoongi and Jimin stare at each other. You offer Jimin a tight smile before pushing onto your toes and whispering something into Yoongi’s ear. Jimin wishes he could read your mind or that you’d speak aloud instead of in hushed tones. You pat Yoongi on the shoulder, turn without another word, and join Jungkook, your back to the clearing.

Yoongi closes the distance between himself and Jimin, reaching up with both hands and cradling Jimin’s face as he’s done countless times before. Jimin’s eyes flutter closed, a sob catching deep in his chest. He refuses to cry right now. He won’t let you see his weakness and how much this is hurting him. His resolve almost flags when Yoongi’s lips press to his, that familiar taste of clove flooding his senses, bringing with it a hint of maple that is far more alluring than it has a right to be.

It’s over far sooner than Jimin would like, but he’s too stunned to react. “You do not give her enough credit, my love. She deserves more than your ire.”

Whatever response Jimin had died on his tongue as Yoongi stepped away, giving him a sad smile before turning. He doesn’t look back as he joins you and Jungkook. Jimin stands there, staring until your group disappears in the gloom of the trees. Even then, he remains rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do.

“Join me?” Namjoon asks. Jimin shakes himself, turning toward Namjoon, who nods to the baskets of potatoes and peas sitting on his porch. “Just like old times.”

“Of course.” Jimin nods, willing away the sadness threatening to swallow him whole. “I will welcome a good distraction.”

Namjoon moves up to the porch and eases himself down to sit on the edge of it, long legs making his feet nearly touch the ground. He pats the porch beside him. Jimin pulls over a basket of peas and has a seat.

Picking up one of the green pods, he presses his thumb into the seam and pops it open, depositing the dozen or so peas into the empty basket Namjoon places between them.

“Is it really so bad?” Namjoon asks. He doesn’t pose it as a snide question but as a genuinely concerned inquiry.

Jimin grabs another pod, methodically opening it and shelling the peas into the basket. “You would think after all this time, I would have developed some sense of acceptance regarding this situation. Perhaps I even thought I might have, but it seems that would be incorrect.”

“She is not that bad, you know.” Namjoon is efficient in his shelling, working through handfuls of pods simultaneously.

“I can see that, be assured. I just—Seven Suns—I am being an asshole. I do not mean to be. There is something I can not shake no matter how hard I try.” Jimin accidentally smashes a pea in frustration, flicking the ruined green mush into the yard. “I love him and fear that may not be enough now. I can not bring him the joys that she does. There is nothing more powerful than a mated bond.”

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls between them, Namjoon letting Jimin take the space he needs. Jimin knows he can speak plainly to his friend. After all, he has known Namjoon even longer than he has Yoongi. Namjoon used to reside within the Seelie Court, the son of a gardener on the very grounds where Jimin grew up. They were fast friends and crib mates when Namjoon’s mom would sometimes help the Seelie Queen tend to the younglings.

Namjoon is the reason Jimin did not neglect his duties as crown prince, and Jimin is the reason Namjoon now lives a life of solitude in the Hollow Lands. It was an accident, but no less Jimin’s fault for being careless. Namjoon had been helping him sneak out of the castle to meet with Yoongi secretly, helping foster the budding of their never-meant-to-be romance. They were caught one night. Jimin received guard duty as punishment. But Namjoon was turned out of the castle, not permitted to return.

Hours have passed and Jimin is so deep in his thoughts of life from before, that it takes Namjoon a few tries to get him to snap out of it. “Jimin! Jimin! I thought I heard—”

“Huh, what?” Jimin blinks his eyes, throwing a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon is staring into the distance. The sun is just beginning to peek over the trees, the spaces beneath still heavily shadowed. Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but a pained scream echoing from the trees cuts him off. “What was that?”

“That sounds like—“ Another gut-wrenching scream rips through the air.

They’re both on their feet in seconds, leaping effortlessly off the porch, peas scattered and forgotten. “Can you get the ward back up?” Jimin asks, a feverish pitch to his words.

