#Granted neither do the other characters but still

[patantasma]

Shout out to all the Mabinogi characters that never made it past their closed beta appearances!

[opalthea]

also, hello padisarah nonnie !! it's good to see you again :>

i decided to not answer your ask regarding the wholeeee stuff.. because i don't really care what they want to do anymore. i've done my part of speaking up about their behaviours and calling them out - which made a lot of people open their eyes for once instead of ignoring the warnings they got from me or other people. and i think that's all i want to do.

THIS WILL FORMALLY BE THE LAST POST ABOUT THEM. I will not answer any asks regarding it anymore, so if you want to make your own posts regarding those users, please use your own platforms, thank you.

as much as i encourage speaking up, i also don't want to give a flying duck about them anymore. y'know, like, i spoke up because i couldn't tolerate them and their behaviours anymore - couldn't just keep quiet when my mutuals are knowingly or unknowingly talking to shitty people like that. if they started a new blog, just let them. i don't really care anymore 😭 all i hope is that my mutuals and those that see this are more aware of internet safety and who you surround yourself with. it was already exhausting trying to warn others about them and not being listened to until i made this shit public — i'm not going to start becoming a blog that runs on discourse just so some can finally realise that this person was shitty and that person was the devil.

thanks for also caring abt me and informing me of their new url, i appreciate that a lot! it's on my blocklist now + the mutuals they've tagged on that post too 💀 if, however, i blocked you without a good reason why, or if i blocked you before you knew of this and had already cut ties with them, feel free to send me a message or ask on a different blog! i took precautionary blocks when it comes to having those kind of people as mutuals so .. yeah.

[grandline-fics]

love you have given me mihawk brain worms ong, please i need to spend the rest of my days having lots of domestic but sweet moments with him

i just know that beneath his aloof demeanor he is just smitten with his s/o

DESCRIPTION: Domestic life with him

WARNINGS: none, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 640

A/N: I know this wasn't an actual request but my health has been bad and I've been waiting over two weeks for test results so needed some indulgent fluff to feel better. Hope you enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

With what he does taking him away from you so often, the times he does return to you means he enjoys every second he can with you. While you sleep, you’re kept protectively and lovingly in his hold; one arm around your waist and the other cradling your head with his fingers through your hair. Mihawk keeps his head pressed into the crook of your neck and his lips against your skin, not just for indulgence but to also feel your steady pulse. He always wakes first, to enjoy the warmth of your body and the soak up the feeling of calm your presence grants him. He’ll lie still and relaxed in the blissful silence. It’s rare for Mihawk to open his eyes first. He likes to wait for you to stir and turn in his hold and press a gentle good morning kiss against his lips before he’ll pretend to wake because if it’s not your face he sees first thing, what’s the point?

Mihawk has no sense of personal space when you two are together. He’s practiced and aloof enough to be subtle. When you are out in town shopping together he’ll stand close, the back of his fingers just close enough to graze against the small of your back. Or sometimes he’ll stand with his arm against yours. You’re used to it and will always gladly lean into him so to the untrained eye it looks like you’re the one responsible for the lack of space between you two. However if they looked for long enough they’d notice how Mihawk would casually follow you when you hurried to the next stall or store front to browse the wares and how he would always come to a stop beside you once more. 

When you’re lounging together, him with a glass of wine and a book and you with the paper in your hands, you like to inform him of the news that he wouldn’t think to look into otherwise. Most of the time though you’re looking for old rivals of his or acquaintances with a smile, already awaiting his dry commentary on their activity.

“Love, look. Your son’s bounty has gone up!” You tell him with a genuine bright grin as you hold up Zoro’s updated bounty poster. Mihawk’s eyebrow always quirks at your affectionate term for someone he would at most call his student. Still he can’t help but feel some sort of satisfaction at seeing the other swordsman’s bounty gaining higher and higher amounts because he knows most of that is down to his instruction. 

“They grow up so fast.” He notes and you grin, setting the poster aside to put proudly on the fridge when you get up later.   

Mihawk will do anything you ask of him even if it’s something he would avoid. Introducing you to the Cross Guild for instance was something he would have sooner never seen happen. You understood that he was private by nature and neither Crocodile or Buggy really needed to know about his relationship with you. Still all you’d mentioned was that it would be nice to properly meet the men he was working with and as a result he took you to them. Crocodile was more surprised that you ‘deemed someone like Mihawk worthy of your time’ and Buggy couldn’t believe that someone as notorious and dangerous as you had actually settled down and were with Mihawk of all people. Now that they know about you, you do make it a point to visit Mihawk more so he isn’t always coming to you all the time. However with every visit you have to constantly refuse Buggy and Crocodile’s proposition for you to join as an official member as you’re still having fun doing your own thing and being independent from Mihawk makes your reunions so much sweeter.

[mechaknight-98]

Make you mine (NSFW) FT Chowon

Authors note: Please please please go stream Pose by Lightsum. Don't let them be another victim of Cube. They are too hot and too talented to fall to the wayside. Please! Also @sparklingblu I was finally able to do a little Irish mythology dive for this one so enjoy.

Part II

As Chowon and Nayoung were rushed through Costumes for their first day of filming, they lamented their roles.

“Why do I always get the cutesy, adorable roles?” Nayoung grumbled, adjusting her dress with a pout.

“And why does everyone view me as the femme fatale?” Chowon wondered aloud, glancing at the sleek, sultry outfit she’d been given.

The two sighed as they were helped into their respective costumes, their thoughts lingering on the unexpected roles they’d been cast in. While it was a great opportunity to boost their visibility during the group’s lull, neither could shake the feeling that they’d been miscast. Still, the excitement of starring in an espionage film kept them moving forward.

After getting dressed, they decided to meet the writer who had suggested them for these roles.

As they entered the bustling writer’s room, the scent of coffee mixed with the quiet hum of keyboards and the soft murmur of conversations. Writers were scattered around, deep in discussions or making last-minute adjustments to the script. When Nayoung, always the bolder of the two, asked if “Donny was in,” a tall, imposing figure turned towards them.

His skin was a rich, deep brown, and his eyes, a striking maroon, seemed to flicker with an inner fire as he looked at them. He rose from his chair with a calm, measured grace, tilting his head slightly as he sized up the two women.

Chowon’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about him—something that made her feel simultaneously drawn to him and strangely at ease. A warm sensation spread through her, originating in her core and radiating outward. It was as if his mere presence was wrapping her in a comforting embrace, and despite the strange intensity of the feeling, she didn’t want it to stop.

“How can I help you, ladies?” Donny’s voice was unexpectedly soft, with a warmth that contrasted with his stern appearance.

Nayoung quickly took the lead, “Yeah, you can. I’ve got to ask—why did I end up with the cutesy role while Chowon’s the femme fatale?”

Donny smiled a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Honestly, I wanted to give you the femme fatale role and the nun role to Chowon, but the studio execs had other ideas. They said if I flipped them, they’d be sold on the concept. I did push for screen tests, but they weren’t having it. So, I didn’t give you these roles, but I am rewriting them to suit each of you better.”

Chowon’s warmth morphed into something deeper, almost like a gentle burn in her abdomen. It wasn’t unpleasant it was the opposite. She felt a growing need to be near him, to bask in that reassuring warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

“Um, okay.” Chowon’s voice was shaky but determined. “Can I ask one favor?”

“I may not be able to grant it, but I’ll see what I can do,” Donny replied, his tone as calm and reassuring as before.

“Could you be on set with us while we film?” Chowon asked shyly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Donny raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. Realizing how her request might sound, she quickly added, “I mean, so we can get a feel for how you see us in the characters.”

Donny relaxed, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

Chowon beamed, the warmth inside her flaring up as she stepped closer to Donny. “I’ll see you later then!” she said giddily, gesturing for Nayoung to follow her.

Nayoung, who had watched the entire exchange in surprise, quickly caught up to Chowon once they were outside. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Chowon asked innocently.

Nayoung mimicked Chowon’s earlier tone, “‘Can I ask a favor?’” She playfully caressed Chowon’s arm before mockingly adding, “‘I’ll see you later.’”

Chowon blushed as Nayoung concluded. “You have a crush.”

As they exited the writer’s room, Chowon couldn’t shake the warmth that had ignited within her. It was growing stronger, spreading through her body like a slow, smoldering fire. She tried to focus on Nayoung’s teasing, but the sensation in her abdomen was becoming more intense by the second, to the point where it was almost unbearable.

"I… I need to go to the restroom," Chowon stammered, her voice barely steady.

Nayoung, still chuckling to herself, nodded. "Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you back at the dressing room."

Chowon hurried down the hallway, her steps growing more urgent as the burning sensation flared up, making it hard to think straight. By the time she reached the restroom, her hands were trembling as she locked the door behind her.

She pulled up her shirt to inspect her abdomen, expecting nothing more than nerves or maybe some strange allergic reaction. But what she saw made her gasp.

There, just below her ribcage, was a faint, glowing mark. It was intricate, almost like an ancient rune, pulsing softly with a light that matched the heat she was feeling inside. Chowon’s heart raced as she stared at the mark, unable to comprehend what was happening to her.

Before she could fully process it, the air in the restroom grew heavy, charged with a presence she couldn’t see but could somehow feel. A soft, melodious voice broke the silence.

"My little girl has her first mutual crush," the voice purred, tinged with amusement. "And now her powers are activating."

Chowon spun around, her breath catching in her throat. Standing before her, as if she had stepped out of thin air, was a woman of otherworldly beauty. Her long, flowing hair shimmered like spun gold, and her eyes—those same striking golden-tinted brown eyes—glinted with a mixture of pride and mischief. It was her mother, Semiramis.

"M-Mom?" Chowon stammered, still reeling from both the appearance of the mark and her mother’s sudden presence.

Semiramis smiled, stepping closer to examine the glowing mark on her daughter’s abdomen. "You’re growing up so fast, Chowon. I knew this day would come, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon."

"What’s happening to me?" Chowon asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do I feel like this?"

Semiramis tilted her head, her expression softening. "Your powers, my dear. They’ve been dormant until now, waiting for the right trigger. It seems that meeting this… Donny has awakened them."

Chowon’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. "But… why now? I’ve had crushes before, but nothing like this ever happened."

"Because this isn’t just any crush," Semiramis explained, her voice almost reverent. "It’s mutual. That’s the key. Your powers are tied to your emotions, to the connections you form. When your feelings are truly reciprocated, your succubus nature begins to awaken. That’s what you’re experiencing now."

Chowon looked down at the mark again, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. "So… this is because of Donny?"

"Sort of," Semiramis said with a knowing smile. "while he’s special to you, and that has triggered your transformation. you still had to choose him first. But be careful, my dear. Your powers are still new, still raw. They will grow stronger as your feelings for him deepen, and as his feelings for you grow, too."

Chowon nodded slowly, still trying to wrap her head around it all. "What am I supposed to do?"

Semiramis gently cupped her daughter’s face, her expression soft but serious. "You must learn to control these powers, to harness them before they control you. And be cautious with Donny. He may be the reason you awakened your powers, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous in his way."

"Dangerous? How?" Chowon asked, confused.

Semiramis hesitated, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I don't know. That’s something you’ll have to discover for yourself, in time. For now, just focus on mastering your abilities. And remember, my sweet girl, I’m always here if you need me."

With that, Semiramis placed a soft kiss on Chowon’s forehead, and before Chowon could say anything more, her mother’s presence faded, leaving her alone in the restroom, staring at the glowing mark on her abdomen. the glow went from pink to magenta to purple then back to pink again.

Chowon took a deep breath, her heart still pounding. Everything was changing, and she had no idea what lay ahead. But one thing was certain: Donny was at the center of it all.

Speaking of Donny, he spent the rest of the day working but couldn't shake off his thoughts about Chowon.

After a long day of work, Donny finally made his way back to his apartment. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in hues of deep orange and purple. He walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts a jumble of the day’s events.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting with Nayoung and Chowon earlier. Specifically, his mind kept circling back to Chowon—her shy smile, the way her voice had trembled slightly when she asked him to be on set, and that warmth he had felt when she had stood close to him. It was like she was radiating an energy that he couldn’t quite place. He felt a strange mix of desire to destroy her but also protect her.

As Donny reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and headed straight to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside, casting long shadows across the floor.

He leaned his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes. Despite his fatigue, sleep seemed far away. Instead, his mind drifted, unbidden, back to Chowon. He tried to shake it off—tried to focus on anything else—but the image of her kept resurfacing.

Before he knew it, he was daydreaming. In his mind’s eye, Chowon was standing before him, dressed in that same femme fatale outfit from earlier. But this time, the context was different. They weren’t on a set or in a writer’s room. They were alone, in an empty theater, the rows of seats around them fading into darkness.

She looked at him, her eyes full of a soft, enticing glow, and slowly approached. There was a confidence in her stride, an allure that seemed to pull him in, though he knew he should resist. The closer she got, the more his heart pounded in his chest.

“Donny,” she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of something he couldn’t quite define. It wasn’t just attraction; it was deeper, more potent. It was as if she was calling to something inside him, something he had kept buried for a long time.

In the dream, she reached out, her hand gently brushing against his cheek. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself leaning into it, craving more. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of comfort and desire that made it impossible to think straight.

But just as she leaned in closer, her lips hovering near his, something inside him snapped. He suddenly felt a surge of heat—not the pleasant warmth he had felt earlier, but something more intense, almost like a warning. The fiery maroon hue of his eyes in the dream suddenly flared up, and with it, an image of a sword—his sword—flashed in his mind.

In that instant, the scene around him shifted. The theater disappeared, replaced by a battlefield, scorched and broken. He stood there, dressed in his armor, with Chowon by his side, though she looked different—her eyes glowing with the same color as his own, her expression fierce and determined.

The dream took on a darker tone as they stood together, facing an unseen enemy. He felt a connection to her, but also a deep, troubling conflict within himself. Was he protecting her? Fighting against her? The lines were blurred, and the dream’s intensity left him feeling unsettled.

With a start, Donny snapped out of the daydream, his heart racing. He was back in his apartment, the quiet darkness pressing in on him. He sat up, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing. What the hell was that?

He shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from the dream. But the feeling of Chowon’s presence, of that connection he had felt in the dream, stayed with him. He couldn’t deny it—there was something about her, something that had reached deep inside him, stirring feelings he had long kept under control.

Donny stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the city lights. He was a paladin of Nezzar, sworn to a path of justice and protection. But what he had felt with Chowon was… different. And it scared him. The dream had shaken him to his core, making him question everything he thought he knew.

As he stood there, staring into the night, Donny realized that this was just the beginning. Chowon had awakened something in him—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. But he knew one thing for certain: whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be easy.

And somehow, he knew that this wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation. It was something far more dangerous and profound.

Eventually, he found sleep and woke up the next day feeling refreshed and relaxed. he went through his daily rituals and prayers as he did he felt a tightness in his chest as the thing writhing beneath his flesh wriggled. it was weird but he pushed it down subconsciously. after that, he showered ate breakfast, and went to work. on the way he felt compelled to grab breakfast for the writers' room, so he stopped on the way at a sandwich shop and got breakfast sandwiches for everyone. when he arrived at the writers' room everyone was excited to see the one guy who brought them all the food. He sat down and one of the head writers (Thomas) approached him.

"Hey, why didn't you report to Costumes yet?"

Donny looked up at them confused.

"Because I am a writer."

"Oh, Maya must not have texted you. you have been promoted. You are now going to be one of the antagonists in the film.

"Huh, why?" Donny asked.

“The director saw your little chat with the girls last night and thought that you and Chowon need to be on screen together. So he called a couple of the head writers and said to start writing a part for you. Maya was supposed to text you to be at the costumes department yesterday but she may still exhausted from yesterday's rewrite, however, now go." Thomas said. Donny nodded and ran to hair, makeup, and costumes. on the way out he got cheers and quite a few thanks for the food that he brought. As he was pushed through the whirlwind of hair, makeup, etc. he chatted with the crew asking about his character and all they could give was, silent menace. so when he got to set that's all tried to get in the right head space, and that thing from yesterday. that darkness that sparked in his heart answered,

"Take what's yours," it said and Donny felt his countenance change. An intense disdain and disgust swelled within him as he stepped on stage. The cast and crew could feel it. The director saw him and was terrified but glad. turns out his intuition was correct as Donny would make an excellent antagonist. Donny walked over to the director and asked politely, "So what is my role?"

