#i am so sorry for this despicable human being

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt.1

Encounter (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Guys. I am so sorry. I don't think that Arlecchino oneshot is being posted tomorrow. 😿Trust that it will be posted this weekend. Take this as an apology (I am fr spoiling y'all Arle fans) for the pushback. This is a repost to something I submitted as an anon to @/megistusdiary so there's a chance you've already seen this. It was written a while ago so quality is not up to par. This is the Black Butler inspired demon au! that I talked about in my poll, check it out if you want a little bit more on this concept. (Thank you guys for voting in it! :33 I'm looking forward to writing the oneshots). Series Masterlist Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

Everything hurts. It burns, burns, burns, and you can't feel your limbs and your vision fades in and out. Your broken form twitches on the ground, and as your assailants approach you, ready to wrench the remaining life out of you slowly and painfully, with your final burst of energy and concentration, you let out a guttural screech, a summoning spell spewing from your raspy throat and bloodied teeth. 

At first, you think nothing happens. They stalk you, unfaltering despite what you have just called for. Wearing teeth-baring grins and depraved intentions, they near your crumpled body, with their dirty, despicable hands reaching out towards you. Your half-lidded eyes shut fully, and you heave out a sigh of resignation, giving up the futile struggle of staying alive. 

You hear it first before you actually see it. A sound distinct only to stilettos clicking against the ground. It jerks your attention immediately, and you twist your head slowly to face the oncoming figure. Black heels with gold adornment catch your eye, and then--

"Well, well, looks like I found the doll that called me," you hear a deep, feminine voice sibilates, voice reverberating throughout the chamber. Your gaze slowly trails up the newcomer's figure, and the white clothing, snow-white hair, and feminine features cause you to mistake her as an angel. Red-crossed pupils meet with yours. A shiver works its way up your spine but you stare in awe regardless. What kind of human was this?

One of your tormenters inquires rather rudely about the woman and storms towards her haughtily, ignorant of the fact he has just sealed his fate. There's an audible, irate click of her tongue, then a snap echoes the room. For a brief moment, your sight is filled with just red, and then your eyes widen as the aggressor bursts into a beautiful explosion of blood and guts. She walks past where once the man stood without pause, now just a puddle of blood, tutting at the blatant disrespect of the formerly alive human. Her feet stop just before you and her shadow looms over.

"A-arle...cchino?" You croak weakly as your hazy gaze sets on her. She looks so handsome, beautiful like a guardian angel, even when she's covered in red. Her lips curl up slightly and she crouches down to hook an arm behind your back and knees, lifting you bridal-style. Heat radiates from her cold-blooded being and it is so much more comforting than the icy hardness of the floor. You immediately bury your face into her shoulder while your needy hands grip onto her coat out of desperation and fear. Beneath the intense iron smell of blood, she smells of something floral, you noted with dulled surprise. 

"That is me, the Knave. And what have you called me for?" She purrs from above, repositioning you in her arms so she could support you with one arm instead of both. 

You give one single glance behind your shoulder towards the now cowering group of people, their behavior reminding you of feeble sheep rather than the bloodthirsty pack of wolves. You think that you'd like lamb chops after all of this. 

Turning your head back, you suck in a steady breath, your voice unwavering and clear despite being muffled into her clothes. "Kill them." 

"As you wish." 

Even as she draws out the sweetest, most revolting of screams from the remaining alive people, you find peace in your arms. You don't watch, instead, opting to rest your head against her and try to fall asleep to your former captors' begs of mercy. A hand combing through your hair wakes you up. You admire her sharpened red nails and her black hands, so contrasting against her unblemished and perfect skin but pretty all the same. It looks nice, sifting through your hair, it feels right, it feels perfect, even if they're dipped in blood.

"Well, I suppose we can work out the contract at a later time. For now, rest, my dear," her voice is soft and it lulls you to sleep in her arms. She tucks your head underneath her chin and walks away from the bloodbath, her darling wrapped tightly close to her.

[frenchgremlim1808]

Why Midori is such a breath of fresh air or how to actually write a Villain.

So the awaited essay, the winner of the FrenchGremlin polls of laziness finally has come! It took some time but it’s finally over. If your choice didn’t get chosen that’s okay! I’ll repost a new poll with old and newer options. Please reblog this one i put a lot of time in it, it's like, five pages long over a silly goose. Also sorry for the grammar i sucks and i'm not native. So let’s begin:

(also here is the link to the video format)

So first let’s make things clear, What IS a villain?

“A villain is a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot.” That is why I do want to make a difference between a villain and an antagonist, an antagonist is a character who are a plot devices that creates obstruction to the protagonist. That means that a villain is forced to be an antagonist while an antagonist is not forced to be a villain. For example shin is an antagonist but not a villain, he is driven by selfish desires which are themselves fueled by fear anger and loss, he is the protagonist of his own story and is a sympathetic character despite it all, and Midori is just a bitch. Midori falls under multiple stereotypes of villains. Such as “the mastermind”, “evil incarnate” (lmao),”related to the protagonist” etc. Midori is evil, there is no denying in this, he is purely evil, and he doesn’t have a sad weepy backstory, he doesn’t feel empathy towards other, he is a despicable piece of shit who ruined so many lives. I won’t list everything but here is a list of his crimes, murder, assault, domestic abuse, grooming, verbal abuse, and torture, crimes against humanity lmao, stalking, violent crimes, and participation in a cult. And his worst crime is being a pussy bitch of course. So now that we have put the bases up let’s really begin.

Hollywood has a hate boner against villains and I hate them for that.

Recently Hollywood decided that pure evil bad guys is actually a bad thing, so now they decided to do stupid side story with them, to give them ”””depth””” since I guess how could we like those villains since they are bad. A great example of this is the Disney remakes which I loathe so much oh god I hate them. So first they did a maleficient it was okay honestly, then they did a freaking cruella movie where her mom gets killed by Dalmatians, that’s not a joke, in the peter and wendy movie that nobody saw they decided to have made the captain hook be a lost boy who was abandoned by the lost boys and peter, oh also they decided that PETER CUT HIS HANDS OFF AND LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HOOK WANTED TO SEE HIS FAMILY. They are going to do a freaking mufasa movie, in no time I can’t wait to have a Ursula movie where it’s discovered that ariel killed all of her family in cold blood or something’s. So you might say what’s the problem? I mean isn’t that supposed to make the story more interesting. No, no it doesn’t, because first they take all of the character personality traits and throw them in the bin, second they are supposed to be the vilain in a musical animated movies, I am not against complex villain, I love them, but by doing this, the original character doesn’t exist anymore. Just create original content with new interesting characters instead of doing stuff like this. Also it’s kind of funny than in all of those interpretation they take all the fun and sucks it out, what do I mean by fun, the gayness, Disney vilain are fun because they are camp, they are fabulous extravagant extra in all the ways possible, and that’s the reason we liked them. Not every character needs something super deep, like “my family was burned down at the stake and my dog was eaten by my ex”, sometimes we just like bad fun people, they are the story, and Hollywood hating them so bad just bothers me a lot. Also now the new thing is to not have a villain at all which can works in some narrative but not all of them, it gets boring after a while. In the past people were angry that villains are bland, but now I kind of miss it. While I will critique villains who have no purpose outside of being evil that’s dumb, like for example Voldemort is bland like white bread because his only motivation is being evil, but evil people do exist compared to what some Hollywood writers think, they should know. So that’s why I will put a difference between evil villains and villains whose only purpose is being evil; we loved Disney villains but they still had motivations, goals, reasons that to them a least were worth everything. World domination isn’t enough, why do you want world domination, what is the true reason deep in your heart, is it an inferiority complex, is it a savior complex fuelled by xenophobic beliefs.

That is how to write a pure evil villain, evil people exist all over the world, but I have never seen one who doesn’t have they own reasons to be so bad, it doesn’t excuse their actions nor really explains them. We do not want justifications we want explanations. If you are justifying evil behavior then do it, but don’t claim that it is a pure evil character. A pure evil character can be fun, can be interesting, he can be deep, it’s all about balancing all of their traits to truly make them greats. Which is why midori succeeds while current villains fail. Current stupid remake/spin off try to justify the behavior because they feel like this is what the audience wants, but it’s not what we need. So I will defend to the grave evil villains.

Creating an evil villain doesn’t make them boring guys.

Why the heck does big budget movies have either the blandest protagonist or the blandest villains sometimes both, like I said evil people do exist but comically evil character only works in satire not in a serious multiple millions of dollar movie. Example that boring ass avatar movie, the one with blue people, none of the characters are interesting the villain is one note. The lords of the rings also suffers from that, but I don’t care because the protagonist are so awesome that sauron being personality less doesn’t matter. Also sauron is more of a force of nature villains so it’s not the same. The recent kingsman movie has a bland one note villain, there is nothing entertaining, funny, about him he’s just evil, borrrrring. Every Disney remakes depiction of the characters are boring. I just feel bored out of my mind. Atla one of my favorite shows of all time has a main villain that’s kinda one note, Ozai, but he is actually intimidating guy, azula is the superior character, but I wouldn’t consider her a villain she is an antagonist though. I honestly don’t get why Hollywood thinks that just creating a character with no personality and whose only goals is to be evil is good.

So back to midori for a second, here is my question, when midori was on screen did you ever feel bored? Never right! Because despite midori being an evil character he has an actual personality, he’s fun, you want to punch him in the balls. Because midori has other personality traits than evil, midori is petty, childish, extremely intelligent, controlling, a natural manipulator, he is a trickster, he doesn’t seem to get some social norms, he is narcissistic, easily angry, and fears death etc See how I counted a lot of traits, traits that in other character would works, midori has positive traits, and I think that is the best thing nankidai could have ever done, midori has traits that a regular person could have. Which is why if I put midori in any settings his character would work.

Example, instead of a death game the cast is under the sea to discover the insane wildlife and supernatural stuff happening, what would midori do in this situation? Well he would very passionate about finding all of what’s happening, he’ll do anything to find out, even sometime sacrificing others, not only will he try to find what’s happening, but he is also going to try to find a way to make this discovery favour him in the end. Or let’s imagine it’s a vampire situation, where a vampire attacks  the city, midori would try to stop it, not because he cares, but to experiment on them to get their biology and finds the real secret of immortality since he fears death.

Here is my second advice, after creating your character try to imagine them in another completely different situation, like normal life, or a fantasy world, ask yourself the question what would they do in that environment? If you can find a real complete explanation of their actions then yes your character has multiples dimensions if not try thinking about it again. Some example of questions I do want to point out are some like “if my character had all the power in the world what would they do first or”, “if my character had only a day left to live what would they do”

Why is Current media incapable of creating good threats like bruhhhh.

Okay so first of all let’s talk about stakes in a story, let’s say you are watching a slasher movie, slowly the cast gets slimmed down and people die in horrible ways, that should set stakes right ? Well if the villain is an absolute buffoon who makes the stupidest actions and decisions in the world, you wouldn’t feel intimidated at all because despite what the filmmaker might try to say the plot armor will NEVER make a character intimidating. It’s just like a detective character who just seems to know everything without a thought, well you won’t really fear the character failing. Worse is the the final girl, who is for some reason always escaping the slasher guy by pure luck every time, she is shown as incompetent but still she survives, which make the villain seem completely incapable so now you feel nothing.

To avoid this filmmaker often use techniques such has unpredictability, I mean good I mean good ones, for example instead of immediately seeing whose going to survive because the black guys always dies first and the virgin white woman is the last survivor, change the status quo, make us think that this character is obviously safe while they actually aren’t at all. Or actually make them menacing by SHOWING to the audience how horrible dangerous they can be. Which is why SHOW DON’T TELL is so important, telling us how dangerous someone can be only to see them get beaten to death at the end of the movie makes us feel nothing.

Midori felt like a impossible person to beat, he is smart, had twenty plans in advance, even in situation where the cast felt like they might have a chance he was always armed, just like the gun he promised to use or the rocket punch. When they felt like they were finally advancing, he put obstacle in their ways, such as the collar game or the moment he put the collar on explode mode for  ranmaru. The entire point in the murder game was to make time pass, it took a long time for the cast top realize that this whole time they were losing precious time not realizing that the dummies were the real problem. The characters that made you feel the most hopeless were the dummies, if you won by killing midori they would die, but if you lost you might lose people you love (keiji or gin). It felt hopeless because they were no solutions in the end. That creates tension so that creates stakes. If we were told how dangerous unpredictable sou was then it wouldn’t hit the same, we are shown that he is that terrible. There is a scene ingame where bbg shin ai tells us that midori tortured and like to destroy people. That’s exposition so TELL, but do you why it works, because we are SHOWN before his behavior. Midori felt unbeatable, so the fact that we were shown his weakness such has his petty behavior, hatred of minors, and fear of death, for the first time it feels like there is a chance that we might survive this. And still after he isn’t shown has an incompetent buffoon, he is one, but the narrative doesn’t show us that he is.

What is also consider is good to make the audience feel actual stakes is to first really develop well the main characters, how can we feel worry for a character if we don’t know them, the audience need to feels emotional connection to the main cast to actually care. You can use things such has moments where there is nothing special happening just character talking getting to know them. Make us feel why we need to care about them possibly losing, instead of being indifferent. Or I don’t know maybe make an entire spin off game where we get to have the cast talk to each other and seeing dynamics between character that died early to get them a chance to shine and make their death even more tragic, or even make mini episodes of characters who only got a single chapter to show off their characteristic, to get us to know them better? But that’s just a silly idea of course, wink, and wink.

My favorite thing about Midori is that he is actually pathetic, like really pathetic, but weirdly realistic?

Midori is the most pathetic character in the cast, yes more than shin, shin is leagues less pathetic. No I’m not saying that midori is not intimidating or scary, I would piss myself if I saw him. He’s a scary guy. But if you look at him more closely you can see that he is a baby brat in a big boy suit.

So let’s start by something clear, Sou Hiyori clearly displays antisocial behavior, or in common terms he is a psychopath/sociopath, this illness is very badly seen in medias, I am not saying that people who lacks empathy like him are inherently bad, he is, a lot of people with antisocial behavior actually suffers a lot and have a difficult life. Sou real issues is not his antisocial behavior, it’s his narcissism and god complex. Sou feels the need to HAVE CONTROL over others, he like the feeling of being in power, he sees the rest of the world has beneath him, toys for his pleasure. He says that he “really like humans” because despite it all he seems to put himself in a different categories than regular people, they are beneath him. When he loses control his calm and cool behavior disappears and we see his true face, a grown man who has throws a tantrum like a baby. One of the best representation of this is midori views on the cast:

Midori hates kanna, like no jokes he has beef with her, a fourteen years old, actually he has beef with a lot of people in the cast. Midori views emotional people has weak, people who are loving optimistic as beneath him and useless. He preferred when sara was cruel and horrible, that’s what he loved about her, he liked seeing her scary emotionless side. But Kanna, kanna is everything he hates. A crybaby who not only puts the group in harmony, is a source of hope in general, is the reason he near got to have closure with shin (killing him), he views kanna as “not fun shin”. We have many proofs for this, if you type the word kanna kizuchi he says this: “Poor Kanna'd weep! I think a more worthless name would be better for someone like me” He mocks her, but also himself (I’lll come back on this later), he calls her worthless. Also in the electric charge minigame, when he can choose who to shocks he chooses two people in particular, kanna who he hates and hinako who ruined his fun by giving the cast a chance in saving ranmaru. But he does also says mean spirited stuff to other people, qtaro and gin. He also says some sarcastic comments about nao and joe, saying that it’s such a shame that they died so young. But you might say why kanna especially? Because he is a petty baby who is jealous of kanna, Yes jealous, of kanna, a fourteen years old. Because he feels like she stole his hubby wubby shin away from him…. God I hate him. And you know what that make him a pathetic idiot, after the scene where kanna beats his ass, he’s all mad and like “uhh I’m going to pout I wanted you to cry like a lot, now I’m gonna cry”. An that’s actually god, because it humanize him, he wants need thoughts, he isn’t one note, and that’s the most important!

Sou is a villain but before that he is a character, a fully developed character, and THAT’S WHAT MAKE HIM GREAT, Sou works because he works realistically, I mean if you forget the robot part, it’s easy to imagine a narcissist man child who needs to feel in power towards other, so his main prey are young vulnerable people.Which leads me to my next point:

Sou is a failure like really, and we aren’t sad for him.

Sou failed everything he worked on, he failed to get the paper from alice, he failed whith shin since he had to leave earlier than he thought he would leave, because of his mistake he lost his position in the death game, then he failed to kill gin or keiji, and then he died like an idiot losing his cool and acting like a toddler. And he knows it that why he is a bit self-hating (he should be). And yet none of us feel any sympathy towards him, why? Because sou is one of the most despicable guy in existence. He is a disgusting pervert, sadistic asshole, and abusive narcissistic cunt who thinks he is better than everyone. From the bottom of my heart I hate him sooooo much he is literally the character I hate the most in existence. He abused shin, ruined keiji’s life, traumatized the entire cast, literally assaulted sara like he physically assaulted her. He mocked nao and joe and kugie life as useless. He is an obsessive jerk AND I HATE HIM. And you know what…… It’s good. Like I actually feel a lot of emotions when I think about him, he fuels me with anger and disgust, and if your characters can make me feel that much rage then you did it, you created an actual perfect character. Hiyori is such a shit person that I think about him a lot, writers shouldn’t be scared to make a character such hittable assholes, example bojack horseman in bojack horseman is the vilest man on earth and I love it, because I genuinely hate him. Just like I genuinely love kanna, like really I really love her, I in the same time despise midori so bad. We hate him because he is horrible to good people that WE KNOW AND CARE ABOUT, not random npcs. There is a lot of… disgusting implications in his story with shin that I will not talk about it makes me really uncomfortable right now. SO HERE IS A VERY TACKY TRANSITION TO TALK ABOUT WHY I HATE JUNKO FROM DANGANRONPA.

Junko is boring, that’s it, she is boring, not funny not interesting, she is a fetish, she is the biggest Mary sue on earth, she is a gross character made to make fun of people with disabilities and queer people. Her only traits is being crazy, that’s it. I wouldn’t call midori that crazy actually, he’s methodical calculated, and precise. Crazyness is a term for people who aren’t in control of their actions and delusional about reality, sou is not crazy, he knows what he is doing, he is in full control, while characters like shin should actually be consider crazy, like shin is actually crazy but sou isn’t.

Conclusion:

Sou is a breath of fresh air, because nankidai had the balls to write an actually interesting deep and threatening character AND make him a villain. He didn’t fall into the trap of making him have a sad backstory or good motives, sou is just selfish, that’s all he is. He make him a fun entertaining guy who you absolutely hates, he made him threatening and at the same time a complete doofus. He made him humane and pathetic.

But the thing that make me love nankidai the most is this

The fact that he actually killed him that takes courage as a writer to just end a character THAT WAY, which is why midori will never come back alive he is forever dead. And that take a lot of talents as a writer to just take one of the most important characters and just get him drilled to death in the anus, like dammn nankidai you are a savage. That fact alone makes him one of the best characters in game, I hate him as a person, but has a character he is a masterpiece.

Though Kanna could solo him

this was posted as a video on my blog this is mainly so people who don't want to stay there reading a 24 minute video of my stuttering can have a bit of quiet

[katwatcheskny]

Hi I hope you're fine :) I'd like to request a dabble with Doma and a female slayer. Like Mitsuri this slayer dreams of findind a husband who's stronger than her. So when Doma and the Slayer meet BOOM he falls in love, and when they fight he's like "you said you wanted a husband stronger than you. Well, here I am~". And now she has to deal with this motherfucker who's always following her around, fighting her (and winning) to try to win her heart. (thank you sorry this was long lol)

douma's crush wants to marry someone strong

type: drabble

pronouns: she/her/herself

word count: 1449

content warning: mentions of blood, depictions of injury

a/n: hello! i literally could not think of a better title. but i did like this request. douma is a surprisingly easy character to write for, which was very surprising to be honest. but i do enjoy it. this was fun to finally get to and i hope it's enjoyable. it came out more yandere than i thought it would, but that's where my brain took me. idk, the demons with human readers often come off as slightly yandere.

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She had said it once aloud.

He was a foolish hinoe, meant to accompany her in slaying a lower moon. His name was Taka… Takashi? No, it was Takahiro, she was sure now. He had dark hair and unremarkable features, he was shaking so terribly, sure that he would not survive the night. (Y/N) could not fault him for being afraid, that would be monstrous of her to be so apathetic, so uncompassionate.

Takahiro survived that night. Not on any merit of his own, but rather from sheer luck and the abilities of the hashira he had been assigned to, saving him from what would have been a terrible fate. (Y/N) had never minded saving her fellow demon slayers, it was not as though they could afford to keep bleeding numbers the way they did regularly. (Y/N) did not mind saving Takahiro, he was a good person who she was fond of, and thought deserved better than to die at the hands of some despicable demon.

His fear was not what made him foolish to her. But rather, it was what he did from the small courage he gained after surviving a deathly battle that caused her to always remember him as a fool. When he asked her to marry him.

It made her cringe to remember it now. 

Perhaps, she should have said ‘yes’ and been a silly, foolish girl. Like some romantic, lovesick girl who allowed herself to get swept up by the first decent man to offer to marry her and live an ordinary life as some unimpressive man’s wife. But, (Y/N) would never have become a hashira if she was someone who aspired to live an unexceptional life and settle for less.

“I am sorry. I would only marry a man who is stronger than me.”

That was the only time she could recall ever voicing that notion aloud. There would never be another circumstance where she could imagine herself saying that. It was not as though she was proposed to everyday, nor that she needed to reject a marriage proposal and cite her reasoning. Instead, she kept it to herself and only reflected on her dream of a strong husband in her sleep.

Now, (Y/N) was bleeding. She was sure that she had some broken ribs. Her foot was sprained, and with each amount of pressure she kept putting on it by refusing to lie down and die, (Y/N) threatened to tear a ligament and detach it from the bone. There was a ringing in her ears, were they bleeding too? She could smell her own blood, her nose was not broken. Three of her fingers are, though, and she struggled to hold her sword in both hands. (Y/N) had never been so brutalized in a battle before. A part of her told her that this must be her time, this would be the demon who kills her.

At least it is an upper moon who would do her in. Upper two, no less. 

She continued to hold herself up, despite her damaged internal organs and broken bones, determined to fight until the end. There would be no shame in dying then, (Y/N) told herself. It would be a worthy death of a hashira, even if she would never have her impossible dreams and hopes. 

He had been playing with her for a while now, she had realized a while ago as she tried to steady her breathing enough to use her breathing style. (Y/N) had known that the strength of the upper moons was to be feared. While the ranks of the lower ranks had been changed over the millennia as the demon slayers had managed to kill them from time to time, the upper ranks had not. An upper moon had not been killed in hundreds of years. That was their power, their ruthlessness, their competency. Their strength.

“Nothing to say now?! No teasing of how you want to eat me like you did my Tsuguko, you bastard?!” It was a bit undignified of her to taunt this demon who watched her quietly, holding his fans to his face to hide his expression. But, she had hit her head pretty hard a while ago and she would be dying very soon. Dignity was not her greatest concern anymore.

(Y/N) tired of awaiting her death, took her final lunge at him in her fifth form. She watched as the demon finally moved, his fans prepared to deliver what is for sure to be the killing blow if she is lucky enough to have a quick death. 

The blow did not hit her. She felt an impact, a gust of air that felt like a winter’s blizzard nipping away at her nose and cheeks, burning them red and wiping her hair uncontrollably. But, she did not feel as though she had been struck. (Y/N) still felt as though she was whole as she finished her final form.

Her nichirin sword had been cut in half, she realized all too late. She stood less than three feet from him, she could smell her dear successor’s blood on his lips (or was that still her blood she was smelling?) She stared at his chest, what remained of her blade was stabbed into his midsection, not that it was worth anything. (Y/N) could not bring herself to look up, only watching as her hands began to shake as she realized that she was really going to die.

The demon dropped its weapons, they were more than unnecessary now. She had no means of fighting back anymore, he could kill her in an instant with his bare hands. In lieu of ripping her apart, the upper moon brought his hand to cradle her chin, his long, painted nails trailing her jaw.

“Oh, my dear (Y/N), I have no doubt you would be quite delicious.” She felt him prick her cheek with one of those sharp nails of his, and a thin line of crimson blood ran down her cheek. His grasp was as strong as he expected, (Y/N) was powerless to escape his grasp and her will to fight him waned. He lifted her, he was very tall she now realized, bringing her closer to him by the grip on her face. (Y/N) dared to look up at him. He was more human-looking than most demons she had slain before, but inhumane all the same. With that pale skin and those rainbow pastel eyes. His tone was so jovial and light-hearted, “but why would I waste such a perfect bride?”

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open, painfully wide as though she had awoken from a nightmare. Her ears were still ringing, they were probably bleeding, she would have thought she went deaf but she heard him with perfect clarity. He was so close she could feel his breath, and he spoke so gleefully. There had to be some mistake, though. This demon couldn’t have called her a bride?

His free hand ripped what remained of her sword from his chest cavity and tossed it aside. He wrapped his arm around the underside of her thighs and lifted her from her tiptoes to his eye level, her feet hanging pitifully in the air, her body pressed up against his, as though they were lovers embracing. His other hand wandered from her chin to her cheek to her hair, an attempt at affection, she decided. The upper moon smiled so widely, he closed his colorful eyes and exposed the fangs of his teeth with his grin.

“You said that you wanted a strong husband.” The memories of that foolish boy, the battle with a lower moon, her miraculous victory, and her rejection of his proposal flooded back to her. She had never told anyone else that she desired a husband stronger than her, never said those words aloud before or again after that. Had he been there that day? If he hadn’t been, then this demon could read her very thoughts. “Oh, my poor (Y/N), you don’t have to be sad anymore. I am here now, the husband you desired.”

The pale-haired demon, Douma, pressed a kiss to her cheek where his sharp nail had nicked her earlier. She was surprised when she did not cringe from his touch, instead she only subconsciously surrendered. (Y/N) was so exhausted and her mind was so disorientated, but a dark part of her was just grateful that she was not going to die. That in a sick way, she was safe.

He licked the trail of blood as he pulled away. “So sweet, my little bride.”

[nicksnosering]

I Hate Myself For Loving You Pt. 3

PT 1 PT 2

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The night air was cool and biting against the wetness trailing down my inner thighs, and I marveled in the freedom I felt from such an uncharacteristically bold move I’d made.

My phone buzzed in my purse, and I let it ring out three times before finally picking up on the fourth call.

I didn’t get the chance to say hello before I heard him yelling in my ear.

“What the fuck? You’re actually fucking kidding me. My brother? You’re disgusting. You’re actually the most despicable human being alive—“

He kept going for another few minutes until I heard the sound of him breathing angrily into the phone, signaling he was done.

“Alright, Chris. I’ll level with you. Yeah, maybe me hooking up with your brother wasn’t exactly the nicest thing I could’ve done, but you and I both know you’re not stupid enough to be confused about why I did it.”

My heels clicked against the sidewalk as I walked, punctuating my sentence for me. I’d never felt so liberated, so free, so—

“I hope it was worth it considering I’m never going to touch you again.”