Namjoon licks his lips, perspiration already beginning to bead on his brow as he gathers the strength to attempt it. “I do not know, but I will try.”

“Here,” Jimin mindlessly snatches at the pendant around his neck, popping the links of the chain it’s attached to in the process. “Use this.” He drops the crescent moon necklace they used for the bonding ceremony in Namjoon’s palm. Implements used for bonding retain residual powers that can be used as amplifiers, like an echo of the magick the bond was created with. Jimin hopes it’s enough.

Namjoon closes his eyes and begins to mumble words under his breath. “It will not be as big, just focused directly around the house…but it will have to do.”

Jimin steps forward after another scream peals through the air, closer now. His feet falter as two figures come into view, stumbling out of the gloomy covering of the trees. “Seven Suns!” Jimin curses, frozen in shock at the sight before him.

His feet finally move as if with a mind of their own. He lurches forward, arms catching the smaller, bloodied form before it hits the ground.

Your cheeks are marred with jarring splashes of raven-colored liquid. Unseelie Blood. The metallic tang burns Jimin’s nose as he hauls you against his chest. Pitiful whimpers bubble past your lips, your whole body trembling in his hold. A faltering, equally bloody Jungkook hits the grass beside him, barely within the new barrier Namjoon has erected.

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon drops beside Jungkook, frantic hands patting at his friend, checking his vitals.

“Sh!” Jungkook huffs, slapping a hand over Namjoon’s mouth. Despite being obviously injured, Jungkook pushes up into a sitting position, eyes locked on the treeline they just stumbled from.

The sounds of shouting pick up a moment later, and then a cluster of silhouettes move along about fifty yards in. It’s hard to hear what they’re talking about, but the few words Jimin catches have his hands tightening around you.

The new ward is up, but Jimin isn’t sure how long Namjoon can hold it. If it were to drop before the guards move on, they’d be far outnumbered. It would be an impossible battle. His eyes flick to Jungkook, taking a moment to assess his condition. There is already a dark wet patch on the grass beneath him. The entire right side of his body is drenched in black blood…hard to tell if it’s his or someone else's.

Jimin grits his teeth, silently willing the guards to move on. They finally do, pushing further west. You’re practically catatonic in Jimin’s arms, he realizes after finally looking back down at you. Your head is listing to the side, and your eyelids are drooping heavily. Pulling you away from his chest, he realizes bright crimson is coloring your front. He quickly traces the blood, finding the source—a fingers-width-sized knife wound in your right side. He can’t tell how deep it is, but probing with his magick tells him it’s not immediately life-threatening.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook croaks, trying but failing to shift over to you. “Is she okay?”

That is the furthest thing from Jimin’s mind right now. There is only one thing he can focus on. Even though he fears the answer, Jimin forces the words past his lips, “Where is he? Where is Yoongi?”

Jungkook lets out a despairing sob, collapsing back into the grass. Namjoon begins to assess for wounds, tearing away Jungkook’s clothing methodically.

You pitifully grab at the front of Jimin’s shirt, your eyes locking onto his turquoise ones with a fleeting moment of clarity. “T-th-they took him.” 

It’s like a dagger to Jimin’s heart.

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[sjweminem]

dennis confessional box time, cause i know we’re both into the same shit and i’m fucking someone i shouldn’t (he’s the buddy and roommate of one of my best friends, both guys) so I can’t talk about it. he’s like a total baddie type, undercut haircut and bad risky choices and good fashion sense and VERY hot with a big ego, which in white men is annoying, but he’s algerian/iraqi/moroccan so it’s unfortunately very cool, but he’s fucking crazy. anyway, he treats me like a guy calling me “dude” and “man” constantly, which I fuckin love, it’s like boys’ club vibes always from him and we laugh our asses off and he adores me and has a great personality

and I was totally having a fine time resisting fucking him (and turning him down a thousand times) until I discovered that in his dirty teasing about things, he kept bringing up strapons as a dirty joke…. and when I’d get mad he’d be like “ok well hit me then” “choke me, bitch 😂” “slap me and maybe I’ll shut up” and other thot jokes where I was like.. ok this is not a drill, he seriously wants to get dominated! and he won’t stop dropping hints!