"You are an ex-agency member who had "died" but was betrayed by your supervising agent who is now the leader of the agency. you act as the voice of skepticism to the main character and push him to challenge what he knows about being a spy. you are also in a relationship with Chowon's character."

That answer surprised Donny and took him out of this weird malevolent trance he was in. The director laughed seeing him come down.

"Oh weren't expecting that were you? well, when I saw the tender way you interacted with the girls the calm you had was so interesting as you had this calm attitude to them. So I came up with the base idea for your character and had the writers flesh it out. I don't think they are done so for a while you are going to have to do a lot of the heavy lifting for this character. Do you think you're up to that?" Donny thought for a minute then nodded.

Matthew the director nodded and then said, "Okay well then. go kill it," Donny nodded then tapped back into that darkness within he was surprised at how easily it came to him again. it frightened him but it also felt so natural so alluring as if he was fully expressing a part of himself he buried deep down.

Donny was just beginning to tap into that malevolent presence within him when Chowon arrived on set. As she stepped into the building, she immediately felt a strange, unsettling cold wash over her. It was as though the very air had thickened, making each breath more difficult to draw. Her heart began to race, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the oppressive feeling.

The sensation grew stronger with each step she took deeper into the set. It felt like being pulled under the waves of a dark, icy sea, the pressure mounting around her chest as if something unseen was trying to drag her down. Her breath quickened, each inhale a struggle against the overwhelming sense of dread that now gripped her.

As she rounded a corner, the feeling suddenly intensified, almost bringing her to her knees. It was as though the very walls of the set were closing in on her, and she had to force herself to keep moving forward. Her vision began to blur, and she felt a chill run down her spine as if something ancient and angry was watching her, waiting for her to falter.

Then, she saw him.

Donny stood in the middle of the set, his back turned to her as he conversed with the director. The cold, suffocating presence was emanating from him, wrapping around her like tendrils of darkness. It was so intense that she almost couldn’t breathe, her chest tightening painfully as if she were drowning in the deep, dark ocean that his aura resembled.

Summoning her courage, she called out to him, her voice trembling, “Donny?”

In an instant, the oppressive aura vanished, replaced by something entirely different. The coldness that had gripped her heart melted away, and she felt an overwhelming warmth spread through her body. It was as though a beam of sunlight had pierced through the dark clouds, bathing her in its light. The feeling of being pulled under was replaced by a sensation of being lifted up, buoyed by a powerful yet gentle force.

Donny turned to face her, his eyes softening as he recognized her voice. The aura that now surrounded him was one of pure, unyielding virtue—a paragon-like presence that radiated peace and strength. It was equally intense, but instead of fear, it filled Chowon with a sense of calm and security. The stark contrast between the two auras left her breathless, her mind reeling from the sudden shift.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Chowon felt as though she could see into the depths of his soul. She sensed the presence of Nezzar, the god of justice, within him—a force of righteousness and order. But beneath that, she caught a fleeting glimpse of something else—something older, angrier, and more malevolent. It was like a ghostly shadow lurking just beneath the surface, alien and unfathomable, yet deeply intertwined with who Donny was.

Chowon’s heart skipped a beat as she realized that this darker presence was not aimed at her but at the world around them. It was a force that Donny unconsciously suppressed, perhaps even feared, yet it was undeniably a part of him.

“Chowon?” Donny’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle and concerned. The aura of virtue still surrounded him, bringing her back to the present moment.

She shook her head slightly, forcing a smile. “I… I just wanted to see how everything was going.”

“Good timing,” Donny replied, his voice carrying the same warmth as his presence now. “We were just about to start.”

Chowon nodded, but as she took her place on set, she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of that dark, alien presence she had sensed. It was as if she had glimpsed something she wasn’t meant to see—something that could change everything.

And yet, despite the fear it evoked, she couldn’t deny the strange pull she felt toward Donny, a pull that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Matthew, watching this, sighed with a hint of amusement. “Hey, save some of that cute romantic longing for the scene,” he said.

Taken out of their little moment, Chowon and Donny looked to Matthew before nodding and taking their places.

Why does it feel like I’m drawn to him? Chowon thought as she glanced at Donny. Every time I’m near him, it’s like this invisible force pulls me closer. It’s not just attraction—it’s something deeper, something I’ve never felt before. It scares me, but… I don’t want to let it go.

Donny, on the other hand, was wrestling with his own thoughts. She’s incredible, he mused, watching her with a mix of admiration and longing. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel this way. It’s like she sees right through me, past everything I try to hide. I’m falling for her—fast—but what if she finds out what’s really inside of me? What if I hurt her?

“Okay, lights, camera, action!” Matthew yelled.

Donny walked into the little home that their characters shared and made his way over to the kitchen, where Chowon was “cooking.”

“Hey babe, I’m home,” Donny said as he wrapped his arms around Chowon from behind.

Chowon smiled in his arms, melting into his touch. She nestled closer to him, feeling a comforting warmth spread through her as she whispered into his ear, “It’s good to see you, babe. I hope work was okay.”

Caught up in the moment, Donny instinctively kissed Chowon’s forehead. She looked up at him, her eyes forming crescent moons as she kissed him softly on the lips. Donny, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion, let her lead the kiss, forgetting for a brief moment that they were still on set.

He’s so warm, so comforting, Chowon thought as she kissed him, her heart pounding in her chest. Every time he touches me, it’s like everything else fades away. How can someone make me feel this alive?

For Donny, the moment was equally intense. She’s incredible, he thought, his mind racing as he felt her soft lips against his. How did I get so lucky to meet someone like her? But there’s so much she doesn’t know about me, so much I’m afraid to show her. I don’t want to lose this—lose her.

“Cut!” Matthew called out, breaking them out of their trance.

They pulled away, looking around the set with wide eyes as they realized everyone was watching them with knowing smiles as if they were the cutest couple on the planet. Matthew grinned as he approached them.

“That was excellent. You both knocked it out of the park, in one take. Now, we’ll excuse you two lovebirds so we can move on to the next scene,” Matthew said, still smiling.

Chowon smiled back and then looked at Donny. Confidently, she asked, “Breakfast?”

Donny nodded, feeling the lightness of the moment. “I’m starving.”

He’s really something else, Chowon thought as they walked off set together. Every time I’m around him, I feel like I’m on the edge of something big, something that could change everything. And I’m not sure I’m ready for it, but at the same time, I can’t resist it. I don’t want to resist it.

The duo began to walk toward catering when Donny suddenly had a better idea. He turned to Matthew, who was busy coordinating the next scene.

“Hey, boss, do you need us for anything else?” Donny asked.

The director shook his head. “Actually, when you can, could you give me some character notes?”

“Of course,” Donny nodded before continuing on his way with Chowon following beside him, her steps light and happy.

This is crazy, Donny thought as they left the set together. I’ve never fallen this hard, this fast, for anyone. But with her, it’s different. It’s not just attraction—it’s something more, something that feels almost… inevitable. But what if I’m not what she thinks I am? What if I’m not enough?

As they left the set, Chowon suggested they go to a nearby diner she had heard about. “I’ve been dying to try their breakfast menu,” she said with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

They walked down the street, the early morning sun warming the city as they made their way to the cozy little diner. Once they were seated in a booth near the window, Chowon began to feel a familiar warmth spread through her chest—a warmth that was quickly turning into a simmering heat.

She could feel her succubus nature stirring within her, the power that had been dormant for so long now begging to be released. And as she looked across the table at Donny, she couldn’t help but let that side of her slip through.

“So,” she began, her voice taking on a sultry tone as she leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. “How did you know exactly what I needed back there on set? It’s like you can read my mind.”

He really does know me, she thought, her eyes locked on his. But it’s more than that. It’s like he sees the real me, the me I try to hide from everyone else. And instead of running away, he’s drawn to it. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

Donny chuckled, slightly taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. “Just lucky, I guess,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual, though he couldn’t ignore the intensity of her gaze.

She’s dangerous, he thought, feeling that familiar dark presence stir within him again. But that’s part of what makes her so irresistible. She’s got this power over me, and I don’t know if I can—or even want to—fight it.

“Lucky, huh?” Chowon teased, her smile growing as she leaned in closer. “I think it’s more than that. You’ve got this… way about you. Something that makes it impossible for me to resist.”

I can’t help it, she thought, feeling the heat in her chest spread throughout her body. He makes me feel alive in a way I never have before. It’s like he’s unlocking something inside of me, something I didn’t even know was there.

Donny felt his heart rate quicken as she spoke, her words dripping with a playful seduction that was hard to ignore. He swallowed, trying to keep his composure. “Well, you’re not exactly making it easy for me to keep my cool either,” he admitted with a grin.

She’s incredible, he thought, feeling that strange darkness within him stir again as if responding to her. But there’s something about her that makes me want to protect her, even from myself. I can’t let her get too close, but at the same time, I don’t want to push her away.

“Oh?” Chowon arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his reaction. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against the back of his hand. “What if I don’t want you to keep your cool? What if I want to see what happens when you let go?”

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through Donny, and for a moment, he felt that strange, dark presence within him stir again, as if responding to her challenge. But just as quickly as it appeared, he pushed it down, focusing instead on the woman in front of him.

She’s playing with fire, he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met her gaze. But then again, so am I. Maybe we’re both just waiting to see who gets burned first.

“Careful what you wish for,” he said, his voice low and teasing, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that made Chowon’s heart skip a beat.

Why does he have this effect on me? she wondered, feeling a thrill run through her at the subtle shift in his tone. It’s like he knows exactly how to push my buttons, how to get under my skin. And the craziest part is… I don’t want him to stop.

She smiled, feeling a thrill run through her at the subtle shift in his tone. “Maybe I like living dangerously,” she whispered, leaning even closer until there was barely any space between them.

For a moment, the world outside the diner seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their little bubble of shared energy. Chowon’s succubus nature reveled in the tension, feeding off of the subtle back-and-forth between them. She could feel her power growing, the heat in her chest spreading throughout her body, urging her to close the distance between them even more.

This is insane, Donny thought, feeling his pulse quicken as she moved closer. *I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t let her get this close. But there’s something about her that makes me want to throw caution to the wind. I just hope I don’t regret it.*

But just as she was about to take that final step, the waitress arrived with their food, breaking the spell. Chowon pulled back slightly, though the playful glint in her eyes remained. “Looks like we’ll have to continue this conversation later,” she said with a wink.

Donny chuckled, relieved and yet slightly disappointed at the interruption. “Yeah, looks like it,” he agreed, though he couldn’t help but feel that the intensity between them had only just begun.

She’s amazing, he thought as he watched her take a bite of her food. And I’m in deep—deeper than I’ve ever been with anyone. But there’s so much at stake here, so much I’m afraid to lose. I just hope I can keep it together long enough to figure out what to do next.

As they dug into their breakfast, the playful banter continued, but beneath the surface, both of them were acutely aware of the electric current that now flowed between them—a current that neither of them could deny, and one that promised to only grow stronger with time.

This is only the beginning, Chowon thought, stealing a glance at Donny as he laughed at something she said. And something tells me that whatever happens next, it’s going to change everything. As they finished up the couple decided to head back to the set as they walked back Chowon laced her hands in Donny's. A happy smile lined her face as they walked back.

As Donny and Chowon walked back onto the set, the energy between them was palpable. They were still riding the high from their impromptu lunch date, both feeling more connected than ever. Chowon’s heart fluttered with each step, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside her.

But as they entered the set, something shifted in the air. A producer, Mr. Park, who had always been courteous and professional, suddenly froze as Chowon approached. His eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

“Chowon, you look… stunning today,” Mr. Park said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar tone.

Chowon blinked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “Thank you, Mr. Park,” she replied politely, trying to step past him. But he moved closer, blocking her path.

“No, really,” he insisted, his hand reaching out to grab her arm. “I think we need to talk, right now. You and me.”

The grip on her arm was firm, almost possessive, and panic began to rise in Chowon’s chest. She had no idea what was happening or why Mr. Park was acting this way. Her heart raced, and she tried to pull away, but his hold tightened.

“Mr. Park, please, I—” Chowon started, but before she could finish, Donny was there, stepping between them.

“Hey, back off,” Donny said, his voice calm but with an edge that made Mr. Park hesitate.

Mr. Park’s eyes flicked to Donny, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger. “This doesn’t concern you,” he snapped, though his grip on Chowon loosened slightly.

“It does if you’re making her uncomfortable,” Donny replied, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Let her go.”

As Donny spoke, something within him stirred—a deep, innate force that he had always carried but rarely acknowledged. Without realizing it, he tapped into that well of power, and a soft, golden light seemed to radiate from him. The air around him shimmered subtly, and Mr. Park’s aggressive demeanor began to waver.

For a moment, it looked like Mr. Park was going to argue, but then his expression softened, the anger and confusion draining from his face. He blinked as if waking from a trance, his grip on Chowon’s arm loosening entirely.

“I… I’m sorry,” Mr. Park stammered, stepping back and rubbing his forehead as if trying to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Chowon, still shaken, moved closer to Donny, grateful for his intervention. She didn’t understand why Mr. Park had suddenly acted so strangely, but being near Donny made her feel safe.

“Are you okay?” Donny asked, his voice softening as he looked down at her. The golden light that had briefly surrounded him faded away, leaving only his natural warmth and presence.

Chowon nodded, though her heart was still pounding. “Yeah… I just… I don’t know what happened.”

Donny glanced back at Mr. Park, who now looked embarrassed and confused as if he couldn’t believe his own behavior. “It’s fine now. Let’s just get back to work, all right?”

Chowon nodded again, leaning into Donny’s side for comfort as they walked away together. She didn’t know what had caused that strange encounter, but she was thankful that Donny had been there to protect her. And in that moment, she realized just how much she was starting to rely on him.

Donny, for his part, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had no idea what had just happened, but seeing Chowon in distress had brought out a fierce protectiveness in him that he didn’t fully understand. All he knew was that he didn’t want to see her hurt, and he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. Unbeknownst to him, his paladin powers had just awakened, dispelling the charm that had overtaken Mr. Park, but the full implications of this were still hidden from his conscious mind. As they continued to walk back on set Donny began to feel nauseous.

As Donny and Chowon walked back onto the set, the energy between them was palpable. They were still riding the high from their impromptu lunch date, both feeling more connected than ever. Chowon’s heart fluttered with each step, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside her.

But as they entered the set, something shifted in the air. A producer, Mr. Park, who had always been courteous and professional, suddenly froze as Chowon approached. His eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

“Chowon, you look… stunning today,” Mr. Park said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar tone.

Chowon blinked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “Thank you, Mr. Park,” she replied politely, trying to step past him. But he moved closer, blocking her path.

“No, really,” he insisted, his hand reaching out to grab her arm. “I think we need to talk, right now. You and me.”

The grip on her arm was firm, almost possessive, and panic began to rise in Chowon’s chest. She had no idea what was happening or why Mr. Park was acting this way. Her heart raced, and she tried to pull away, but his hold tightened.

“Mr. Park, please, I—” Chowon started, but before she could finish, Donny was there, stepping between them.

“Hey, back off,” Donny said, his voice calm but with an edge that made Mr. Park hesitate.

Mr. Park’s eyes flicked to Donny, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger. “This doesn’t concern you,” he snapped, though his grip on Chowon loosened slightly.

“It does if you’re making her uncomfortable,” Donny replied, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Let her go.”

As Donny spoke, something within him stirred—a deep, innate force that he had always carried but rarely acknowledged. Without realizing it, he tapped into that well of power, and a soft, golden light seemed to radiate from him. The air around him shimmered subtly, and Mr. Park’s aggressive demeanor began to waver.

For a moment, it looked like Mr. Park was going to argue, but then his expression softened, the anger and confusion draining from his face. He blinked as if waking from a trance, his grip on Chowon’s arm loosening entirely.

“I… I’m sorry,” Mr. Park stammered, stepping back and rubbing his forehead as if trying to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Chowon, still shaken, moved closer to Donny, grateful for his intervention. She didn’t understand why Mr. Park had suddenly acted so strangely, but being near Donny made her feel safe.

“Are you okay?” Donny asked, his voice softening as he looked down at her. The golden light that had briefly surrounded him faded away, leaving only his natural warmth and presence.

Chowon nodded, though her heart was still pounding. “Yeah… I just… I don’t know what happened.”

Donny glanced back at Mr. Park, who now looked embarrassed and confused as if he couldn’t believe his own behavior. “It’s fine now. Let’s just get back to work, all right?”

Chowon nodded again, leaning into Donny’s side for comfort as they walked away together. She didn’t know what had caused that strange encounter, but she was thankful that Donny had been there to protect her. And in that moment, she realized just how much she was starting to rely on him.