My heart fell to my stomach.

Of course I’d wanted to make him mad. I’d wanted to see him seething, undeniably jealous and unable to hold back from admitting it any longer. He loved me the way I loved him, I know he did. Does.

With the alcohol still coursing through my system, my mouth opened before my brain could catch up, my words coming out far bolder than they’d usually be.

“I’d never want you to touch me again.”

He scoffed. “I’ll level with you,” he sneered, throwing my words back in my face. “Your slutty little ass can’t stay away for longer than a day, maybe two if you’re feeling especially bitchy right now. I need you to listen to me, because I’m only saying this once. I’m not coming back this time. When you call me crying because you realize how badly you fucked up, I can promise you I won’t pick up. So you better pray to God it was worth it, because I am not going to fuck you. Ever. Again.”

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat, my head swimming slightly as his words only really half sunk in. My eyes rolled and I shook my head as a grin crept its way onto my face.

“See you soon, Chris.”

——————

Once I was inside my front door, I kicked off my heels and headed straight for bed, not bothering to get out of my dress or take off my makeup. Tonight was exhausting, and I could already feel the headache starting to come on, signaling a raging hangover in the morning.

I’d almost been asleep when my phone started buzzing again. My heart lurched, shocked that he’d given up so quickly and was already reaching back out.

Except it wasn’t him. 

“Hello?” I said, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hey,” Matt breathed out. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I couldn’t find you anywhere when I went back downstairs, so I assume you and your friends must’ve left.”

I smiled softly and warmth spread throughout my body. “Yeah, I’m home. Thank you for checking, that’s really sweet of you. Did you make it back okay?”

“Yeah, walking through my front door now. I’m sorry again about Chris, he’s not usually that…”

“Intense?” I supplied.

“We’ll go with that. Anyway, I just wanted to call and check in on you. I also wanted to say that I had a great time tonight, and I’d love to see you again if you’re up for it.”

The gears in my mind started turning, still feeling half-tipsy and fully spiteful. “Actually, I’m off work tomorrow, and I’ll probably be up for a few more hours anyway. You’re welcome to come over and continue the party here.”

“Oh,” he said, an air of surprise to his tone. “Um, yeah. That sounds good. Text me your address?”

“See you soon.”

I sent over the details and swiftly threw off the covers, climbing out of bed and heading straight for the bathroom. My reflection was rough. There was eyeliner smudged in rings around my eyes, and my hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. 

When I heard the first knock at the door, I’d managed to wash my face and get my hair under control, swapping my dress for some sweatpants and a tank top in an effort to look sexily indifferent.

I swing the door open to reveal Matt, still dressed in the same clothes he was in at the party. I suppress a grin at the thought of him rushing out of the door after our phone call and step aside to let him in.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile on his face as he steps through the threshold into my apartment.

“Hey,” I respond. 

He follows me into the kitchen, and I pull a bottle of cheap vodka out of the fridge, setting it on the counter as I look for two shot glasses. “Feel like keeping up the buzz?” I call over my shoulder.

“Oh, always.”

I pour us two shots and we both slam them quickly, shivering as the rubbing alcohol taste sets in. “Sorry, I only buy the cheap shit.”

“All good,” he smiles, stacking our empty shot glasses and leaning forward on the countertop. “This is a nice place.”

I glance around at my cheap one-bedroom apartment, taking in the chipping paint on the walls and the out of date shag carpet that’s peeling up at the corners of the living room. I turn back to him with a raised eyebrow. “No it’s not. This place is a shithole.”

He laughs loudly, raising his shoulders in apology. “Sorry, just trying to break the ice and make conversation. It was the first thing that came to mind.” 

“Real smooth,” I tease, circling the countertop and coming to stand next to him. “Who says we need conversation?”

He takes my not-so-subtle hint, wrapping his arms around my waist and giving me a gentle smile before leaning in and softly capturing my lips with his own.

Matt could not be more different from his brother. Chris is all rough grabs and harsh teeth and aiming to get to his end goal, whereas Matt is more soft touches and gentle kisses and putting your needs before his own.

I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way to meet in the middle.

His tongue lightly traces over my neck, placing a soft kiss just below my ear before sucking gently, like he’s scared to leave a mark. My fingers come up to wind into his hair, pulling gently and reveling in the low moan he produces before sucking a little harder.

I inhale sharply when he leans back and blows, the cool air sending a rush of goosebumps down my spine. His hand starts slipping lower on my body, finding the waistband of my sweats and pushing inside. His fingers swirl over the crotch of my panties, and he pushes them aside to rub lightly over my clit, the sensation sparking all of my nerve ending and causing me to arch forward into his touch.

“Fuck, Matt,” I whisper as I dip my head and rest it against his shoulder, gripping his bicep to ensure his arm stays in place. He takes it a sign to speed up, fingers brushing exactly where they need to, and I let out a small whine, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck and entangling my hand in the soft hairs there.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he whispers back, and he slips forward and sinks two fingers into me quickly, pumping them in and out at a slow pace, fingers crooking in the perfect spot with every thrust. 

I can hear myself panting and moaning loudly as he works, and I look up and make eye contact, taken completely aback by his features.

There’s a soft smile on his face and a caring light in his eyes, and he just looks so… soft. Like he gives a fuck how I’m feeling. If this is good for me. It’s overwhelming and devastating all at once, and I can’t stop myself from thinking that this must be how Chris would look if he let down his guard and was fully open with me.

My heart twinges painfully in my chest, and I feel slightly guilty for still comparing the two when I should be solely focused on Matt, but these past five months of emotional torture that Chris has been putting me through are embedded in my brain. I can’t seem to separate the two of them no matter how hard I try.

Another precise curl of his fingers causing me to come soaring back to reality, and I lean in to kiss him again, needing to feel his emotions rather than seeing them. The kiss is sloppy, breaking apart each time I pant or moan again, and he moves to place small kisses on my cheek, on my eyelid, on my forehead.

Just as I feel like I’m about to burst into tears from the sheer kindness of his actions, he pulls out and grabs the back of my thighs, picking me up and placing another small kiss on my lips. “Bedroom?” he asks.

“Through the living room, to the right.”

He caries me through my apartment, pushing open the door with his knee and walking inside before laying me gently on the bed. His hands slide down to the waistband of my sweats again, and he hooks two fingers inside, glancing up at me for confirmation. I nod gently and he slides them off my body along with my underwear before climbing onto the bed with me. He hovers over me and reaches up to remove my shirt, leaving me bare and exposed in front of him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, running his hands along my body in a way that’s far from sexual. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, trying to memorize every curve and dip and the softness of my skin. Like he’s praising me. Worshipping me.

I can’t take it any longer, and I yank his shirt over his head and reach down to tear open the button on his jeans, but his hands come down to stop me. I look up in question, and he laughs a little. “Slow down, sweetheart. We don’t need to rush through this, I want to take my time.”

The air leaves my body at his words, watching in a daze as he slides his pants and boxers off in one fluid motion. He leans back over me, head ducking down and tongue flicking out lightly over my nipple. I shiver and moan slightly as he slides his way down to between my thighs, and immediately sets to work lapping at my clit. His fingers come back up to slide into me and my hand flies down to his hair, gripping it tightly as I arch my back off the bed.

“God, yes. That feels so good,” I whine, digging my heels into the bed and scooting forward, trying to push him further inside me. His fingers begin to scissor slightly, and I feel my legs start to shake, so close to the edge but refusing to let myself fall over it yet. “Matt, please. Please, I need you inside me.”

His head pops up and a grin overtakes his face at my begging, but his fingers continue to work inside of me, twisting and arching and making me fall apart beneath him. He pulls them out and rubs slow, lazy circles over my core, watching me intensely. “You sure?”

“Yes, fuck. Please, Matt,” I say, moving my hand to his shoulder and trying to pull him up. He stays rooted where he is and gives me a wink, maintaining eye contact as he leans down and licks a flat stripe over me again. 

It’s almost too much, and I let out a mix of a whine and a whimper, trying to pull back. His hands hook under my thighs, pulling me closer and keeping me firmly where I am. He blows again, the rush of air breezing over my clit and I feel my stomach muscles tense. “Matt,” I whine again.

“Okay, okay.” He relents, pulling himself up to settle over me. I feel his tip pressing against my entrance and he leans down, placing another kiss on my forehead before pushing in slowly. I gasp at the feeling, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist and arching up to try to take him in more. “Slow, baby. I want you to feel it all.”

I can’t even form words at this point, utterly wrecked under him from the anticipation. I feel each slow, excruciating inch push in until he’s settled at the hilt, and he pulls back out just as slow before sliding back in. I’ve never been treated so tenderly, and I feel simultaneously too cold and too hot with the way his gaze trails over my face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, continuing his gentle pace. “Just like that.”

I finally give in, relaxing my entire body and simply allowing myself to feel. His head drops down to nestle against my neck, switching between light sucking and simply pressing his lips there, and I hear my phone buzz on my nightstand. He doesn’t pay it any mind, and I reach over to find Chris’s contact name lighting it up.

I knew he’d give in.

I ignore the text and opt for calling him instead, discarding my phone back on my nightstand as it rings. I watch the screen go black, signaling he picked up, and wrap my arms around Matt’s neck.

“Fuck, Matt. You feel so good,” I moan.

“You sound so pretty, baby. Keep saying my name,” he responds, picking up speed with his thrusts. 

My body arches up into his and I pull his hair slightly, making him groan and dig his fingers into my hips. “Harder, Matt, please,” I choke out, turning to suck a spot onto his neck. The thought of him going home and Chris seeing it fuels me along with his noises, and he starts to pound into me mercilessly. 

I’m holding on by a thread, and I can feel his legs shaking, a clear signal that he is too. “Cum for me, Matt,” I moan, and we both unravel together, my high-pitched whining turning into a near scream as he mumbles sweet words into my ear.

“Fuck, yes. God, I could stay here forever,” he says, nipping at my earlobe as we both come down. “Your body is so perfect. You’re so beautiful.”

I lean up and press our lips together, sealing his words into my mouth. We lay intertwined, sweaty and panting, and he rubs light circles over my back as his other hand runs its fingers through my hair. I’ve never felt so content after sex, and it’s a feeling I could quickly get used to.

I lean over to check my phone screen and see the call has ended, as well as six new text messages having come in. I flip it over and cuddle back into Matt, placing light kisses on his torso as we start to drift into sleep together.

Chris can wait.

[stick-ball]

Hi! I'm about to end my whole career!

Here goes the Riko rant that dear @capcavan asked, demanded and begged for.

You know, I get it.

So here's the thing. I get it, Riko sucks. He is the bad guy we all got hung upon. Why? Because he is a rival for our protagonist. He is an angsty, young guy, born into wealth that came from money laundering and human trafficking. It's despicable, the Ravens are bullies and he himself makes lots of bad things happen. Yeah sure, I get that, whatever.

Being raised as a superstar must've been really, really difficult for you.

But I want to really dig deeper right now, this is a Riko rant after all, and you need to really know your fighters. So, to start: a huge trap in toxic families is that the children, even when grown up, will refuse to identify their parents and guardians as negative and toxic people. Not even outside influence can really sway them, usually. Kids that get away from a sinister situation can later tell they were abused, that it wasn't right, but still, they don't get the specifics of what and why, and they are doomed to repeat the same abuse and call it good. Call it right. And sometimes that's substance abuse, sometimes thats domestic abuse, sometimes that's racism and sexism and xenophobia they will grow into believing as the way the world works. Sometimes, thats nepotism and sadism. Only thing that can help is therapy and an environment removed from the control of the original abuse, lots of therapy, lots of space, years of it. A perfect case of a typical toxic family is Aaron.

A perfect case of that could also be Riko.

And here you can call bullshit because Neil had such a fucked up, abusive father and he *knew* it was wrong. Yes, he knew it was wrong for his father to hurt him to the measure he went. Why? Because his mother protected him, because his mother feared his father, not adored him. Because his mother took him away and kept running. A mother, a role model a child feels very strongly about, subconsciously.

Riko was taken from his mother. He was pushed aside by his father and left in the care of a family member, who was easy to glorify for an impressionable child. Because he was a legend. In fanon I often see Tetsuji's character taking a very background role in everything, and sure, he seems pretty background to Neil, because every bad guy seems background to Neil in comparison to his Father - besides Riko, who is the one dangling that threat in front of him. Tetsuji just wants his property back, Riko is playing with fire though. So yeah to us, reading the story, Tetsuji is a total asshole among many such men in the book.

But to Riko he must've meant almost everything for a long time. A crucial thing about Tetsuji is, he is a sadist. Oh sure, sorry, it's only called sadism when done against his team, right? Against Jean or Kevin or Neil? When it comes to Riko, who was in his care for all of his formative years, it was just strict childbearing right? He is a Moriyama after all, so he is evil from birth.

Yeah, I must've mixed something up about Riko being beaten to unconsciousness several times being mentioned in extra content. You think that was a one, two, third times the charm occurance?

Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough.

I always wondered how sarcastic Neil was saying this. I mean, he definitely meant to land a punch where it would hurt. And he actually knew Riko as a little kid, so he knew more than most.

Stockholm syndrome is very common among victims of childhood abuse. I would know, anyway. It's like the most logical option - the survivior is living in a dual reality. These people are my family, the care for me. They provide for me. They want me to be the best. They also abuse me. They hurt me, but it's for the best. Hurting me is a expression of love. I am grateful to them.

I often wonder how many people who read the books know what a commodity is. A commodity, in the most basic terms, is a basic good that can be used in ccommerce to interchange with goods of the same type. A commodity is not a king, or a queen, or a bishop or a knight, or even a rook. It's a fucking pawn. It's cannon fodder.

Riko is worthless to his family. Riko is just a tool to Tetsuji to generate profit. Riko wants to be worthy to his family. Riko most likely loves his uncle and is ready to do the most insane thing if only it gives him the one thing he desires, which is being seen as worthy by his family.

Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.

Then there's grooming. Grooming is more obvious when it's done by a stranger who sees the child randomly or in some intervals of time. It's much harder to resist when it's constant. To Riko, Tetsuji is a good person, he is a hero, he is his family, he cares for him, they have a common goal. Riko wants to be what Tetsuji wants him to be. There is a price to pay for it, of course. There is a price for everything. But the price doesn't matter. Riko wants to pay the price he has to pay, to be what Tetsuji wants him to be.

And the thing is, do you think Riko learned how to use his money and crime connections to control others? How to gain power through fear and pain? You think spending his whole life locked in a fucking stadium he taught it to himself how to break people in body and spirit? That torturing them was his special interest? Or maybe are you forgetting that amongst valid responces to trauma, besides fight, flight and freeze there is also fawn? Don't you think it's much more likely, being groomed and enamoured with his captor (bcs thats what Tetsuji is to me, their captor) he impersonated him to the best of his ability? That he learned every leaf in the book from him, because he was his only connection to the family, to his father, to his brother. He was a legend, the creator of exy. Wasn't he always trying to be worthy of him? To be good enough to be loved and wanted? To be great full enough?

I am not saying this absolves him of any of the things he did, but people do insane things under lesser influence, things they would never do otherwise. And I am not talking of people groomed from early childhood, I'm talking of sane adults, being dragged into dangerous and destructive ideologies.

I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit.

Because it isn't, is it? The things HE does ARE his fault, definately. But the reason why? That is not that easy to pinpoint. And Riko is so unstable it hurts. He is so far removed from real life he is completely incapable of conversation. He is a child brought up in a grave, but...

Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago.

To me Riko is besides all other things, wasted potential. All the things he dreamed of? He could have had them. He was talented, he was determined and had a lot of courage, but all of that was utterly wasted in the violence and malice he was soaked in. In all the violence and malice he created in return.

So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

The most interesting thing about All for the game though is, that in every other book Riko dying would've been the big bad wolf being defeated. But here, that's just a bleep on the radar. Because Riko was a product, not the producer. What I love about All for the game is it shows none of the madness and evil in life started or ended with me or you, with Riko or Neil. Not even with Keylight or Tetsuji. Fuck it did not even end with Nathan dying. It all ends how it begun. With a deal with the devil made in the back of a car, bought with blood money.

[lavenderdreams22]

A Court of Dawn & Dusk - Azriel x Reader (Part 10)

Summary: 49 years have passed, and both Azriel and Y/N struggle with their new realities.

A/N: sorry this took so long to get out, I was struggling pretty bad the last few months! It'll probably take a while longer between postings, but I'm hoping to get the rest of these out as quickly as I can. I hope you guys enjoy

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence. Cursing. I think that’s it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

*****

Forty nine years had passed. Forty nine, but it felt as if I had been stuck down here for most of my life. My arms were chafed from the shackles, my mind foggy from lack of sleep and even less food. 

I tried not to let myself dwell on the things that I could have done differently, the biggest being that I could have listened to my mate. I could have stayed home and maybe I would still be with him… Maybe I wouldn’t be this shell of a person that I had become. 

Rhysand sat at the edge of my collapsing cot, healing one of my wounds that the Attor had given me today. He said nothing, but I could feel the anger and concern like a palpable thing as he ran a shaking hand over my arm.

It embarrassed me to have him here, even if we both knew that the circumstances weren’t my fault. The mattress was flat and uncomfortable, I could feel the metal bars underneath every single time I laid down, but it was better than the stone floor… Or so I told myself to try to hold onto some tether of humanity. But seeing Rhys flinch as he shifted made my heart drop to my stomach nonetheless. 

When he was finished, he gently sat my arm back in my lap and scooted back to give me space to breathe. He knew I hated being crowded now, usually hated being touched. 

“Thank you,” I muttered, rotating my wrist a few times to test it out. 

The ache was still there, but it had lessened enough that I no longer winced when I moved it. 

We sat in silence for a few moments before he loosened a heavy sigh and met my gaze. 

“You gonna tell me what’s got your wings in a twist, or am I going to have to guess?” I asked. 

He chucked to himself, shaking his head slightly. “I went to see Tamlin today.” 

I blinked at him, confused and a little surprised at how much this was affecting him.

“Okay…” I cocked my head to the side. “Why is this any different than the time you left a head on that fountain?”

“I was there to speak to them this time.” He glanced over his shoulders, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There was a human girl there.”

“A human?” My brow furrowed. I knew of the curse just as well as any other person, but so close to the end… It surprised me.

“Yes, a human.” He shook his head, his eyes growing sad. “She gave me a fake name, and when I returned… Amarantha forced me to tell her what I had found.”

I clenched my teeth at the sound of her name. Amarantha had done her best to leash Rhys and then keep him as close to her as she possibly could in the time since we had been trapped.

“I gave her the fake name thinking that it couldn’t possibly be a real person… A real family.” He shuddered. “Claire Beddor is two cells down from you, awaiting Amarantha’s summons to be tortured to death in front of the court.”

I gaped at him, my heart clenching at the guilt that must be gnawing at his own. 

“You know… You know that isn’t your fault, right?” I reached out and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are not to blame.”

“That’s not what Tamlin’s human will think.” He whispered. 

“Who cares what Tamlin’s human believes? We know the truth.”

“I do.” He shrugged, seeming to mull something over before he met my eyes. “For some reason, I care what the human thinks. I care that she finds me to be despicable… A monster.”

I wasn’t sure why he felt that way… And he didn’t elaborate… Just in case. I had been telling him not to, for fear that it would be ripped out of me when the Attor had his blade cutting through my body.

I hadn’t cracked so far, but it was easier not to know.

Rhys leaned back against the wall, letting another small sigh out. I followed suit, our shoulders touching in a quiet reminder that neither of us was alone.

“I should head back up.” He stated, but made no move to leave. 

“Stay as long as you need to.” I took his hand, squeezing his fingers in mine. 

*****

Azriel sat at the dining table and watched Cassian pace as he had most days in the last forty nine years. 

“What if we bring the Illyrian army and break them out?” Cassian asked, stopping for only a moment to look between Azriel and Amren.

“We’ve discussed this a dozen times.” Amren said. “That’s not a viable option. Rhys was clear in his instructions. We cannot leave. The wards that protect Velaris are tied to us being here.” 

Cassian huffed, pausing in his pacing only long enough to give Amren a long, angry look. “Well, what about-”

“That won’t work either.” Amren spat. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because, boy, she has absorbed a fraction of every single high lord's magic.” Amren seethed. “She’s too powerful.”

Azriel nodded his agreement.

Mor breezed into the room, her arms full of swords that needed sharpened and cleaned. 

“What’re we fighting about today?” She asked, taking a seat at the end of the table and letting the weapons clang together against the wood. 

“Cassian’s coming up with more hairbrained schemes to get Rhys and Y/N back.” Amren ground out. 

“Thought we talked about that already?” Mor glanced quickly at everyone before turning her attention back to the blades in front of her. 

“We have.” Azriel growled. “Too many times to count.” 

“We can’t just leave them down there forever.” Cassian snarled. 

Tempers had been rising steadily for a while, and Azriel was sure there was soon to be a fight. A real fight, not with words and insults, but fists and blades. 

“I know that.” Pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off the headache, Azriel leaned back in his chair. 

He hated doing nothing just as much, if not more, than everyone else. His mate was down there, suffering. 

It was faint, but he could feel her pain down the bond, as if… as if she were consistently being sliced open. 

He resented Rhys a bit for letting it happen, even if he knew there was probably no stopping it. He resented her a bit, too, for going when he had told her he had a bad feeling about it all and asked her not to... 

But he resented himself most of all for not fighting her harder, not holding her closer. Gods, he fucking missed her. He missed her so bad that it physically hurt him. 

Every single night when he would go to bed without her, he felt his heart fracture just a bit more. And every morning when he woke up, he reached for her, hoping that she would have magically appeared overnight. He had been disappointed every single time he woke up. It was getting harder and harder to pull himself out of bed. Velaris wasn’t the same without her. And without her in it wasn’t a place he wanted to be. 

“We’ll come up with something.” Mor said offhandedly. 

Azriel hoped they would, but he knew better than to expect it. 

*****

I awoke to the sound of the door to my cell flying open and slamming against the wall. It was too early for them to be coming to get me, so I clamped my eyes closed and evened my breathing. 

“Here you are.” The Attor said, followed by a thump that could only be a body hitting the ground. “You’ll have a roommate. How fun for you.”

When I heard the door clang shut, I let my eyes open completely and took in the sight in front of me. 

There was a human girl in my cell. She was bloodied and bruised, testing her face for wounds. A flinch wracked her body as she touched her nose, but she didn’t cry. I could tell she wanted to, but she refused to cry. 

“What’d they throw a human in here for?” I finally asked.

She whipped her head around, her golden brown hair flying over her shoulder before her eyes met mine.

“Sorry… I didn’t know you were awake.” She ground out.

I shrugged, taking her in. This must be the human that Rhys had mentioned. 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” I shrugged. “I cried my entire first week after they threw me down here, you know. It’s okay.”

She nodded, but didn’t so much as sniffle as she seemed to mull that over. 

“What’d you do?”

“I came after my… I’m trying to break a curse.” She mumbled. “What did you do?”

“I killed a dozen of her men a very long time ago… Turns out she holds a bit of a grudge.” I propped my head up on my hand. “That, and she thinks I have information that I do not.”

“You killed a dozen people?” She asked. 

I only hummed in response. She looked harmless, but it was possible that she was a different tactic to get me to spill my secrets. I would need to be careful. She seemed to be sizing me up, as well. 

“I’m Feyre.” She said after a moment of tense silence. 

“Y/N.” I gave her my best smile. “Nice to meet you.” 

*****

Feyre had come back utterly torn apart and covered in shit and mud after her first trial. I gagged on the stale bread they had brought me as she fell into a heap on the floor. One of her arms looked to have a piece of bone protruding from it, and I cursed under my breath as I scrambled to her side. 

Fuck, this was bad. Her human body couldn’t heal itself, and she still had two more trials left before this was all over. I wished for Rhys to come. Now would be the perfect time for him to step out of the shadows.

“Let me get a look at that.” I whispered.

Rhys hadn’t been down here since I had been given a cell mate. I wasn’t sure if it was the girl keeping him away or if Amarantha had learned of his trips down here. Either way, I would have to do this myself until I could get a healer to take pity on us and help her. 

She held it out to me, and I cursed again. We had no fresh water in the cell, and with my power gone, even the small kernel of my father's magic that I had been given at birth had dwindled down to nothing. 

“Bad news is, without fresh water, we really can’t clean it, but I can wrap it in bits of the blanket.” I glanced at the bed and winced. Even the blankets were filthy. “We’ll wait for tomorrow's water and use half of it to clean you up…”

“What's the good news?” She asked through clenched teeth as I got to work.

“What?”

“Bad news is usually followed by good news.” She met my eyes. “What’s the good news?”

“I’ll bet Lucien can heal this. We just need to get word to him somehow.”

She nodded, but didn’t offer any ideas. I sent another silent plea out to Rhys. 

*****

Cassian grunted as Azriel’s fist connected with his chin. 

Tensions were peaking. Time was up, and yet Rhys and Y/N hadn’t come home. All Azriel could think of was whether she was okay. It had been weeks since he had felt anything down the bond. And while everything had been faint up to this point, it was still there. 

Cassian swung, and Azriel dodged. It was the same dance every single day. Neither of them could get rid of the bad mood that seemed to follow them around like a rain cloud, and there was really no other way to work through the energy.

“Maybe we could go to Rita’s. Drink a little bit.” Cassian said, grunting as Azriel landed another punch.

“I would rather light myself on fire.” Azriel spat. 

Cassian flinched, his eyes flicking down to Azriel’s scarred hands.

“Okay… Then maybe we could take a fucking cooking class.” 

“A cooking class?” Azriel wanted to laugh at that. Wanted to find humor in something, anything. He wanted a reason to smile again. But without her, it was like every bit of happiness had been removed from the world. 

He couldn’t think about that, or he would start to think about the bond. Maybe she had just put a wall up? Maybe now that time was out, she was trying to keep the worst parts away from him? 

Gods, he really hoped she was okay. 

“Well, I’ve got to get you out of your head somehow, and this,” Cassian gestured between the two of them, “doesn’t seem to be working like it did in the beginning.”

He was right. Fighting was a distraction, but the twitchy energy was still there once they had finished. 

“What we need is for the curse to be broken so they can come home…” Azriel huffed, storming over to the water station. 

Cassian moved silently behind him, leaning against a training dummy. His eyes shone with concern, but he didn’t press.

“I need her back, Cass.” Azriel said, his voice so quiet, Cassian wasn’t sure that he had even really heard him.

“I know. You’ll get her back even if I have to go under that damned mountain myself.”

Azriel finally met Cassian’s eyes. “It feels like she’s gone… The bond has been quiet for weeks… It was weak before, anyway, what with her being so far away and magic being dwindled to nothing… What if she’s-”

“She’s alive.” Cassian growled. ‘They both are. They have to be.”

Azriel only nodded before downing a cup of water and gesturing to Cassian to follow him back to the sparring area. 

*****

Mor sat in the shadows of the living room, staring into the flames as they flickered in the hearth. 

“What do you propose we do, Cassian?” Amren asked, her voice quiet.

“We have to do something… We’re losing him.” Cassian replied. 