so then one night he came over, and was being cuddly and touchy and apologizing because he knew we weren’t supposed to go there, and in response I pulled his arms behind his back and held him there by his wrists and yanked his hair, and he fucking fell apart. I slapped him around a bit, and he was so in the zone (no one had ever done this to him but he told me he’s wanted it fucking forever- this guy’s almost 40) and turned on that at one point, I slapped him hard enough that it made him cum.

anyway, I’ve since rimmed him (kneeling behind him while he stood at the bathroom mirror with his hands on the sink, moaning and cursing, because it was his first time ever). and he’s said to me “I told my boys if I ever turned gay and had sex with men I would be the one doing the fucking, you know, but I’m making an exception for you. I’d love you to fuck my ass”. YOU TOLD THE BOYS WHAT ??

anyway. I also made him straddle my lap, and as soon as he realized where I was putting him, he put both his hands on the back of the couch and started grinding/riding my lap in the dirtiest, most elegant but desperate way possible, like a porn star but better than any I’ve seen. and again, I cannot emphasize how aggressively heterosexual this man is in his public persona. but how he’s also the type to pick fights with guys when he’s drunk because he doesn’t mind getting beat up.

he’s also always making extremely dirty and homoerotic “the punchline is that it’s gay, which is funny because homophobia” style jokes towards his friends when they’re out drinking, like we were out on the town with my bestie / his roommate, and he came up to him and was like “oh baby, turn around, you’ve got a great ass, mind if I….?” in this like overly serious tone to him while giving his hips a squeeze, to be “funny” and “provocative” while the friend turns around like “😂 oh yeah, spank me…” like. this boy’s issues. oh my god. repressed bisexual king.

AAAAAND he’s also just as dominant as he is submissive. so the next night he came over then the roles were reversed, and he’s so shameless and talkative and manhandles me a bunch and the dirty talk is fucking amazing, and if we’re both feeling dominant some night then we genuinely tussle with each other for control, and basically he’s like a sexual soul mate…. not boyfriend material lmao, but best bro friend and fuck buddy material for sure. RIP to his virginity cause I’m ordering a strap-on STAT!!

I wish sex this dope upon you and anyone in the dennis sphere that desires it. blessings, and i hope you can transpose some of these scenes onto your muse owen wilson, ty and good night

OOHFGGGHHHH MY GOD........ME AND OWEN WILSON WHEN

[victoriavmw82]

Jarvis

When I first got introduced to Iron Man it was my boyfriend's favorite comic book character, Soo me liking Superhero movies he figured I would like it. Now, I have an old soul, so to speak, if you were to ask me were I knew Robert Downey Jr's work from it wouldn't be like most people in my generation. My answer would be Soap Dish, Johnny Be Good, Weird Science......my favorite being Soap Dish. I imagine they would be looking at me much like this🤨😳🧐But it's true, I for whatever reason though the actor might not like this movie himself, I loved everything about it. So me remembering these movies I wasn't sure if I would like it, if he could do Superhero. So I really didn't pay much attention to the first one, other than he faught Sandman.

Time keeps slipping; Years later I found myself faced with this movie again as I was filling in the pieces of the timeline of the MCU. I was reminded of the first time I went to stay at Hwy 80 Rescue Mission. I did not want to go for shit, I faught the whole process. I went as a kinda, Last Resort in the words of Papa Roach. When you meet me, you discover when I'm comfortable with you it's like, where's the off button. I can talk your ear off.😂🤣But when I don't know you it's like.... "They do speak right?!"🤨It's like the light is on but no one is home, you think I'm joking, I'm totally being serious.