Donny, for his part, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had no idea what had just happened, but seeing Chowon in distress had brought out a fierce protectiveness in him that he didn’t fully understand. All he knew was that he didn’t want to see her hurt, and he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. Unbeknownst to him, his paladin powers had just awakened, dispelling the charm that had overtaken Mr. Park, but the full implications of this were still hidden from his conscious mind.

When Donny returned to where he had left Chowon, he felt a mix of relief and trepidation. The encounter with the darkness inside him had left him shaken, but seeing Chowon waiting there, her expression a blend of concern and patience, brought him a sense of grounding.

As he approached her, Chowon immediately noticed the pallor in his face and the tension in his posture. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning him with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

“Donny, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Donny forced a small smile, trying to push the lingering effects of the vision aside. “I’m fine, really,” he replied, though his voice was slightly strained. “I just… wasn’t feeling well for a moment. Must’ve been something I ate.”

Chowon’s brow furrowed, clearly not convinced. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” she said gently, her eyes searching his for any hint of what was really going on. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

For a moment, Donny considered telling her the truth—about the darkness inside him, the vision he had just experienced, and the war raging within his soul. But the words caught in his throat. How could he explain something so otherworldly, so terrifying, without scaring her away? He wasn’t even sure he fully understood it himself.

Instead, he reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I appreciate that, Chowon. Really, I do,” he said, his voice softening. “But I don’t want you to worry. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Chowon hesitated, clearly torn between pressing the issue and respecting his boundaries. After a moment, she nodded, though the concern in her eyes didn’t fade. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But if you ever need to talk… I’m here.”

Donny felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a stark contrast to the cold darkness he had just faced. He squeezed her hand again, grateful for her presence. “Thank you, Chowon,” he said sincerely. “That means a lot.”

As they stood there, hand in hand, Donny couldn’t help but feel the strange duality within him—on one hand, the darkness that threatened to consume him, and on the other, the light that Chowon seemed to bring into his life. It was as if she was a beacon, guiding him through the chaos, even if she didn’t fully understand the depths of what he was facing.

But for now, he was content to simply be in her presence, letting her warmth chase away the lingering shadows in his mind.

“Come on,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Let’s get back to the set. We’ve got a scene to shoot.”

Chowon nodded, though she still seemed a bit hesitant. As they walked side by side, Donny couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter how hard he tried to keep the darkness at bay, it was only a matter of time before it surfaced again. And when it did, he wasn’t sure if even Chowon’s light would be enough to save him.

That evening, Donny sat on the edge of his bed, his mind still racing from the events of the day. The quiet of his apartment did little to soothe the turmoil inside him. His body was exhausted, but his mind was anything but at rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Chowon—her smile, her concern, the way her hand had felt in his.

But the moment his thoughts drifted to her, something dark and primal stirred within him. It was like a shadow slithering beneath his skin, growing stronger the more he tried to ignore it. The sensation was different from what he had felt earlier on set when he’d had to suppress the malevolent force lurking inside him. This was more insidious, more intertwined with his emotions and desires.

He thought of the way Chowon had looked at him, the warmth in her eyes, and how it had made him feel safe—grounded, even. But now, that same warmth seemed to be the very thing igniting the darkness within him.

The desire he felt for her, initially pure and genuine, was now laced with something darker, something that hungered for more than just affection. It was possessive, almost feral, and it terrified him.

“No,” he muttered to himself, gripping the edge of the bed so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “This isn’t me. This can’t be me.”

But the darkness within him only seemed to grow stronger, feeding off his denial. His desire for Chowon, instead of subsiding, intensified with every heartbeat. It was as if the act of suppressing it only gave it more power, twisting his longing for her into something almost monstrous.

Images flashed through his mind—Chowon in his arms, her lips on his, her body pressed against him. But there was something wrong, something off about these visions. In them, he wasn’t just with her; he was consuming her, pulling her into the darkness that now seemed to define him. The line between love and obsession blurred, leaving him confused and shaken.

“Stop,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the dark thoughts, but they clung to him like a shadow. The more he tried to push them away, the deeper they sank their claws into his soul.

The darkness surged again, this time more violently, making his chest tighten and his breathing grow shallow. He could feel it—the otherness within him, the part that was neither human nor paladin, that ancient, malevolent force tied to his heritage. It was alive, writhing beneath the surface, and it wanted Chowon. Not in the way Donny wanted her, but in a way that would devour her, consume her completely.

“No!” he shouted, pushing himself off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes, usually a deep brown, seemed darker now, almost black, as if the darkness within him was beginning to seep out.

He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to snap himself out of it, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside him. The darkness laughed at his feeble attempts to suppress it, mocking him for thinking he could control something so primal, so deeply rooted in his very being.

As he stood there, panting and trembling, Donny realized just how dangerous this was. Not just for him, but for Chowon. If he couldn’t get a grip on this—on the darkness, on his own desires—he could hurt her. And that was something he couldn’t allow.

But even as he made that vow, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. The darkness wasn’t something that could be simply pushed down or ignored. It was a part of him, a part that was growing stronger by the day, and it wasn’t going to let go without a fight.

Donny looked back into the mirror, staring at the man he no longer recognized. He had to find a way to control this before it consumed him—before it consumed everything he cared about.

But as he returned to his bedroom, the lingering image of Chowon’s smile filled his mind, and with it, the darkness surged once more, feeding off his conflicted emotions. Donny clenched his fists, trying to suppress the wave of desire, but deep down, he knew the battle was far from over.

The night stretched on, and with it, the war within his soul continued, leaving him with one inescapable truth—he was falling for Chowon, and the darkness within him was falling even harder.

Over the next few days, Donny spent a lot of time avoiding or hiding from Chowon because of this malevolent force her felt inside of him

Donny sits at the kitchen table, staring at a cup of chocolate milk. His phone buzzes with a message from Chowon: “Hey, are you free today? Let’s grab lunch!”

He hesitates, staring at the message. After a moment of anguish, he deletes it without responding. Across town, Chowon checks her phone repeatedly, frowning as the hours pass with no reply. She sighs, tossing her phone onto the bed, feeling a pang of hurt.

Donny moves through the set, deliberately avoiding Chowon. As he passes by her, he offers a curt nod but avoids eye contact. Chowon, noticing his aloofness, feels a stab of confusion and hurt. “Why is he avoiding me?” she wonders, trying to focus on her work.

Every time she tries to approach him, Donny finds a reason to distance himself. Chowon’s frustration grows, her mind racing with possible reasons for his behavior. “Did I do something wrong?” she thinks, her irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

Donny sits alone at a corner table. He sees Chowon enter with friends, her eyes scanning the room for him. When she spots him, her face lights up with a smile, but as she starts to walk over, Donny quickly gathers his things and exits through the back door.

Chowon stands in the middle of the coffee shop, her smile fading into a look of hurt and confusion. “What’s his problem?” she thinks, her frustration mounting. “Is he really just going to keep running away from me?”

Donny paces around his apartment, trying to calm the turbulence inside him. He glances at a framed photo of Chowon on his desk, then turns away with a grimace.

Meanwhile, Chowon sits in her own apartment, staring at her phone. “He’s not even texting me back now,” she thinks angrily. “What is he so afraid of? If he doesn’t want to see me, he should just say it.” She tosses her phone aside, crossing her arms in frustration.

Donny walks through a quiet park, his gaze fixed on the ground. He hears Chowon’s laughter in the distance, and his expression tightens. He turns around and begins walking briskly in the opposite direction.

Chowon, seeing him leave, feels her frustration boil over. “This is ridiculous,” she thinks, her heart pounding with anger and hurt. “He can’t just keep running away like this. What’s going on with him?” She clenches her fists, determined to confront him the next time they meet.

During a break, Donny watches Chowon from the shadows. She is surrounded by friends, chatting animatedly. He takes a deep breath and retreats to a quiet corner.

Chowon catches a glimpse of Donny disappearing into the shadows. “There he goes again,” she thinks, her frustration reaching its peak. “He’s hiding something from me, and I’m going to find out what it is.” Her mind races with thoughts of confronting him, demanding answers.

Donny sits on his bed, staring at a sketchbook filled with drawings of Chowon. His face is a mix of longing and resolve as he turns the pages.

In her own bed, Chowon lies awake, replaying every interaction with Donny in her mind. “He wasn’t like this before,” she thinks, her heart aching. “Something’s changed, and I need to know what it is. I can’t keep playing this game.” She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling both anger and a deep sense of loss.

Chowon, visibly distressed, tries to focus on her work. She glances around, hoping to catch sight of Donny. Their eyes briefly meet from across the set, and a flash of unspoken pain passes between them.

Donny, seeing her hurt expression, clenches his fists and turns away, his face a mask of agony and determination. Chowon watches him go, her frustration turning into determination. “I’m not letting this go,” she thinks. “He’s not pushing me away without a fight.”

after a week of this Chowon has had enough. Unsure of whom to call as Nayoung's only advice has been to drop him like a bad habit she sits on their hotel couch sullen. Chowon sits on her couch, her phone clutched in her hand. After several minutes of hesitation, she finally dials her mom’s number. The phone rings a few times before her mom picks up. her face smiling happily until she sees a saddened Chowon.

Semiramis frowns seeing her daughter so distressed “Hello, sweetheart. How’s everything going?”

Chowon sighs and replies, “Hi, Mom. I… I need to talk to you about something.”

Semiramis nods and responds on the video call“Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”

Chowon takes a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. She’s been wrestling with her feelings for Donny and his sudden coldness. Chowon sighs as she says “It’s about Donny. I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s been avoiding me lately. He used to be so warm and kind, but now he’s distant and aloof. I don’t understand why he’s pushing me away, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Semiramis nods, “I see. It sounds like you’re really struggling with this. But you’re sure it’s not something you did?” she says

Chowon vehemently shakes her head “No, I don’t think so. I’ve tried everything to get closer to him, but he just keeps shutting me out. It’s like he’s afraid of something, but he won’t tell me what.”

Semiramis pauses, thinking carefully. Semiramis responds “Well, my dear, you know I can’t give you a magical solution, but I can offer some advice. If you really care about him and want to understand what’s going on, you need to confront him directly.”

Chowon looks at her mom confused, “Confront him? How? He’s been so distant…” she asks

Semiramis rolls her eyes amused “ You are a worldwide star, he is lucky you even give him the time of day. Yes, confront him. Sometimes, you need to take the initiative and not back down. Use your natural charm, your presence. Let him know that you’re not going anywhere until you get answers. Sometimes, people need a little push to open up.” she guides

Chowon nods as she is still hesitant, but replies, “But what if he still won’t talk to me? What if he keeps avoiding me?”

Semiramis smiles, and says, “Then you have to be persistent. If necessary, ‘take him by force’—I don’t mean anything violent, of course. I mean, don’t let him shut you out. Show him that you’re committed to understanding him and being there for him. Sometimes, persistence and sincerity can break through barriers.”

Chowon thinks for a moment as determination fills her, “Okay, I’ll try that. I just wish I knew what’s really going on with him.” She says resolute

Semiramis smiles at her daughter “I understand, sweetheart. And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, and I believe in your strength to get through this. Just be honest and patient, and things will work out.” she consoles

Chowon nods “Thanks, Mom. I’ll do what you suggested. I just hope it helps.” she says

Semiramis hums happily before saying, “I’m sure it will. Happy Hunting. Keep me updated, all right?”

Chowon nods determined “I will. Bye, Mom.”

Semiramis smiles at her daughter, “Goodbye, dear.”

Chowon ends the call and sits back on the couch, a mix of determination and anxiety in her expression. She takes a deep breath, feeling more resolved to confront Donny and get to the bottom of his strange behavior.

Chowon thinks to herself, “All right, Donny. I’m not giving up on you. I’ll find out what’s going on, even if it takes everything I have.”

The next day Chowon arrives at Donny's apartment. Chowon stands resolutely in front of Donny’s apartment door. After a moment of hesitation, she knocks firmly. The door opens to reveal Donny, clearly worn out and troubled. He looks at her with a mixture of surprise and distress. His looks tired Chowon realizes he hasn't been sleeping for the past few days and forces herself in and close Donny was taken aback by this action

Donny tenses as she hugs him, "Chowon what are you doing here?" he asks

Chowon pouts and replies, "You have been avoiding me and I don't like it. The only moments of closeness I get from you are on set when we have scenes together the rest of the time you're avoiding me. what happened? I’m here because I care about you, Donny. I see what you’re going through, and I want to help. Don’t push me away.”

Donny’s eyes reflect an almost sinister Teal that is encircling a benevolent magenta. Chowon watches sad as he struggles to keep his composure, and the air around him feels charged with a dark, unsettling energy. The atmosphere in the room begins to shift ominously. Donny's aura would shift from the familiar warmth that Chowon knew to the suffocation she felt. through labored breaths, Donny said “Chowon you need to go, you don’t understand. There’s something inside me that I can’t control.”

Chowon stood firm. while unsure of many things (like cube entertainment) she was resolute in this, “Let me be here for you. I want to understand. Please, just let me in.” she said kindly

Donny smiles and then writhes in pain as his flesh begins to rot and peel away, or is broken by cloven feet, tentacles, claws popping out of his physical form. if that wasn't enough at the top of his skull his flesh continued to rot or melt away as a monstrous visage of bone took its place. on the top of that bony maw, antlers began to sprout. One singular bloodshot eye. besides the bony ivory maw was made entirely of black ichor that dripped onto the floor. Chowon watched in horror as Donny's body split and out came a gilded warrior full of Divine fury that fought against the beast.

What frightened Chowon the most was what the forms said, "He favors you," one would say to the other as they attacked each other. Chowon watched and realized that Donny's soul was tearing itself apart before her eyes. seeing this she took a stand and dipped into her powers. She approached "Donny" and said, "You know I don't think either of you is so bad, but I like it better" Chowon's terror was gone in its place of seduction and desire. She smiled cutely hoping to ease Donny's pain, "I like you are, not as this warring thing." she says as she caresses both heads." Her powers work their magic as she begins to calm "Donny" down. Chowon presses on “Donny, stop fighting it! You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here with you.” to further this point she smooshes both heads together so she can kiss them.

As she continues the kiss of her various emotions she feels the bodies merge and shift, as they stop fighting.

Chowon (thinking): “It’s not about separating the parts of him. They’re both essential to who he is. He needs to understand that they are not opposing forces but integral parts of his being.”

She speaks to him with both urgency and tenderness, trying to convey the complexity of his nature, Chowon smiles at both sides as she breaks the kiss she says, “Donny, listen to me. You don’t have to suppress one side of yourself. The monster and the paladin are both parts of you. They are not opposed; they are intertwined. You are more than just darkness or light. Embrace both sides. They make you whole.”

The monstrous forms begin to shift and merge, integrating. The creature’s aggressive roars soften, becoming a calm, balanced presence. The room’s tension dissipates, replaced by a soothing aura. It feels cool yet warm like a pleasant starry night on the ocean.

Chowon’s own powers reveal her half-succubus nature and amplify her charms, but she remains focused on Donny. Her gaze is full of empathy and determination as she helps him reconcile his inner conflict. She smiles as she says “You are both the darkness and the light, Donny. Accepting both parts of yourself will bring you peace.”

Donny’s eyes widen with understanding. His monstrous and paladin aspects merge harmoniously, and he collapses, exhausted but relieved. Chowon kneels beside him, her heart aching with both sadness and hope.

Chowon smiles as she whispers to him, “I’m here. You don’t have to face this alone.”

As Donny loses consciousness, Chowon stays by his side, her presence a source of comfort. She gently cradles him, her resolve firm as she watches over him. he falls asleep on her lap, as the first restful dream comes to him in the past three days. Chowon also falls asleep soon after

The night was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the city outside Donny’s window. Exhausted from the day’s events, he finally succumbed to sleep, his thoughts lingering on Chowon—her warmth, her smile, and that inexplicable pull he felt toward her.

Both of them drifted into a deep sleep, and as they did, they found themselves in an unfamiliar yet oddly comforting place. They stood together in the middle of a vast, moonlit garden, filled with blooming flowers that glowed softly under the light of a full, silvery moon. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and roses, and the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Donny looked around, bewildered at first, but the sight of Chowon standing nearby put him at ease. She was dressed in a flowing white gown that shimmered like the moonlight itself, her hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her dress was modest as she moved closer to Donny but her eyes belayed an intense desire. They glowed with irreverent gold as she waltzed over to him. Donny for his part looked different his form was chimeric in nature. antlers and horns sprouted over the left side of his head as a partial halo of tentacles hovered around the right side where a halo of steel had been interwoven. Her eyes met his and she saw they were different one a magenta that screamed madness but also joy hope and revelry, while the other a peaceful teal that was orderly and intense. At his side was a monstrous-looking spear. As they caught each other's eyes Donny smiled at her, and for a moment, they simply stood there, taking each other in.