“We have to break the rules to get them back. But we can’t just… march in there.” Mor said, louder than intended. She cleared her throat and continued, quieter than before. “We need to find a loophole.”

Cassian grinned then. “Finally. I’ve only been saying that for fifty years.”

*****

“Go to hell.” Feyre growled, her words colder than I had ever heard.

“Rhys, what the hell are you doing here?” I asked over my shoulder as I attempted to wipe the gunk out of her wound. 

“Heard you call for help. Figured I would comply.” He shrugged, picking a piece of lint off of his perfectly pressed jacket. 

“I called for help days ago.” It was my turn to growl. “Took you long enough.”

Rhys ignored me, looking to Feyre instead. She was watching him through heavy lids. I hadn’t been able to get the wound to stop bleeding, and I could smell the first signs of infection in her blood. 

“What would Tamlin say if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here?” Rhys asked, his voice dark and elegant. 

Feyre bared her teeth, trying her best to look scary. It reminded me of a small child. Rhys could filet her alive if he so chose. 

“Rhys, stop taunting her.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He cocked his head to the side as he studied Feyre.

The look in his eyes reminded me so much of Azriel. The cool calculation mixed with something warm and familiar. It nearly knocked me to the floor. 

I had closed my end of the bond so that I could focus on keeping the human alive. She was our only hope at this moment. Our only hope of finally, finally, getting out of here and going home. Gods, I missed my mate and my bed. And my tub… I couldn’t wait to take a real bath again. 

But those emotions, those feelings did nothing to help us in our current situation, so I shut them down, refused to think about him, refused to let myself feel things that I knew would only make this harder. 

Feyre was our only hope to get out of here, and right now she was dying. 

“If you’re not going to help her, you need to leave.” I growled. “Send Lucien or even my father in your stead, but leave.”

“I’ll help her.”

“What are your demands?” Feyre rasped, finally finding her voice again.

I bit my lip as I watched Rhys kneel in front of the cot that she was occupying. 

They seemed to stare at each other for a long moment, and I thought that I could hear Rhys’ heartbeat pick up.

“So… You have learned something about our ways, then.” He grinned.

“Your terms.” She repeated. 

“Two weeks, every month, with me in the Night Court.” He stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

My brow furrowed. Why would he want to bring her to the Night Court?

Feyre was fighting an internal battle. I could tell she didn’t like Rhys, but she seemed to also be coming to terms with the fact that this was probably her only choice. 

“Go to hell.” She growled. 

“Feyre…” I whispered. “Take the bargain. You need help.”

“Not from him.” She spat.

Brave girl, spitting at the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. 

“This is the last time I will extend my assistance.” Rhys purred. “Either take the deal or don’t.”

He stood, making his way towards me and the shadows that I had backed myself into. 

I stared at him with horror in my eyes. Was he seriously about to let her die over something like this? He refused to look at me, and I could tell that he was nervous to see how I would react. 

You’re my best friend. He spoke, and it took me a moment to realize that he hadn’t said the words aloud. Don’t let this sway your opinion of me.

I gave a nod, and he seemed to visibly relax. There wasn’t much that he could do to make me think less of him.

He took his time melting into the shadows, his edges beginning to blur before he became less and less solid. Before he could disappear completely, Feyre managed to choke out a sound. 

“Wait.” She said, “just two weeks?”

“Yes.” 

“And what are the terms of this deal?” She was sweating. A fever was a terrible sign. I looked at Rhys, but he only smirked at her. 

“Telling you would ruin my fun.” He said, his voice like honey. “And I simply will not allow that to happen.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes more alive than they had been in almost a day. 

After a little back and forth, they settled on a week, and Rhys was healing her arm and her blood from the infection, leaving behind a black tattoo of swirls. He had even removed the mess from her skin, leaving her looking as though she had just bathed. Even the vomit in the corner was gone. 

A laugh escaped me as I watched her stare down at her new tattoo in horror. 

“A bargain mark.” My gaze landed on a smug Rhysand. “You marked her.”

“What have you done?” She growled. “Get this thing off of me.”

“No.” He grinned. “I’ll be excited to see your beloved's reaction to this when he sees you again.” 

She spat at him once more, and I choked on another laugh. She was feeling better, that much was obvious.

*****

“There’s no way to remove the mark, Feyre.” I said as I watched her rub at the skin.

She sighed, sitting back on the cot. 

“So…” She started after a few beats of silence. “Tell me a story.”

“A story?”

“Yes. Something about you. To take my mind off of this…” she held her arm up to me. 

She wanted a story… about me? “What kind of story?” 

“How do you and Rhysand know each other?” She asked, meeting my eyes. 

“He… he saved me.” I shook my head as my own gaze fell to my lap. “I know you don’t like him, Feyre. But he hasn’t always been so… bad.”

She only snorted, and I didn’t blame her for not believing me. Especially not after he had almost let her die. 

“I don’t expect you to speak ill of your High Lord.” She said after a moment of silence. 

“He technically isn’t my High Lord.” 

She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I could tell she was trying to figure me out, and I couldn’t blame her for that, either. 

“My father is Thesan. High Lord of the Dawn Court.” I let myself smile a bit at the thought of my wonderful father. “That’s where I was born, where I grew up. But, before all of this, I spent a great deal of time in the Night Court.” 

I watched her for a moment before deciding that I could trust her with more than just this. 

“My mate is there.” 

“Mate?” She grinned. “You have a mate?” 

“I do. He’s… he’s waiting for me to come home to him.”��

“Tell me about him?” She asked, propping herself up on her elbow. 

“He’s quiet and brooding most of the time, but when I have him to myself he’s charming and funny and he’s so painfully handsome it physically hurts.” I sighed, “I miss him terribly.” 

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but the cell door flew open, creaking and scraping against the stone floor. 

“Y/N.” The attor growled. “You’re being moved to a room.”

“A room?'' I asked, sitting up and staring wide eyed at the creature in the doorway. His tail swished over the stone floor and I swore I would have nightmares about the sound for the rest of my life. 

“The human is to be by herself. Come along before I come in there and drag you out by your hair.”

I flinched, and Feyre touched my arm. I wanted to weep for her, for the fact that she was going to be down here alone, for the fact that one of my only true allies in this hell was being taken from me. 

“Go.” She said, bravely. “Go, I will be fine.”

“I… I'm sorry…” I said, standing. 

The Attor growled again. I was obviously taking too long. 

When I made it to the door, a hand grabbed my arm so hard I could feel the bruise forming already. 

“Pity.” The Attor growled. “I am going to miss our time together.” 

I flinched as his breath fanned over me. 

With one last look at a wide-eyed Feyre, I left her behind.

*****

Taglist: @eos-princess @brekkershadowsinger @cmay25 @fall-myriad @i-am-infinite @mis-lil-red @judig92

[fuckyeah-bears]

to the person sending me hateful anon messages, reporting me, and trying to remove the posts i've reblogged that palestinian people themselves are sharing because they want the world to see the despicable cruelties israel is doing to them,

i pity you for your misguided rage. i am not the problem in this situation. i am not responsible for israel committing genocide. if you are upset by these images and the things being done, i implore you to take action against israel. i implore you to take action against your government and demand that they pressure israel in any and every means necessary to stop committing this violence. i implore you to boycott products and companies that are funding and supporting israel's genocide and colonialist settler economy. i implore you to direct your anger and hatred at the people and governments actually responsible for the beyond upsetting content you are seeing.

i do not deny this is disgusting upsetting content. and i am so sorry that it is triggering emotions and memories and pain for you. i genuinely genuinely am. but you need to understand that shouting at me and other people sharing this content specifically to raise awareness for the crimes israel (and almost every single western government and media channel) is, as we speak, actively trying to downplay, sanitize, erase, misrepresent, and deny, is so misguided and counterproductive.

i in no way speak for the people of palestine, but from the countless videos and messages i have seen and heard from them, many have given up on the world actually doing anything to stop the horrors being done to them. they have given up hoping for a world that has never cared about them or their suffering, that has completely and utterly abandoned them, to suddenly change and force israel to stop. i have heard and seen so many people in gaza say that they want their suffering and lives to be remembered and seen. they want it to be recorded so we can bear witness to what is being done to them. so maybe one day the world will remember that they were human beings who were brutalized and massacred by an uncaring cruel regime and abandoned by an uncaring cruel world.

obviously this is not the stance of all palestinians, nor all people of gaza, but i am sharing the videos and content they themselves are recording and sharing in the hopes it can do something to help, however small, if only by bearing witness to their pain and suffering and making sure they are not dying alone without anyone in the outside world grieving for them. i am hoping it can motivate people to action.

i also want you to know that i take absolutely zero pleasure in this. i find this content utterly horrific and beyond disturbing. it sickens me and i want nothing more than for this violence to stop. but i can't look away. because looking away and pretending it's not happening, or sanitizing just how disgustingly cruel and inhumane the israeli government is would be despicable cowardice and yet another betrayal to the people of palestine.

i also want to emphasize to everyone that sharing videos and photos and posts on social media is by no means anywhere near enough. it is something, absolutely, but you need to do more. we all need to do more. if you profess to care at all about palestinian people and their suffering, you need to do everything in your power to help.

so here's what you, as people who care about palestinians can do:

unless directly asked not to by the people of gaza, keep sharing their videos, photos, posts, and stories.

talk to the people around you, especially the ones who are either not following what's going on or have been brainwashed by the biased pro-israel propaganda.

write to your government leaders and elected officials and anyone else who holds a position of power. email them and call them and tell them to take action. tell them to demand a ceasefire. tell them to condemn israel. tell them to stop funding israel. keep calling them again and again.

publicly call out and shame your elected/government leaders for their hypocrisy and bias

write op-eds or blog posts or newspaper articles for any media outlet explaining what's going on and telling people to take action

counter and speak out against toxic pro-israeli narratives that dehumanize palestinians

attend protests and rallies in support of palestine near you

attend protests and rallies trying to shut down weapons manufacturers that are making the weapons that are being sent to israel (i will share more information on this in another post)

follow palestinian accounts on social media and accounts that are reporting on the truth (i will make a separate post with a list of accounts people can follow)

write to your institutions like universities, colleges, etc. and demand they release statements in support of palestine

donate to reputable relief orgs (i will make a separate post with more info later)

read up on the BDS (Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions) movement and loudly boycott companies that support or fund israel. tell other people to boycott those same companies. boycott all israeli companies and products.

educate yourself and others around you on the history of palestine and the israeli occupation and oppression

do not be silent!

if anyone has more things people can do to help, please please add to this list.

so once again, feeling angry is a good thing. if you are not spitting furious and utterly sickened and disgusted by what israel is doing to palestine and her people and the fact that so many of our countries and leaders and media outlets are actively supporting israel's despicable war crimes, then you are not fully human. you should be angry. you should be furious. you should be sickened. but please turn that rage and fury and grief and disgust into something productive that has a chance of helping end this violence and suffering. turn your rage and fury and grief and disgust to the people and institutions responsible for this, not the people trying to stand by the people of palestine and do everything they can to stop this horrific genocide.

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

[colormepurplex2]

Flowers of Fate | Cedar & Clove

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft.xUnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 24,720 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, blood, violence, torture/being held captive, minor character deaths, first-time vaginal sex, not-so-first-time vaginal sex, nipple play, marking/biting, mfmm scene, kissing, guys kissing, blow job, cum swallowing, creampies, things get emotional

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

Everything hurts.

It’s a level of pain you’re only vaguely aware exists. There’s been nothing like it before in your life. Searing heat and biting cold, a combined mix of warring sensations. Even the light brush of your hands and the push of fabric against your skin has you screaming in pain.

“An iron blade laced with foxglove,” Joon gasps, jerking back from examining the wound in your side. Your shirt is shoved up under your breasts, leaving your side exposed. “Vile, utterly despicable heathens! She is just Fey enough for it to be on the edge of killing her.”

After you managed to get out that Yoongi had been taken, Mini and Joon sprang into action, getting you and JK inside. Whatever was on the dining table is now on the floor, cleared off with a sweep of Joon’s arm. You can feel JK lying beside you, the table jerking sporadically under you from his movements.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine! Stop that!” JK snarls, jerking so hard the table shudders an inch to the side.

“Asshole,” Mini grunts. “Yoongi would skin me alive if you die. I was just making sure the wounds were healing.”

The table trembles under you again as JK jerks upright and quickly turns so he can look at you. “I’m not the one you should be worried about!”

“Right. Can you help her? What can I do?” Mini asks, ignoring JK and directing his question to Joon.

Joon moves around the table, drifting in and out of your line of sight. “You have a minor ability in healing. Can you try to stitch the inner tissues? We must stop the bleeding before I can administer anything to combat the foxglove. Otherwise, it will just leech right back out of her body.”

Mini makes a distressed noise. “A very minor ability. But, the sun is up now, so I may be able to do that…it will not be pretty, though.”

“Just do it,” Joon commands, his voice drifting further away. “The wound still has traces of the poison, so be mindful of how long you are touching.”

Your eyes flutter as you try to focus on JK looming over you. “Hey there, Beautiful. I know it hurts, but we’ll need you to try not to scream so loud, okay? I’m going to help Mini here by trying to keep you quiet. Just in case those assholes come back through the area. Is that okay?” 

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, slipping into your hair. You’re unsure if you can form words to answer him even if you want to, so you just drop your chin and try to nod, your lips quivering with a whimper. JK brushes tears from your cheeks and smoothes a hand over your blood-matted hair. He maneuvers himself so he’s on his knees beside you.

Mini takes a deep breath before bracing his hip against the table's edge. “You are going to feel my magick, and your instinct will be to fight it…please do not. I need to use it to help.” You try to give him a nod, too, but the pain makes your chin jerk up instead of down, a pitiful mewl coming up your throat.

Joon’s voice grows louder as he returns to the table, “Any day now, Jimin!”

Jimin gently presses one of his hands against your belly. “Do not rush me.” Jimin lays his other hand on your right ribs, just above the stab wound, which is still steadily oozing blood. You make a miserable noise as his hand moves slowly down, and the tips of his fingers brush over it, eliciting a flare of burning pain. “I am sorry,” he whispers before pushing the blunt end of his index finger into your gaping flesh.

It’s agony, a nightmare that has come to life. Your eyes flash wide, and you gag, choking on a guttural scream which JK muffles with a hand over your mouth. He presses his other hand against your shoulder, trying to keep you from thrashing too much as Jimin probes further into the wound.

Even with JK’s hand pressed firmly over your mouth, your screams must still cause him to worry as he speaks out. “You’re hurting her,” he grumbles, cutting eyes like daggers at Jimin. “Can’t you be more careful?”

Jimin gives JK a withering look, slightly baring his teeth. “This is not light work, but I am trying to be as delicate as possible. I need to be closer to the end of the wound if I hope to knit the tissues properly. Now, if you would be so kind, shut the fuck up and hold her still.”

The next several minutes are a bit fuzzy, if only because all coherent thoughts cease to exist in a body-wide short circuit. Your heart must’ve stopped at some point because the next thing you’re aware of is JK straddling your hips with his hands planted firmly against your sternum, forcing compressions against your already aching body. You shudder and jerk under him, eyes blinking rapidly, tongue thick against the roof of your mouth.

“Oh, Seven Hells, you’re okay! You’re alive!” He scrambles off you, making the dining table rock alarmingly as he drops back down on the surface beside you. “Namjoon! She’s back—hurry with that poultice before she goes dark again!”

Namjoon’s warm, brown eyes fill your vision. “Hey there, Beautiful. You gave us quite the scare,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I have something I need you to drink and something else I will press over the wound in your side. They will work together to counter the effects of the foxglove and give your body a chance to heal, okay?”

You can only make a soft noise, hoping it suffices as a response of acquiescence. “I’ll help,” JK says, hopping off the table and coming around the other side. He uses gentle pressure and careful movements to lift you so you’re leaning back on him in a reclined position. “Don’t need you choking on anything.”

The concoction that Namjoon pours into your mouth, with JK’s help, tastes like ripe cherries and honey. You cough a little, trying to work the thick substance down your dry throat. “Water,” you gasp, holding back a gag that would surely bring the mixture back up. 

Namjoon steps away, returning quickly with a cup of water JK helps you to drink. Your shirt is still tucked under your breasts, giving Namjoon easy access to dress the wound with an earthy-smelling paste. “Mini was able to knit the inner flesh back together fairly nicely, if I do say so myself. The scar should be minimal, but we must ensure that your system is free of foxglove before we go planting new seeds. It is a good thing you are still so new to the bond. If this were anyone else, I do not know that we could have helped.” He gives a cursory glance in JK’s direction, his eyes lingering on the black stain of blood crusting the shoulder of his shirt. “You should let me place some of this on your shoulder, too.”

 JK wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I’m good. It was just a scrape. Piss poor shot on their part. Lucky for me. I’m healing just fine.”

“Stubborn as always,” Namjoon murmurs, offering you a strained smile as he begins smearing the thick paste on your side. He wraps your middle with a stretch of linen to keep the medicine in place. “Let us get her into bed to rest, JK. Then you can share with us what exactly happened so we can decide what to do next.”

The pain in your side subsides substantially, reduced to a soft, throbbing ache. “Where is Mini?” you mumble, realizing he’s nowhere to be seen as JK slides his arms around you to carry you to the bedroom.

The shoulder under your arm kicks up slightly in indifference. “Outside, I think. Joon will get him, don’t worry about that asshole. How are you feeling now?”

You wince as he takes your weight off the table, your side pinching with the movement. “Better, I think. What was that, exactly?” You gesture vaguely with your other hand toward your exposed middle.

“Iron dagger infused with foxglove essence. Nasty business, meant for killing. If you hadn’t stepped in front of me…” JK trails off, clearly uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he finally whispers. “You saved my life. I probably don’t deserve it, considering I let them take him.”

Everything is still a bit blurry. It all happened so fast. “You didn’t let them do anything. We’ll get him back,” you swear to JK as he settles you on the bed, tucking you under the sheets and propping the pillows behind you. “I can—I can feel him. But, there’s something there, something in the way.” You press trembling fingers over your heart. “It’s like a thick fog is separating us.”

“But he’s okay, right? I shouldn’t have listened to him.” The desperation in JK’s voice has your eyes watering, your nose burning as you try not to choke on the palpable emotional dread in the air.

You want to tell him yes, but you can’t bring yourself to lie or instill a sense of false hope. “I-I don’t know if he’s okay. Alive, yes, but…” you trail off, swallowing down the bitter taste of uncertainty.

JK grunts, dropping his eyes from yours and picking at the skin around his fingernails. “Well, at least there’s that. It’s got to be enough for now.”

Jimin clears his throat from the doorway, drawing your and JK’s attention. “Feeling well enough to talk?”

Throwing a tired hand up, JK gestures for Jimin and Namjoon to enter the room. Namjoon perches on the edge of the bed with a bowl of water and a cloth in one hand, and Jimin chooses to stand at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are guarded, flicking around the room like he’s avoiding looking at you.

“Take your time, both of you. You might feel well enough to talk, but your energies could wane quickly as your adrenaline tapers off.” Namjoon gestures with his free hand at the bowl of water. “I will clean you up the best I can while you two tell us what happened.”

JK looks at you, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “I can start,” you assure him, reaching out and gripping one of his hands. His fingers thread through yours, anchoring you in the present as you recall what you can of what happened. “We had just crossed the boundary into the Unseelie territory. They came out of nowhere, had to have been hundreds of them, all armed to the teeth. Like something out of a horror fantasy movie, bristling arrows and long pikes.” You shake away the mental image of all that glinting iron and steel. “Yoongi was ahead of us by a few paces. The moment he realized what was happening, he…he—“

“He told me to take her and run,” JK picks up for you as Namjoon begins to clean the dried blood from your face and, as best as he can, from your hair. “That swamp bitch came swooping in on a fucking wyvern. The moon was blotted out in the sky as it descended on us. Yoongi knew if we were all caught, it would be the end of everything. He tried to harness his magick, but I watched as it sparked and jetted from him like a maelstrom of unchecked power. We should have listened!” he snarls, gripping your hand tighter. “We should have listened to you. I’m so sorry we didn’t.” His eyes are rounded with regret and pain as he looks up at you before it morphs back into anger. “I’ll never forgive myself. I have to leave. Now! I’m sure I can make it to the castle undetected. I can be in and—“

You shake your head, interrupting Namjoon’s cleaning. “No. No, no, no. Think rationally here! There was no way to know things would go so badly, not like that. It is no one's fault. And you’ll just make matters worse by going off hot-headed and getting yourself taken, too!”

“So, you just let them have him?” The question is eerily quiet but no less acidic. Jimin’s chest is rising and falling with a barely restrained rage. “How could you not want to fight for him!?”

“What? No, of course not! It’s not like we wanted—”

Letting go of your hand, JK jumps up off the bed and rounds the corner, coming chest to chest with Jimin. The motion is so abrupt it cuts off your response. “Are you not listening? Have you not heard a single thing we’ve just said!? She's right, despite how much I want to go after him now! Put aside your hatred for one fucking second and think with your head instead of your heart! We know that Chaddick won’t kill him, not yet. But if he got his hands on me, or Seven Hells forbid, got his hands on her,” he throws a hand out toward you on the bed, “it would have been near-instant death, tortured in front of Yoongi surely. Which, in turn, could kill him for all we know! You’re not stupid, Mini. You know the power of a mated bond! We have to be careful, or we could lose him forever.”

Jimin narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything in response. He stares at JK before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. JK moves to follow, but you call him back. “It’s not worth it right now, JK. Let him be.”

“So, what do we do now?” Namjoon asks into the silence. He sets aside the bowl and cloth, having done as much as possible without putting you in the bath.

JK glares at the door and then turns to face you and Namjoon. “I don’t think we should treat this as a rescue mission. We should approach it like it’s the same mission as before. We continue to target Chaddick. If we can get into the castle and take him out, or at least take out Borgia, then we increase our odds of rescuing Yoongi. But first, we need information. We need to know what’s going on in that castle. Do you think the bond could help us?” He looks at you, a hopeful expression on his face.

“I wish I knew more about how to use it. Do either of you know?”

“I have a few books tucked away that might be able to help. I acquired them over the years in hopes they could serve Yoongi once he bonded. One can never be too prepared, after all. Perhaps next time, I will insist he read a book or two before going off on an unknown adventure,” Namjoon declares, clapping his hands lightly before excusing himself from the room to pull out the books.

“Are you okay?” you hesitate to ask JK, unsure of his current temper.

The concern in your voice deflates him a bit, taking the bite out of his voice. “I’m a failure for letting this happen. I should have scouted ahead, been the one in front, something…fuck.”

“We can talk about that until we’re blue in the face. What I mean is, are you actually okay? You wouldn’t let Joon put anything on your shoulder. I know you were injured. I could feel how you limped as you helped carry me back to the clearing.” You aim for gentle yet firm, needing to know he’s wholly okay but not wanting to push him.

He blows out his cheeks, chuckling softly. “The glory of being Fey,” he says before grabbing the bottom of his heavily soiled shirt, pulling it over his head, and dropping it to the floor.

“Oh,” is all you can manage as your eyes hastily sweep the expanse of his chest and shoulders before dropping to your lap.

You can see JK standing in your periphery, looking over his body in the firelight. “These will be no more than slightly puckered scars by the end of the day. The shoulder is a bit more sensitive, but thankfully it’s not my fighting arm, so it can afford to be a bit tender for a few more days.”

“Fighting arm? You think you’ll need to fight soon?” You glance up at him, watching as he scoops the shirt back up, studies a few of the stains, and unceremoniously tosses it into the fireplace, where it catches instantly and blazes brightly.

His good arm pushes up in a shrug. “Possibly. It depends on what Joon has in those books. I might have to try to sneak in if we can’t find any alternatives. I won’t let him suffer in there for longer than I have to.” He nods toward the door. “I’m going to go clean up. Do you need anything before I go?”

You shake your head, and he disappears out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It doesn’t take long before your thoughts have circled back through the conversations, and you’re tugging the blankets to the side. You stare at the white linen wrapped around your middle. Your side still smarts, pinching with pain if you move too much. Namjoon didn’t tell you how long you’d have to rest or wait until you could remove the wrap. You freeze, fingers poised over your middle as you realize what thought just crossed your mind.

Namjoon.

You know his name—his real name. JK said it earlier in a panic. You focus hard on all the feelings in your chest and the knots you now associate with being tethered to a fae in this realm. There isn’t a new one, nothing that feels like it’s directly attached to Namjoon or that you have some sort of power over him. Thinking back over the snatches of conversation again, you realize there’s something else you know…

Tossing back the rest of the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and take a deep breath before pushing up to stand. As your side protests, you blow out a slow, shaky breath to keep yourself from sitting back down and crawling under the blankets. After standing a few moments, letting the lightheadedness and spots dotting your vision disappear, you creep slowly across the room.

You peek through the crack JK left and scan the living space. Namjoon has his back to you, hunched over in front of the fire with a book in his hands, muttering to himself. You slip out of the bedroom. Thankful someone had the forethought to remove your boots sometime earlier, so you’re quiet as you pad across to the door.

If Namjoon hears you opening and closing the front door, he doesn’t voice it. The sun is high overhead, bathing the clearing in warm light. “I was hoping you were still here,” you express, approaching the figure sitting on the lip of the porch, absently peeling a basket of potatoes with a small paring knife.

“Joon would box my ears if I left without so much as a goodbye,” comes the weary reply. You ease down beside him, holding a hand to your side and trying not to gasp with every stitch. “You really should be resting right now.”

“I wanted to say thank you.”

Guarded turquoise eyes slide your way. “Well, you have said it. Though, there is no need to thank me. Seven Suns know I do not deserve your gratitude.”

“You helped save my life. To me, that deserves probably the most gratitude anyone can deserve.” It’s hard to tell if he’s being self-critical or just obtuse.

He makes an unintelligible noise of frustration, hunching his shoulders and violently freeing a potato of a few inches of skin. “I nearly killed you,” he bites, mangling the rest of the vegetable with a few jerking flicks of the knife.

“What? No, that’s—“

“Do not presume to know more about magick than I do!” he interrupts, rounding on you with wide eyes and a firm frown. “It is my pitiful ability in healing that had your heart stopping. If it were not for JK being familiar with restarting a human heart, you very well would have remained that way. Dead. By my hands. Yoongi would never forgive me.”

“Jimin,” you whisper, wanting to comfort him but unsure how to proceed. You’re so caught up in your own emotional process that his real name spills from your lips before you can wrangle it back down your throat.

The new potato in his hand tumbles into the basket, half-peeled. The paring knife follows, thumping hollowly against the mound of raw vegetables. “‘What did you call me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” You clamp a hand over your mouth, wishing you could take it back. This is not how you wanted to have this conversation. When you first came outside, it was your intention to be honest and reveal what you overheard, but the conversation took a different route. One that had you tucking that knowledge away for another time. “Jimin.”

He shivers in response, a full body tremor with his eyes closing, fists clenching, and his lips curling back to expose his teeth. “How? Who told you?”

“Well, no one, technically. Namjoon said it in a moment of panic,” he freezes at the mention of Namjoon’s real name, “and JK said Namjoon’s name in much the same way. But…don’t worry. It’s different somehow. I’m not sure why it’s different, but it is.”