When I first became homeless it was 3-4 months before I spoke, I didn't talk at all, the Trauma I'm assuming. When it happened again and I ended up at the exact place I didn't want to be, I became quiet again. Some regard my silence as I'm "mad, stuck up, etc" little do they know I was a quiet child, soft spoken, I didn't talk a lot. I use to be one of those people that was a person of few words, however when I spoke it was of great importance and you listened. Me talking was a learned thing; when I started going to church the other women didn't like the fact I was quiet. It made them uncomfortable and so therefore they put me in situations were I was forced to talk. I did children's ministry at the time and they just couldn't understand how I could go in to the classroom and be like a one woman show for the kids and then come out and be a person of few words for the adults.....turning it on and off like that. When I became homeless, this trait of mine was twisted into something else, being labeled as stuck up, vain, villianious, all because I was shy. However,being quiet I learned to be observant and anticipate another's needs. They called it having a servants heart.

If you think about it Vision originally Jarvis, is much that type of person. Jarvis spoke when it was time, was there when it was time, perfect timing. To me a humble person and having loyalty. I have always felt this is why he was able to lift Thor's hammer when the others couldn't; not because he was an Android, rather because he truly had proven himself worthy. I became that type of person for Brian Livingston; at the time the Family and Children's Director. I did whatever task he wanted me to, followed whatever instruction he gave me and originally before I became comfortable with him I spoke when needed and was quite when needed, anticipating the needs of my master so to speak, much like a servant would be.

I feel as though in ministry the problem comes when we think we know more than our master. When we close our eyes so to speak to what's going on around us and forget our part, which throws the other team mates off. When we forget humility and purpose, as Vision reminded Ultron. When we allow ourselves to get distracted. In our lives let's take a valuable lesson from Jarvis/Vision and be that type of person for others. Team work,makes the dream work!

[rewatching-supernatural]

s06e22

Don't you cry no more

*****

NOW

Sam's running away from the cops and he doesn't remember who he is

for the last time

*****

Written by Eric Kripke

???

I'm sorry, what, why

I totally forgot he wrote the ending to 6 too

*****

I find it very interesting when you have episodes backwards like this, but this one is just annoying

*****

aw, this is just sad

Bobby losing yet again another person

*****

Sam killing Sam, uh

*****

poor Dean

keeps losing Sam 😔

*****

This is brilliant though, the song playing on the radio and "do you smell whiskey?"

Sam's blinded by Dean's light

*****

Sam is awake enough to know shit doesn't add up

*****

Sam being so surprised by the Baby's trunk 😂

*****

*****

Cas fucking took the wall apart and broke Sam

What an asshole to be honest

love the guy but for fuck's sake

also hate him sometimes for what he forces Dean to suffer through

*****

*****

this has Hunger Games survive-in-the-forest vibes

*****

Sammy won, apparently

for now

*****

Gotta give it to them, this show explores so many cool way to tell a story

so many alternate realities, so many twists, so many crossing lines

*****

Balthazar my man!

why do I like him so much seriously

I think I love Sebastian, and I love how interesting and challenging and unique Balthazar is

reasons don't really matter, just love him

*****

Castiel turning on everyone this season

Sam and Dean and Bobby, Balthazar, Crowley

Himself

*****

The fucking Cas and Balthazar discussion

as if they both didn't already know it's him

"I'm doing my best" yeah go fuck yourself Cas honestly

killing my man, Balthazar

that's not nice of you

*****

"T Rex, maybe?"

mhm

for sure, Dean

*****

awn, Cas, mojo out?

sweaty palms mate

*****

Mark's acting is incredible because there isn't a single second where I think "this is an actor"

that man is Crowley

*****

Sam is stuck in his own head, Dean and Bobby are upside down in the car, Cas is gone, and Crowley and Raphael are opening Purgatory

...oh wait, actually, none of that

*****

Castiel is full

literally

he is filled with souls

mega angel

megangel

*****

Holy shit Cas

that's too much power you don't deserve, bro

*****

Ah yes, the Castiel way, murdering angels left and right

*****

They can't even kill him, uh

Pfft I'm your new God go suck your own dick, you arrogant prick

*****