“Where are we?” Donny asked, his voice low and hushed, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate beauty of the scene.

“I don’t know,” Chowon replied, her voice equally soft. “But… it feels like we’re supposed to be here.”

They slowly walked toward each other, the distance between them shrinking until they were standing just inches apart. There was a tension in the air, charged with unspoken words and feelings neither of them fully understood.

As they stood close, the moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a halo of light around them. Chowon felt that same warmth building in her abdomen, but this time it was different—stronger, more focused. It was as if every fiber of her being was drawn to Donny, compelled to reach out and touch him.

Tentatively, she lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. Donny inhaled sharply at the contact, a jolt of electricity shooting through him. His hand instinctively moved to cover hers, holding it in place as he stared into her eyes.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Chowon whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “It’s like… I’m drawn to you. Like I can’t resist.”

Donny’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, his own emotions swirling in a confusing mix of desire and hesitation. “I feel it too,” he admitted, his voice rough with the intensity of what he was experiencing. “But there’s something else… something pulling me in another direction.” as he spoke Chowon felt the darkness in him but instead of it being cold and frightening it was cool and hospitable. She felt it embrace her with the same intensity as the divine parts of Donny, and she felt comfort in his embrace.

Chowon’s eyes softened as she leaned closer, her face just inches from his. “Don’t fight it,” she urged softly. “Whatever this is, it’s real. I can feel it.”

At that moment, the world around them seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of them standing in a sea of moonlight. The pull between them was undeniable, a magnetic force that neither of them could resist any longer.

Slowly, Donny leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. His breath mingled with hers, the heat between them growing almost unbearable. And then, just as their lips were about to meet, the dream took on a strange, surreal quality. The garden around them began to shift, the flowers blooming and withering in rapid succession as if time itself were bending.

Chowon gasped softly, but Donny didn’t pull away. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands, grounding them both in the moment. “We’re in this together,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

Finally, their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. It was as if the world itself held its breath, pausing in reverence for the moment. The kiss was soft at first, but quickly deepened as the pent-up desire between them finally found its release.

As they kissed, the strange energy that had been building within Chowon flared, sending a wave of warmth and light through both of them. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure, comfort, and something far more profound. It was as if their very souls were connecting, entwining in a way that went beyond the physical.

But just as the intensity reached its peak, the dream began to fade. The garden, the moonlight, the flowers—all of it started to dissolve into darkness. Donny and Chowon held onto each other, reluctant to let go, but the dream world was slipping away, pulling them back to reality.

Chowon awoke with a start, her heart racing and her body tingling from the remnants of the dream. She could still feel the warmth of Donny’s lips on hers, the way his touch had made her whole body come alive. She reached up to touch her lips, her fingers trembling.

In his apartment, Donny also woke abruptly, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The dream had felt so real, so vivid, that it took him a moment to remember where he was. He could still feel the lingering heat of Chowon’s touch on his skin, the way their kiss had seemed to light a fire inside him.

The room is quiet, illuminated by the soft light filtering through the curtains. Donny and Chowon stir awake, his body feeling heavy yet strangely light at the same time. His mind is a whirl of fragmented memories from the earlier turmoil and the dreamlike fusion of his two forms.

He blinks open his eyes and sees Chowon sitting beside him on the floor, her head resting on her lap. The sight of her brings a wave of relief and gratitude.

Donny: (groggily) “Chowon…”

Chowon stirs at the sound of his voice, slowly lifting her head and meeting his gaze. Her eyes are filled with a mix of concern and warmth.

Chowon: “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Donny tries to sit up, but his body protests slightly. He looks around, noticing the remnants of the earlier chaos but also the calm and soothing presence of Chowon.

Donny: “I… I don’t remember much after… what happened.”

Chowon smiled as she explained “You had a powerful reaction. I saw everything—the darkness and the light. I tried to help you see that both parts of you are equally important.”

Donny’s eyes meet Chowon’s, and he sees the sincerity in her expression. He takes a deep breath, feeling a newfound sense of clarity and acceptance. Relaxed he responded, “Thank you. I felt… torn between these parts of me, but now I think I understand. It’s not about suppressing one side or the other, but embracing both.”

Chowon nods gratefully and says, “Exactly. You’re more than the sum of your parts. You’re whole as you are.”

Donny nods, a faint smile forming on his lips. He reaches out and takes Chowon’s hand, holding it gently.

Donny slowly rises, helping Chowon to her feet. They share a tender, unspoken moment of intimacy before Donny takes Chowon’s hand once more. Donny smiles and says, “Let’s get some fresh air. I think we both need it.”

Chowon smiles back, and says “I’d like that.”

Memory updated

As things calmed down, Chowon began to feel her powers and appetites increase. It was subtle at first—a straightened posture, a renewed energy coursing through her, and a lightness in her step. She noticed herself becoming bolder and more confident, but it wasn't the overt, sultry kind of confidence one might expect from a succubus. No, it was uniquely hers, a blend of playful flirtation and genuine warmth that made her presence magnetic.

One afternoon, while hanging out with Nayoung, this change was particularly evident. Chowon had chosen a cute outfit that day—something that subtly flaunted her curves and fit her well. She wasn’t worried about it as much as she might have been before. The nervousness that used to gnaw at her when she dressed like this was gone, replaced by a comfortable assurance.

Nayoung noticed the shift. "Damn, girl, you're gonna wear that today?" she said, half-joking but with an approving grin.

Chowon rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, and?" she replied with a playful smile.

Nayoung chuckled, loving this new side of her friend. Chowon’s confidence was contagious, and it inspired Nayoung in ways she hadn’t expected. She had her struggles with body image, often feeling insecure about parts of herself that she couldn’t change. Seeing Chowon embrace herself so fully made Nayoung feel a bit braver.

As they continued to chat, Nayoung grew more serious. "You know, I admire how you’ve been handling things lately. It’s like you’ve come into your own. But… are you okay with all this? I mean, this sudden confidence, the change—does it scare you?"

Chowon paused, her smile fading slightly. "It’s… different. I feel like I’m becoming more of who I’m supposed to be, but at the same time, it’s kind of overwhelming. Like, what if this isn’t me? What if I’m just... changing because of my powers?"

Nayoung shook her head. "Powers or not, this is still you. You’re just more comfortable with who you are now. And that’s not something to be afraid of. Not everyone’s going to be nice or understand, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong to embrace yourself. People might judge, but you can’t live your life afraid of what others might think."

Chowon looked at Nayoung, the weight of her words sinking in. "I guess I’m just scared that if I lean into this too much, I’ll lose who I was before, or worse, hurt someone without meaning to."

"Chowon, you’re one of the kindest people I know," Nayoung said her voice firm. "You won’t lose that just because you’re becoming more confident. And if anyone doesn’t like the new you, that’s their problem, not yours."

Chowon nodded, a small smile returning to her face. "Thanks, Nayoung. I needed to hear that."

Nayoung smiled back, wrapping an arm around her friend. "Anytime. And for the record, I think you’re amazing, powers and all. Don’t let fear hold you back from being who you’re meant to be."

As they moved around the room together, Chowon felt a little lighter. Nayoung was right—she didn’t have to be afraid. The changes she was going through weren’t something to shy away from; they were part of her growth, part of her journey to becoming who she truly was. And with friends like Nayoung by her side, she knew she wouldn’t lose herself in the process.

As they continued their talk, Nayoung couldn’t resist a teasing grin. "You know, I think someone else likes your newfound confidence too."

Chowon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who might that be?"

Nayoung smirked, leaning in a bit closer. "Donny. He can’t stop drooling over you. Every time you walk into a room, it’s like his brain short-circuits."

Chowon laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, please. Donny’s just... being Donny. He’s always been supportive."

"Supportive huh? So that's what we're going with? well then sure," Nayoung said, her grin widening, "but come on, Chowon. The way he looks at you now? He’s smitten. And it’s not just because of your powers or your looks. It’s you. This new, confident you."

Chowon’s laughter softened into a thoughtful smile. "Well, so what if he is? He’s been hyping us up this whole time, telling everyone how great we are. If he believes in us that much, then I should too. I can’t let him down by doubting myself."

Nayoung nodded, impressed by Chowon’s resolve. "That’s the spirit. You’re amazing, and Donny sees that. We all do. So keep being you, Chowon—confident, powerful, and unapologetically yourself."

Nayoung looked at Chowon with a curious tilt of her head. "You know, I’ve been wondering something. Your powers—how come they don’t seem to affect Donny like they do with everyone else?"

Chowon paused for a moment, considering the question. "It’s kind of funny. I think it’s because Donny’s... well, Donny. He’s always been different, but not in a way I can easily explain. My powers, work on desire, attraction, that sort of thing. But with Donny, it’s like... it doesn’t faze him. He’s immune to them."

Nayoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Immune? That’s pretty wild. So, what, he’s just not into you?"

Chowon chuckled. "Oh, he’s into me. Trust me on that one. But it’s more like my powers don’t need to work on him because he already likes me for who I am, not because of some supernatural influence. And honestly, it’s a relief. I don’t have to worry about whether what he feels is real or just because of my succubus side. With him, I know it’s genuine."

Nayoung nodded slowly, absorbing the explanation. "That’s kind of beautiful. It’s like your connection is stronger than your powers. But still, it must be weird, right? Knowing that your powers don’t have the same effect on him?"

"It was at first," Chowon admitted. "But now, I’m glad. It’s like... he sees the real me. And in a way, that’s given me more confidence. If someone like Donny can look past all of that and still care about me, then why should I doubt myself?"

Nayoung smiled, clearly impressed. "You’ve grown, Chowon. And if Donny can see that, I’m sure others will too. You’re more than just your powers—you’re amazing just as you are." Chowon smiles and says

"Thanks for understanding." as the two finish getting ready for the night the Chowon heads to the bathroom

As Chowon entered the bathroom to touch up her makeup, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her confidence radiated in her every movement, and she couldn’t help but smile at the transformation she had undergone. Leaning in to fix her lipstick, a faint shimmer of light appeared behind her, followed by a voice that made her heart skip a beat.

“Well, well, well. Look at you, darling. Practically glowing.”

Chowon froze, her breath catching in her throat as she recognized the voice. She turned around to find her mother, Semiramis, leaning casually against the bathroom wall. Semiramis’s presence was as stunning and intimidating as ever, exuding an aura of power that filled the room.

“Mom,” Chowon said, trying to keep her surprise in check. “What are you doing here?”

Semiramis’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, just checking in on my favorite daughter. You seem to be having quite the day. Confidence looks good on you, my dear.”

Chowon narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?”

With a dramatic sigh, Semiramis walked closer, examining her nails. “Is it so wrong for a mother to want to know how her daughter is doing? Especially when said daughter is navigating the complexities of human emotions. How’s your little crush, by the way? Anything... interesting to report?”

Chowon felt a flush of irritation but kept her tone even. “Donny is fine. He’s... well, he’s Donny. Things are complicated, but we’re figuring it out.”

“Complicated?” Semiramis echoed, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound very promising. Has he noticed your powers yet? Or are you still pretending to be just another human girl?”

“He’s noticed, and we’ve talked about it,” Chowon replied, her voice firm. “But what’s important is that he likes me for who I am, not for what I am.”

Semiramis tilted her head, her smile fading slightly. “And what exactly are you, Chowon? A half-succubus torn between worlds? Or a girl desperately clinging to a human life that will never truly be hers?”

Meanwhile, Donny lounged in his living room, lost in thought until a knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. He opened it to find Nezzar standing there with a friendly grin.

“Hey, let’s chat over some pizza. It’s on me. I know a place you’ll love.”

Donny hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, let me grab my jacket.” It wasn’t every day his patron offered him a free meal. They drove to a cozy pizzeria, engaging in casual conversation about sports.

Back in the bathroom, Semiramis studied her daughter with a rare hint of genuine emotion. “I suppose that’s why I’m here, darling. To remind you that no matter what, you are special. But don’t forget who you are. Love, and attraction—those are tools at our disposal. Use them wisely, and don’t let anyone, not even Donny, make you forget your power.”

Chowon nodded, understanding the underlying warning in her mother’s words. “I won’t forget, Mom. But I’m also not going to let my powers define everything about me. I’m figuring out my path.”

Semiramis studied her for a long moment before smiling approvingly. “Good. You’re stronger than I thought. Just remember, I’m always watching. If you need anything... well, you know where to find me.”

As Nezzar and Donny arrived at the pizzeria, the warm, inviting atmosphere welcomed them. The scent of baking dough and melting cheese filled the air. Nezzar ordered a large pepperoni pizza and a couple of sodas, and they settled into a booth by the window.

“So,” Nezzar said, taking a slice of pizza, “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re navigating quite a challenging path. How are you holding up?”

Donny, more focused on the conversation than the meal, took a thoughtful bite of his pizza. “It’s been a ride, that’s for sure. I’ve been trying to keep things together, but it’s not easy. I feel like there’s a lot I don’t know.”

Nezzar nodded, his eyes twinkling with an inscrutable emotion. “That’s understandable. You’re navigating a path that’s both complex and daunting. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I must say, you’re doing remarkably well given the circumstances.”

Donny’s curiosity got the better of him. “I’ve noticed Chowon has been acting... different lately. She’s more physically affectionate, almost magnetic. What’s going on?”

Nezzar’s gaze sharpened slightly, though he maintained his calm demeanor. “Ah, Chowon. She’s in a period of transition, much like yourself. Her powers are growing, and she’s grappling with new aspects of her nature. It’s a challenging journey, but one she needs to undertake.”

Donny’s concern was evident. “So, what should I be looking out for?”

Nezzar leaned back thoughtfully. “Her new confidence and energy are connected to her growing powers. However, those powers can be unpredictable if not managed properly. She’s at a crossroads. Her abilities are strong and tied to her emotional and physical state. If she doesn’t find balance, it could lead to complications.”

Donny’s eyes widened. “You mean she’s in danger?”

Nezzar’s expression softened as he took another bite of pizza. “Not necessarily danger, but she might act out of desperation if she doesn’t feed her powers as needed. It’s a demanding process, and it won’t be kind to her or those close to her.”

Back in the bathroom, Semiramis was about to leave when she paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “By the way, darling, have you had your first feeding yet? Your powers are blossoming quite beautifully—almost rivaling my own. I’m surprised you’ve held out this long.”

Chowon’s cheeks flushed slightly. “No, I haven’t. It just... hasn’t felt right yet.”

Semiramis’s eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering across her face. “Really? With your powers being this strong? I’m impressed by your restraint. But you do know it’s inevitable, don’t you? You can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know,” Chowon admitted softly. “But I want it to be with someone who understands me, who sees me for who I am, not just what I can do.”

Semiramis’s expression shifted from surprise to a more calculated look. “And what about Donny? He seems... understanding. Perhaps he could be your first ‘meal,’ as you put it. He’s certainly captivated by you.”

Chowon stiffened, her eyes flashing with a mix of emotions. “Donny isn’t just some... meal. He’s more than that. I care about him.”

Semiramis raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Careful, my dear. Attachments can be both a strength and a weakness. But if you truly care for him, then perhaps he’s the perfect choice. Feeding doesn’t have to be just about power—it can be about connection, too. That was originally your father's and my arrangement before his eyes wandered.” The pang of hurt in her voice was unmistakable.

At the pizzeria, Donny’s brow furrowed in concern. “Complications? Like what?”

Nezzar shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s difficult to say precisely. If Chowon doesn’t feed her powers as needed, her body and abilities might force her to do so. It’s a demanding process, and it won’t be kind to her or those close to her.”

Donny’s eyes widened slightly as he processed Nezzar’s words. “You mean she could—”

Nezzar tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s possible. Her powers are intertwined with her well-being, and if not managed properly, she might act out of desperation. It’s something to be cautious about.”

Donny nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she’s okay.”

Nezzar offered a reassuring smile. “That’s very considerate of you, Donny. Remember, it’s important to support each other, especially in times of change.”

As Donny and Nezzar continued their meal, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Nezzar chuckled at Donny’s inquiry about Chowon and their relationship.