Jimin’s eyes spring open, locking onto you with thinly-veiled suspicion. “Different?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Yoongi. I don’t feel like I have any power over you by knowing your full name. Is it because you didn’t tell me yourself? Is that part of it?”

His mouth works like he’s trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You watch as he wilts slowly, shoulder sagging and hunching forward. “I do not know. It could be that. Though that has never been the case before, to my knowledge, it could be something else…such as your bond to Yoongi and the fact that you are now slowly becoming Fey yourself.” 

“It wasn’t my intention to alarm you like that. I just wanted you to know that I know and…that I don’t have any sort of power over you with it. Just being transparent, trying to earn some of your trust. This isn’t how I envisioned the conversation going, though.”

There is a look in Jimin’s eyes that you’re not sure you understand. “If you did have power over me…would you use it?”

You want to immediately say no, that you wouldn’t dare exert control over him like that, but you consider for a moment and shrug, wanting to try and lighten the mood considerably. “Maybe.” He balks at you, but you shake your head with a gentle smile. “But only so I could make you see reason right now. I know you’re upset, and it might be easy to blame yourself for what happened to me or to blame me and JK for what happened to Yoongi, but the person you should be directing your anger at is the one that ambushed us and took him. They are responsible for what happened to me and Yoongi’s current absence. Focus your anger in the right place. Help us find a way to save him instead of wasting energy being pissed at yourself and us.”

The abrupt laugh that Jimin lets out startles you, making you laugh nervously along with him. “Seven Suns,” he huffs with a sigh. “I have been a nightmare, have I not? Please know I am not so much angry with you or JK. It is really the whole situation. However, I am obscenely upset with myself. If I had only listened to you instead of seeing you as nothing more than an enemy…it would have been different.”

“You’ve not exactly been sunshine and rainbows, that’s for sure. But it’s with reason, I believe. Or at least, I think I understand.” You pause, considering what words to use to express your thoughts adequately. “I can’t even begin to pretend to understand what you and Yoongi have. He is still a stranger to me when you break it down to a base level. Sure, a stranger I’m pretty much married to, but still a stranger. We haven’t had sixty years to get to know each other and build that bond. But I can feel the way he loves you. And even if I didn’t have a front-row seat to his emotions, I’d still be able to see how much he loves you by how he looks at you alone.”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Now that I can see beyond my hatred, you really are not so bad. A little wordy, but I do not mind that so much. You can make up for Yoongi’s broody silences.”

That gives you a warm feeling, hearing Jimin include you as part of Yoongi in that sense, that you could contribute something to their relationship in a way, and it makes you smile. “So, we’re good?” you ask, hopeful.

Jimin nods. “Yes. I would say that we are, indeed, good.” He gives you a slight smile that you know will stick with you for a long time. It’s intimate in its own way, private, genuine, and warm.

“Now, is there anything you can think of that might help? How do we discover what’s happening in the Unseelie Court without going there ourselves? I feel blind. I know nothing about this world…the only thing that makes sense is,” you tap your chest, pressing your fingers over your heart, “this.”

Jimin eyes your fingers, his brow pinching. “Would it—is it okay if—” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “what I mean to say is, is it okay if I try to feel for him…through you?”

“Is that possible?” You scoot closer to Jimin until your thigh is pressed against his. “I don’t mind if you try.”

“I, uh, I do not know if it is possible. But, I think I would still like to try, yes.” He clears his throat, sitting up straighter and exhaling slowly. Jimin lifts his right hand, hovering it over yours, where it still rests over your heart. You slide your hand down, letting it drop into your lap.

The gentle press of his fingers is warm, even through the linen of your shirt. “You can press harder,” you say when he continues with the same hesitant contact.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach when his fingers brush the exposed skin through the neckline of your shirt as he presses his entire palm against your chest. “I feel something. There is a power here. But, I can not discern it as connected to Yoongi.”

He pulls his hand away quickly, shaking his head in disappointment. “Sorry, I wish that would have worked,” you share honestly.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand. “We tried. That is the best we can do for now. But, you can feel him, truly? And he is okay?”

“I won’t give you any false hope, the same as I told JK when he asked. I know that Yoongi is alive. I can feel the bond, but it’s like some sort of wall of smoke obscures the other end of it.”

“Alive,” he parrots, nearly matching JK’s words from earlier. “That will have to be enough for now.” Jimin gracefully stands up from his perch on the edge of the porch, the basket of potatoes abandoned and offers you his hand to help you do the same.

You slide your hand into his, and he hoists you up effortlessly. “Ow,” you splutter, wincing and clutching your side when he lets go, and your stance shifts without his support.

“Oh, fuck!” Jimin quickly takes the bulk of your weight, slipping an arm under yours and lifting you nearly onto your toes. “Let us get you back inside. You do need to be resting.”

The hostility you once felt so plainly from Jimin has substantially tapered off. It’s no longer a choking cloud of disdain, just a mild sourness you can smell mixing with his jasmine and chamomile scent. Though, you can distinctly feel a warmth from him that wasn’t there before. Perhaps in time, you can grow even closer to him. You’re sure that would bring Yoongi joy. It’s still unusual to care so much about someone you barely know. You’ve read books and heard stories about such things, but those all fell under the fiction genre…or so you thought.

He ushers you back inside, being mindful of how much tension gets put on your side with each step. “Thank you,” you murmur when he helps ease you into Namjoon’s rocking chair by the fire.

Namjoon startles, jerking around from his perusal of the book in his hands to take in you and Jimin. “What are you doing up? Were you just outside? You should still be in bed.”

“It is my fault,” Jimin tells Namjoon. “I was outside sulking, and Beautiful felt the need to tell me thank you. If I had not been hiding like a petulant child, she would not have had to get up and come find me.”

 At that moment, JK emerges from the bathroom, bringing with him a cloud of steam and the faintest scent of banana and coconut. “A petulant child sounds about right,” he scoffs, giving Jimin a once over. “Glad to see we’re on the same page. Now, speaking of pages”—he casually walks into the living space with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips—“have you found anything of interest in that book of yours, Joon?”

“Would you mind putting some clothes on?” Namjoon makes a face at JK. “Nothing yet, but I only just found the one I think may be of help,” he says, pointing to a large pile of books you hadn’t noticed on the floor. “This is The History Of Bonds, written some few hundred summers ago. I was just about to begin browsing it when Mini helped Beautiful into the chair here and was explaining why she was out of bed.”

“Why are you out of bed?” JK asks as he bends to rummage through a cedar chest on the other side of the fireplace.

Jimin clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You both are insufferable. Leave the woman in peace. The last thing she needs is you two fawning over her like old nannies.”

You hide a chuckle behind your hand. “It’s fine, Mini,” you intentionally use his nickname. “I just wanted to thank him for helping me. Everyone else was busy, and I figured walking outside wouldn’t do me any harm. As I see it, we should focus less on why I’m out of bed and more on what we will do next. How do we find out more information?”

“Well,” Jimin says, “I have been thinking about that since you brought it up. I think I might be able to get information from home. We have a magickal communication network that allows us to communicate directly between the courts. I am sure by now word has been sent to the Seelie Court regarding the capture of Yoongi. I will return home and see what information I can find and what I can learn that might help us.

Namjoon hands the book he is holding off to you. “If you would, please hold this for me for a moment.” The book's leather binding is soft, the pages smelling faintly of oranges as you absently thumb through them.

Rummaging around in a small wooden box on top of the fireplace mantel, Namjoon produces a small velvet draw-string bag. “Ravens Word?” Jimin asks, stepping closer to Namjoon.

“It would be the best way to relay information quickly. I have not perfected it, so it can only be used for short phrases or words, but it should be sufficient to give us some knowledge while we wait for you to return.” He hands the velvet bag to Jimin, who tucks it into his trousers pocket. “You remember how to use it?”

Jimin nods. “I will aim for the dining table unless you prefer somewhere else?”

“That should do just fine. I will put down a linen runner.”  Namjoon enters the kitchen and opens the cabinets, setting a folded-up white cloth on the table.

JK eyes the pocket the velvet bag is tucked away in. “Are you sure Ravens Word is the best thing to use? Isn’t it traceable?”

“Traceable only if someone is looking for it. Even still, I will not include anything that might incriminate anyone. We long ago stopped using lowels for signature tracking anyway,” Jimin explains with a small shrug.

“Lowels? Ravens Word? Is there a dictionary in that stack of books that I can get or something?” you ask, letting your gaze flick between the three of them.

Jimin gives you an apologetic smile. “Right. A lowel is a creature resembling an owl of your world that can trace magick signatures not directly attached to an individual. So, things such as minor enchantments that use implements and components instead of the magick from within a being. Ravens Word is one such kind of enchantment. It is a mix of astral dust, herbs, and…um, well, the essence of a mortal-world raven. The mixture is powdered and can be used to send messages as long as the caster is familiar with where they want the message to appear. Imagine it like writing in the sand right before the tide comes in and washes it away—short and precise is best.”

“As for a dictionary, you’re just going to have to hope that mortal brain of yours can keep up, Beautiful,” JK says teasingly. Before you can think better of it, you flip him a vulgar one-fingered gesture. “Oh!” He clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me!”

Jimin and Namjoon watch your exchange with mild curiosity. “Well, the sooner I leave, the sooner I can return. I will return as soon as I can,” Jimin says. He moves toward the door, brushing a hand over your shoulder as he passes. “Continue to rest. Once I return, I will begin instructing you on ways of the Courts. If you are to be bonded to my—er, Yoongi, then I will do what I can to ensure that you do so as an informed resident of this realm.” You’re so pleased that he’s finally being nice to you that you fail to argue that you don’t plan to remain a resident of this realm.

After Jimin was gone, Namjoon focused on the book resting in your lap. “I am curious. Are you able to read that?” he asks, nodding to it.

JK produces some clothing from the cedar chest, only stepping behind your chair to afford himself some privacy to pull them on. Once he’s dressed, he rests his forearms on the back of the chair, looking at the book over your shoulder.

The words on the front of the book look simple enough, but the longer you look at the characters, the more they bend and swirl, which confuses you. “No. I thought at first I might, but the letters don’t make sense. What language is it?”

“Ancient Sylvan,” JK says. “I can barely read it. Joon, where did you get this book?”

Namjoon curls his lips between his teeth, suppressing a mischievous smile. “I may have pilfered a thing or two the night I was put out of the castle.” He gives the book in your hands an affectionate glance. “Most might think that my most desired things are plants because I am a woodland nymph. Well, that might be partly true, but books have always been the real treasures that I’ve sought. You can learn so much from them. Beyond the words on the pages, I can learn the tree's history from which the pulp used to make the paper came. It is a marvel to learn history without needing a history book; any book will do.”

“Put out of the castle? Did you escape with Yoongi, too?”

Shaking his head, Namjoon briefly explains, “I come from Jimin’s Court, actually. We were younglings together. My parents worked in the royal gardens. I was caught one night helping Mini sneak out of the castle to be with Yoongi. I was turned out the very next morning and forbade to return.” He shrugs. “I much like my solitude here in the Hollow Lands anyway. Castle life is so…loud.”

“Interesting.” You want to ask many more questions but know they’re not the priority right now. You hold the book up to JK. “Do you want to give reading it a try?” 

He laughs, stepping back from where he was leaning against the top of the rocking chair. “I’ll pass on that. Joon, why don’t you read it for us?”

“Certainly,” Namjoon says, coming to perch himself on the arm of the rocking chair. “The first page should be an index of sorts. Let us start there.”

You thumb open the book to the first page with writing on it. It doesn’t look much like an index page to you, having only a few lines of swirling text. “Here?”

“There are just a few chapters. I have only briefly skimmed this book in the past. But,” his eyes flick over the page, “ah, yes. Here we are, ‘Chapter 4: Communicating Through Bonds’. Finding a way for you to communicate with Yoongi through the bond seems like a good place to start.”

That is what you focus on for the next handful of days. And, much to your chagrin, it doesn’t work. At least, you don’t think it does. The process is easy–mainly depending on your inner focus and learning how to navigate and decipher the different fibers of the bond, of which you’ve come to find out there are seven–but the execution sparks no results.

The bond's first and most prominent thread is called the soul tether. It’s the part of the bond that allows Yoongi to use you to access his inner well of magick. It has a distinct feel, with a constant pulsing thrum and vibration.  Anytime you focus on it, the magnetic pull that says you should be by Yoongi’s side increases.

The other strands are all more or less associated with the senses—Yoongi’s senses, to be exact. There are five basic senses and a sixth that is tied to the feeling of emotion. These more minor parts of the bond are associated with communicating. But the connection to them slithers away whenever you think you get a handle on it.

In a way, it feels like Yoongi is doing it on purpose. After nothing but failed attempts, Namjoon concluded that perhaps Yoongi was trying to keep Chaddick or Borgia from discovering his bonded status. Another chapter in The History Of Bonds touched on how another fae can detect things like that, but it can be masked to prevent that from happening.

“I am not sure how he is doing it. Perhaps it is linked to the natural instinct to protect your bonded mate while under duress.” Namjoon spreads his hands in defeat. “I just do not know at this point, and the book does not explain further. Though, I think it best if we move on to trying to find a different way to help.”

JK grumbles from his spot across the table from Namjoon, “I’m still for sneaking in and murdering those assholes. You know I could do it.”

“You’re insane if you think I’d let you go in alone. I told you before. We go in as a team or not at all.” You roll your eyes when JK sticks his tongue out at you. Turning your attention to Namjoon, you ask, “What did you have in mind?”

Namjoon glances down at the white linen runner still on the table—the remnants of Jimin’s message burned into the fabric. Drumming his fingers on the table, he hums thoughtfully. “Well, considering Mini’s message yesterday, we might be better off waiting until he returns to try to formulate another plan. He might be able to offer us a bit more insight. True to form, the Ravens Word was, indeed, limited.”

Sun Solstice.

Two words with a giant X crossing over them. That’s all that came through on the second day after Jimin left for the Seelie Court. When you questioned what that could mean, Namjoon and JK were puzzled. Namjoon explained that the Sun Solstice is the longest day of the fae year, celebrated by the Seelie. It’s mostly known as a day when they hold bonding ceremonies for the royals or Greater Fae. But, it also has been known to be days where they execute the Hell Condemned. Which is a term, you’ve learned, that is used for someone like Yoongi—an exiled fae convicted of high treason.

“How is it exactly that Chaddick has been able to deceive both courts for so long? Fae can’t lie, so how has he kept up such a ruse and made people believe Yoongi is a murderer?” It’s a thought that’s been driving you crazy since the beginning, but everything is moving so quickly that you didn’t think to broach the subject sooner. However, you feel like it’s vital information to know when trying to develop a game plan now.

JK pushes up from his seat to rifle through a cabinet in the kitchen. He begins pulling out dishes and various containers. “From what we’ve gathered over the years, it’s all because of his warty little bitch, Borgia. At least, that’s been the only reasonable explanation.”

“What exactly is she?” The image of the fiery-haired crone on the back of a pitch-black winged serpent has infiltrated your mind while both asleep and awake. Those fateful moments still come in fits and flashes, the chaos overwhelming.

“Swamp Hag,” Namjoon says. “Nasty, ancient being. It’s still a mystery how Chaddick sways her to do his bidding. They are typically solitary creatures that come from deep, deep to the south, beyond the borders of The Hollow Land. In a place that we call the Dread Court, though it is not a real Court. There are no presiding rulers or anything. No, it is a land ruled by darkness alone.”

“Swamp Hags are what you might think of as a witch,” JK continues, picking up the explanation as he starts to slice the loaf of bread Namjoon made after breakfast. “They have no natural magick but can harness the magick of other creatures or items. Creatures from the Dread Court are not held to the same…restrictions we find ourselves with. They can lie just as easily as a mortal man.”

“So you think she has somehow given Chaddick that ability?”

JK scoops a spoonful of honeyed butter onto a slice of bread and spreads it out. “More or less. That or she’s somehow found a way to glamor the entirety of the courts. It’s tough to say, considering we’ve had little inside intelligence over the years. The most information we get is from Mini, and even then, he can only ask so many questions to avoid unwanted suspicions.” He proceeds to butter several more slices of bread, arraying them on a plate and setting it on the table in front of you. “She’s the wild card in all this shit…and I hate it.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

It is imperative for Yoongi to hide the bond, but he can’t think of the rationale as to why for some reason. Whenever he wants to relax and let go, something kicks in and smothers that shining light all over again. He wants to reach out to it, to touch it and find comfort in it, but no matter how much he wants to…wait, what did he want to do?

It’s the same thing over and over.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Nothing makes sense, and yet everything is highlighted in stark clarity. If only he could turn off that incessant ringing. Maybe he could remember what he was thinking about. It’s important. It’s warm—comforting.

No.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Again and again.

Until…something changes.

Voices. Yes, there are voices. Hushed whispers that he is sure he wouldn’t be privy to if they knew he was aware of them.

“What is wrong with him?” A familiar voice. The voice of his nightmares.

Shuffling feet draw closer. “How am I to know? He looks and feels much the same to me as he did before. What has changed?” Fetid breath ghosts over his face as the figure comes even closer. “I think he is awake.”

The ringing in his ears intensifies as a hard fist connects with the side of his head. “Wake up, boy. Let me see those eyes that are so like your father’s.” The chains securing Yoongi’s arms over his head rattle with the residual force of the blow. Slowly, Yoongi lets his eyelids slide open. “Ah, there they are. Just as ugly as I remember.”

“Do not speak of my father, you filthy murderer!” Yoongi growls, focusing his anger on masking the bond even now that he’s broken out of his temporary fugue.

“Ah,” Chaddick rears back, a dainty hand pressing to his chest. “You wound me, Yoongi.” He flicks his other hand through his long, blond hair. The silky strands cascade over his shoulders as he moves in a slow circle around Yoongi. The space is small, the top room to one of the circular outer turrets, far from the castle proper. He stops after completing the circuit and comes back to face Yoongi. “Borgia, be a dear and remind him exactly who the murderer is here.” His crystalline eyes glitter with hatred as he watches Borgia step forward and press a gnarled, dirty finger to Yoongi’s temple.

“Yoongi, stop!!” Geumjae screams in pain. The metallic stench of blood is thick in the air. It coats his tongue and makes his grip on the short-hilted dagger slip as he raises it again to bring it back down in a harsh stroke. Geumjae’s next scream is wetter, bringing up a froth of bubbling, black blood dribbling down his chin.

He raises the blade again, eyes tracing the arc of it. The moon is high, its rays streaming just enough light inside the hallway for Yoongi to see the look of terror on his brother’s face as he swings the dagger a final time, the wicked edge severing Geumjae’s spinal cord with a satisfying pop of cartilage and muscle.

Blood soaks into the knees of his trousers as he kneels there, watching the light wink out in Geumjae’s eyes. “Like father like son, both dying a coward's death,” he says, his voice coarse and thick with disgust.

Except…it’s not his voice. It’s—

“NO! That is not what happened!” he snarls, jerking away from Borgia’s poisonous touch, severing the connection to the false memories.

“Are you so sure about that?” Chaddick sneers. “From my recollection of that day, your hands were very much covered in your brother’s blood.”

Yoongi shakes his head as much as he can with his arms up the way they are. His hands might have been covered in Geumjae’s blood, but he did not murder him. “You murdered him. You murdered them both!”

“How preposterous. The guilt has clearly warped your mind during your time away.” Chaddick's long black dressing robe swirls around his slippered feet as he approaches Yoongi, coming within just a few inches of him. “Rest assured. You will meet your justified fate for your crimes against the Unseelie Court.

Yoongi laughs a cold and reckless laugh that earns him a backhand across the face. The coppery tang of blood fills his mouth, dribbling down his chin from the cut left by one of Chaddick’s many finger rings. “What? Angry with me? Will you push me out the window like you did your wife? A sword through the belly like my father? How about—” Another blow across his mouth cuts him off.

Chaddick’s hawkish nose wrinkles in anger before he jerks his chin at Borgia and takes a step back, cradling his hand against his chest. “I want him to be pliable and weak. Scramble his brain if you have to, but you make him heel like a pup, or you will be the one I push out the damned window!”

There is momentary satisfaction as Yoongi watches Chaddick storm from the room until he’s reminded of who remains. “You ought to watch your tongue, boy, else he requests me to cut it out. You should know better than to speak such fallacies.”

“Fey can not lie, and you know it.”

That makes her suck her teeth. “Funny, if Fey can not lie, then how is it you say one thing and he says another?” Power glitters in her rheumy, yellowed eyes. “Story has it that you found yourself some dark magick out there in the wild. Allows you to lie and has further tainted your pitiful soul.” Her body shakes as she throws her head back and howls with laughter.

Yoongi has been suspicious about how Chaddick can lie and manipulate this whole time. He knows the stories, what the people believe happened to his father and brother—what Chaddick has made them believe. To anyone that is a victim of Chaddick’s manipulations, Borgia is simply an old seer that Chaddick employs to throw bones and tell fortunes. She’d come with Chaddick to the Court as part of his retainer of staff. Yoongi didn’t even know her capabilities and true nature until it was too late.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” Yoongi mutters, wincing as the burning around his wrists finally registers. Iron, thick and unbreakable, surrounds each delicate joint. The chain connected to the manacles disappears into the darkness above.

Borgia cackles, drawing Yoongi’s attention. “He plans to marry your mother. Do you know that?” Yoongi tries to control his breathing as he listens. “The way I hear it, she pants after him like a mongrel in heat.” He can’t hold back any longer. Yoongi pushes off with his feet, swinging wildly in Borgia’s direction. His right foot connects solidly with her jaw, sprawling her flat on the floor.

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, his voice twisted with the pain that echoes down his arms. His body sways, toes scraping at the stone to stop his momentum.

Her moan of pain turns into a rasping chuckle. “Fuck me?” Borgia pushes her bony body off the floor, swaying sharply as she gains her feet. “You will regret that, just as your brother regretted trying to save your life. He told me so right before he took his last breath…right before I cursed his soul to eternal darkness!” she screeches, lunging at Yoongi with surprising agility. Before he can react and jerk out of her reach, her skeletal fingers close around a fistful of his shirt and jerk him forward.

Pain explodes behind his eyes as the fingers of her other hand dig into the flesh of his neck. Ragged fingernails drag over his skin, leaving fire in their wake. He opens his mouth to scream, but silence is all that comes as he’s swept away to another time, another place…surrounded by the darkness of horrid memories that are far too real. 

The blankets are snatched off Yoongi’s bed, bringing him with them to land in a sprawling heap on the floor. “Seven Hells!” He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Geumjae? What is going on?”

His brother crouches beside him, giving Yoongi a clear view of his face. There are splatters of black across his cheeks and down his neck—blood. Before Yoongi can question him again, Geumjae presses a finger to his lips. “We do not have much time. We have to go. Now!” he urges, grabbing at Yoongi’s arms to help untangle him from the sheets.

“Can you hold on—stop, ow!” Yoongi swats at Geumjae’s hand. “You pinched me, asshole!”

Geumjae slaps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth. “Stop being so loud,” he whispers harshly through gritted teeth. “I do not have time to explain right now. I just need you to trust me. We have to get Mom and get out of the castle. Right. Now.”

It’s not often that Geumjae acts so seriously. If anything, he’s the more relaxed of the two. When their father steps down, Geumjae is expected to take the throne as the eldest son. A revelation he grumbles about more often than not. He’d much rather spend his time playing the lute and singing great ballads to the simpering ladies of the court.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Yoongi questions when Geumjae lowers his hand, matching the volume of his brother’s whisper this time.

Geumjae looks at the door to Yoongi’s bedroom as if checking to ensure no one is looming in the open doorway. “I need you to listen to me, Yoongi. I mean, really listen, okay?” Yoongi purses his lips and nods. “I was coming in from the stables and overheard an argument in the east courtyard. It was Father and Chaddick. By the time I snuck around the corner, it was too late. Five handspans of steel were sunk into Father’s belly, Chaddick’s hand wrapped around the hilt, and that damned red-headed crone of his cackling with glee behind him.” He holds up a hand as Yoongi opens his mouth to protest. “I said listen! I ran as fast as I could and came straight here. This blood is from the guard stationed outside your room. He was one of Chaddick’s men. I could not risk him alerting someone as we left. We can discuss it later, but we need to go now. We have to get Mom and leave!”

It’s not that Yoongi didn’t comprehend anything Geumjae said. It’s just that there is a process to accepting and understanding something like that. Father, dead? Yoongi’s never heard a funnier—albeit not amusing at all—thing being said. “Jae,” he whispers, his heart quivering violently in his chest.

“I know, baby brother, I know.” Geumjae helps a robotic Yoongi to his feet before gripping his hand and pulling him out into the hallway's darkness.

As they approach the wing that leads to their mother’s bedroom, Geumjae slows down to a walk so he can peer around every corner to check that it’s clear.

Silent tears coat Yoongi’s cheeks. Every time Geumjae looks back at him, he scrubs his face with the sleeve of his pajama shirt, not wanting his brother to see his weakness.

“We should just go kill him,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Kill who? Me?” comes a cold voice from the shadows down the hall beside them. They whip around, Geumjae shoving Yoongi behind him. Chaddick moves closer, his bloodied sword trailing him out of the darkness. A few steps behind him crouches Borgia, her sickly-yellow eyes catching in the moonlight like a monster lurking in the dark waiting to pounce.

Geumjae reaches back, fingers wrapping around a small dagger tucked into the top of the back of his trousers. He whips it out, brandishing it. “Just let us get our mother and walk away. We will leave here and never return.”

Chaddick raises one icy blond eyebrow. “Do you think me a fool, Geumjae? Come, boy, I know you are not that thick-headed. You and I know I can not let you leave here alive. Either of you.”

“Jae, stop,” Yoongi urges, tugging on the back of his brother’s shirt as Geumjae steps toward Chaddick.

“Run, Yoongi, run as fast as you can. Leave here and find a way to reveal the truth.” Geumjae maneuvers himself to block Chaddick’s line of sight to Yoongi completely. “Go!”

“Guards!” Chaddick bellows, startling Yoongi. “Sound the bell! The king has been murdered! Hark, hark, hark! To arms! Defend the Court!”

Geumjae glances back at Yoongi, realizing he still hasn’t moved. It’s this instant that Chaddick attacks. Glinting steel slides right through Geumjae’s back, tenting the fabric of his shirt before slicing through in a rush of black blood. Blood spews from Geumjae’s lips, misting Yoongi’s face as he makes one last attempt to get Yoongi to move, “Run!” Geumjae takes a staggering step toward Yoongi, the sword sliding back out of his body. Bloody fingers land on Yoongi’s chest, shoving him backward.

Yoongi screams a gut-churning, heart-wrenching scream that echoes off the stone walls and fills the entire hall. Just as Yoongi finds purchase, after slipping in the pool of blood steadily growing at his feet, Chaddick begins another mockery announcement. “Guards! The Crowned Prince has been slain! To arms! Beware! Min Yoongi, murderer!”

“Not dead yet, you bastard!” Yoongi hears Geumjae snarl. He glances back over his shoulder, locking eyes with his brother one last time—the final time. Geumjae smiles, even through the blood and the pain, letting Yoongi know that it’s okay…it will always be okay.

“Get out of my head, you evil bitch!” Yoongi groans with the effort of severing Borgia’s connection. “I will take great pleasure in gutting you like the slimy bottom feeder you are!”

Borgia hacks a glob of bloody phlegm onto the floor at Yoongi’s feet. “Good luck with that when all that is going to be left of that brain of yours when I am done with it is mush!” She smacks her lips together, tongue running over her cracked and discolored teeth. The red of her hair looks like rust in the dim light coming in through the arrow slits at the top of the room's walls. “Are you curious about your brother’s last moments? Do you want to know how he died on his knees, begging and pissing his pants? How about how we made your mother watch as Chaddick opened his belly and fed his guts to the hounds?”

Yoongi’s nostrils flare, the pain of seeing those last moments all over again almost too much. “Why are you doing this?”

She titters, clucking her tongue. “I do not need a reason to want to see the likes of you and yours finally fall from their gilded seats into an iron cage.” Waving a gnarled hand, she dismisses that line of discussion. “What I would like to talk about now is why every time I dip into your noodly little brain, I can feel something I have never felt before. But every time I try to take a closer peek, it moves further away. Tell me, Hell Condemned, what are you trying to hide from me?”

Even with tears freely streaming down his cheeks, Yoongi silently pats himself on the back for being able to keep his bond hidden. He may not have realized what it was before, why he wasn’t allowed just to let go. But, now he does. He understands with brutal clarity what exactly he’s protecting. It only pains him that he’s not allowed to take comfort in the bond, to luxuriate in it while facing the darkness ahead. No, he can’t even think of—before the image of your face can fully form in his mind, he’s willing it away.

“I guess you will never know,” Yoongi finally responds, letting his eyes slip closed and promptly ignoring any of Borgia’s further questions. Even when she screams at him and presses her filthy fingers into his skin again, he meets the replay of dark memories with a slight smile on his busted lips.

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“What am I supposed to do, Mal? It’s been weeks.”

Malcolm slides another espresso across the small cafe table to Monica. “Ye say she wanted tae come ‘ere fur she was after something. Whit was it again?”

“Stupid stories. Well, not stupid, but silly children's stories. Her grandfather was one of those head-in-the-clouds types, and he was always filling her head full of fantasy bullshit about pixie dust and fairies. Utter nonsense.”

In the three weeks since you went missing, Monica has more or less moved in with Malcolm. She canceled her flight home, returned the rental car, and put in for an extended sabbatical at work. In part, she feels responsible for your disappearance. She’s sworn off alcohol and refuses to go home until you’re found.

“Ye dinnae believe in magick?” Malcolm asks hesitantly.

Monica scoffs. “Do you expect me to believe some little green man with fairy wings carted her off? Be real, Mal.” When he just looks at her, she continues, “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff?!”

One of his big shoulders lifts, and he sighs. “There are stories, ye ken? Things folk only blether aboot in hushed whispers. Stories aboot people disappearing around Beltane.” Monica leans forward, bringing the espresso up for a small sip, intent on Malcolm’s story. “The veil between worlds is thin, allowing the fae folk ta donder among the mortals. Some say those that disappear are taken back tae the fae realm. There was this yin lassie, mah maw knew her when they were weans, disappeared when she was eighteen. She showed up almost a decade after, had barely aged a day, spouting off aboot a peace finally comin’ tae the courts allowing her tae make her escape.”

“Do you expect me to believe that? Honestly?”

“All I’m saying is that there are folk who have disappeared the same as yer friend. Would it be so bad tae think she’s somehow caught up in another world? Ye said so yerself that she doesn’t feel here anymore.”

She hates that Malcolm is right, and she has said that; she still says that. Because that’s precisely what it feels like. Is this why you talked her into coming to Scotland? Did you come looking to disappear? Monica reflected on your last few conversations many times over the previous few weeks. Everything points back to your grandfather…maybe she should have paid more attention or been more empathetic to what losing him did to you. Perhaps then you would still be here.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon

Maintaining the new ward is taxing. The leaves of his seeded oak are starting to drag the ground, an alarming new development. Jimin is delayed in returning, his second message using the Ravens Word still smoldering the linen runner on the table.

Tonight.

They had waited, thinking Jimin would be returning soon. But one day turned into another and eventually became almost an entire moon cycle. Namjoon is ready for his friend to return, hoping he’ll bring with him another implement or two. The haggardness is creeping back around his eyes, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep the garden flourishing. He knows if it comes down to it, the plants will have to suffer to preserve the ward; it would be for the best, but it still pains Namjoon to consider it.

“Are you feeling okay?” Your inquiry startles him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I should have knocked.” You prop your hip against the bedroom door jamb, where Namjoon excused himself hours ago so he could lie down and nurse a headache.

He pushes up on his elbows, wincing slightly at the thundering ache still pounding away between his temples. “Feeling a bit better now. Has JK returned from the western glen?”

“Joon, JK returned hours ago. You’ve been in here nearly all day. It’s why I came to check on you. Mini should be arriving soon, I’d imagine.”

That gets Namjoon’s attention. He clears his throat and absently pats his clothes as he slides off the bed. “Right. I must have laid down a bit longer than I thought I had.” He wishes he’d have at least slept some.

“It’s your magick, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The reason you look and probably feel like shit.”

His brow pinches. “I look like shit?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week, and the bags under your eyes are turning into suitcases.” The worry you feel is evident in your voice, even if Namjoon doesn’t quite understand your odd phrasing.

There is no use in trying to skirt around the truth, as you’ve already figured it out. “Yes. It is my magick. Or rather, a lack of. I was already nearing my limit when I let down the ward the first time. Now that I have had it back up for several weeks, and with the bond necklace only having given me a few additional weeks…well, it would seem I need another boost or a miracle.”

“Maybe we should find you a human to bond with,” you say. Namjoon can tell you’re joking, but the idea has crossed his mind on multiple occasions.

“Mmm,” he hums, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You push off from the door jamb and gesture over your shoulder with a thumb. “JK has dinner ready if you’re hungry.”

He follows you out of the room and settles at the dining table across from you. Jungkook has a platter of grilled meats and vegetables waiting. The fragrant scent of herbs and spices makes Namjoon’s stomach give an appreciative grumble. His appetite hasn’t been what it should be, another testament to how he’s been feeling.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jungkook says after setting plates and cutlery beside the platter. “There is another rack of trimmings keeping warm in the coals.”

Jungkook’s always been a fairly decent cook. The tender meat is like butter melting on Namjoon’s tongue. He’s confident that if he can eat enough tonight, he’ll maintain his strength for another day or two at least.

You’re awfully quiet as you slice up the vegetables Jungkook spooned onto your plate. Namjoon can almost see the wheels turning in your head. There’s something on your mind. He’s gotten good at picking up on your tells and personal nuances over the last few weeks while waiting for Jimin to return. The awkwardness that was there in the beginning no longer exists. You might have been a stranger to him the first few days, but now you’re so much more. A friend—but even that does not seem to suffice when he considers you. Between the training you’ve been doing with Jungkook and the help you’ve been putting in around the house, you’ve been spending a lot of your free time helping Namjoon with his garden and learning all you can about the plants he so dearly loves.

It’s very apparent that Jungkook has also taken a liking to you. Primarily, he dotes on you, waiting on you hand and foot. When Jungkook returns from his daily scouting trips, he often returns with a swath of wildflowers you’ve taken to decorating the porch railing with. Bright blooms of pink, purple, and blue cover nearly every available inch. Namjoon knows what it means but doesn’t dare to broach the subject. Especially considering he would then have to reflect on his own internal feelings, and that’s a space he would rather avoid for the foreseeable future.

“Would that even work?” Your question pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry. Would what work?” he asks after swallowing a bite of meat.

You poke at a crispy potato wedge, chewing on your bottom lip instead of the food. “Bonding with a human?” You finally look up from your plate, your eyes meeting Namjoon’s curious gaze.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, pausing with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

You shrug. “His magick is straining again. I was just curious if bonding with a human would help him like it helped Yoongi since Joon is a woodland nymph, not a Greater Fae or whatever.”

Your curiosity is endearing. The fact you care enough about Namjoon to ask makes him feel good. “I imagine it would work much the same way. There are far fewer stories in our histories where a woodland nymph took a human mate, but we have our own inner wells for magick. Ours are more connected with where we plant our soul seed. My oak,” he gestures toward where his towering oak sits outside, “is where my magick is channeled from. It enters through my connection with my tree and into my inner well. The way a human bond works is it primarily allows the Fey to wield more of their own power safely. If I bonded with a human, it would allow me to draw on more magick through my oak.”

“Where does your oak get magick from?”

“Bronwe—that’s the name she whispered to me when her first leaf began to sprout—my oak,“ Namjoon explains, “draws her power from deep below the ground. Her roots reach for many miles in all directions, feeding on the life force of nature itself. Though, the more magick I draw from her without having some sort of stabilizer, the weaker her roots become. That is why her branches have begun to droop so low. I have been trying to take too much from her.” Namjoon drops his eyes from yours, resuming his study of his plate. “So, yes, to answer your question. A human mate would help—if just to give her a break.” 

“Can more than one fae be bonded to the same human?”

Jungkook chokes on his mouthful of food. Namjoon reaches over and hammers a fist against his back, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe himself. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’m just curious,” you declare. “I still know very little about this world and how it works. Just asking questions.”

“Sounds to me like you are causing trouble with your questions,” Jimin’s amused voice carries from the porch just before the door opens, and in steps the Fey himself.

“Mini!” You shove back from the table and skip to the door, pulling Jimin into a hug. Namjoon watches you, thankful for Jimin’s interruption and amused at the look of surprise on his face as you press your face against his chest and inhale deeply. You’ve been gravitating toward scents recently, primarily seeking clothing worn by Yoongi or left here by Jimin. It’s made Namjoon curious if it has anything to do with the deep connection between Jimin and Yoongi, despite there not being an actual bond between them.

Jimin pats your back. “At least one of you is happy to see me,” he teases.

“What news do you have for us?” JK asks, standing up and grabbing another plate from the cabinet. “You must be starving, have a seat. Eat.”

After settling down beside you, once you resume sitting at the table, Jimin fills his plate with food before he begins. “I expect you got my Ravens Word messages?”

“Sun Solstice.” Namjoon confirms, “We did. What is happening?”

“Chaddick has announced a marriage decree to Yoongi’s mother come the Sun Solstice, an act of unification, he claims. It will coincide with his public execution before the whole of both courts. The end of the Min line to finally bring true peace to both Courts. A blessing and a curse.” He pauses, taking a moment to meet everyone’s eyes. “I saw him.” 

“You saw him? How? Where?” Jungkook’s hand tightens around his fork so tightly that Namjoon hears the wooden handle creak.

Jimin visibly shivers. “It was requested that my family be present for the announcement. Chaddick presented the decree and began working with the Seelie Court advisors on a power merger. He intends to be the first Seelie to sit on the Unseelie Throne. This is exactly what he has wanted all along, but he knew as long as Yoongi was still alive, there was no way he could lay claim to the Min throne—regardless of Yoongi’s exiled status.”

“How did you manage to see him? Surely they have him locked away in the dungeons?” Namjoon questions, knowing full well the typical etiquette observed for prisoners.

The sigh Jimin lets out is hollow, exhausted. “Chaddick is bold. He was parading him in the open, shackled in iron like a beast. His eyes were so—they were so…empty. I could feel the taint of darkness surrounding him, bleeding from him. It stank of a swamp,” he sneers.

“Borgia. She must be using some sort of witchy shit on him.” You shove away your plate in frustration. “Ugh! I wish I knew more about this bond. If it gives him access to more power, shouldn’t he be powerful enough to break free from it or something?”

Jimin gives you a sympathetic look. “Was there anything you all found out that might help? Anything about the bond we can work toward? The Sun Solstice is just a week away.”

Namjoon has an idea, but he’s unsure how receptive anyone else will be to it. You gave him the idea, actually. Even then, it’s a long shot that anyone would be comfortable agreeing. But, then again—he glances at Jungkook, who is staring at you like he wants to hold you and soothe your worries. Jimin, well, he already knows Jimin will do anything for Yoongi. And, as far as himself…

“I think I might know of a way to help,” Namjoon admits, his voice wavering slightly with nerves. “But, it is a bit eccentric.”

🌸🌸🌸

Jungkook

“You want us to do what?” Jungkook can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The tips of Namjoon’s ears blush as he stammers out his idea again. “It might be possible for us to all bond with Beautiful, giving Yoongi unfettered access to our magick through her. It would have to be enough for him to overpower whatever enchantment Borgia has over him. There is no way she is more powerful than four Fey combined.”

“I’ll do it,” you don’t hesitate to state. “If it can help, I’ll do it. I’ll fuck all of you at the same time if it means helping Yoongi, if it means we rescue him and send Chaddick to the fiery pits of Hell…or wherever it is that bad people from here go.”

Jungkook can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. He knew he liked you from the moment he laid eyes on you. The fact you were meant for his best friend didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you. Spending the last several weeks holed up in Namjoon’s house with you only intensified that appreciation. Since Namjoon said your side was healed well enough, you’ve asked Jungkook to help train you with a sword every morning. And fuck if he doesn’t like how your body moves when you swing it. You might be no better than a child playing with a toy sword right now, but you don’t give up—which is what makes him keep agreeing to train you.

“Are you certain this would work?” Jimin asks, his untouched plate of food forgotten on the table.

Namjoon stands up from the table and moves over to his stack of books. “I came across it a few days ago. It is not a definitive account but a speculation based on transcribed scrolls in an abandoned temple found near the Dread Court. There is a small passage about ‘Circle Bonding’,” he explains, flipping through an old, tattered book. The pages are barely staying within the binding. Dust drifts down from the book with each additional page Namjoon turns. “Here.” He turns the book around and gently lays it on the table.

Looking at the page, Jungkook can see it is in a standard script, likely part of the translation process. “‘A practice observed mostly by lesser Fey seeking more power’,” he reads off, skimming over the small paragraph. “‘Although the effects may vary according to the Fey involved, it is believed to be most effective with at least one Greater Fey’. Well, we got that covered, at least. Twice over,” he muses, glancing at Jimin.

Jimin lightly brushes the edge of the page. “Is it so simple?”

“I am willing,” Namjoon says. “It may also help with my magick. I do not know how long I can keep us concealed here.”

“With luck, my friend, you won’t need to keep the ward up much longer. If we bond and Yoongi gets the boost he needs, I say if he doesn’t make it out by himself, then we orchestrate an attack the night before Sun Solstice. The Seelie Court will be in attendance. I’m sure there will be a feast in preparation for the sun to rise…the perfect distraction and opportunity to slip in and make some noise.”

You’re nodding along to Jungkook’s plan, a sparkle of light shimmering in your eyes. He knew you liked this kind of stuff. There’s no way you wouldn’t with all the stories your grandpa told you. You’ve shared a few with him over the weeks. His favorite is The Young Tamlane of Carterhaugh. He wonders how long it will take you to realize that story is, in part, based on himself.

“So, we agree, then? We try to bond and give Yoongi the extra oomph he needs to escape. If, for some reason, he doesn’t, we say fuck it and storm the castle in a last-ditch effort. If they’re going to try and execute him anyway, it’s not like we have other options.” You look at Jimin, the only one who hasn’t voiced his agreement yet. “What do you say, Mini? We didn’t start on the right foot, but I no longer care about that. I just want Yoongi to be alive and happy.”

“It would mean I am connected to him, too. So, if sharing a bond with all of you saves Yoongi, then of course I agree.” Jimin smiles. It’s soft and sweet, something Jungkook hasn’t seen from him in a while.

Jungkook begins clearing away the dishes from the table, uncaring of the uneaten food. “Well, no time like the present. We need to find implements to use. Joon, do you have anything?”

“I believe I know just the things,” Namjoon replies. He heads straight for the small box on the mantle, where he pulled the bag of Ravens Word from. “I have been saving these for a long time.” Returning to the table, he opens his palm and reveals three near-identical purple and white crystal shards. Delicate silver chains crisscross over and around them, securing the stones at the ends as the pendants of necklaces.

“Those are beautiful,” you say, looking at the stones in Namjoon’s palm. Your lips make this cute ‘o’ shape, parting just enough for Jungkook to see the tip of your tongue.

Jimin grabs the bag he discarded on the floor by the door when he first came in. “They will match perfectly with this.” He pulls back the clasps on the bag and reaches in. “I got something for you. I figured you would be tired of having to roll up the sleeves on the tops and cuffing the pants of these giants.” Purple silks and velvets come out of the bag, silvery and light blue accents peeking through here and there. “Some blouses, fitting of your beauty, and some tapered trousers more suitable to your stature.”

“Oh, wow. Mini, you didn’t have to do that.”

The smile that graces Jimin’s face reminds Jungkook of just what made Yoongi so goo-goo-eyed, to begin with. Jimin has an ethereal beauty that goes beyond even that of a Fey.

“Perhaps not. But I wanted to. I want you to be comfortable and well cared for, truly.” A bit of color creeps into Jimin’s cheeks, further brightening his smile. You roll your lips between your teeth and do this little shoulder swish that’s just so fucking cute. Jungkook’s sure he could swoon over the Seelie Prince himself if he weren’t so caught up in watching your reaction to Jimin. You disappear into the bedroom to try on the new clothing.

“Okay, Prince Charming,” Jungkook teases. “A few weeks away, and you come back a different Fey.”

“Not different, just more accepting, perhaps. She is forever a part of Yoongi, and I love him—all of him.” Jimin sets his bag back down, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I know I was wrong in the beginning, I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I will forever be embarrassed and sorry for my actions. I am simply doing what I can to rectify it.”

Jungkook steps around the table and places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Yoongi would be proud of you.”

“I hate that he is not here for this. Do you think he would be accepting? She is his mate, his bond…would he be okay with us making that connection, too?” The worry in Jimin’s voice is evident.

Namjoon moves to stand beside them, the necklaces dangling from his hand. “I believe if Yoongi were aware of ‘Circle Bonding’ before all of this, it would have been his idea. You know how much he loves you, Mini. He and JK have been inseparable since they were younglings. Of course, he would want him to be a part of his bond.” It’s not lost on Jungkook that Namjoon doesn’t include himself in the assurance.

“Do not leave yourself out of that, Joon. He would want you, too,” Jimin responds immediately, clearly having caught it the same as Jungkook. “You have done more for him in the last ten years than JK, and I combined. If anything, you would be his first choice.” They both chuckle, knocking shoulders playfully.

“How do I look?” you call from the bedroom as you step out.

Jungkook swallows thickly, subconsciously licking his lips as he takes you in. The lilac top hugs your figure, accentuating your waist, flaring over your hips, and pushing your breasts up. He sends up a silent thank you to the Moon for Jimin choosing those trousers. They hug your legs, making them look like they were dipped in starlight.

Jimin breaks the silence first. “Exquisite.”

“Thank you, good sir.” You give an exaggerated curtsy, your fingers pinching at the flared fabric over your hips, making them all melt into laughter. “Now, who’s ready to do this?”

🌸🌸🌸

You can’t believe what you’re about to do. When you slipped into the bedroom to change into the beautiful clothing Jimin brought you, you nearly panicked and climbed out the window. Since the moment JK dumped you through the gateway and into the loch, your entire life has been one giant tailspin. It’s only been recently that you’ve managed to stop the nauseating swirl and begin to get a grasp on things. Now, you’re about to take another nosedive into the unknown. 

It’s not that you don’t want to bond with these fae—you don’t mind that part—but you can’t seem to get rid of the tingling beneath your skin when you think about how Yoongi might react. You’ve been trying to remain positive, spending a lot of time reaching out to the bond and frustrating yourself over and over again when you run into the same foggy wall as before.

Jimin’s news of Yoongi made your stomach churn. You immediately grabbed for the bond and threw everything you had against the wall separating you, but it was useless. If you’re being honest, the reason you agreed so quickly to try the circle bonding was the thought that maybe if someone else is part of the bond, then they can use their magick to break through the barrier and finally communicate with Yoongi. From what JK explained and what little you could read of the book Namjoon had, in theory, it should work in a way that allows them to feel the bond you have with Yoongi and each other.

“We should start with JK,” Namjoon suggests. “Go in sequence of ability.”

JK huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess that makes sense. Are we all going to do the rites first?” 

Jimin looks to Namjoon, and they both nod. “I think that might be for the best. We can begin the bonding process all at once and then…umm, the other.”

“Foursome,” JK chirps. “The other would be what they call a foursome.”

“You do not have to be so crude,” Jimin murmurs. “Besides, what if we do not want to do that together?”

“Are you worried we’ll laugh at your little cock?” JK pokes his lips out in a faux pout. “It’s okay, Mini. I promise not to laugh too much.”

Jimin raises a slim brow, his lips tipping into a smirk. “I was thinking more along the lines of not wanting to make you feel inadequate in comparison.”

“Okay, okay, enough dick talk,” you laugh, thankful for the banter that has eased the tension. “If it’s any consideration, I wouldn’t mind if everyone was present. Based on my experience, inhibitions seem to have no place during a bonding. I doubt any of you will even care if you accidentally cross swords.”

That earns you a loud, full laugh from JK and curious looks from Namjoon and Jimin. “That has to be in reference to sex of some kind,” Namjoon muses. “I will have you all know that I have never—well, I have never experienced copulation with another being.”

“Fucking knew it!” JK exclaims.

This makes you pause. “Are you sure you want to do this, then, Joon? The bond…it, well, it is very controlling.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I know. If I am being honest with you, with all of you, I have taken quite a liking to you, Beautiful. I do not believe in coincidences, the sun and moon move in mysterious ways, but the stars are always aligned precisely how they are meant to be. You were destined to come here, to be a part of this world, and now you are making it tilt to rotate on your axis.”

You can feel it, the rightness in his words. You didn’t travel to Scotland on a whim as you thought. No, you were inevitably drawn to this time and place as a beacon of hope and change. Everything your grandpa ever told you has prepared you for these very moments. You know how this story is supposed to end.

When you lead the way to the garden, the moon is high in the sky, the air warm and humid against your skin. Beautiful ivy vines, fragrant jasmine, and drooping wisteria cover the moon gate. The flowers have bloomed fully over the last week or so, creating a magnificent backdrop as you stand with your hand clasped in JK’s. Jimin gently wraps the delicate silver chain around your hands, much like he and JK did for you and Yoongi.

You can’t help reaching out to the bond again. Trying to somehow let Yoongi know what you’re about to do is meant to help him. Being of the Unseelie Court, the words JK speaks mirror the ones spoken by Yoongi, vowing to be like the moon that gives way to the sun. You feel the same draw, reciting the words you also spoke to Yoongi. As the last word leaves your mouth, you gasp, stumbling forward into JK and clutching your chest.

The bond undulates, swelling inside you with the onslaught of new feelings. It’s like JK has reached under your ribs and is squeezing your heart. “Fucking hell,” you rasp as your body finally adjusts to the new sensations. “Is that normal?”

JK’s eyes are wide and full of alarm as he clutches you to his chest. “Like being hooked up to a car battery.” Usually, that would make you laugh, hearing JK speak so casually about things in the mortal world, considering the amount of time he has spent there during the last ten years. But, now, it barely registers over the ocean roaring in your ears—only, they’re not your ears.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Standing on the rocky precipice, looking out over the deadly drop into the crashing waves below, he feels something inside of him change. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his manacled hands grow clammy, having nothing to do with the ocean mist that lingers in the air.

“Would you like your body to be dumped into the ocean once I finish with it?” Borgia asks, sucking her teeth as she ambles over the craggy rock face to sneer at him. “I would shove you over right now if I could get away with it.” She uses a high-pitched mocking voice, “Oh, no, he jumped! I could not stop him!” Her laugh is like the crumbling of dead leaves, raspy and hollow. Yoongi barely registers the fire lancing through his wrists when she tugs on the iron chain, making him stumble behind her like a dog on a leash. He’s so focused on the new sensation in the bond that he doesn’t mind when she forces him onto his knees, the barnacles on the rocks cutting through his pants. “Collect those for me, dog, and I will let you have a bite of bread for dinner.”

His fingers dig at the crustaceans, trying to pry them from the rock. He doesn’t care that it’s nearly impossible to do with just his fingers, as long as Borgia doesn’t touch him. Because, right now, he is leagues away…standing in front of a moon gate, looking into the eyes of one of his best friends.

🌸🌸🌸

The sensations level out, letting you get a better grasp on them. After Jimin unwinds the necklace, JK slides his hands up your arms, sucking in a breath when his fingertips graze the exposed skin of your neck. He licks his lips and jerks back, releasing you. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reluctant to let him step away. The connection between you urges you to go to him. Now that it has tasted his magick, it wants more. It needs you to complete the bond to his inner well.

Your eyes drift to Namjoon as he takes JK’s place before you. He offers you his hand, a warm smile on his face. “May I?”

Instead of answering him, you feel a need to be honest with him about something that has been eating away at you for a long time now. “Joon, I—I need to tell you something.”

Namjoon’s brow pinches and his hand slowly lowers to his side. “What is it?”

You chance a glance at Jimin, who is watching you with an open expression of genuine support. He nods his chin slightly in further encouragement. You reach for Namjoon’s hand, taking it up and holding it between both of your own. “When JK and I first came back after Yoongi was taken, there were some things I overheard during all the chaos. Things that I do not think I was supposed to hear but that were said accidentally with all the stuff going on. Joon—Namjoon,” you pause, letting him take in the realization, “I hope you are not too upset with me.”

His eyes drop like he’s taking a moment to filter through his feelings. “No control,” he finally says. “You know my true name, but still, you hold no power over me for it.” He looks up at you, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “I am thankful for you telling me. You are full of surprises, you sweet, wonderful being.”

“Do you know my real name?” JK asks, drawing your attention.

You shake your head. “I do know Jimin, though. Those were the only two names I heard that night. I don’t know if it was because someone else said them, and that’s why I don’t have power with them. Or, Jimin thinks it might have something to do with me slowly growing into my own faeness. Either way, it’s not my intention to have that kind of power over any of you. I didn’t want to ask you, and it somehow not be the same as with them. I would never have asked it of Yoongi if I thought there was any other way to guarantee my safety at the time.”

“Tell her,” JK urges, nudging Jimin with his elbow. “I want her to know my name, too.”

Jimin chuckles softly, giving JK a knowing look. “His name is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook of the Unseelie Court, Royal Guard to the Crowned Prince.”

“You didn’t have to get all proper like that,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes, but then he quickly looks to you, hopeful.

“Jungkook,” you test out his name, liking how it feels on your lips. “I like knowing your name without having some control over you with it.” That makes Jungkook positively beam, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and over his dark hair. He may not be a fae prince, but he sure looks like it to you. You turn back to Namjoon, intimately aware of the butterflies that sweep through your belly when you meet his gaze. “Shall we?”