“Well, time and time again, you’ve proven yourself. So what if you like a succubus? She’s not harming anyone, and she makes you happy. It’s not that big a deal to me. Keep in mind, Bela was a succubus, and you two are still excellent friends.”

Donny laughed, countering, “Well, Bela is in Brazil.”

Nezzar responded with a grin. “And Chowon has you considering moving to Korea after this shoot is over. I don’t see your point.”

Donny and Nezzar shared a laugh as Nezzar vanished, leaving behind eighty dollars in twenty-dollar bills for their meal.

Chowon looked at her mother confused as she spoke, "Please don't starve yourself from some boy,"

Chowon snapped as something deep within her rolled out like thunder, "I am not starving myself for some boy. I am just terrified at the thought of becoming like you and seeing partners as merely quick meals. The coldness and detachment you had with Dad I hated it no wonder why he left you." Chowon yelled. Semiramis looked at her daughter bewildered, as a tear ran down her eye.

"I didn't know you felt that way," Semiramis says. Chowon instantly feels regret but before she can apologize, Semiramis vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Chowon staring at her reflection, her thoughts more conflicted than ever.

As the days wore on Chowon’s mother was proven right the hunger pains started out mundane enough a grumbling sensation in her stomach her energy becoming lower. her self-confidence wavered. Insecurities about her weight began to creep up, but no matter how hard she tried it was just never the right to start moving in a more erotic direction.

at the same time, Donny watched disheartened as Chowon withered before his eyes. he wanted to help her but he didn't want to impose. this was a significant step for their relationship and he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

their scenes however for the film only increased in their tenderness and affection as Matthew fell in love with their dynamic. He loved their dynamic so much that he was scribbling down notes for his next movie where he would have them play evil Alien overlord lovers that go around destroying planets as Chowon and Donny could flip the switch between Mundane and menace with such a practiced calm that grew to terrify everyone one set.

Chowon's mood reached an all-time low on the last day of filming. after they finished the scene she wanted to spend the night with Donny get some drinks and rest, but her nature made her ravenous. after filming she and Donny stayed in her hotel room playing video games and eating because she couldn't be around any other man without her powers going off and making her almost force herself on them. Donny did his best and tried to help her but she was so adamant about not getting too close.

The night before Chowon and Nayoung were finished and about to head back to Korea. Her nature took over she woke up at midnight as she screamed for Donny. Her body wouldn't stop reaching new peaks of unending painful arousal as her desires to be filled clouded her mind and sense of self. she needed to fuck and fuck and fuck some more. Her abdomen pulsed and she moaned out for Donny. Her legs opened instinctively as the need to fuck removed all her thoughts and dreams. When this happened Nayoung called Donny who was out getting ice cream for Chowon as Chowon kept moaning his name over and over again with need.

When Donny arrives Nayoung points to Chowon’s room and walks out letting him deal with her. As he inches closer to her the air shifts and for the first time Donny feels the brunt of her powers. His cock hardens in his pants and he tries to keep a calm head but he loses it as he hears her moan his name.

“Donny is that you? I need you.” Donny slams open the door and approaches Chowon, her nude form is alluring and enticing her legs are splayed as her wet pussy beckons you. You strip out of your clothes as you approach her she moans luridly. Trusting Himself and Chowon even in her compromised state he thrusts into her. Her womb mark begins to glow signifying that Chowon is starting to feed. It triggers the dark and light parts to pour life-force energy into Chowon. She moans as the pleasure fills her. Donny thrust into her as his powers awakened again. instead of running rampant his powers flow into Chowon peacefully but forcefully in hopes of effeciently saiting her hunger. Chowon drank from his seemingly boundless energy as he pounded her pussy relentlessly. She moaned as he hit her G-spot and their bodies began to mold and acclimate to each other. "Oh fuck right there give me all you have," Chowon said as Donny continued to fill her. Donny's protective nature continued to dance in his mind as he tried not to scold her but it triggered another more possessive response in his soul. he need Chowon to be his, and as he felt her tight pussy constrict and massage his cock his eyes looked into hers. gone were the soft brown cute eyes he'd grown to love from her in their place a deep set crimson that belied a lurid and hungry gaze.

Instinctually as he watched her breasts heave and sway Donny grabbed one of Chowon's breasts causing her pleasure to spike even higher. Donny kneaded the soft pliant flesh as he looked into her eyes. her eyes are unfocused but say one message clearly, "Keep going" Donny smiles

“You wanna drain me?” he teases as he keeps thrusting into Chowon her body wrapped in his aura as he continues to ravage her pussy. If he continues she's going to break.

“I wonder how much you can take. He says as he thrusts into her Chowon’s mind is gone as he continuously fucks her and takes her. As they fuck a possessive wave washes over Donny. He reaches out to Chowon and says, “your mine. No one else only mine.” Chowon moans through her orgasm that he brings her to which causes Donny’s. He exploded in Chowon’s tight pussy and as the two of them return to normal Chowon sighs at their “ruined first time” Donny cuddles her and says, “It's okay babe next time can always be better. Chowon smiles at this as the meal begins to work its magic and they both fall asleep tired.

Chowon woke up to an all too familiar feeling. Despite her chaste night with Donny's little nap her body demanded her to take him. Not for food this time but for her own lust she has been ignoring. Her body’s heat increased as she felt her pussy moisten while she lay next to him the little spoon

“Fuck him” she felt her body say through every pump of her blood and rush of arousal. Unable to control herself she lowered herself to Donn’s crotch.

Donny felt his body spasm before jolting awake as he did he heard a conspicuous moan coming from under his sheets. He lifted the blanket to see Chowon sucking his cock. She smiled around his cock as she sheathed him deep into her throat. Donny’s head rolled back as she took him in deeper. She smiled before resting his entire length around her throat. Donny moaned which caused Chowon’s core to heat up even hotter. She relished in the power she held over him, and the pleasure she was giving him. She slobbered over his shaft before leaving his cock with a trail of saliva. She looks at him with her big doe eyes before saying, “Tell me you need me! Tell me how much you want me right now.”

Donny’s heart melted” I think about you every ten minutes and can’t get you out of my head. I want you to ruin me.”Donny responds. Chowon smiles as she feels how close he is. She strokes him to completion as he explodes all over her face. She smiles triumphantly

“No girl will ever make you cum as hard as me.” She said confidently as she took some Donny’s cum and licked it off her finger. She looked at Donny with hungry eyes. Donny tried to suppress his desire for the young woman but her eyes mesmerized him and brought out the inner animal inside. lowered his face to Chowon’s crotch and began kissing her thighs. So drunk from her arousal he yanked down her panties and pants before diving in with his tongue Chowon cooed as his tongue flicked over and around her clit spiking her arousal.

“That’s it, Donny! keep going” Chowon encouraged. So Donny went deeper into her folds licking and lapping at whatever he could his brain had shut off only fueled by his desire to please Chowon, as he grabs her ass Chowon moaned and steadies herself as he goes deeper. she slick taste like honey and saltines to Donny' a weird but ultimately pleasant and intoxicating taste. Chowon smiled as she began to grind her pussy in Donny's face "Oh fuck! Oh Fuck!" he moans as she looks at his eyes that mirror hers. She smiles at him and her release hits her like a truck

"Oh fuck I'm cuming," she says as more of her nectar rushes over Donny's face. he tries to lap up as much as he can but Chowon lifts his face to hers. she smiles before she kisses him. After she breaks the kiss she sees his dizzied look and says,

"You're my boyfriend now." Donny smiles and nods.

The two of them sit together now both back to some semblance of normal and he says,

"So how do you want this to work?"

Chowon looks at Donny confused, "I want you to either move to Korea or visit as much as you can until our contract with Cube is done, and then two things are gonna happen. we are either going to stay as Lightsum and move on to a new company. Or I am going back into acting and leaving the singer's life behind. Regardless though I am going to need you and the savage dick of yours by my side."

Donny smiled and said "And here I thought you liked me for my personality," Chowon pouted but laughed with Donny as she nestled into him.

"I am serious though I like you and I want you as close as I can have you."

Donny nods and says I will see what I can do, but for now, let's rest. you look tired. Chowon nods and the two cuddle together as sleep finally claims them.

as Chowon and Donny finally drift off to dreamland Donny has the weirdest dream about a pale lady. The scene shifts to a dark, ethereal landscape. Shadows dance across a misty void, and a chill hangs in the air. Donny stands alone, looking around in confusion. The space feels both vast and intimately close as if it’s a reflection of his own subconscious.

Suddenly, a figure emerges from the darkness. She is cloaked in a flowing, midnight-blue robe, her presence both imposing and mesmerizing. Her face remains obscured by the hood of her robe, but her eyes, glowing with an otherworldly light, seem to pierce through the shadows. she takes out armor and weapons and begins to wash them in this river that flows through Donny's subconscious. he notices his spear is among the items being washed.

Donny feels a shiver run down his spine. “Who are you?” he asks, his voice echoing slightly in the dreamscape.

The figure steps closer, her voice smooth and commanding. “I am someone who has been watching you, Donjiro. Your journey is one of great interest to me.”

Donny tenses as she uses his real name something he doesn't use often but she clearly isn't malignant so he tries to approach her and tries to make out her features, but the more he tries, the more she remains shrouded in mystery. “Why are you watching me? What do you want?”

The figure’s eyes glimmer with a hint of amusement. “What I want is not for you to know, not yet. I simply wish to observe. Your path is entwined with forces both divine and chaotic, and it is not without consequence. Keep your wits about you, and remember, I will be watching.”

Before Donny can ask more, the figure starts to dissolve into the mist, her presence fading away. The dreamscape begins to dissolve around him, and he feels a strange mixture of unease and curiosity.

Chowon and Semiramis sat in a cozy café in Seoul, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the soft chatter of other patrons. Chowon, now visibly more confident and radiant, sipped her latte while recounting her recent experiences with Donny.

“I have to admit, I never expected things to turn out the way they did,” Chowon said a wistful smile on her lips. “Spending time with Donny was... enlightening. I do hope we can see each other again.”

Semiramis leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and insight. “Oh, I’m sure you will, darling. Succubi tend to get what they want, especially ones with your level of power. You’re practically glowing, and your abilities are beyond impressive.”

Chowon’s smile faltered slightly. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely,” Semiramis replied, her tone turning more thoughtful. “It’s making me realize something important. Your father—he must be a god. I’ve seen this level of power before, and it wasn’t from just any parentage.”

Chowon’s eyes widened, shock rippling through her. “A god? My father?”

Semiramis nodded. “Yes. This power of yours, it’s far beyond what should be possible at your age. Your father’s divine heritage would make his aloofness make sense. It explains so much about you and your abilities.”

The realization hit Chowon like a thunderbolt. She stared at her phone, her mind racing. As the conversation with her mother continued, her thoughts drifted to the one person who might offer guidance beyond her family—a friend who understood the complexities of divine heritage and human emotions.

Without a word, Chowon reached for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. She dialed Nayoung’s number, hoping that the daughter of Aphrodite could provide the answers and support she needed.

[shalotttower]

Permanence

Title: Permanence Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: A simple evening at an art gallery turns into a daring decision to slip away from Chrollo's grasp. Word count: 2400+ Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, exploration of power dynamics, power imbalance.

Tonight you spend in the shower longer than you normally do. There're no tears, no, just exhaustion, both mental and physical that seems to be seeping into your bones deeper than ever. Waiting is the worst part. You don't know whether there will be any kind of consequences after the stunt you've pulled. You don't know if the extent of Chrollo's composure has stretched to anger - and that's after you've tried so hard to keep yourself from pushing him - or it's just annoyance. Which is not ideal, but workable.

It was supposed to be a nice, as much as it can be, evening. Just a walk through the gallery, a little bit of art admiration here, a little bit of talking there, maybe getting some dinner.

After the shower, you sit on the closed toilet lid, naked, and stare at the mirror that's still fogged from the steam. You don't like looking yourself in the eye lately, or rather what you see there. Fear doesn't become you. Neither does hopelessness. Your reflection seems foreign, unrecognizable at times when it should be familiar and safe, a thing you grew up with and are supposed to know by heart.

***

"I want to leave," you whispered when Chrollo put his arm around your waist. Yet another painting by an unknown artist; names that didn't ring a bell and suffering deities depicted on canvas twirled in an odd dance.

He didn't react immediately, so you repeated yourself. Something hinted that you should keep quiet and admire in silence, but something else entirely urged you to push. Perhaps it was too hot. Perhaps too many people were surrounding you and Chrollo's touch felt stifling rather than reassuring.

"Can we get out of here?"

He looked down at you, expression calm, and you could almost call it considering. The hand on your hipbone tightened just a notch, as if making sure you won't slip away.

"Not yet, dear. We haven't seen everything."

A sigh died somewhere in your chest before it got the chance to escape your lungs. "We've been here for over an hour," you managed. And while art usually caused pleasant emotions in you, right now it did nothing of sorts. People brushed past, paying little mind to the couple blocking one of the main hallways. You tried to not fidget under Chrollo's gaze.

Maybe he would've granted your request - who knows? Chrollo wasn't the type to deny you anything reasonable, not after almost four months of compliance - if a man had not appeared right next to you like a ghost out of thin air. You remembered him from a fine dinner, one of many. The memory was hazy, you had a glass of martini at Chrollo's indulgence which proved to be a bit stronger than expected. But the feeling, that sinking sensation of unease you got back then from the man's presence remained. As well as the smell of his cologne, leathery; it lingered behind him even after he left the table.

One look of his dark eyes was enough to make your stomach clench.

And then they started talking.

When you were a child you hated shopping with your mother. Groceries or clothing - no matter. It was not the process itself, but rather occasional encounters with other adults she knew. The chit-chats about everything and nothing could last forever, and you stood there, tugging on her hand to remind about your existence. Can we go? Can we go home, are you finished?

You weren't a child anymore, yet the impression of your own invisibility and being a silent accessory to Chrollo, although he occasionally looked down at you, brought those memories back.

The gallery room was too small. There were too many people.

The nape of your neck tingled.

You wrung your hand out of Chrollo's hold faster than any reasonable thought could stop you. He blinked in surprise, and that was the only time in four months you saw him taken aback for a small particle of a second. Before having a chance to see his composure settle back or properly regret your actions, you slipped through bodies like a fish. Stupid heels of elegant shoes with ankle straps and pointed toe tips hindered your every step. Your heartbeat hammered in your ears as if someone hit them with blunt force repeatedly. The dreadful dress he chose rustled against your legs, black velvet fabric clinging to your thighs when you tried to maneuver between visitors. You wanted to get out. Just to have some air. Just to take a breath.

"Dear," Chrollo's voice reached you from behind, but you didn't slow down. You passed paintings one by one. Saints screaming at your hasty steps and angry expressions seemed to judge you. "Dear." Louder now. People were throwing curious glances at you both.

You did not spot a waiter who stopped abruptly before you with a tray of wine glasses in time.

It was really supposed to be a nice evening.

***

You towel dry your hair until it feels acceptable enough and pull the pajama on, a silky set Chrollo gifted (replaced yours with). It is more comfortable than anything you've ever owned, but still too short on your frame and reveals way too much skin for your liking. He won't let you sleep not in the bed tonight, this much is obvious. The makeshift mattress you've made on the floor is nowhere to be seen just like you expected.

So be it.

Quietly you slip under the covers and turn on your side, facing the window. The sheets smell fresh and clean and there's even a hint of lavender underneath if you focus hard, but right now all you can focus on is getting through this night. Sleep comes quick. Or so you think because when Chrollo lies down next to you, you jerk awake. His body radiates warmth, not close enough to touch just yet, but the knowledge that it'll change soon causes a surge of nausea within you.

He shifts with a faint rustling of silk sheets. An arm comes to drape around your middle like a shackle; you move closer to the bed edge, curling yourself into a ball. It almost seems like you might fall off, and perhaps you will, really, your leg is already hanging in part.

A delicate kiss is placed at the top of your spine, bare where the shirt doesn't reach your shoulder blades. Another one follows on your vertebrae and then he pulls you flush against him. Your heartbeat speeds up and palms become cold; his - is slow and steady, like always.

"You're going to fall off," he whispers.

"Fine by me." You whisper too for some reason, despite there being nobody else to hear you.

There's a soft exhale from behind and his hand begins to rub circles on your tense stomach, lazy motions that go up to your rib cage and down to the belly button. Chrollo's breath tickles your nape and you know that if it wasn't for four months of constant touches, caresses and brushes, you would've pushed him away. Careful conditioning - that's what it is, you're not stupid. Your body knows him, his scent, his hands and voice now, even though your mind screams at them to keep their distance.