The words Namjoon chooses are different but no less potent in their meaning. “As all living things need the sun, water, and nutrients to grow, so too do I need you as my mate to grow beyond what I am now. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my grove and find shade under the branches of Bronwe. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

It’s so natural now, responding to his vow with your own. “Whether as a mighty oak or a delicate rose, I come to you as tender hands of care. I will be the cooling shade to searing heat and the suckle of water when it's dry. I will protect you and Bronwe with all that I am and ever could be. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

Namjoon’s hand tightens around your forearm as you both sway from the impact of the tether beginning to form. “Wow,” he says. The sentiment of his surprise and awe echoes inside you as the bond changes again. Your nose twitches as you catch the faintest whiff of briny ocean air.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Something is happening to the bond. The harder he pushes it down to mask it, the harder it pushes back. It’s clear to him that you’ve accepted a bond with Jungkook, though the reasoning alludes him. He trusts his friends implicitly. Whatever it is they are doing with you, he knows it’s for the benefit of everyone.

The moon is bright overhead, something that used to bring Yoongi immense amounts of joy because it would revitalize his inner well and make him feel refreshed, even when his magick was at its weakest, right before you got dumped into his life—literally. Since he’s been taken, Borgia has made sure to only take him out at night when she feels like he’s extra compliant. Tonight is one of those such instances. He’s been feeling listless the last day or two, using all of his reserved strength to keep the bond masked, long having given up trying to fight the nightmare of the night he escaped the castle that she makes him relive constantly.

“Scrape at those faster, boy. We do not have all night.” Saliva splashes onto his boot as she spits on the ground beside him. He ignores it, digging his now bloodied fingers around a particularly stuck barnacle, his eyes focused on the moonlight glinting off the ocean in the distance, but all he can see are a beautiful pair of turquoise eyes that are so full of love as they move to in front of him—but not him.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin is the last to step in front of you. Unshed tears are glistening in his eyes as Jungkook helps Namjoon twine the third necklace around your clasped hands.

The words Jimin says are similar to Yoongi’s but from the sun's perspective as opposed to the moon's. “As the sun provides light for the moon to glow, so too will I shine for 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.”

You combine your own words, feeling like that is the right thing to do. “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 as an equal to shine for the moon. I open my heart to you so we may both be bright for him, even in the darkest of times. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.” The inclusion of Yoongi is automatic, offering Jimin not just a bond but a promise that you will never try to be more prominent in Yoongi’s life, instead standing as an equal to Jimin.

The bond shivers, bringing an added warmth that shines brighter than the midday sun. Jimin closes his eyes and murmurs, “Yoongi. I can almost feel him.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“Put them in the jar,” Borgia huffs, kicking the glass bottle closer to where he kneels. His hands are a mess, bloodied and aching, as he grabs the jar and begins to stuff the crustaceans he managed to pry from the rock.

Sweat is pouring down his neck and soaking his shirt. The last change to the bond is making it so hard to hold back. Jimin. He has barely thought of him since he’s been captive, lest he falls into a bottomless pit of despair. Yoongi can feel them, all three of his best friends, glittering like an oasis in the desert on the other side of the mental wall he’s erected within himself.

He aches to drop the wall and reach out to embrace the warmth it offers. But he’s not sure what will happen if he does. The bonds are faint, incomplete—just a tease at this point. Yoongi grits his teeth, shoving the last of the sea creatures into the jar before staggering to his feet and holding it out to Borgia. She gestures wildly down the coast, a silent command for Yoongi to walk. He clutches the jar to his chest, takes a step forward, and once again finds himself with his unfocused gaze staring into familiar turquoise eyes and the faint taste of chamomile on his tongue.

🌸🌸🌸

“He’s there. I know he is. Why isn’t he letting us in?” Jungkook presses a hand to his chest, a look of confusion on his face.

“The bond is not yet complete. That could be holding him back,” Namjoon suggests. His breathing is a bit ragged as he works to unwind the necklace from around your and Jimin’s hands. “There is so much power.”

You can feel him now. Yoongi is there, a muted presence, but you feel him more prominently than you have the whole time he’s been gone. The taste of salt lingers on your lips, and for some reason, the tips of your fingers ache with phantom pains. “He knows,” you whisper, licking your lips and savoring the tangy flavor that shouldn’t be there. “I can feel him.”

“Whoa,” Jimin gasps, pulling you closer. His eyes bore into yours. “Your eyes, they—they are his. Oh, Yoongi.” Before you know it, Jimin’s lips are pressed to yours. The touch ignites something in you. You lean into the kiss, letting Jimin slide his tongue between your lips. “You taste the way he does, like the darkness just before dawn and morning dew,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling away to catch his breath.

Gentle fingers brush across the back of your neck, eliciting goosebumps down your spine. “You smell even more divine than before. Is it because of the bond?” Namjoon audibly swallows, the sound quivering his breath as he exhales. “Perhaps we should go inside.”

All you can do is nod. The force of three new bonds is far more intense than one, each playing off the need of the next. As you follow them back into the house, you can feel moisture already gathering between your thighs. Namjoon leads the way, his broad shoulders seeming even more expansive now that you’re looking at him through a bond haze.

Jungkook has been uncharacteristically quiet since he questioned why Yoongi wasn’t letting them in. You put a hand on his arm to draw his attention. “You okay?”

“What? Me? Oh, yeah, I’m more than okay.” That boyish grin you first saw all those nights ago at Bowhill House settles on his lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug. “You don’t even know my name.”

His eyes flick to yours. “Sure I do. You’re Beautiful.”

“I mean my real name,” you laugh. Namjoon pushes open the door to the bedroom, and you continue in behind Jungkook.

Jimin shrugs off his overcoat and tosses it on a wooden chair in the corner. “We do not need to know your real name for this to be what we want. At least, that is how it is for me. And if I am being even more honest, I do not want to know your name until you are ready to give it, and even then, I want Yoongi to know it first. He deserves that more than we do, but only when you are ready for that…if you ever are. We are all perfectly content with calling you Beautiful, as that is exactly what and who you are.”

“He’s right,” Jungkook agrees. “Now, quit stalling and get on the bed.”

“Excuse me?” you ask with an awkward laugh.

Jungkook pokes at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I said get on the bed. Now.”

“Hold up a minute, I don’t thin—“

His chest is against yours in the next instant. He steps forward, forcing you back until your thighs knock into the edge of the bed. “Seeing as how I am the only cock in this room that has any experience with pussy, I think it would be best if I called the shots. Besides, I like being in charge.” He emphasizes that statement with a gentle push to your shoulders, easing you back onto the bed. 

You glance at Namjoon and Jimin. Their eyes are locked on Jungkook, watching his every move as he slowly begins to relieve you of the clothing you put on only hours ago. The buttons on your blouse pop open quickly under his deft fingers, exposing your bare breasts to the heat of the room and their gazes.

Being bold, Namjoon steps forward and perches on the bed beside you. “Are they as soft as they look?”

“It’s okay to touch,” you tell him before giving Jimin a look that means those words are for him, too.

Your boots come off next. One at a time, they thump onto the floor, discarded by Jungkook. His fingers tickle along the arch of your foot, making you squirm. You open your mouth to tell Jungkook to stop, but Namjoon’s fingers pinching one of your nipples steals your attention.

“Touch her, Jimin. I know you want to. Stop resisting.” Jungkook smirks as he trails his hands up your legs until he gets to the fastening on your pants.

Jimin reaches out a tentative hand and cups your other breast, squeezing lightly. You both shudder from the contact. “I can feel you feeling me,” Jimin observes, experimenting by flicking his thumb over your nipple until it pebbles tightly.

Your body jerks as Jungkook tugs your pants down over your hips. Namjoon sits up a little straighter. He cocks his head to the side, sliding his hand down from your breast to splay across your stomach.

“What you’re looking for is the clit,” Jungkook casually tells Namjoon. “Listen to the sounds she makes. Watch her reactions. You’ll know when you find it.” 

“Why am I the only one naked?” you huff, biting your bottom lip as Jimin continues teasing your nipples, and Namjoon’s hand moves lower. Your pants hit the floor, Jungkook finally getting them down your legs. He stands back, looking smug as he watches Namjoon’s hand intently.

It’s a soft touch at first, the way Namjoon’s fingers sweep over your skin. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as he becomes more confident with his exploring. Jimin leans in and captures your next exhale, breathing you in before devouring your mouth in a brutal kiss. He follows you down as you lose the will to continue sitting upright. Hands trace over your knees before firmly pushing them open, exposing your throbbing core.

You track Namjoon’s fingers, letting your body and the bond guide your sight even behind closed lids. You’re distinctly aware that it’s Jungkook’s hands on your knees. The sound of Namjoon’s sharp inhale when he finally slides a finger through your wetness, mixed with the sensation of it, has you moaning into Jimin’s mouth.

“Listen to her moan for you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dark and throaty.

Namjoon drags his finger through your arousal again, eliciting another moan from you. Jimin breaks away from the kiss, panting against your cheek before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He alternates with tongue and teeth, leaving playful marks in his wake. “Kiss her when you do that, Namjoon,” Jimin stops his kissing to murmur into your skin. “It is exhilarating feeling the vibrations of her moans.”

“Take off your clothes first, lover boy,” Jungkook suggests, the words hooked on a groan he tries to hide. “I have a feeling once you start, you won’t be able to stop.” His hands are still on your knees, and without looking, you can tell he’s staring at where your arousal is beginning to drip out and down your ass. You can feel his penetrating stare, the way he’s holding back his desire so Namjoon and Jimin can enjoy themselves before he does.

The finger that was tracing circles around your clit disappears. Your eyes flutter open, intent on getting your first real glimpse at Namjoon’s body as he begins to slip out of his clothes. He’s always worn neutral earth tones that compliment his easy-going demeanor. The fact he’s hiding such a beautiful body under so many layers of linen should be marked down as a cardinal sin.

His eyes meet yours as his shirt hits the floor, and his thumbs hook into the waistband of his pants. With teasing slowness, he slides them down inch by inch until they come loose around his knees and fall to puddle around his feet. Namjoon is as glorious naked as he is kind in spirit. You’re utterly at a loss for words, so you just reach out a hand to him in offering.

Jimin leans back, propped up on an elbow, as he watches Namjoon take your hand, and you guide him up onto the bed. The bed dips, and Jimin scoots back a little to allow your legs to open further as Namjoon kneels between them.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks you, his eyes searching yours for assurance.

The bed shifts as Jungkook settles above you. He holds up a single white, dusty petal. You automatically open your mouth and stick out your tongue to receive the Silver Ward, internally grateful someone thought to grab it. The creamy taste of the flower petal melts in your mouth. In response to Namjoon, you grip a handful of his hair and pull him down, guiding his mouth to yours.

The scent of pine blooms heavily around you, and the taste of orange floods your mouth. Namjoon tastes and smells as sweet and comforting as you thought he would. With your other hand, you work it between your bodies until your fingers graze along his erection. He shudders, stomach clenching as his hips jerk forward.

“Easy,” you whisper between kisses. “Nice and slow.” His velvety skin is warm and smooth as you slide your hand along his length, marveling at the amount of sticky wetness already seeping out from the tip.

“Seven Suns!” Namjoon curses, his lips popping off of yours as you shift your hips up, and the head of his cock presses into your wetness. His eyes widen as your other hand lands on his hip, encouraging him to thrust forward. Inch by inch, he fills you until you’re both writhing, and he’s all the way inside. “It feels—it feels, I do not…the words…” he trails off, jaw going slack as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

“Good pussy is supposed to make you speechless,” Jungkook comments slyly. “Now, make her cum like a good mate.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His steps falter as his body locks up, rocketing through a sensation he hasn’t felt since the night he bonded with you. Alarmed, he holds the jar of barnacles over his crotch and quickly continues walking before Borgia can bark at him for stopping.

Pine and orange blossoms. The scent is so intense, Yoongi could almost believe he was somewhere deep in a spring orchard instead of walking along the rocky coastline of the Unseelie Court. You have fully bonded with Namjoon. The idea that his best friend just made love to his mate doesn’t phase him. He welcomes the additional feeling of Namjoon in the bond. Though, what is most surprising is the energy Yoongi now feels. His exhaustion is waning, and the ache in his head lessening.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon pants heavily into your neck, his body still quivering on top of yours. You can feel his cock still pulsing, filling you with thick jets of cum. The orgasm tore through you and ripped right down the bond connected to Yoongi. You hadn’t even considered that could happen. But, as you recover from the post-orgasm haze, you realize the foggy wall separating you from Yoongi has depleted significantly.

That revelation excites you. “I think it’s working,” you say breathlessly. “Namjoon, do you feel him?”

Pushing up on trembling arms, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you, sitting back on his heels. His cock is still hard, jutting up against his stomach and smearing your combined releases across his skin. “I do.” There is evident amazement in Namjoon’s voice, his face splitting with a huge smile. “It is beyond what I imagined. I can feel him, just as I can feel you.”

Your body kicks back into overdrive, reminding you there are two bonds you’ve yet to complete. “I should clean up.” You sit up to slide around Namjoon, but a hand on your shoulder pulls you back.

“If you think Namjoon’s cum will stop me from fucking you, you are mistaken.” Such dirty words coming from Jimin’s sweet mouth have you moaning softly. He’s almost possessive in how he grabs your ankles and pulls you over on top of himself. You straddle his stomach; hands pressed against his chest for support. “Claim me. Mark me as yours,” he demands. 

You shift back, feeling his hard length slide between your thighs until it pops out and slaps against his stomach. Jimin grunts, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, prominent canines—making you think so much of Yoongi’s—indenting the plush flesh. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you give it a firm squeeze, watching as a bead of pre-cum oozes out.

You can feel Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s eyes on you as you lean forward and flick your tongue over the tip of Jimin’s cock, collecting the glistening moisture. The taste alone makes you moan, like the best blend of warm spices you’ve ever had. It complements the clove of Yoongi and the orange of Namjoon so well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans. You glance at him, smirking before swirling your tongue around Jimin’s head. All three moan then, Jimin’s hips bucking up and pressing his cock more firmly against your tongue.

“I will not last if you keep doing that,” he whines beautifully.

Sitting up straight, you keep your hand wrapped around his cock and adjust your hips until you hover over him. “Look at me,” you tell him. Those turquoise eyes lock onto yours. The rapture that takes over Jimin’s face as you begin to lower yourself onto him is something that will be ingrained in your memory forever.

He stretches you perfectly. Despite having just been filled with Namjoon, your body needs a moment to adjust. You begin to move, rocking slowly until Jimin starts to rock his hips to go deeper.

“Play with her nipples,” Namjoon suggests.

Taking the direction, Jimin captures one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently. You throw your head back, moaning loudly. Encouraged by your reaction, he does it again. “Jimin!” you cry his name, undulating your hips in a way that has the head of his cock rubbing all the right places.

He stiffens under you when you cry out his name, growing impossibly harder. “When you say my name like that, it does something to me. Seven Suns, say it again!” he begs.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” you string together his name like a prayer, repeating it with each thrust until you’re nearly sobbing his name, begging for relief yourself.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook moved to kneel behind you, only becoming aware of him when one of his hands slides around your hip and his thumb presses against your clit. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Claim that cock as yours.”

The sensation of Jimin tweaking your nipple and Jungkook rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit has your next orgasm careening through you. Black dots spot your vision, your body pulsing around Jimin and encouraging his release. His mouth opens in a silent cry, head thrown back against the mattress.

Before you have time to register what’s happening, Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls them up. You fall forward, landing on Jimin as your ass goes into the air. “Ju-jungkook, wha—OH!” you moan, sucking in a breath and trying to orient yourself.

Heedless of the cum dripping out of you and Jimin’s hard cock just inches away, Jungkook shoves down the front of his trousers and pushes into you in one swift motion. “If I had to watch anymore, I was going to cum in my pants, and well, that would be a waste of a perfectly good bonding orgasm.”

You mewl from the overstimulation, fingers scrabbling over Jimin’s shoulders, searching for purchase to keep yourself from sliding forward. Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he sets a relentless, pounding pace.

“He is like an animal,” Namjoon muses, though clearly being turned on by the display. He fists a hand around his own erection. “Do you feel it, Jimin?”

 Jimin just grunts, wrapping his arms around your back to help hold you in place. You meet his eyes, watching the swirl of emotions in their oceany depths. “Let go, Beautiful. Give in to it,” he whispers, his lips brushing over yours with each word.

You do. You give in and open yourself to Jungkook. Jungkook’s hips stutter against your ass as your body commands his, drawing forth his orgasm to crest with yours. The final bond slams into place, exploding through your body with pleasure and intensity.

For a moment, you’re shuffling along a desolate shoreline. The moon is high overhead, the ocean screaming as it throws itself against the bluffs a hundred feet below you. “Where am I?”

“What did you say, boy?”

You jerk around, startled by the voice, and meet a wicked set of yellowed eyes that instantly go wide with understanding.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

He was ready the second time you accepted a bond, silently rejoicing in being connected to Jimin. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he kept his face forward so Borgia wouldn’t grow suspicious. The third bond came so quickly after the second that he let his hold slip. Those terrifying moments when he watched as you looked through his eyes, spoke with his mouth…

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, throwing the jar of barnacles as hard as he can at Borgia’s face. The glass smacks her in the mouth, shattering. Shards of glass rain down on the rocks at her feet as she screams.

Opening himself to the full power of the bond nearly sweeps Yoongi off his feet. It barrels through him, and he has to step back to keep his balance. Focusing on his strength, Yoongi pulls against the cuffs around his wrists as hard as possible. They are iron, but the strongest Fey magick has been known to break it.

Borgia swipes a hand over her mouth, trying to dislodge errant pieces of glass. “You stupid, stupid worm! I do not care what Chaddick wants. I will see you in pieces before the night is over!”

She lunges at him, hands hooked like claws, aiming for his face. Yoongi grunts, ignoring the bite of iron ripping into his skin as the shackles groan and creak from his efforts. He might not know how to control his power fully, but with the additional potency from the bond now, he only needs a small amount to make a big difference.

The cuff on his right wrist snaps, the iron pieces crumpling in his hand. As Borgia collides with him, he brings up that mangled piece of iron and drives it down as hard as he can into her back. Her fingers dig into his cheeks, the nails slicing through his flesh, but he forces his hand down harder. Yoongi feels the metal pierce her skin and grind against the vertebra in her spine.

“You may not care what he wants, but you should care about what I want!” Yoongi snarls, jerking his hand from side to side to do as much damage as possible. “Your life, you foul bitch! I hope you rot!”

Borgia spasms, her legs jerking wildly as her hands slide down his face. She gives one last snap of her teeth in his face before her body lists to the side and thumps solidly against the ground. A wet cackle bubbles past her lips, her eyes darting up to him. “You are a f-fool if you think he will not find y-you again.”

“You will be lucky if anyone finds you,” Yoongi sneers, crouching down and promptly giving her limp body a push. She rolls, her arms and legs flopping with each turn before disappearing over the edge.

Yoongi stands there momentarily, contemplating the likelihood he could make it to the castle and get his mother out undetected, before deciding against that plan and turning west to begin picking his way across the uneven ground—letting the bond lead him home to you and the three males that mean the most to him in his life. With Borgia gone, Chaddick’s deception will be swift to crumble. His mother will be safe enough, protected by the lies that have kept him away all these years. He only saw her a few times during his time of capture but never was able to get close enough to talk to her. As he twists off the remaining cuff from his left wrist, he wonders if everyone in the castle will be able to feel his increase in magick. That also might mean Chaddick can feel him, too—all the more reason for Yoongi to get home as soon as possible.

He begins to run.

🌸🌸🌸

Everyone is milling along the edge of the meadow surrounding the house. Namjoon increased the radius of the ward, pushing it out to where it used to be, where you’re all now standing. 

Jungkook is pacing, his feet kicking in frustration through the ankle-high grass. “We should go find him,” he grumbles for at least the fifth time.

“Be patient,” you insist. “He’s close, but so is that patrol that went by earlier. The last thing we need is multiple bodies out there making noise or accidentally running across the wrong trail and putting them on our scent.”

You can feel the irritation coming from Jungkook, he knows you’re right, but that doesn’t mean he won’t press your buttons. That’s something he’s becoming increasingly good at over the last forty-eight hours.

Once the bond was completed, everyone could feel Yoongi with stark clarity. You felt the moment he drew their magick through you and used it in bursts and fits of strength. Even now, he’s drawing on it to propel himself forward faster through the woods of the Hollow Lands. With each breath you take, you can feel him moving closer.

A noise catches your attention, drawing your eyes to the tree line. There is movement a few yards in. You can see and hear at greater distances, far more than you could days ago. Adding three bonds has seemingly kicked your transformation into high gear.

Finally, you see him. Yoongi peeks out from around a tree. His eyes scan the immediate area, checking for any sign of threats before he takes off in a sprint, coming right for you. He may not be able to see you through the ward, but you know he can feel you.

“Faster,” Jimin urges in a frantic whisper.

As Yoongi draws closer, you have to suppress the urge to scream. He looks barely alive. His clothes are ripped and tattered, hanging loosely from his thin frame. His weight has dropped considerably; his shoulders and collarbone stand out in high contrast through the thin material of his shirt. Angry red rings circle his wrists, and his lips are bruised and cracked.

You open your arms, prepared to grab him as soon as he stumbles through the barrier of the ward. He slumps into your arms, and you nearly drop him, but thankfully Jungkook is there and catches you both.

“Seven Hells,” Yoongi rasps, clutching at your shirt. His eyes flutter, trying to focus on your face before they roll back in his head, and he goes limp in your hold.

Jimin keens in distress, quickly sweeping up Yoongi’s legs. Jungkook takes over for you, holding Yoongi’s torso, and he and Jimin begin to carry him toward the house.

As soon as Yoongi’s eyes rolled back, you felt the bond connected to him shiver and pulse weakly before dropping to a low hum in your chest. “Namjoon,” you say more as a plea than anything. The nymph pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you as you watch Jimin and Jungkook work their way up the porch stairs with Yoongi slung between them.

“All will be well, Beautiful. Come, let us go help our mate.” Namjoon ushers you across the yard and into the house, where Yoongi is laid out on the dining table, much like you and Jungkook were. You’re not sure if you can appreciate the irony or not.

The fact Namjoon called Yoongi our mate still resonates with you as you pick up one of Yoongi’s hands, clutching it in your own.

“Namjoon, you know best. What can we do?” Jimin asks as he rips the tattered remains of Yoongi’s shirt off. Yoongi’s chest is like a macabre version of a Klein painting, blue and black with bruises and dried blood.

Namjoon moves around to stand at Yoongi’s head and places a hand on his forehead. “He is burning up. A fever. Most likely infection from the iron that was around his wrist. Exhaustion, certainly. He did not stop running the whole way here, meaning he made a nearly three-day trip in less than two. I think what he needs right now is some rest and an infusion of vitamins, nutrients, and something for the infection.”

Jungkook finishes taking off Yoongi’s pants. “Beautiful, want to help me get him cleaned up?”

You startle, tearing your eyes away from staring at the myriad of discoloration covering Yoongi’s body. “Yes. Yes, of course.” You gently set Yoongi’s hand back down on the table and follow Jungkook into the bathroom to retrieve towels and a cleansing bar.

“He’s strong. He’ll be okay.” Jungkook moves back to the dining table, setting the supplies down. “I’ve seen Yoongi in a worse state than this.”

“Worse than this?” You can’t imagine that.

Jimin looks longingly at Yoongi before pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and follows Namjoon outside to collect everything needed for the infusion.

Filling a bowl with warm water from the solar tank by the sink in the kitchen, Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. Hard to believe, but when we first escaped from the Unseelie Court, the first few weeks were not kind to us at all.”

“What happened?” You dip a cloth into the warm water and begin to gently clean the various cuts and wounds littering Yoongi’s body.

“I remember being woken up by Yoongi tipping my bed onto its side. I was spitting mad, cursing at him, and yelling until I saw that he was covered in blood from head to toe. I still can’t recall the exact words he said to me, but I didn’t need to hear them. I just knew I had to follow him, do whatever I could to protect him from whatever was happening.” Jungkook works diligently with tender touches, careful not to jostle Yoongi too much. “My bed was in the royal barracks, but thankfully in one of the outer wings. I don’t know that we could have slipped out had my bed been somewhere deeper in. We managed to slip out through an unmanned postern gate.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook and feeling your appreciation and affection for him grow with every word. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Jungkook snorts and shakes his head. “I was a shit friend most of the time, especially in the beginning. Mad that he wouldn’t tell me everything that happened and then horrified when he finally did. What Chaddick did to his brother, right in front of Yoongi’s eyes…that’s not something you can move on from easily. Yoongi was in a bad place for a long time. He barely ate anything unless Namjoon or I forced him to.”

“I’m glad he got better.”

“All thanks to Jimin. It wasn’t until Jimin finally made it into the clearing—once the immediate danger had passed—that Yoongi got some life back into him.”

You let that thought soak for a while, ruminating and sitting with it while you and Jungkook finish cleaning Yoongi up and wrapping him in a blanket. When Jimin and Namjoon come back in, their arms ladened with baskets from the garden, they agree to move Yoongi to the bed to afford him the best chance at resting comfortably.

“Beautiful, there is a ceramic bowl above the kitchen sink and a mortar and pestle. Do you mind bringing them to me?” Namjoon asks as he and Jimin begin to sort the things in the baskets on the bed.

The bowl and tools are easy to find. You pull them down and take them to Namjoon. “Is this something he will need to ingest?”

“Not necessarily. Much like the poultice I made to help heal your side, this works through dermal absorption. It can be ingested, but it more or less works the same either way. Though, it can be a bit vile tasting, so through the skin is best in my opinion,” Namjoon explains as he begins to crush different sprigs of greenery and colorful petals with the pestle.

He continues to work in silence under the watchful eyes of Jimin and Jungkook. You spend most of your time staring at Yoongi, watching his chest's shallow rise and fall. His silvery hair is longer, greasy, and disheveled, but he’s still no less handsome than before.

Jimin holds out a small glass tube with a cork stopper to you. “For his lips. It is a moisturizing oil that he favors. Just a drop will do.”

You unstopper the glass and press your finger over the opening, upending the tube quickly before righting it again. A small drop of oil sits on the pad of your finger. It smells like honeysuckle. You gently rub the oil across Yoongi’s lips, being extra careful around the swollen split on the right side.

When Namjoon is done mixing the infusion, he begins to rub it into any exposed skin methodically. Jungkook pulls the blanket back, giving Namjoon access to Yoongi’s legs and stomach. The mixture smells like bitter greens with the faintest hint of mint.

“And now we just wait?” you ask when he’s done.

“Unfortunately, that is all we can do for now. He needs to rest. His magick, the bond, and the infusion will do the rest.” Namjoon gathers the empty baskets and the used tools with Jungkook’s help. “We will be outside. You two should get some rest, too. Call if you need anything.” He presses a brief kiss to your forehead before starting for the door.

Jungkook blows you a kiss over his shoulder, giving you a look before he disappears behind Namjoon. It was a look of contentment, assurance that everything would be okay. You’re grateful for their optimism and support.

“I will go as well,” Jimin murmurs, a forlorn expression on his face as he begins toward the door.

“Jimin, no, wait. Please stay.” You settle on the bed beside Yoongi and hold a hand out to Jimin. “He would want you here when he wakes up.”

“But you are his mate,” Jimin murmurs and purses his lips. You can tell he’s hesitating.

“And you are my mate…but most importantly, you are his love. Now, get your ass over here, or I’ll be forced to make you.” You raise your eyebrows, daring him to argue.

Jimin’s lips quirk in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.” He kicks off his shoes before climbing onto the bed on your other side. The uncertainty in his touch is gone as he presses up against your back, draping his arm over your side so his hand rests on Yoongi’s chest. Your cheek rests against Yoongi’s shoulder, and your eyes slide closed as you sigh and relax into Jimin’s hold.

Bonding with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon is something you will never regret. Not only did it help bring Yoongi home, but it also has broken down every barrier ever erected between you. The connections to Namjoon and Jungkook hum with potent vitality, letting you know they are drawing on small measures of their magick—probably working in the garden.

“Jimin?”

“Yes, Beautiful?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice soft and sleepy.

“Will you take me to see the Seelie Court someday?”

Jimin shifts behind you, pressing even closer. His lips tickle the back of your neck as he speaks. “Of course, you are my mate. You belong by my side.” The words are breathy, half coherent as he fights the pull of sleep—but you hear them clearly, right down to your soul.

The blanket shifts, almost drawing you out of your half-sleep. Lips brush over yours, making you hum. “Jimin,” you breathe as another kiss presses against your lips. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not Jimin.” Your eyes snap open and meet those green and gold ones you have dreamt of nearly every night. Yoongi presses his lips to yours again, his tongue teasing along the seam. You automatically open for him and can’t help the moan as his alluring clove scent floods your senses.

You pull back, but Yoongi follows, reconnecting your lips in a desperate kiss. “Yoongi,” you try for firm, but his name comes out more like a needy mewl than anything.

“Please do not stop me. I need you.” He pleads between kisses. Yoongi shifts more, rolling onto his side. The movement dislodges Jimin’s hand, jolting him from sleep.

“Y-yoongi?” Jimin murmurs. “What—wow, okay.” Jimin presses a hand against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Slow down, Yoons. We will take care of you.”

The grunt of frustration that comes from Yoongi is cute. He reluctantly pulls back, breaking the kiss and letting Jimin push him onto his back. “Mini, my love,” Yoongi whispers like he’s finally registering who has their hands on him.

“Just relax,” you coo, smoothing a hand across Yoongi’s forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Tell us what you need.”

“I need to feel you,” he states, reaching for you again. You let him draw you in, the bond blooming tenfold as you give in. His hand reaches out, searching until Jimin grabs it. “I thought all was lost.” The words are whispered fervently against your lips. “Never again.” Yoongi breaks away from the kiss to pull Jimin in. You sit back and watch as they come together, their lips molding and moving with familiarity.

The bond pushes and pulls in an all-consuming way. After you were bonded with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon, you spent the rest of the night in the throws of passion, much like the night you bonded with Yoongi. It’s a visceral thing, a baser instinct that is in control. They each watched as you pleasured and received pleasure in turn but never went so far as to touch each other. So, seeing Jimin and Yoongi get lost in the feel of one another brings a new sensation to your body—one that has you squeezing your thighs together and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Beautiful,” Jimin catches your attention. He presses light kisses across Yoongi’s chest, his half-lidded gaze sliding to you. “Suck his cock and remind him who he belongs to.”

Yoongi groans. “Yes. Please,” he begs. “I need to feel your mouth on me.”

You sit up on your knees, working with Jimin to shove the blankets back. Yoongi’s body is no longer a patchwork of colors. His skin is now smooth and blemish free like before. Kneeling between Yoongi’s thighs, you marvel at him and the wonder of the infusion Namjoon made.

Before you can give any attention to Yoongi’s straining erection, Jimin catches your chin with a finger and slowly brings your lips to his. He tastes faintly of chamomile and clove, a taste combination you will never grow tired of. All that’s missing is orange and coconut. At the thought of Namjoon and Jungkook, you feel the tethers of their bonds pinch with barely concealed amusement. They know Yoongi is awake and are very aware of the state he’s in—that all three of you are in.

“Be good for Yoongi, little mate, and I will give you your own reward,” Jimin promises with an encouraging smack to your ass.

You need little encouragement. Leaning forward with your eyes locked on Yoongi’s, you run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, earning a guttural moan from him. “No teasing,” he whimpers.

The look on his face is desperate, tugging at your heart. Wrapping a hand around him, you swirl your tongue around the head a few times before taking him into your mouth. His pre-cum is sweet, driving you to seek more. You take him as far as possible, letting your throat convulse around him with the intrusion.

“Perfect,” Jimin says. “You are so perfect.” You can’t tell if he’s talking about you or Yoongi, but either way, the praise makes you moan around Yoongi’s cock. “You like that?” He punctuates his question with a tug on your pants, working them down over your ass until they’re caught mid-thigh. “I think you do.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he runs a finger between your thighs, delighting in the sticky moisture he finds.

You work over Yoongi, using your hand to squeeze and pulse in time with the suction from your tongue and lips. Yoongi throws his head back and curses when Jimin’s cock pushes into you. “Oh, Jimin!” All three of you shudder, overwhelmed by feeling each other physically and through the bonds.

The tightness in your lower belly increases with each thrust from Jimin and moans from Yoongi. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Do it.”

Yoongi jerks under you as you take your other hand and cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. He moans, his whole body going rigid as the first gush of cum hits your tongue. Jimin’s hips crash into your ass as he follows Yoongi over the edge. The feeling of Jimin pulsing inside of you triggers your own release. You hungrily swallow down all Yoongi gives you, licking him clean between shaky breaths as your body just as eagerly milks everything it can from Jimin.

“Holy fuck,” you pant. Your whole body feels like jello, trembling as Jimin helps you lay back down beside Yoongi. Your pants are still around your thighs. You can’t be bothered to fix them yet.

Jimin stands up from the bed. His half-hard cock glistens in the light coming in through the crack in the curtains over the window. “Are you okay?” he asks Yoongi as he delicately tucks himself away and does up the laces on the front of his pants.

“Much better now,” Yoongi sighs with contentment. “I apologize for my behavior. I was away from you for too long. There was something inside of me, some pent-up possessiveness…When I awoke, I could think of little else besides claiming you in any way I could.”

“You should never apologize for that,” you assure him. “Are you well enough to tell us what happened? What do we need to do? Is everything okay in the Unseelie Court?”

Yoongi holds up his hand, slowing down your questions. “Peace, my mate. I feel well enough to tell you all what happened. Let us begin there.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His best friend. His claimed brother. His lover.

Mates to his mate.

She looks so radiant sitting among them, arrayed as they are around the table in front of him. They insisted he sit in the rocking chair to continue resting as much as possible. Jungkook drags the chair closer to the table, fluffing the pillows in the seat and draping a blanket over his knees.

“First, I would like to leave for the Unseelie Court once we finish this conversation. The sooner we arrive, the better. When I escaped, Chaddick was supposedly overseeing a command change within the border guard.” Yoongi shifts in his seat, adjusting the blanket in his lap. “By now, I imagine he is aware of Borgia’s death—“ 

“How did you kill her?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a knowing smile. “Iron through the spinal cord, pushed her limp body over the cliffs along Tidal Bluff.”

Jungkook whistles appreciatively. “Damn. I wish I could have seen that. Good riddance.”

“I was able to confirm that it was through some of her dark magick enchantments and glamors that Chaddick has been able to lie and deceive openly. They”—he pauses and takes a deep breath—” they had been working on experiments. Ones that would allow him to take the magick of another Fey through their death. The first attempt was when he murdered my father. Apparently, Father learned about Chaddick having Borgia try it out on lesser Fey—pixies and dryads from the eastern regions. It is what started everything. Now that Borgia is dead, the truth will reveal itself as the glamor and magick begins to fade.”

Namjoon leans into your side, something that greatly warms Yoongi on the inside. “Good riddance indeed.”

Jimin clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention. “Well, Yoongi, my love, are you ready to take back your court and greet your people?”

🌸🌸🌸

The journey to the Unseelie Court takes two full days of continuous walking. Approaching the border had you on the verge of panicking, thinking back to the last time you crossed it. But there isn’t a single guard in sight. In fact, you haven’t seen a single other being, other than the occasional woodland creature, since leaving Namjoon’s glade.

“Where is everyone?”

You stand beside Jungkook, his hand tucked into yours, staring up at the vacant battlements along the curtain wall surrounding the castle of the Unseelie Court. The portcullis is up, leading directly into the equally as empty inner ward.

“I do not know. Keep your wits about you,” Yoongi says softly before leading your small group under the barbican and through the front gate.

There is an eerie feeling, standing in the middle of the ward, and the only sound you hear is the breathing of your mates and the crunch of their boots on the pavers. “Something isn’t right,” you say, your voice sounding too loud in your own ears.

“I can still feel the taint of darkness covering the grounds. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Namjoon agrees with your assessment.

You notice a few broken pieces of furniture scattered around the inner walls like it was tossed from windows and balconies above to shatter in the courtyard. Spots of color peek out from the around the furniture. Children's toys and trinkets litter the walkways between the turrets like they were hurriedly abandoned. It’s unsettling. It feels like a tomb; you hope that isn’t some ridiculous foreshadowing. As much as you love a good plot twist, you’ve had just about enough of them lately.

Movement from one of the upper doorways of a balcony draws your attention. You gesture up to where you see another flash of movement. “Yoongi, look.”

“Yoongi, is that you?” calls a soft voice from the balcony. The door opens, revealing a handsome woman with silver hair piled on her head and familiar green-gold eyes. She’s wearing a midnight blue gown, the line of the bodice embroidered with silver stars.

“Mother!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Oh, my boy!” she cries, disappearing back through the doorway in a flurry of skirts. “Yoongi!” You can hear her calling his name from within the castle. It echoes down and through the main hall, where the door is propped open.

By the time Yoongi reaches the entrance, she’s barreling through it. Her loud cries shake her whole body as she clings to Yoongi. “Mother, peace, please. Be calm. I am home.” You can hear the choked emotion in his words as he tries to soothe her, but more prominently, you can feel his flood of emotions through the bond. It nearly buckles your knees.

Jimin cups your elbow, steadying you as you sway on your feet. “Use our strength,” he murmurs into your ear. With a calming breath, you reach out to the other three bonds, letting them stem the tide from Yoongi, each sharing in his sorrow, pain, and joy.

“What has happened here, Mother? Where is everyone?” Yoongi finally pulls away but keeps his hands braced on his mother’s shoulders. Her eyes flick around, taking in the rest of your group.

“Jungkook? Jimin? Seven Hells, what are you two doing here? And a woodland nymph?” Her eyes find yours, and she stiffens. “And her—she, is that—“

“Mother, please, I will explain it all. But, first, what is happening here?”

She gestures vaguely over her shoulder toward the castle. “Chaddick—something went wrong. He flew in on that damned serpent of his and began screaming about how you escaped. I did not know if it was true, but I prayed it was. I tried to rally The Guard, but they would not listen to me. He fled, taking them all with him! Hundreds of Unseelie–everyone from the castle–they emptied the armory and the coffers. I am only glad they left the city alone. I have not yet had the heart to tell our people. They do not know what has happened within the walls, only that the guard marched out the gate.” Her face darkens with anger. “I watched them move south from the parapet. I sent word to the Seelie Court as soon as I could. What did you do? How did you escape? Who is this human?”

He fled to the south. Chaddick is gone. You can feel the disappointment and anger radiating off of Yoongi. “I escaped by killing Borgia. Her body is surely rotting at the bottom of the Lunar Sea by now. The truth will be revealed now. Her glamour died with her. That is what sent Chaddick into a panic. He knows it is over for him. His plans for taking over the Unseelie Court are ruined.” Yoongi takes a step back, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. “As for the woodland nymph, Mother, let me introduce you to one of my best friends who has helped save my life over the last ten years. If it were not for Namjoon offering me sanctuary in his home in the Hollow Lands, I would have had no place to hide. Jimin and Jungkook have been with me every step of the way, guiding me and reminding me to keep fighting. They were the ones that helped me find a way to access my power—all of my power. They brought me her.” He gestures to you. “My mate.”

“I see,” she says, giving you a strained smile. It’s polite but not warm. “Come inside. Tell me everything.”

The inside of the castle belongs in one of your grandpa’s stories. Soaring ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers and halls that extend into darkness, lined with life-sized family portraits spanning generations. If it weren’t for the haunted feeling from being so empty, you would be far more intrigued with what you pass as you follow along with Yoongi holding one hand and Jimin holding the other.

You stand with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon just behind Yoongi, who is at the base of a dias where his mother sits on her throne—the only place she says doesn’t feel like it has darkness still clinging to it. It takes Yoongi nearly an hour to recount everything for his mom. He leaves out very few details, stopping to answer her questions whenever she asks them.

“It was Jimin’s idea that I try to find a human mate. We knew the possibilities, the potential for access to more power. It was figured that if I could access my inner well and wield more of my power safely, I could use it to defeat Chaddick. At first, that was all I wanted. I did not care who it was or whether or not they stayed after giving me what I needed. But she made me realize that I did care, and even though our time together has not been long, she means more to me than I have the words to express. Someone could argue it is only the bond causing me to feel this way, but I can speak plainly that it is not. Her tenacity and spirit intrigued me before we said our vows. The moment she opened her mouth and cursed at me, I yearned for her fire. She is my reason for breathing, what pushed me to beat Borgia and finally free our people from Chaddick’s control.”

Yoongi’s mother slowly stands up from her seat, her sapphire gown rustling over the stone steps as she comes down to stand before you. “My dear,” emotion and tears choke her words. “I did not mean to judge you. I had always imagined my boys–my boy, finding a mate whom he loved. His love for you is clear regardless of how you found yourself in his life.” She clears her throat, blinking away the emotion in her eyes. “Would it—is it okay if I hug you?”

You laugh, nodding enthusiastically as tears threaten to spill down your own cheeks. She wraps her arms around you, squeezing and whispering her thanks over and over again. When she finally steps back, Yoongi takes her place, burying his face in your neck. You feel three other bodies press in around you, cocooning you in safety and comfort.

Leaning back, his green and gold-flecked eyes meet yours. “Welcome to my home, Beautiful. The home you helped save. You may have it if you wish. You deserve it. Or I will build you your own if you want it. Just stay. Please, stay with us,” he says. Even with darkness brewing to the south, the bond floods with hope, filling you to the brim with possibilities.

“All of us together?” “Forever,” comes three very enthusiastic answers, though they can’t entirely hide the tiny grain of worry underneath it all. You know as long as Chaddick is alive, regardless of how far he runs, none of your mates will be truly safe.

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

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[matan4il]

All these free palestine hamas supporters are actively rewriting history and Ignoring the brutal attack on October 7th and the fact that hamas tosses Rockets daily into Israel still. Thank god for the Iron dome. I am an America Jew but it’s scary here too. And people say they hate Zionism but that is just Jew hatred all the same. I pray for you and may family in Israel. Cause I am losing so much hope right now.

Hi Nonnie! So, I do try to make a distinction between people who genuinely want Palestinians to be treated well, and who have been lied to about the conflict, and those who actually support Hamas. I find that the difference is in whether they're willing to listen to Jews when we explain our history and rights in the region. And I find it very comforting to have online friends from countries that officially are enemies of Israel, but who are able to talk to me as a human being, and wish well for both Israelis and Palestinians.

But yeah, the Hamas supporters who knowingly distort Jewish history? Who ignore the despicable anti-Jewish massacre of Oct 7? Who dismiss tens of thousands of rockets fired at Israeli civilians over a period of 22 years? Who have the audacity to speak over Jews, and try to dictate to us what is our history, what's our identity, what's antisemitism and what is Judaism? There is no justification for them. And there will be no forgiveness for their new brand of Jew hate.

Iron Dome is a damn miracle. When Hamas started firing rockets at Israel, back in 2001, intercepting them in the manner Iron Dome does was believed to be impossible. It took 10 years for the system to be conceived, made, tested, approved and then finally, employed. And it's still not perfect. It intercepts over 90% of Gazan rockets, but that's still almost 10% of thousands of rockets that hit Israeli cities. Not to mention, it has to be re-loaded, which means there are Israeli soldiers who risk themselves doing that job under rocket fire. Normally, that's the only danger, but on Oct 7, three of these soldiers were murdered by Hamas terrorists. Sorry for the rant, but it still horrifies me that people dismiss the danger to Israeli lives from rockets because we have Iron Dome.

Oh yeah, people who distort what "Zionism" means then use it as a way of targeting Jews. We've seen it happening very clearly since the Hamas massacre all over the world. I know it's scary for you, too! Just know that we're together in this. We went through the Holocaust, and we survived it. And we're not as defenseless as we were back then. No matter what, don't forget that. And despite being in different parts of the world, we have much better ways of communicating, so we can reach out and support each other! You're not alone. I'm sending you tons of hugs! Thank you for the kind words and prayers, I'll pray for you and your family here, too! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[2-dsimp]

Yooo, kiss marry kill? Sign me up! I'll even throw in fuck for the fun of it. The Hitman Team Kiss: Danny the Boss Reason: He's a cutie, but I wouldn't want to marry him. The way he practically worships darling would throw me off after a little. But he's cute enough to get the smooch. Marry: Koji the Medic/ Moros the Torturer Reason: 1. I am clumsy. I will fall over air if I'm not careful, and even though he may tease me about it, I think Koji would still be happy to lovingly scold my reckless self whilst patching me up. 2. I like baking, so me and Moros could make cute couple things. Also, I think Moros is adorable because... because. Kill: Idk.. Ossian the Sniper? Reason: I don't really know much about him yet, and he seems like the peeping tom kinda guy. Fuck: Yujin the Hacker Reason: Goofy lil man deserves to be fucked like the goofy lil man he is. The Monster Gang Kiss: Xavier the Poltergeist Reason: I like seeing people flustered because of what I do. This little goober seems like the type to get flustered with a forehead smooch. So he gets 2 forehead kisses. Marry: Rivius the Archdevil. Reason: I'm taller then him. But, he also seems like a very warm(body temp wise) person, and I will cuddle with him and fall asleep. He also seems like I'd have some freedoms with what I do, as long as I remember I chose to marry him. Kill: hhhh No one. Reason: I am a monster fucker through and through. They're all adorable. Fuck: Fredrico the Devilbat. Reason: Man is a silly tall boi. He's cute, but not cute enough for me to marry. He can get it though. The Spin Offs

Kiss: Covu the Photographer. Reason: I hate my photo being taken, so he's crossed off the marry list. But he can get a smooch for attempting <3. Marry: Nokka the Husband. Reason: I can deal with traditional/sexist views cause I grew up with it from the males in my family. Also, he seems like he can attempt to take care of me and my emotional baggage. Kill: Adonis the Hero Reason: I just don't like heroes, even if they're the most despicable human on earth. Sorry my dude. Fuck: Quio the DILF Reason: Man is (sorta) husband material. But I would be a horrible mother for Peina. I would muck up so much, and accidentally ruin her childhood. But I also love Quio's personality, so he can get the fuck spot.

Ooo A fellow monster lover!

I see youuuu ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

[baldurs-gape]

Oh gosh, this is the shores nonnie from earlier and I am so grateful for your response! I didn’t have the best night so I am just so happy you are so kind😭❤️

My dear Shores Nonnie, I am so sorry to hear you've not had the best night. While I may simply be a stranger over the internet, please know that my DMs are always open if you need a willing ear to talk to. I can't promise to have any magical solutions but I make up for that in ample pet pictures (cats, dogs and various snakes are currently on offer), memes and stories of being a smidge of a disaster of a human being should you ever need a distraction.

Given that you've had a rought night, I've not had a great day myself, I can do but one thing. We give Astarion a not so great time, how about it?

(CW: this turned out a little more grim than intended. Glossed over torture, rape and just general Astarion having a bad time at the hands of Godey and other spawn before the others show up.)

One of Many

When Astarion was snatched by his so called siblings in the night, the rest of the party was up in arms. That was their vampire spawn now and they were going to retrieve him, thank you very much. Finders keepers and all that. Brave words which were so easy to speak yet acting on them was harder. Going during the night didn't seem the best of ideas so they waited until morning when light would offer them protection should they need to run, but if they did then they'd make sure they had Astarion in tow.

Getting into the stronghold was surprisingly easy. Finding Cazador was too. Between Karlach, Gale, Halsin and Jaheira they made a damn good attempt at ending his tyranny. The only problem was when the despicable worm turned and fled, they couldn't find him. Searching the palace led them from room to room. It was Jaheira who spotted the concealed door. Walking through it was about was good as walking into a nightmare. The whole room had Silence cast on it which explained why nobody could hear anything outside. But inside that bubble was filled with screams and begging in an all too familiar voice.

A skeleton was looming over the table where Astarion was pinned. No, he was nailed down while three other spawn stood around, watching impassively. As the skeleton moved, it revealed pools of blood on the floor along with pale lumps that were best not looked at too closely because they looked like flesh.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry." Astarion's voice was breaking, hoarse, he'd been crying and begging for a while. "Not again. I'll be good. I can be good."

His words turned into a scream that died down into a whimper and wet, bubbling gasps. Karlach charged.

Their second fight was short and brutal, much more satisfying than against Cazador. The spawn and the skeleton fell under their blades and magic with speed until it was just the five of them left in the cold, blood stained room. Approaching the table, Halsin was already preparing a healing spell while Gale rifled through his scrolls in case he had something he could help with. Meanwhile, Karlach tried to be as gentle as possible pulling the nails out of pale flesh. She and and Jaheira shared a glance over the table as Astarion lay motionless, eyes squeezed shut and teeth dug into bloodied lips to stay quiet.

"We've got you, Fangs," Karlach murmured softly and stroked through his hair. The hiss of sympathy was impossible to stop as she saw Astarion's ears, or rather, what had been left of them. She gagged and a hand touched the tips of her own as the slices of flesh under the table made sense. They hadn't simply been hacked off but rather taken sliver by agonising sliver.

As Halsin poured his healing magic into Astarion, Gale tipped a potion bottle against lips which were slow to respond. However, within three minutes Astarion was looking much like his old self as he swung himself upright and hopped off the table.

"Well?" He asked as he walked to the table with a pile of bloodied and shredded clothes. "Is he dead?"

"The coward ran," Jaheira said.

Astarion's eyes snapped up at them full of rage even as he shimmied into ripped trousers, uncaring of the blood and other fluids that still coated his inner thighs.

"So why the fuck are you here? What use are you? You should have gone after him and killed him!"

Walking closer, Gale tried to reach out but got violently shrugged off with a loud "Don't touch me!" Astarion's rage didn't end there though. "Useless, that's what you are. Wasting your time playing heroes while the monster is still at large. And you dare call yourselves my friends and lovers. Pathetic."

Hearing him fume rather than be grateful for the rescue was actually hurtful and infuriating. Gale stepped back, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"So we shouldn't have bothered coming to save you."

A large hand squeezed his shoulder and Halsin looked between his two partners.

"Perhaps we could all go back to camp and take a rest. I think we need it."

All through the trip, Astarion didn't say anything, strode out front of the group as he walked to the dock they'd set up camp in. Without word he marched into his tent and let the flap close behind him. It was probably less dramatic than he'd wanted.

Nobody saw him for the rest of the evening. Halsin cast wishful glances at the tent as he wrapped an arm around Gale but they left Astarion to his own devices. Whatever he was working through, he needed the space. One by one, the whole camp retired, Jaheira and Karlach were the last to go, staying up late as Karlach sought comfort from her hero after seeing her friend so mutilated.

Quiet settled around camp but Gale couldn't sleep. Even as he was snugly enveloped in Halsin's arms, he missed the chill from his other side where Astarion usually pressed in. Sleep continued to elude him until he couldn't keep still. Determined to go to Astarion's tent, he slipped out from Halsin's embrace and stood with a groan. Stepping out of the tent, he spotted a lone figure, sitting at the edge of the dock. Of course it was Astarion.

Sneaking had never been Gale's forte and he wasn't looking to take Astarion off guard. Instead, he padded softly towards him and stood, a little awkward until Astarion craned his neck to look up at him.

"Yes?" How he managed to sound bored was rather impressive.

"Did you really mean it?"

Rather than reply, Astarion went back to staring out at the sea. Taking his silence as confirmation, Gale turned to leave which was the exact moment he spoke up.

"Do you know how many times I've seen these stars?"

Halting, Gale looked over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what the crux of the conversation was and, truth be told, didn't know whether he could bring himself to care in that moment. It didn't seem to bother Astarion.

"Thousands of times. And they never change. It's why he liked calling me Star, to remind me that nothing about me will change either." There was no question about who the 'he' in the situation was. "He could do anything he wanted to me. But the end was always the same. I lived. I healed. I screamed again the next night. It never changed."

Retracing his steps, Gale stood next to Astarion and wondered whether he was welcome to sit. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be there, to comfort Astarion if he was allowed to.

Eyes firmly on the water, Astarion continued, "It was the same thing all over again. Except rather than Godey shoving a fetid rat at me, it was you pouring potion down my throat. It burend just the same. I'm whole again. Only for it all to happen again. If not at his hands then in a fight or a random accident." Eyes finally turned to look up at Gale. "I'm so tired. I don't want to heal anymore. Don't want to get up again just to be broken by others."

Invitation be damned, Gale crouched down to pull Astarion against him in a tight hug. He could just about hear his words, muffled as they were in his sleep shirt.

"People look at me and think I'm okay. That I'm unbroken. I'm a blank canvas for them to etch their pain into with their blunt knives. Break pieces off because they'll grow back with a potion and a murmur of a spell. Today was just one day of many. It wasn't even the worst yet Karlach looks at me like her world's been crushed. Even though I'm the one who felt every broken bone and ripped flesh."

Gale rubbed his hand over Astarion's back and wished he could say something, anything to make it better. But there was nothing. They gave him the potions, healed him because they wanted him back. The few times Gale had needed help picking himself up off the floor after a fight, he'd been grateful for it. Listening to Astarion though, he wondered just how much of a betrayal it was, to have healed his body but there was nothing they could do for the mind and the memories that plagued it. Pulling him closer, holding him tighter, Gale was left with so many wishes yet not even a whisper of suggestion for a solution.

[ineffablydelighted]

[Cute Omens #3]

That first time Aziraphale visited Crowley's flat (aka: The day Aziraphale met his other children-in-law: Crowley's plants 🌿)

[Future me after ending writing this bit: STOP RIGHT HERE! I didn't expect it to end up being a tad smutty rather than cute but it did so if you don't want to read that: ABHORT MISSION! NOW!]

Crowley: *miracles the door of his flat to open by snapping his fingers**does a reverence* After you, Angel.

Aziraphale: *a little shy* Oh, er, thank you. *already looks everywhere**echoing voice* It is... uhhh... very... rocky. What am I hearing?

[Okay, I might need to precise a thing or two here: in my mind, Crowley's flat somewhat looks like a fancy/modern vivarium, with "human"/entity furniture, natural rock walls, a river flowing all over it and, of course, the humidity that should go with it. Basically, imagine the show's flat with more natural elements... yes, a Despicable me/The Incredibles' villain apartment, exactly!]