He hums when you shudder.

"Cold?" Chrollo asks. One of his fingers traces the hem of your shorts. Your hand comes over it and halts it midway.

"Please stop," you say, and it's the first time since this all started your voice is actually cracking, like an eggshell. Fragile at the edges.

He doesn't say anything but the motion ceases. Slowly, his hand retreats to come rest on your hipbone where it grants you a gentle squeeze.

Chrollo kisses the back of your head.

"Sleep," he tells you.

Easier said than done.

***

The new penthouse looks pretty much like any other you've stayed in – large bed and luxurious decor. It even has a grand piano standing in one of the corners which you have no idea how to play. Chrollo releases your hand and heads into the bathroom while you wander around, poking at things just for the sake of having something to do. A glass figurine of a little ballerina catches your attention. She seems frozen in her sorrowful stance, looking downwards to the ground beneath her tiny pointe shoes. You turn it this way and that, watching light catch on the shiny surface.

The shower starts running.

It's been only three days after the incident in the gallery and Chrollo hasn't commented upon it in the slightest. Maybe he's simply biding his time, you wouldn't be surprised.

Eventually you settle down onto the soft mattress and grab the first random book from the side table. Reading helps. Immersing yourself into fiction distracts from reality.

You thumb through the pages and find out that it's some sort of a romance novel, a period one judging by the writing style. Some duke-like character seems to be enamored with one of his maids but can't do anything about it because of social stigmas. The woman herself is poor as a church mouse yet beautiful beyond words - a bit cliché if you're honest, still there's nothing wrong with it per se, everyone can enjoy their guilty pleasures.

Chrollo emerges from the bathroom after some time, drying his hair with a towel. He moves about the room: unpacking your luggage, hanging up clothes in the closet, etc. Your eyes follow him without meaning to. There are times like this when Chrollo almost feels like a normal person. What he is doing seems domestic enough to trick your brain into short periods of blissful ignorance. Then your gaze falls onto the cross tattoo on his forehead and the illusion breaks like a soap bubble on a sunny day.

You turn another page and read half a paragraph before realizing you've absorbed absolutely nothing.

"What are you reading?" Chrollo sits by your side after he's finished unpacking. His voice is light, almost casual. Almost playful. It puts you on edge.

"Something I found." You close the book and show him the cover. "It was next to the bed."

He leans forward, glancing at the words written on the page. When Chrollo speaks, there's amusement in his tone. "Interesting."

Interesting. What's that supposed to mean? You keep your eyes trained on the text, but try as you might, the words seem meaningless, jumbled. Chrollo rests his hand on your calf. He keeps it there for a few moments before sliding it upward, slowly, toward your knee. You give him a look. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention," he responds with the simplicity of someone stating the weather outside.

"You have it. What is it?" It's that type of a stare he gives you that had almost transformed into his personal form of art. One that takes everything in without any effort – from your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion to the corners of your mouth turned downward into a frown.

"You know," Chrollo says thoughtfully. "I've been thinking."

Isn't he always?

He squeezes your leg under your knee, where skin is more sensitive and then you're cornered - right between him and the headboard.

"Your behavior in the gallery, dear. It was rather unexpected," he tells you and the sinking feeling turns into full blown nausea in your throat.

You knew it. Knew that he was going to get back to this, sooner or later. Fuck. "You've been behaving so well these past months and I wonder what prompted this."

Chrollo tilts his head.

"I'm sorry." You reply and shift. "I got anxious."

"Go on," he says when you don't elaborate, not sounding angry or upset, just curious. The warm thumb traces patterns on your knee cap - you hate how Chrollo does this, makes you talk when he could leave you alone and drop the subject.

You have to continue now.

"New spaces isn't really my thing, and yesterday I felt... Pressured. It wasn't intentional, I simply," you shrug your shoulders, "got overwhelmed and acted on impulse. I shouldn't have."

Your voice doesn't crack once and you're proud over that.

"Hm." Chrollo hums but it's neither approving nor disapproving, more like pondering. He moves closer so your knees bump against each other. This is dangerous territory – him being close while questioning you, you know better than to pull back now.

"You're sorry," he says, a strand of damp hair falls onto his forehead. "Are you sorry because you understand what you did wrong," each word is precise as if to drill into your head. "Or are you apologizing because you're afraid of the consequences?"

You stare at his shirt instead of his face. The top three buttons are undone, revealing a patch of pale skin. You want to button them up - knowing him, it's hardly a coincidence.

"Both, I think." You opt for honesty, because lying to Chrollo would most likely end with him seeing right through it, regardless of your efforts.

His frame effectively blocks out everything else from view: up close like this he's handsome, there's no denying it. Dark eyes framed by long eyelashes and soft lips and high cheekbones that make him look like a model out of a fashion magazine. And yet there's also coldness underneath it all, hidden behind those charming smiles and polite remarks. It sometimes gives you an uncanny impression: Chrollo seems frozen, suspended in that state of perpetual calmness, like time stopped ticking inside of his chest.

"What now?" You ask, heart thrumming somewhere deep near the bottom of your rib cage. The book lays forgotten next to you, pages bent after it slipped from your grasp and hit the mattress.

Chrollo cups your cheek with one hand, "Now we continue the evening."

Continue?

The confusion must show on your face because he chuckles. "You apologized," it feels patronizing but you try to ignore it for the sake of getting over with whatever this is. "And admitted your faults. I can overlook a single instance of defiance–especially since you explained yourself so well."

Relief washes over you, making your shoulders sag. You take the book, careful not to let your fingers brush, he seems to like skin on skin contact.

"I expect better behavior next time, dear."

"I'll try," You mutter under your breath.

His hand slips away from your thigh and moves to grab the remote - news, of course, - Chrollo watches news almost religiously every night before going to sleep. "I appreciate when you behave," he adds smoothly. "It makes everything much easier for both of us."

He settles his head on your lap, and it feels heavy, and his damp hair tickles, but you don't dare push him off.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Until Death (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor:@baebae-goodnight​ for this unbelievable moodboard truly, like, WHAT

Genre: Green Bone Saga!AU || Organized Crime / Forbidden Romance / Suspense + Action

Author’s Note: This one shot is set in the Green Bone Saga universe, written by Fonda Lee. You do not need to have read this series in order to read this one shot (I explain concepts/terms), but I do HIGHLY encourage you to read this series at some point because it’s absolutely amazing!! Anyways, Yoongi dropped the Haegeum MV and I was like.... did he read Jade City lol. Further disclaimer this is not a retelling of the books, nor does the Kaul family exist in this version of Kekon (although the No Peak clan does)

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader

Synopsis: Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan. 

When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.    

Rating: 18+

Warnings: graphic violence, fight scenes and mature content (character dies in the story; not main character) 

NSFW Warnings: dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (female), multiple orgasms, possessiveness, unprotected sex (couple is monogamous), spit, hand job

Word Count: 17,650

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

“There’s a rat in our midst,” Jungkook growls, slamming his fist to the table.

No one in the room flinches, although several glance fleetingly in the direction of the Pillar. The typically mild-mannered head of No Peak frowns, clearly disturbed by the recent attacks. Only a madman wouldn’t be.

Still, his voice remains calm while answering your second Fist. “That remains to be seen,” Yoongi says. As though the current situation could be perceived as anything but a threat.

Subtle, you flick a glance towards him, then away. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi’s lips curve before smoothing to nothing. Lowering his palms to rest on the table, the ends of his sleeves rise to reveal solid jade.

Leaning back, you survey the table before you. As the Horn of No Peak, it’s your job to defend the clan’s territory – by force, if necessary. Several levels of Green Bone warriors report into you, including your Fingers (the lowest of soldiers) and Fists, your direct reports.

Jungkook became Second Fist only a month prior but already, he’s created a name for himself. An impulsive, somewhat violent name for himself.

In this case though, you happen to agree with him. Not one, but two Lantern Men – commercial patrons of No Peak – have turned up dead in the past week, tortured beyond recognition. Over a week has passed since the first murder and still, there’s no suspect. Neither man was wealthy nor wore jade beyond a single piercing. Each was killed in a different part of town with no family in common. For a week, you’ve been racking your brain for motive and coming up empty.

Peeved by the thought, your fingertips dig into your leather jacket. Perceiving the shift to your aura, Yoongi starts to turn – catching himself just in time and facing forward.

An assortment of Lantern Men, Fists and Luckbringers (the money-making side of the clan) sit around a worn table. All watch the Pillar warily, as though uncertain how this meeting will end.

Tilting his head, strands of dark hair fall across Yoongi’s forehead. Studs of green line his ears, a single bolt of jade threaded through his right brow. Since the Academy, Yoongi has preferred to wear his jade as piercings – except for the clusters on fingers and wrists. He flexes these now, a visual display of power.

Jade from the island of Kekon is powerful; toxic to all but the Green Bones trained to wear it. To them, it grants unique power in each of the six disciplines: Strength, Steel, Perception, Lightness, Deflection and Channeling. Being from Kekon is no guarantee a person can wear and use jade, though. Individual tolerance varies, with most not able to withstand more than a few pieces.

No one in No Peak wears more jade than the Pillar – no one but you, that is.

This thought brings little comfort in a room such as this. Most of the sycophants seated around the table would turn on Yoongi – and No Peak – in a heartbeat. If it’d enrich their coffers, they would switch sides, honor be damned. You trust your Fists and Fingers but find it hard to extend the same grace to Namjoon’s side of the clan.

Kim Namjoon, known as the Weather Man, heads No Peak’s monetary ventures. Ranking as highly as you, he reports directly to Yoongi. Turning to face Namjoon, you make no attempt to hide your suspicion.

Although he doesn’t meet your gaze, his annoyance flares. Namjoon’s jade aura is weaker, fueled by one or two jade rings on his fingers. More would be unnecessary in his line of work. Namjoon’s lips tighten, able to Perceive your attention.

Perception is one of the more interesting skills of a Green Bone. Wearing jade creates an aura and through it, other Green Bones can sense emotion and intention. For example, you sense that Namjoon is annoyed, but you don’t know why. You can hazard a guess, based on the context.

Although you both graduated from the Academy at the same time, you barely knew Namjoon in your youth. The Kim family is legendary, having fought alongside Yoongi’s grandfather to dispel the Shotarian occupation of Kekon. You, on the other hand, moved to the city of Janloon when you were ten and joined the Academy as an outsider.

Not only were your social circles different, so were your interests. Even as children, Namjoon preferred brains over brawn, while you – well, you don’t enjoy violence, but you understood its necessity in protecting those you love. Ever since your father’s death, what you love has been No Peak.

You suppose Yoongi could’ve picked a worse person for Weather Man. Namjoon is shrewd, if occasionally withholding. He has the best interests of the clan at heart, even if you often disagree about what those interests are.

“Min-jen,” Namjoon says, the respectful title flowing from him like water. “I share your frustration with the current situation. My men are, of course, at your disposal.”

Your gaze narrows on his profile. Namjoon loves to offer help but when push comes to shove, it’s your side of the clan on the front lines.

“And what will your men do?” you inquire, drawing heads your way. “The entirety of their green couldn’t be seen in a desert.”

Someone down the table coughs, although they swiftly fall silent when Yoongi clears his throat. Disappointment radiates from him, turning his head.

“One’s worth to the clan isn’t measured in jade,” he says levelly. “You’d do well to remember that, in the future.”

Sitting back, you school your expression to nothing. Shame swirls in your stomach though because Yoongi is right. His sister is a stone-eye; someone unable to use or wear jade. Yejun feels nothing of jade’s effects – either positive or negative – but serves the clan in her own way. Kekon is superstitious about such things though and, when Yejun was born, rumors ran rampant it boded ill for Yoongi’s leadership. Rumors the Pillar has done his best to stamp out.

“Yes, Min-jen,” you acquiesce, inclining your head.

“My Luckbringers are reviewing financial statements of the victims,” Namjoon says, as though you haven’t spoken. “If there’s any monetary connection between them, we’ll find it.”

“My Fists are also investigating,” you add. “We’ll keep the clan updated.”

A scoff from the lower end of the table. Turning your head, you find Mr. Hu, a wealthy Lantern Man, watching you with a scowl. Middle-aged, with a portly belly from hoji, the man has never accepted you as his Horn. As the first woman bestowed the honor, you expected there to be some resistance.

Not that it endears him to you. Sweetly, you smile and lean forward. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Hu?”

Briefly, his gaze drops to the jade around your throat. Forcing a swallow, he forces his gaze to lift. You must give him credit; the man continues, despite the visual reminder you could kill him in seconds.

“Investigating what?” he asks, puffing out his chest. “I saw the second victim being brought in. There was… well. There was little to see. Tortured,” he adds, addressing the muttering around the table. “The man was mercilessly tortured before he was killed.”

Perceiving the shift in Yoongi’s emotions – edging towards fury – you hasten your response.

“Mr. Hu,” you say, lightly resting your hand on a Talon knife. “I thank you, for having the foresight to raise such an important issue.”

Frowning, he glances left and right, but his fellow Lantern Men avoid him. Likely, they understand this won’t end well. Indeed, Jungkook is already eyeing the man with barely concealed malice, thumb stroking slowly over the hilt of his sword.

“The fact that both victims were tortured,” you continue, conversational. “Almost as though the killer were looking for something.”

“Or someone,” Namjoon adds.

“Or someone,” you agree, focusing on Mr. Hu. “My men are searching the murder sites for more information now. While they do that though, are there any other details of an active murder investigation you’d like to know? Perhaps whether the victims pissed themselves before death, or left money behind?”

Paling, Mr. Hu seems to realize how this sounds. “N-no,” he says. “Thank you for sharing what you have, Horn-jen.”

Ignoring him, you glance in the direction of Yoongi. “We’ll find the traitor. I swear it.”

His aura flares, full of emotion unrelated to the conversation at hand. “Of that, I have no doubt,” Yoongi says lowly.

Heat floods your face, sensing his intent and swiftly, you look away before others can notice.

“While the Horn and Weather Man conduct their investigations, I ask for everyone to remain on high alert,” Yoongi says, surveying the table. “No Peak will increase Green Bone presence in the border districts. If you see anything of interest, contact the clan.”

Several Lantern Men relax at the mention of Green Bones. You know business has been hard as of late, with so many customers shaken by the violence. Hopefully, this will convince the people No Peak has the situation in hand. Otherwise, why would the Lantern Men continue to pay for your protection?

Glancing at the bloody photographs laid out on the table, you can hardly blame them for their skittishness. Whoever killed these two victims was skilled. Their torture tactics are pristine, better than most graduates from the Academy. A skill you also possess, although you choose not to use it outside of last resorts. Even then –

Your fingers cease tapping against your leather jacket. Straightening, you realize the skill displayed is exactly that of the Academy. The cuts, the angle of the blade and depth of the wounds – all of it, textbook. A Green Bone did this, you’re certain.

Sharply, you glance up and allow your distress to show. Voicing your suspicion aloud would only end badly. Above all, the Pillar must appear in control. If a Green Bone – even a disgraced one – is murdering citizens of No Peak, it would be a disaster. Better to discuss your suspicions in private before airing them to the entire group.

Perceiving the shift in your emotions, Yoongi stiffens. “We’ll update you with any new information,” he says, dismissal clear in his tone. “Thank you for coming.”

Chair legs scrape floorboards, patrons filing out as they murmur to one another. Asha, your First Fist, hovers by the door until you give a discreet shake of your head. Nodding, she slips out and you see Jungkook follow.

To one side, Yoongi converses tersely with his Pillarman, Hoseok, until Hoseok exhales and swiftly exits the room. Kim Namjoon stays, drinking a glass of water at the opposite end of the table. Once you three are alone, Yoongi holds up his hand. He waits, utterly still until the last jade aura fades.

Only then does he turn. “Well, Y/N?” he drawls. “What did you realize?”

Not wasting time, you pluck a photograph from the pile and toss it before him. “These cuts,” you explain. “They were made by a moon blade. So precise – so even. Exactly the length taught at the Academy. Which means–”

“Shit,” Namjoon mutters. He sets down his glass. “We’re fucked.”

You give him a look. “Precisely.”

Yoongi frowns, his distaste palpable. “This is the work of a Green Bone.”

“I think so.”

Pushing his chair back to stand, Namjoon grabs a photo and turns it sideways. “Why would a Green Bone go after a Lantern Man, though?” he wonders out loud. “He wasn’t even wearing jade when he died – it’s against aisho.”

Yoongi’s lips press tightly together.

Aisho refers to the strict code of honor governing all who wear jade. There are many tenets, but first and foremost is that those who wear jade don’t harm the jadeless. Aisho also limits retaliation following honorable duels, ensuring the clan lines remain intact.

A Green Bone who follows aisho would never attack a citizen.

Which forces you to draw an unsavory conclusion. “Unless they didn’t care,” you say, voicing the worst possibility. “The killer could have been trained as a Green Bone and left.” Stiffening slightly, you glance at Yoongi. “You don’t think…”

“I do,” Yoongi mutters. His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “Maro.”

Namjoon swears softly.

Maro – known to most as Toh Marosun – is a traitor to No Peak. He grew up in the same circle as Namjoon, Yoongi, and other high-ranking Green Bones. Maro attended the Academy in the same class as Yoongi, and everyone expected him to become the Horn. Brilliant, swift, and vicious in battle – not to mention one of Yoongi’s closest friends.

Despite this fact, you never liked him. Having grown up the only daughter of an unremarkable Lantern Man, you experienced Maro the way most people did. Toh Marosun was cruel. Saccharine, willing to say whatever people in power wanted to hear. Maro knew exactly what to do, what to say to manipulate followers. From the beginning, you saw Maro for who he was – a bully.

He joined No Peak’s ranks as a Finger, but swiftly rose to prominence. By the time you graduated, Maro was the youngest Fist in No Peak’s history. What he lacked in jade tolerance he made up for in cunning. Maro was always more sensitive to jade, but he was also smart. Talented, with the skills he did have.

In Green Bone society, there are two ways to gain jade – gifted or earned. Green Bones win jade through physical duels, taking the green from those they defeat. Recklessly, Maro began to challenge rival clans and often, he won despite not being able to wear his spoils. He displayed his jade often, which you suppose should’ve been the first warning sign.

Maro cared too much for personal glory. In Kekon, glory is achieved through the clan. Even the Horn and the Weather Man only exist to further No Peak’s prowess. The Pillar themselves is the embodiment of the clan, not their own person.

Even now, you recall the day Maro’s crimes were exposed.

Seven years prior, you were a Finger on routine patrol when Sain, your Fist, was commanded to return to the Min property. He brought you along, stationed by the front gate to ensure no one left.

You guarded with another Finger, one whose name you don’t recall. What you do remember is the utter stillness of the day, the unnatural calm which comes before a storm. The sun was bright overhead, a thick bead of sweat sliding down your neck when the door behind you at the main house banged open.

A man tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap in the billowing dirt. Coughing, he struggled to right himself, but both his hands were bound. From your spot at the gate, you couldn’t see clearly but you scented his blood. Heard the bruised rasp of his breath.

Yoongi prowled down the front steps, his famed Da Tanori steel glinting in his right hand. His gaze never wavered from the man bound before him – Toh Marosun, his former friend.

“Do you deny it?” Yoongi asked, his voice soft but deadly. Despite this, you Perceived conflicting emotions within.

Toh Maro stayed silent. Eventually, he exhaled.

“No,” he said sullenly.

Unable to stop it, you turned and saw Maro staring unflinchingly up at the Pillar. Yoongi stood over him, his lips a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t know what had happened but feared the worst from Yoongi’s expression.

In that moment, you didn’t envy the Pillar. Yoongi had become head of No Peak only a year prior; in many ways, he was as untried as you were. He was a silent, intelligent man and many people thought they could take advantage of him.

They were wrong, of course, but it would take time to prove that.

On that day though, you felt the dull grief to his aura. “Then I am sorry,” Yoongi said quietly. “For you leave me with no choice. Toh Marosun, you stand accused of smuggling jade from No Peak – one of the worst crimes a Green Bone can commit.”

The entirety of your blood drained as you turned around.

Spine steeling, you gripped your knives tighter. There were few crimes so awful they couldn’t be forgiven, but stealing from the clan was one of them. Cutting off Maro’s ear would be too light a punishment, especially with Yoongi so untried a Pillar. Death would be acceptable. Expected, even.

It would be the Pillar’s call – the clans weren’t run as a democracy. Straining Perception, you listened closely behind you. Although you’d interacted little with the Pillar, the man behind the mask couldn’t help but intrigue you.

Broken sobs filled the clearing, and you heard the sudden thud of knees hitting the grass. No jade aura accompanied the sound.

“Yoongi, please,” gasped a voice – feminine, young. “Brother, please spare him. Don’t kill him, he –”

“Silence.” Yoongi’s voice echoed over the courtyard. The newcomer obeyed with a lone, stifled sob. “You’ve been found innocent, sister,” he said, sounding weary. “But that does not make you innocent.”

The threat of his words hung overhead and although Yejun continued to sniffle, the sound of it muffled. When you glanced sideways again, you saw her face in her palms.

Yoongi watched dispassionately, although you sensed his inner turmoil. Rumors had reached your ears by then that Maro was dating Yejun. It seemed to be true, based on the way she pleaded.

Returning to face the gate, the yard remained silent until Yoongi exhaled. “Toh Marosun,” he declared, his sword sheathing. “From this day on, you are banished from Kekon. Return your jade to the clan and go. If you return to Janloon, your life is forfeit. Take him,” he said, speaking to someone you couldn’t see.

You didn’t dare turn, but tugged your knives a half-inch from their sheathes. If Maro decided to fight, you’d be expected to protect the Pillar. For whatever reason – disbelief, or respect – Maro didn’t attack, and no violence took place. He left in the waiting car, but you’ll never forget the look on his face when he passed.

Despite your young age, you recognized the glint in his eye. Fury, tempered by disbelief. He’ll be back, you thought grimly. It was only a matter of time before someone like Maro declared vengeance.

Your gaze slid to Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. He watched Maro leave, his expression carefully neutral before he turned around and entered the house. Yejun had already disappeared, likely leaving upon Maro’s banishment.

The expression on Yoongi’s face now is similar, staring down at the photograph. Another moment passes before you realize something else.

“They knew each other,” you say, glancing between the victims. Reaching out, your hand lightly touches a photo. “Icho Retubin. He worked for the Weather Man after the Academy. And this man here” – you touch the other – “Niru Roluan. A low-ranking Finger who quit after a year.”

“He was friendly with Marosun,” Namjoon recalls.

“Yes.” Eyes wide, you look up. “After Maro’s scheme was uncovered, both of them quit and began working as Lantern Men.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi muses. “So. Toh Marosun returns. He tortures and kills his former friends – why?” he murmurs, speaking more to himself than either of you.

Brow lowering, you search for the easy answer. “He’s torturing them for something,” you say, glancing at the wounds. “Information, maybe.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “Which begs the question – has Maro found what he wants, or is he still looking?”

“Does it matter?”

Namjoon shrugs at your question. “If Maro hasn’t found what he wants, he’ll strike again. If he did find it – well. We might be out of time.”

Yoongi considers. “He didn’t find it,” he says, turning around to stride for the door. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Your gaze narrows on his backside. “Let’s call it more than that.”

Yoongi turns around, lips twitching in a smile only you see. “I can think of two reasons Maro might return. One – jade.” The Pillar lifts a finger. “Or, two – revenge.” His second lifts.

You and Namjoon exchange a look. “Maro could find jade on the Shotarian black market if he wanted,” you say.

“Exactly.” Yoongi drops his hand. “Which is why I’m inclined to call this revenge.”

“Maro could want revenge on anyone, though,” Namjoon points out. “Most likely whoever sold him out in the first place.”

“Well, that makes this easier.” Casual, Yoongi tucks both hands in his pockets. “I sold him out. I discovered details of his jade smuggling in Yejun’s apartment.”

“Yejun?” Sharply, you look at him. “Your sister knew?”

Yoongi’s gaze hardens. “Yes, she knew,” he says. “I’m sure you understand why I kept that piece of information to myself until now. Yejun wasn’t involved with the smuggling, but she knew it was happening… and didn’t tell me,” he adds, his voice grim.

Mind reeling, you attempt to digest this piece of information. Betrayal lodges deep in your gut, although you do your best to dispel it. It’s pointless to expect Yoongi to tell you everything – especially events which occurred before you became the Horn.

Namjoon also looks troubled. “That’s… but that means–”

“Careful what you say, Namjoon.” Although his tone remains soft, Yoongi’s body tenses. “The matter is done. I punished Yejun as I saw fit, within my right as Pillar. Trust me,” he adds, his façade cracking a little. “Her deception was dealt with.”

Silently, you wonder if this is why Yejun studied in Espenia. As a stone-eye, she can’t serve the clan as a Green Bone, but could have taken other paths. She could have become a Luckbringer on Namjoon’s side or begun a career in government. Instead, Yejun left Janloon for a foreign University. It was only recently she returned to start her residency at Jan Royal University.

Curious, your gaze flicks to Yoongi. If what he says is true, then surely, he knows Maro is coming for him. Yejun might not have betrayed him, but Min Yoongi did. It’s only a matter of time before Maro discovers what happened.

Blood simmering, you do your best to hide your frustration. Your role as Horn would be much easier if the Pillar would be honest about all his enemies. Suppressing your scowl, you ignore the heat of Yoongi’s gaze on the side of your face.

“Namjoon,” he says, turning away. “I want a list of potential targets. People Maro has worked with in the past or knew at the Academy. Assuming he doesn’t have the information he wants, Maro will strike again.”

“On it,” Namjoon says, already heading for the door.

Although faint, you can feel the cool brush of his aura passing. You envy the Weather Man’s ability to ingest information and remove partiality. Even after something like Yejun’s betrayal, he remains unflappable. Namjoon simply absorbs and executes, doing what needs to be done.

Left alone with your thinking, you can’t claim the same. Namjoon’s jade aura fades when he exits, footsteps receding to leave you alone with the Pillar.

You refuse to look at him, casting your Perception outward. A Green Bone with as much jade as you have can Perceive a beetle crawling through the tall grass outside. Feel the rumble of cars on the distant streets. Hear Yoongi’s heart beat from across the room.

Wearing jade results in a dizzying expansion of knowledge. You’re used to it by now – years of training and genetics lessen the risk of being overwhelmed. Without either, it’s all too easy to lose control.

It’s one of the reasons jade-smuggling is a serious crime. The other being that jade is the main source of income funding the clans. Selling jade through non-regulated channels increases the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Hands which could bring negative consequences to other people or themselves.

Aisho outlines a strict Green Bone code of honor. It states Kekon first, clan first, family first. Occasionally, all three are tied and occasionally, one outstrips the other. Maro disobeyed every rule by selling jade to the Shotarians.

Maro knew all this and chose to continue, blinded by greed. He placed his personal glory above that of the clan, something which must be dealt with. To a lesser degree, Yejun chose Maro over No Peak, as well – which is why you’re surprised Yoongi said nothing.

“Y/N.”

Yoongi speaks your name softly, forgoing your title.

Stiffening, you force yourself not to turn. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?” he asks, his voice moving closer. “Your name?”

Hand brushing your elbow, Yoongi turns you to face him. Against all better judgement, you obey – and find your first mistake. Meeting his gaze, a ripple of familiarity – of home, a voice whispers – goes through you.

Shutting all this down, you lift your chin. “You lied to me.”

Yoongi’s expression flattens. “I couldn’t explain.”

“You could have. You chose not to.”

“I couldn’t,” he insists. “I’m still not sure I didn’t make a mistake. I showed mercy, Y/N.” Yoongi pauses, then swallows. “I exiled my friend and sent my sister away – and now, look what’s happened. Two men have been killed, and it’s my fault. How could I have told you,” he adds, the words desperate, “when I knew it’d result in that look on your face?”

“I’m looking at you like this because you lied. Not because of a decision you made in the past. Mercy isn’t a weakness, Min Yoongi.”

“Some would say that it is,” he murmurs. Fleeting, his gaze drops to your lips. 

Yoongi drops all restraint so his emotion, so often concealed, smears through his aura. Longing, anger and fear, mixed with worry. 

White-hot electricity jumps over your skin. Seeing the normally reserved Pillar undone in your presence is a heady knowledge. Knowledge that terrifies you, even as everything in you aches to move closer.

“It’s not,” you exhale, meeting his gaze.

Something falters in his expression and Yoongi stares at you, heated. You Perceive his intent – a rough flare to his aura – a moment before Yoongi bends and crushes your mouth to his. His kiss is thorough, intent, his body curving with yours while walking you towards the wall.

You instantly cave, unable to withstand the desperate sweep of his tongue. “Yoongi,” you groan, fingers gripping him tighter. “People will hear.”

“Let them,” he says, his voice undeterred.

Before you can respond, his lips fall upon yours with increasing urgency. Hand slipping beneath your jacket, Yoongi cups your waist to pull you taut against him. Eyes falling shut, you swiftly scan the building for lingering Green Bones. Finding no one, you return your attention to Yoongi and bite down on his lip.

He growls, grip tightening when you tug him towards you. Breaking away, Yoongi lowers his head to suck the curve of your throat. He lingers at your jade, tongue darting out to lick the skin underneath. Your entire body shudders, aroused by the sensation.

Touching another person’s jade is intimate. Most wouldn’t allow their own family the honor, let alone someone they sleep with. Skin contact with jade imbues power, and the swift rise and fall of it can be dangerous. Only Yoongi is brave – or foolish – enough to risk the effects.

Spine on the wall, you inhale at the rush. Yoongi’s length presses against your core, already hard through the confines of his pants. It seems unfathomable that this man, a stranger to you for so long, can inspire such potent emotion.

When you first met him, you were ten, and he was fourteen. You didn’t know who Yoongi was at the time – a fact which now seems unthinkable. Raised in southern Kekon, you came to Janloon after your mother’s death with little understanding of clan politics. Likely, you would have remained so if your high jade tolerance hadn’t pushed your father to enroll you at the Academy.

Walking through the gates that first day, you found nothing but apathy. The best-case scenario was your classmates left you alone. Worst-case, the other children were brutal. You attended school with the sons and daughters of high-ranking clan members. Although your father joined No Peak as a Lantern Man eventually, he could hardly be called successful. The Academy had no patience for a rural girl whose jade tolerance far outstripped their own.

It wore on your classmates’ pride when the teachers praised you. You began to get noticed, and not in a good way. Fed up with your presence, one of the students attacked you at the end of your first year. Even then, you knew how to defend yourself and flipped him on his back. Stunned, he stared up at you before yelling to anyone within earshot that you’d regret this. His father was a powerful Lantern Man of No Peak and he said you’d be banished before graduation.

Fear gripped you, sensing the truth to his words. Based on your own experience, you knew No Peak wouldn’t believe you over one of their own.

Despair filled your thoughts as someone entered the corridor. Your attacker instantly froze, which should have clued you in this was someone important. Still, you refused to look, reticent to turn your back on an opponent.

The newcomer cleared their throat, further stoking your ire. After a moment, you dragged your attention to them.

Min Yoongi stared back, his expression mild. “So,” he said. “Who can tell me what happened?”

Looking him up and down, you chose not to respond. You didn’t trust a stranger – a fourth year at that – to intervene on your behalf. Most likely, Yoongi was a member of No Peak and had only arrived to harass you further.

Seeing your hesitance, your attacker jumped in. He accused you of treachery, saying you jumped him in the corridor and threw him on the ground. Silent, your fingers curled into fists, but you remained quiet, even when Yoongi turned.

“Well?” he asked you. “Is that right?”

Your lips dropped into a scowl. “He deserved what he got.”

Subtle, his brow flicked upward.

To your dismay, you saw people had gathered as whispers broke out. A sinking suspicion occurred to you that something was wrong. Not with your attacker, but whoever this was.

Yoongi stared at you for a long moment before, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I agree.” Turning to face the boy, a dangerous light entered his eye. “I’d suggest not telling your father what happened, Heike. Because then, I might feel honor-bound to confess what I saw. Which was his son ruthlessly attack a first year, lose and then lie about it to his future Pillar.”

Color bled swiftly from Heike’s skin. “Yes, Min-jen,” he whispered, head bowed in shame.

Panic-stricken, you stared as realization sunk in you’d been flippant to the future Pillar. Steeling yourself, you waited for Min Yoongi’s response – likely anger or worse. Based on your experience, most men in power liked this fact to be known.

Instead, Yoongi merely turned and looked you up and down. His gaze traveled you slowly, unreadable in his scrutiny. At last, he glanced up.

“Your father owns the tea shop by the docks, yes?” he said, waiting for you to nod before he continued. “He joined No Peak as a Lantern Man last year.”