Crowley: *enters as well**merely trips for some reason**looks at Aziraphale to make sure he didn't notice**he didn't**acts cool* Oh, that would be the river. And what does "rocky" mean, exactly?

Aziraphale: *looks at him* Wait. You have a river in your flat?

Crowley: *holds himself from sighing* Yeah. I have a river in my flat. Don't make it weird.

Aziraphale: *looks around to find the river's "source"**still cannot believe it* You miracled a river in your flat.

Crowley: *starts being annoyed* Yes, Angel, I miracled a river in my flat. Can we move on or do I need to miracle a lake in the living room to make you talk about something remotely worth speaking about?

Aziraphale: *has started to follow the river to the next room being... Crowley's office, probably?* Annnd you've never had... paperwork... for that?

Crowley: *is closer than Aziraphale expected**watches him startle**super brief inquisitious look* No water bill, so Hell's accountants are pretty pleased, actually. *removes his jacket and throws it on his office chair**same goes for his glasses that finds their way to the nearest plant*

Aziraphale: Oh, o... allright. *shy smile*

Crowley: And are you?

Aziraphale: Hum?

Crowley: Allright.

Aziraphale: *takes a long time to contemplate the question**also, Crowley stays closer to him than usual* Well, we saved the World...

Crowley: Yep, classic Sunday.

Aziraphale: *sad brows*... And my Bookshop has burned down.

Crowley: I know. Sorry it happened, Angel. My Bentley has burned down as well.

Aziraphale: *feels suddenly so guilty* Oh, yes... Sorry about that, by the way. I didn't quite found the occasion to-

Crowley: We can still pop into places until I find a way to repair her. We should be fine.

Aziraphale: Oh, yes, you're right. But, until then, I think we should... um... lay low for a while?

Crowley: Lay low... here?

Aziraphale: Y-yes? *blushes**scared look* I-I mean, only if, uh, if that is okay for you, of course, I-I didn't mean to impo-

Crowley: Angel, I've spent more hours that we could ever count in your Bookshop, it's only fair.

Aziraphale: *little smile* O-okay.

Crowley: *taps his shoulder in a friendly-yet-somewhat-awkward way*

Both: *echange a weird look*

Crowley: Don't think too much about it. *is, himself, thinking too much about it*

Aziraphale: *clears his throat* So, hum... can you... give me... a tour? *tries to smile normally**fails?*

Crowley: Oh, sure thing. Follow me. *one of his arms automatically slides behind one of Aziraphale's shoulders and gently drags him elsewhere*

Aziraphale: *does not remember how to walk properly for a second**looks at Crowley* Ah, sorry.

Crowley: *confused* Nevermind. So. We just leave the office and... Where do you want to go? Left? Right?

Aziraphale: *even more confused* I don't know, hum... Left? *shrugs his shoulders in a shy way*

Crowley: *holds himself from thinking how cute it is for approximately 0.2 miliseconds**smiles more genuinely* Left it is, come on. *Takes Aziraphale's hand without warning*

Aziraphale: Cro-

Crowley: *releases Aziraphale hand as if nothing happened except the fact he felt Aziraphale's heart beating so fast he could feel it at the end of his Angel's figertips**clears his throat* These are... My biggest pride. *looks at his plants with dad eyes**hands on his hips*

Aziraphale: *is looking for a mirror to check if his blushing is obvious or super obvious**cannot find one**looks at the plants* Oh, Crowley, they are most lovely!

[One of the plants shows its gratitude by making a red flower bloom right in front of Aziraphale]

Aziraphale: *approaches it**looks at Crowley* Did you do that?

Crowley: *raising an eyebrow* I thought you did. *suddenly looks at his plants with utmost severity*

[The plants starts shaking]

Aziraphale: *what-now face*

Crowley: *angry AF**threatening mode status: hella activated* So, you're telling me you could grow flowers... THE... ENTIRE... TIME?!

Aziraphale: Cr-Crowley, stop, you're scaring them!

Crowley: *gritted teeth* Apparently, I didn't scare them ENOUGH. *theatrical gestures* What did I tell you all? GROW BETTER! Is that so difficult to understand? Angel! I'm talking to you! IS IT?

Aziraphale: *does movements but eventually stops every single one of them right in the middle* I...

Crowley: *approaches Aziraphale*

Aziraphale: *recoils*

Crowley: *catches Aziraphale's arm and pulls him closer**whispers* Angel, I need you to back me up on this.

Aziraphale: *torn between blushing and being intimidated**as always, ends up doing both**whispers back**kinda panicking* I do not know what you expect me to do, Crowley!

Crowley: *tries not to focus on the fact their temples are touching*Just follow my lead.

Aziraphale: *removes himself from the temple-to-temple situation**unsure but pretends to have 100% understood* O-okay. *awkward thumbs up*

Crowley: *out loud**starts pacing* I am so, SO disappointed in you lot. *points at Aziraphale* And he is disappointed in you, too!

Aziraphale: *says nothing*

Crowley: *looks back at Aziraphale* Angel.

Aziraphale: Oh! Yes! I... I am... very, um... *tries to frown his eyebrows in a threatening way* displeased by your... attitude!

Crowley: Exactly! And you don't know me when I'm disappointed he is disappointed. *marks a pause trying to remember something important**remembers* This is Aziraphale, by the way.

Aziraphale: *waves in New Girl arriving in High School in the middle of the school year* Hello?

Crowley: And if HE is disappointed, oh, I swear to you, come Hell or High Water, I will make anything responsible REGRET IT 'til the end of their days.

Aziraphale: There's no need to be- *catches Crowley's threatening look starting to turn at him and him only**too loud* HE IS A DEMON, YOU SEE? He knows things I could never even imagine!

Crowley: Exactly! And now, time to make an example out of one of you! *aims for a smaller plant and lively grabs it*

Aziraphale: *follows him with little stressed steps* Are you sure about that, Crowley?

Crowley: *high-pitched voice**still theatrical* DO YOU HEAR THAT?! How sweet of him, but you know me and how much I am not. Swee-t. *gets out of the plant room**yells from afar* THIS IS FOR HIDING THINGS FROM ME, IT'S GOING TO BE SO PAINFULL!

Aziraphale: *still following but looking everywhere to not hit a wall or something* C-Crowley, can we talk about this?

Crowley: *do not pay attention to him* YOU'RE GONNA HEAR THINGS YOU'VE NEVER EVEN HEARD IN YOUR WILDEST NIGHTMARES!

[The little plant shakes like crazy in Crowley's hand]

Aziraphale: *is an Angel after all**unsure but tries to take the plant out of Crowley's hands*

Crowley: *higher-pitched, scandalized voice* Wot the Hell are you doing?! *surprised yet swiftly turns to avoid him*

Aziraphale: *almost falls to the floor*

Crowley: *catches him by a bit of his almost-two-centuries-old jacket, avoiding Aziraphale's face to hit the floor 0.5 seconds before impact**still holds the little plant in his other hand*

Aziraphale: *blinks way too much looking at the cold floor* Cro-Crowley!

Crowley: Damn you, Angel! *pulls him back up**reproachful voice*

Aziraphale: I am... SO sorry... I just...

Crowley: Why did you do that?!

Aziraphale: I just... I don't...

Crowley: *grunts**quickly walks away*

Aziraphale: *follows him clumzily until, oh, that's the kitchen*

Crowley: *opens the window*

Aziraphale: *expects him to dramatically throw the plant away*

Crowley: *puts the plant next to a dozen others on the balcony*

Aziraphale: You-

Crowley: *puts a finger on Aziraphale's lips* Shhhh.

Aziraphale: *looks at Crowley's finger**blushes*

Crowley: *yells back**looks for something in a random cupboard* OOOKAY, TIME FOR THE DOUBLE CHAINSAW TREATMENT! *activates the machines*

Aziraphale: *recoils, a hand on his lips*

Crowley: *gives him a "help me here" look*

Aziraphale: *awkward winking**dramatic ethereal being* OH NO, CROWLEY, DON'T DO THIS! I'M BEGGING YOU!

Crowley: YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET, ANGEL! *evil laugh*

Aziraphale: C-CROWLEY, NO, PLEASE DO NOT THROW THIS PLANT AWAY!

Crowley: *takes an empty flower pot**throws it out of the window*

[Noises of a car accident down there]

Aziraphale: *out of his role* Crowley!

Crowley: *shrugs his shoulders**uncertain**checks out* Uh, it's... nothing, Angel!

Aziraphale: *pushes him away without thinking* I don't believe y- CROWLEY!

[Evident scene of two cars having collided because of one having its windshild abruptly crushed by a random flower pot happening]

Crowley: *awkward smile* Well... We saved the world, so... Two cars, I mean, *little misplaced laugh* It's not... that serious, right?

Aziraphale: *points at the exterior**severe out of nowhere* Repair this! Now!

Crowley: *astonished* You... wait a se- sure. *reverses time to avoid a silly car accident**the flower pot has vanished though**hand on a hip**ready to have his revenge* Satisfied?

Aziraphale: *feels the balance shifting between the two of them again**knows he is in trouble**recoils* I-I didn't mean to... Y-you know... say it like that, I...

Crowley: *walks towards him in a snakey way* Oh, really? Because, from where I stand, it feels like you just gave me an order, Angel.

Aziraphale: *not-so-reassured, high-pitched voice* Nooo, of course not, I-I would nev- *bumps into a statue representing... two angels wrestling?!**cannot go further**looks at Crowley, alarmed* Well, I mean, I might have- but you- *weird worried noise* uhhh...

Crowley: *enjoys this way too much**gets closer* Do you really need me to explain how this is supposed to work, Angel?

Aziraphale: *Quirinus Quirrel's laugh* I-I-I... I really didn't mean to- *gasps*

Crowley: *has just taken Aziraphale by the back of his neck**smirks* Of course not, but you still did, and I wonder... *draws him closer until their noses touch**lower his voice* How do you intend to make amends to me, Angel?

Aziraphale: *tries to get away**reminds himself of the statue - how weird of a decorating choice is that?**looks at Crowley intensely* I-I... have... no idea, I...

Crowley: *gets even closer to the point they can only feel each other's breaths now* Hum? Yes? Does not sound like the beginning of an apology I'm expecting, Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: *never heard his name being said like that**heart racing**eye flicker*

[They exchange a rather ineffable gaze.]

Crowley: *smirks again**puts his lips on his Angel's and talks on them* This is your last chance to stop this before I lose my mind.

Aziraphale: Y-you... *gasps like a shojo character**impressed eyes**weird arm movements**almost inaudible little yell* Aaahhh...

Crowley: *intense gaze**whispers* Don't. Panic. You knew what would happen before stepping a foot in here, right?

Aziraphale: *closes his eyes for a second**tries to gather some courage**looks back at Crowley**mumbles* Yes... yes, I did.

Crowley: Finally. *tightens his grip on Aziraphale's neck and presses his lips on his*

Aziraphale: *opens widly his eyes for a second before closing them too hard**indulges with abandon**invites Crowley to press harder by doing it himself*

Crowley: *grabs Aziraphale's hair**time for some tongue action*

Aziraphale: *moans in unholy**grabs Crowley's scarf to pull him closer if that is even possible*

God: And it was possible, obviously! Look at them, Lucy! Look! Satan: How many times have you replayed that moment, exactly? God: *defensive* Nearly two hundred! In other words, nothing! *laughs in Naughty Almighty* Satan: *before leaving* You're gonna owe my lot's channel a crazy, crazy fee this month. God: AND I REGRET NOTHING!

Navigation time!

[While needing you to consider that, most of the time, the scenes are randomized and do no necessarily follow one another at all]

Previous - Beginning - Next

[yarismacimizyasaryuruyor]

Proofs that HangMAN & IceMAN are paralleling characters.....

Being blond ✔ (physical features are not really important, but i don't wanna leave 'em unmentioned)

Being cocky ✔

Being a smug rival ✔

Throwing stares at Mav/Roo ✔

Example:

Always speaking to Mav/Roo annoyingly ✔ (they can't stop bothering Mav & Roo)

Having a ring 💍 ✔

Having a bro ✔ (Sli ➕ Coyote)

Mav = Roo...:

Being chased by the teacher ✔ (Charlie is Mav's teacher, Mav is Roo's "teacher")

Being called with different "names" in this scene ✔

Being more than "teacher-student" ✔ (Charlie is Mav's gf, Roo is Mav's "adopted" son)

Daddy issues? Hell yes ✔ ✔ ✔

(Ice doesn't have a problem with his father. As far as we know...no. The actor who plays him may have some ideas, but canonically, Ice is a mystery. Just like Hang... We may have some theories abt Ice , but Hang is a complete mystery.....i will cut this part short.....😊😊😊)

Agree or not, Ice IS responsible for Goose's death.😭😭😭 He does the exact thing which he criticized Mav about. He puts people's lives at risk with his ambition to succeed. Of course, I think he didn't have such an antagonistic purpose while he was in the air. He understood his mistake later.. The frenzy of Icy & the frenzy of Hangy are similar... (A recurring motif in Hang, flying has become a passion and human life has been disregarded.)

Ice = Hang

I'm sure the filmmakers agree with me about this. At the end of the second movie, Roo waits for Hang to come to him. After that Hang says his words to him... with Ice's grin on his face. Even the fact that Hang is on the left and Roo is on the right according to the audience explains everything. Normally Hang had helped them, he must have been the first to land his plane - some internet users even consider it as a logical fallacy. But in the dramatic scene we watch, Mav and Roo had already landed, and Hang came later; which is why he is on the left. And he hugs Roo. Of course, with his eyes and hands, not with his arms...

(I'm not obsessed with these positions myself, but I appreciate sharing. Again. In the air, Hang's plane is usually on the left of Roo's.....just like Ice's plane is usually on the left of Mav's🥺🥺🥺Icy & Hangy are not antagonistic characters AGAIN, but the character on the left is usually the sinister.)

Mav could only forgive himself at the end of the 2nd movie. Roo also has a person to forgive in parallel. He has Mav. Because he is the one to blame. But Roo's "mercy" had come even sooner than that of Mav. He had already forgiven Mav without waiting for the end of the movie...it doesn't matter if these two "forgivenesses" are not made scene-by-scene. The important thing is the main characters thematically have this forgiveness.

(Okay this started as a shopping list but turned into an article with my bad English so sorry🙁🙁🙁)

Hang wants everyone's attention especially on him. "I'm good Rooster... I'm very good." But he especially wants Rooster's... He won't hesitate to yell at him for this. For this, he does not avoid hitting below the waist. Iceman had been stubborn about Cougar for a while. Of course, Cougar wasn't Mav's relative at all, so what Hang did in the second movie was even more despicable. The man officially brought up his father's subject. Of course we always justify that as fans, but it's not the general behavior of the audience. The general audience would agree with Rooster mostly.....unless he's particularly disliked. Why would anyone dislike Rooster c'monnnn

Yet again...every time you see Hangman's scene, you definitely find some item..... Just like Ice (who constantly plays with his pen or his watch) Hang doesn't need to be in direct contact with his "rival". Even Mav/Roo's physical presence in the environment causes Ice/Hang to feel the need to ✨annoy✨ him, respectively.

I continue to add small details… because I am coming to the end of my 💖article💖, Maverick's red helmet and Roo's helmet dominated by red and yellow… The idea that Roo is Mav's adopted son was embraced by the filmmakers and they started to see them as real "father-son". It's not hard to write "father and son" as very similar characters. If the father is self-sacrificing, the son is also self-sacrificing. The father apparently sacrificed himself for the mission. But the son, too, sacrificed himself in order to return and rescue him, embracing the possibility of saving him. Of course, the event that would test Roo's life happens after stealing the F14. But that's enough. RooMav's self-sacrificial personalities are highlighted. The devil is in the details, and the "goofballness" of the two is at its peak in this F14 adventure.💓💓💓💓

Let's move on to the actual hug, a remake of the IceMav photo. This time on the left, Mav takes on the role of Ice.😊😊If Roo wants to be a captain forever , it will be Mav to protect him. LOL: Roo is the new Mav….. he has proven to be worthy of that legacy. He is already the direct heir of Mav … This is how our series ends. As we don't have a third movie, I have nothing to add. But I would argue that "Mav // Hang" is acceptable; however, Roo and Ice have nothing in common in my eyes. I don't see any similarity between these two characters. Exceptions do not break the rules.🤷🤷🤷🤷But everyone is entitled to blah,blah,blah you know.....

If you have time, and if you write why you compare Ice to Roo, I will of course read it. 😊😊😊

[straightfromthetorturedpoetsdept]

As someone who was raised Christian (Roman Catholic, specifically) the older I get the more I realize how scary and cult-like it truly is!! The guilt that's instilled in you at such a young age is by far the worst, in my opinion. I was talking with my sister the other day and we both came to the conclusion that we're only still going to church on Sunday's (though we're still stuck at home, therefore "forced" to still go to church) is only because we've been literally conditioned to think we will go to actual hell for all eternity if we stop going.

In conclusion, yes I agree with you Christianity is fucked up!!! (And it should not be so normalized to be teaching it to kids as their brains are forming.)

I've heard this a couple of times from ex-believers and imo, I'm inclined to agree with you.

This is why I believe that christianity IS a cult, not just cult like, because the tactics they use are the same ones cults use to keep their new members (the children) under their control.

Any ideology that relies on the teaching that "all" humans are evil internally and that life is just a struggle against our "base carnal desires" in order to achieve eternal happiness ONLY AFTER death is inherently a cult imo. If they instill these teachings in you by beating you (which many christian families defend the use of child abuse), I dont think you really need to go any further than that to get your answer imho.

But you could! That's the crazy part of it all. You can literally point to how perfectly christianity fits within the BITE model of cults.

Behavioral control? Check.

Information control? CHECK.

Thought control? CHEEEEECCCCKKK.

Emotional control??? ALL THE CHECKS!

We can talk ad nauseum about all the thought stopping ways believers teach each other to stop thinking so hard about the words in their holy text. "you're not smarter than god" "you don't know more than god does" "we cant know his plan for us" "you think you're the first person to have these doubts" "doubt is the devil speaking" etc etc etc that are forced down the throats of children so that when their brain matures, they've already been indoctrinated into the cult and will have a hard time self-soothing such doubts and questions.

I am so sorry to hear about the trauma this religion has inflicted on you and your sister and I hope both of you find a way to rid yourself of that unearned fear that was forced onto you. It is really scary to realize that you and most everyone else you know has been indoctrinated into these beliefs (especially when your family uses such beliefs to defend objectively horrible shit like homophobia and sexism for example) and I wish I had a way to help everyone who is struggling with that knowledge come to peace with it.

Some of my friends say that they struggled for so long to deconvert publically because they wanted their loved ones to realize they've been conned along with them and it pains them to know that much of their family believes in literal lies because of eternal torment or whatever. Another reason why I think its actually a cult because members feeling guilty about leaving the cult since "all their family believes in it" and "what if they're right" just screams cult traums to me tbh.

I agree with you that christianity (and other religions too) should not be taught to children at all. The damage this type of thinking does to children is so fucking despicable to me. I wish I had a better answer on how to stop children from being indoctrinated into such a cult but unfortunately, I don't (at least not one that doesn't trample the rights of other people). All we can continue to do is to critique ideologies whenever we can and point out the factual errors within the religion itself. The rest is up to the individual believer if they want to really analyze why their religion is so incorrect about literally everything.

[divinemare]

✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖙𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘!¡ •ଓ.°

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ azrielxfem!oc

part eight

𓆝 𓆜 ––––———–––––———–┊⁀➷

When Kallistrade entered the room, it immediately fell into absolute silence. All souls turned their heads towards the blood-covered captain, their faces all showed different emotions, whether out of fear or dread, it was all the same to her.

Inside the room, looking like a sheep locked in a lion's den, was a man so human-looking that it all was like what she imagined to be a scene from a horror book. The prey, and the sea of predators ready to be the first to sink their teeth into him.

However, the man didn't seem to be bothered by the stares around him. He was not a pirate looking man, there were many human pirates present on the Island, she herself had humans in her crew; but he wore fine clothes, even a pair of gloves covered his well-placed hands. He was one of those men who either possessed a great fortune, or pretended to possess one, Kallistrade still wasn't sure which.

She had to give one thing in his favour tho, and that was the fact that he held himself perfectly well, considering he was in a room with some of the most despicable beings, pirates of every Fae type, ugly, beautiful, lethal, deadly creatures, and a female covered head to toe in blood, yet he showed no sign of fear or discomfort. That, she applauded.

"Well, is there any good reason why my…private meeting, was interrupted? Or are we just going to stand here staring at each other until one of us gets too old? May I warn you, it will certainly not be me."

The man rose from his chair, his face a mask covering his thoughts and emotions.

"Are you Captain Devilsbane's First Officer?" The man asked, and the whole room burst out laughing.

Only the important people were present, the ones who knew that she was Devilsbane, for not everyone on the Island knew, and Kallistrade loved to see the surprise and horror on the faces of others when they realized that the famous Captain Devilsbane was, in fact, a female.

"I believe the person you seek is me, ‘Prince of Merchants’, I am Captain Devilsbane," the twisted smile she gave him would have made any man collapse on his feet, this one almost did, almost, but for the cane that helped him stay upright, he took his eyes from hers for a second, and Kallistrade saw a shiver run through his façade of bravery.

"Then forgive me, Captain Devilsbane, I wasn't expecting..." He was speechless, as the man was obviously unsure how to react to the surprise of encountering a female.

"What, a female?" Kallistrade merely smiled sideways, greatly enjoying the man's discomfort. "Don't worry, I'm quite used to surprised reactions."

Undeterred, and appearing rather bored, she pushed past the man and made her way to the chair Maddox had set up for her. She dropped into it, let out a sigh and turned to face the human again.

"I would, however, like to know who I'm talking to, sir..."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I'd prefer to keep my identity a secret, I'm sure you'll understand why."

"Clever man, I must admit," she chuckled under her breath, and waved her hand for the man to sit back down, he complied at once. "Tell me, then, why on the seven seas would a sick old human risk entering the pirate compound, to speak to the High Pirate Lady, for I must let you know that if there is one thing I hate, is people wasting my time, and I was rather enjoying myself before your interruption came,” he gave a quick look to her blood-drenched clothes, and Kallistrade saw him gulp hard and take a shaky breath before speaking again.

"I assure you, High Pirate, that what I come to say is of the utmost importance, I would not have travelled so far and wide and risked so much if I did not have my good reasons."

Kallistrade listened carefully to what the man had to say, and, as she had been expecting from the very beginning, it all had to do with the war, the one her family was now fighting against Hybern. Of course, Kallistrade had known that something was quite familiar about the man.

"So you've come here to... what, exactly? Ask for our help in this war?" She, aware of where this conversation was going, pretended not to know what the human was talking about, and no one else made a sound or movement to demonstrate the contrary.

"Yes, I am here to ask, and if I must, beg for your help, I know of no fleet more powerful than yours, many fear to even speak your name aloud, you have humans in your crew, I saw them upon my arrival, so maybe, just maybe, you can care for our kind. What the King of Hybern wants is to enslave us all again, so I ask you, in the name of the humans, to stop that from happening."

Kallistrade waited a moment, pretending to be analyzing the man's words in detail.

"And why do you care?"

"I beg your pardon, Captain?"

"Why do you care? Don't try to believe me so foolish, I know there's more to you than your solidarity with your own kind. You must forgive my sincerity, but you don’t look the type of brave warrior-driven man that would fight till death for the freedom of his people. Then why do you care so much, that you would come here at the risk of your life?”

She waited patiently for the now sweaty man to reveal what he held, leaning a little forward in her chair, her elbows resting on her knees. After all, she was too curious if he would tell the truth she already knew.

"Do you have family, Captain?" The man asked, she leaned back again on the chair and took a deep breath.

"Right now you’re in their presence," true, but also not so much.

"I have one too, and I have failed them countless times, too many to count, my daughters they... they are in Prythian now, doing more for our lands than I had ever done for them."

Kallistrade straightened her back, lifting her chin to look the man up and down, her unperturbed gaze and mischievous grin were nowhere to be found now; the very face of a High Pirate Lady instead.

"Yes, you have," the man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at her words. "You have failed them, I mean," Kallistrade rose from her seat, and the man's face paled as she walked towards him, he rose too, and the room was as silent as it had ever been. "You're a lot more idiotic than I thought if you think I'd let anyone into my city and live if I didn't know who they were. I have lived more years than you can count, and as you have well said, I am the High Pirate Lady, the oceans are mine, and as such, I know every soul that sails their tides. So, Mr. Archeron, if I were you, I would be very grateful that your daughters are better people than you could ever imagine to be, and that I have grown to like them, especially as one of them is my brother's mate. Because if not..." The smile she gave him made it very clear what that scenario would have been like, and from the look in the human’s eyes, he felt terrified just thinking about it. "I wasn't entirely honest with you before when I said that what I hated most was being left to waste my time, because what I hate most, are ambitious but useless men like you, who lament their lives and only look to save their necks when convenient. At least I'm glad that your cowardice has finally brought some good to your family. So rest assured, Mr. Archeron, because your daughters are part of my family now, and, unlike you, I take care of my family. We’ll sail before sundown, and we’ll meet you in our way with whatever fleet you’ve gathered. Now get out of my sight before I start to forget why I have to keep you alive.”

Not a second had passed since she dismissed him when two pirates moved to the man's side to lead him out of the room with none too much kindness.

Kallistrade stared at the door until everyone had cleared the room, everyone but Maddox, Zena and Elijah, she didn’t look at them when she spoke, still her gaze was fixed on the door where everyone had walked out.

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, they’re all waiting for you, Captain,” Zena responded with a vehement voice.

Kallistrade took a big breath, the beating of her heart thundering in her ears as the sword and dagger at her sides burn with the anticipation of a reunion on a battlefield that awaited them.

“Then let’s get going, there’s a party to attend to.”

𓆉｡˚ ✧

A thousand pirates gathered around, Kallistrade stood in the center of the town square, staring down at every species of pirate that waited to hear what their High Pirate Lady had to say. Beside her, the other four Pirate Lords stood, Cyrus’ place had been quickly replaced by Kallistrade’s own choosing, another female, a half water nymph with dark blue hair who bared scars as if they were trophies, Captain of the Mermaid, and a trusted fried. Kallistrade had been waiting centuries to put Muriel in Cyrus’ place, and when the male gave her the perfect opportunity, she had wasted no time in making her Pirate Lady.

“All of you have been presented with a choice,” she began her speech with an easy voice. “The choice to stay, be safe, and protect our city. Or; the choice to come into battle, take vengeance for what Hybern did to us, and make crystal clear to everyone thinking of defying us again that we are pirates, and pirates do no wield their freedom and power.”

At her words, the crowd erupted in screams of approval, she smiled, wickedly and cruelly.

“Then grab your swords, my friends, and make them regret the day they thought they could kill a pirate, because us, pirates, never shall we die.”

Sailor after sailor began chanting their ancient motto in the ancient Fae langue in which they had been written. Making Kallistrade's skin crawl and her heart hammer with emotion to the rhythm of the ancient song that all their ancestors sang marching to legendary battles.

‘Never shall we die’