“Yes, he did.”

His lips twitched. “Well, then,” Yoongi said as he turned away. “I can’t help but be grateful he chose No Peak to patron. It would’ve been shame to lose you to another clan.”

Stricken, you watched as he strode from the courtyard. Minutes passed, and eventually you realized the crowd had dispersed. Heike skulked off to nurse his wounds and the future Pillar had gone, giving them no reason to stay.

If you weren’t loyal to No Peak before, you certainly were after. Yoongi had that type of effect on people.

After that day though, you rarely interacted. Yoongi was four years your senior and the future Pillar, while you were nobody. Albeit a talented nobody who graduated at the top of their class from the Academy. At your graduation, people whispered you’d make a strong Fist. No one ever imagined you’d rise higher than that.

You joined No Peak as a Finger, starting from the bottom. Yoongi continued to remain out of reach, the newly named Pillar struggling to earn his own title. It didn’t take long though, before you rose in the ranks. You spent two years as a Finger, then two as a Fist – you were twenty-two years old when promoted to Horn. The youngest in history, and a woman to boot.

Yoongi was adamant in the choice, defending you calmly to the entire clan. He said he’d rather have the right person at a young age than the wrong person at the right age. His support was the only reason you didn’t strangle him that first year. It was the beginning of working together and as it turned out, Yoongi drove you mad.

He micromanaged, overseeing all decisions to ensure No Peak ran smoothly. You two bickered often, the fire eventually dissipating to begrudging acceptance. Ultimately, you realized you saw the world the same – No Peak first, followed by everything else.

Back then, Yoongi dated but none of them stuck. No one understood the sacrifice necessary to remain head of No Peak. Couldn’t comprehend the ruthlessness, the dedication it took to lead the clan. Yoongi could never let his guard down, could never relax with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You understood, though, because you shared this burden. Yoongi could be honest with you in a way he couldn’t be elsewhere. To the rest of the clan, he was the infallible Pillar, but to you, he was only a man.

Proof of said manhood hardens against your thigh, and Yoongi’s lips curve gamely at the base of your throat. Head lifting, his smile is sharp enough to carve the remaining bit of your heart.

“You left early this morning,” he observes, his gaze dimming. “Why?”

Your eyes trace his lips before lifting to his face. “Hian called in sick, so I replaced his watch. My Fists are spread thin, Yoongi.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows. “You should’ve woken me.”

“Why?” you tease, your hand sliding lower to rest above his hip. “To watch me go? You needed your sleep.”

“I needed you more.”

Yoongi’s words still your fingertips, struck by his honesty. Min Yoongi is nothing if not blunt, leaving you often speechless. What began as just sex, mounting frustration between friends, has become something almost too tenuous to name. The idea of having him scares you nearly as much as the prospect of losing him.

“You had me last night,” you murmur.

Yoongi’s fingers drift across your cheek. “And yet,” he says, unwilling to let you off the hook. “I woke up ravenous.”

Multiple meanings layer his words, some of which you purposefully choose not to hear. Instead, you glance past him to search the grounds. Several Green Bones cross the lawn, none of them close enough to overhear. Still, it reminds you of what’s at stake.

Exhaling gently, you pull from his touch. “I should go,” you tell him.

Head tilted, Yoongi’s dark hair conceals the jade in his brow. His brow wrinkles when he Perceives your tumultuous emotions.

“You’re worried,” he says.

“Of course, I am,” you say with a frustrated laugh. “I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my job to protect the clan – to protect you – and right now, it feels like I’m failing.”

His gaze on you sharpens. “First off, I can protect myself. Second – it’s my job as Pillar to protect the clan. How can you protect us from something I can’t see?”

“How many times do I have to say you don’t shoulder that burden alone?”

The lines around his mouth deepen. “In good times, I’m lauded. It only follows that in bad times, I’m the one at fault.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” you say drily. “I, for one, have never lauded you.”

“Oh, really?” Stepping closer, his expression shifts from frustration to carnal. “I seem to recall differently last night.”

Electricity catches each place his gaze lingers, shivering its way down your spine. Refusing to let him notice, you lift your chin higher. “You’d have to remind me. It all blurs together.”

Yoongi bares his teeth, and you can’t help but smile. If there’s one thing the Pillar of No Peak can’t resist, it’s a challenge. The start of your relationship is proof enough of that.

After your promotion to Horn, you spent most waking hours by Yoongi’s side. Working with him was exhausting. Every decision turned into an argument. How many Fists you should have. How many students to admit to the Academy. Whether you should train with the Kekonese military or not.

Yoongi constantly occupied space in your thoughts, and not in a good way. He frustrated you, forcing you to second-guess and slow down your thought process. Maddeningly, he was often correct, which only served to further your irritation.

Eventually, things began to shift. Bickering turned to acceptance and finally, understanding. Yoongi trusted you more often to make the right calls and in turn, you snapped at him less for his input. Your arguments dwindled, then disappeared altogether.

Three years passed as Horn, and soon your frustration gave way to a different kind. You started to notice when Min Yoongi entered the room. At first, you brushed it off as nothing. Yoongi had an undeniable presence, this was true. Soon though, you realized your thoughts breached the border of friendship.

His absence could be felt like a phantom limb. Yoongi’s jade aura comforted you despite its fierceness – so at odds with the calm way he carried himself.

Idly, you wondered what it would take for him to snap. To release his infamous self-control and fully give in. Thoughts of what Yoongi would feel like left your body scorched. On more than one occasion, you awoke with an ache between your legs and a dream of his face slipping away.

Such thoughts though, were dangerous. Yoongi was the Pillar, and you were his Horn – a relationship couldn’t happen and what’s more, he’d shown no interest. You began to withdraw out of self-preservation. Prior, you sparred with Yoongi every morning but soon found yourself making excuses to skip.

What was once daily practice turned into every week and then, once a month. Yoongi was a distraction you could ill-afford, disarming you with his laughter as easily as his sword.

Instead, you forced your attention on training your Fists. Firstday through Fifthday, you met Asha and Jungkook at the gym before dawn. This went on for months, training in secret until one day you exited and saw Yoongi’s car at the curb. Stomach sinking, you watched as he reversed and sped down the street.

Perceiving tumultuous emotion, you knew confrontation was inevitable but hoped Yoongi would give you time to process.

He did not.

Instead, Yoongi pounded on your door the very next morning. When you finally answered, he tossed a practice sword your way and demanded you dress.

Shaking free of your stupor, you glared at Yoongi a moment before slamming the door. Stalking inside, you threw gear in a bag and returned to the hall. Stomping past him, you refused to acknowledge Yoongi, throwing open the door to his Duchesse Priza.

Yoongi sped to his place in silence, tension churning between you like water beneath a ferry. At his gym, you stormed out and ripped the sword from its sheath. Yoongi followed closely behind, barely leashed emotion rolling off him in waves.

You flew at him first, your body Light, and then Strong while swinging towards his head. Moving through the various jade disciplines, you relied on training hammered into your bones. Yoongi caught a blow on his forearm, Steeling his skin to avoid any damage. The two of you entered a familiar rhythm, understanding the other in ways no one else could.

It must’ve been hours before you threw down your sword and declared the match ended. Yoongi simply stared, his chest heaving with a wild spark in his eyes.

You were turning to leave when he dropped his blade, strode across the clearing and crushed your mouth to his.

Five months have passed since. Your relationship has been kept a secret, with you unwilling to place any labels. People would talk if the Horn and Pillar were dating. You don’t want that for yourself. Not when you’ve worked so hard for credibility.

Pressing his thumb to your lower lip, Yoongi drags it lower before he releases. “I’ll have to remind you, then,” he says before stepping away. The heat dissipates from his gaze, leaving you cold. “But you’re right. I should go.”

Somewhat dazed, you feel yourself nod. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This is exactly what you asked for, so you have no right to feel abandoned.

“Send me the list Namjoon makes,” you say, forcing lightness to your tone. “I’ll send Green Bones to watch their houses.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and merely nods. He stays silent when you leave, brushing past him to the hall. Outside, you pause on the landing before you continue.

His jade aura fades as you exit, letting you know he remains. You do your best to ignore him, flipping your keys as you stride towards your car – not as nice as Yoongi’s, but serviceable nonetheless. Yanking open the door, you slide onto the sticky-warm gray leather seat.

Exhaling, you stare at the wheel before shifting to drive. Lowering the windows, you allow a slight breeze to drift over your face. As much as you pretend to be happy with the current situation, you’re not. You aren’t stupid – you know your feelings for Yoongi extend beyond those of a Horn to their Pillar.

When you first became Horn, you respected Yoongi. He was a good leader – still is – and you were proud to be the person strengthening No Peak by his side. Now, he’s the closest thing you have to family. Deep down, you understand his pardon of Yejun. If you were in a similar situation, there’s nothing Yoongi could do that you wouldn’t forgive.

Especially now, with your father dead. It happened soon after graduation, a sudden collapse of his heart no one saw coming. Yoongi attended his funeral. It was held on a rain soaked Seventhday after the Autumn Festival. Late in the season for a deluge but fitting for the occasion. It felt like the world was wiped clean, along with your prior life.

For the Pillar to attend was unusual, but not unprecedented. You recall him standing near the back, his Pillarman, Hoseok, at his side. The funeral was short – your father wasn’t garrulous by any means – but rain soaked your dress by the time it had ended. It surprised you when Yoongi came to express his sorrow, even more so when he seemed to mean it. Most people didn’t. Most people came for the spectacle, or to say they were there.

Yoongi though, gripped your hand tightly while meeting your gaze. His calluses were as rough as your own when he said the clan would support you. Oddly enough, you believed him.

With both parents dead, and no siblings, No Peak is the only family you have. Yoongi’s life is similar to yours, apart from Yejun. His father died of cancer when he was twenty-one and his mother soon followed, unable to cope. Yoongi knows what loss means, what it feels like to be alone.

Lips tightening, you imagine what it’d feel like to lose him. Worse than a Horn should feel when they lose a Pillar. Silent, you curse yourself for having poor foresight. There’s a reason the Horn and Pillar don’t date. A reason why such a relationship would be forbidden. It’s your job to protect the clan – not just Yoongi – but if it came down to it, you’d choose him every time.

Weaving through the bustling streets of Janloon, your speed is forced to slow. Janloon, the capital city of Kekon, is full of contractions. The latest car models pass beneath flashing billboards, coupled with street stalls and sprawling temples. Scents of the city mingle with stale AC from your car.

No matter how much time passes, Kekon stubbornly clings to its roots. Portions of the outside world may infiltrate, but they’ll never replace. This is something Green Bones and the clans understand.

Traffic forces you to park a block away from your destination. Striding towards the Twice Lucky, you nod at a few Lantern Men idling outside. Asha and Jungkook wait for you in a private room, lounging in seats around the square table. The second floor of the Twice Lucky has been reserved for Green Bones; a privilege No Peak ensures is well-compensated.

Jungkook sits in his usual spot, arms crossed and feet up. Asha is restless, fingertips drumming against the hilt of her blade. Food and water are laid out, half-eaten as though there were others here before.

Sensing your presence, your first Fist looks up. “Y/N-jen.” Asha straightens. “Any news?”

Crossing the room, you scan the building but Perceive no other Green Bones. Sinking into a chair, you pull a plate closer and pick up red chopsticks.

Jungkook turns towards you. “What’d you discuss with the Pillar? Seemed important.”

Asha gives him a warning look, to which he only shrugs.

Ignoring them both, you stab a dumpling. “We suspect the killings were done by a Green Bone. Do you remember Toh Marosun?”

Asha’s head whips in your direction. Jungkook was at the Academy during Maro’s betrayal, but Asha was there and remembers how it went down. If Maro has returned, it’s only a matter of time before things get worse.

“Of course, we remember.” Her eyes narrow. “So, it’s really him? Maro came back?”

“Maybe.” You hesitate another moment, then finish the dumpling. “It’s only a guess.”

“A pretty good guess, if you’re telling us,” Jungkook muses. “Why come back now, though? Returning to Kekon is a death sentence.”

“Is it?” Asha fights a smirk. “Everyone knew Yejun had a thing for Maro.”

Casual, you retrieve a talon knife from its sheath. You begin cleaning the blade, the weapon a natural extension of your wrist, and feel Asha and Jungkook’s gazes follow.

“I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?” you say calmly. “Not unless you’re questioning the Pillar’s judgement.”

Asha looks away, miffed. “No, jen,” she mutters. “Of course, not.”

“Good.” You pause, allowing your fury to seep into your aura. “The Pillar deserves nothing less than your respect. Which means Jungkook is right – coming back here is a death sentence, begging the question of why.”

Jungkook considers. “Maybe he left something.”

Asha turns back, the moment of tension forgotten. “He could be after his jade,” she offers. “Maro was always thin-blooded, so if it’s jade he wants, this could get bad. He could come down with the Itches.”

Sheathing your knife, you look up. “I agree. Maro might not be in his right mind.”

“What should we do?” 

“Nothing for now,” you tell her. “Namjoon is compiling a list of people Maro knew. If he hasn’t found what he’s after by now, he could strike again.”

Asha nods and accepts this. Pushing aside a twinge of regret, you wish you could explain the rest. If Yoongi is a target though, it’s best to keep that fact quiet. And as much as you’d like to blame the Luckbringers, you have no way of knowing who’s helping Maro – either by will or by force.

A phone rings on the lower level, barely audible over the din. The Twice Lucky restaurant doesn’t have the best food in Janloon, but the quality is good, and its owner is loyal. The same can’t be said for other places.

Footsteps pound on the staircase, and Jungkook springs to his feet. Before you can warn him, the door opens and Mr. Une, the proprietor, freezes in place.

“Put that away,” you demand, waving for Jungkook to lower his knife.

Eyes wide, Mr. Une stares while your Second Fist sheaths his weapon. Seating himself at the table, Jungkook kicks both feet up like nothing has happened. The third-highest amount of jade in the clan lies coiled about his neck, polished stones resting against his tan skin.

Mr. Une continues to stare, wary until you pointedly clear your throat. “Uncle,” you say, adopting the deferential. “What can we do for you?”

Somewhat placated, Mr. Une turns his head. “Phone call for you, Horn-jen. The Weather Man said it’s urgent. You can use the phone in my office if you’d like.”

Smile disappearing, you stand. “Lead the way.”

Mr. Une blinks, and you realize you’ve crossed the room in less time than it took Jungkook to draw his knife. Inwardly, you sigh and attempt to appear harmless. The citizens of Janloon are used to living with Green Bones but sometimes, your power is a reminder of what they are not. Of the inherent danger of living amongst latent gods.

Following Mr. Une, you head towards his office. Asha and Jungkook walk close behind, with Jungkook at the rear and Asha by your side. Mr. Une hovers awkwardly at the door before turning around and pushing into the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, you lift the phone. “Hello?” you say.

Namjoon’s voice barks in your ear. “Get back to the Min property. Now.”

Your stomach drops. “What happened?”

“Maro struck again,” he says tightly. “It’s definitely Maro – and the victim is still alive.”

“Who is it?” you ask, expecting the worst.

“Jio Reubin. He managed to escape and made it here, but he’s injured. This is our best chance to get information.”

“On my way,” you say, and hang up.

Taking a deep breath, you allow the reality of Namjoon’s words to wash over you. Jio is hurt, meaning you need to interrogate soon in case he dies. Nausea curdles your stomach, and you try to dispel it.

Guilt wars with relief from knowing Yoongi is safe. You’ve met Jio several times, having attended the Academy with his now-wife, Lula. She never took to the bloodier side of the clan, deciding to enter the medical profession instead. If you remember correctly, she’s in the same resident program as Yejun.

Leaving the office, you nod for Jungkook to follow. He falls into step beside you. “I need you to do something for me,” you say to Asha. “Head to Jio Reubin’s and search the area for Maro. Call me if you find anything.”

She nods and turns, disappearing out the side door.

You and Jungkook exit the front, squinting when you emerge in the golden hour. “Follow me to the Min property,” you say grimly.

Jungkook nods as he turns, aura pulsing with adrenaline while growing fainter. You should warn him to be cautious but know it’d be hypocritical. Your own car’s speed is nearly twice the limit as you rush through the streets of Janloon, returning to the gates of the Min property.

Screeching to a halt, you yank keys from the ignition and sprint across the courtyard. Namjoon’s aura pulses from the main house, so you follow the trail and shove open the door.

Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, and you immediately see why. Jio lies splayed on the sofa, right arm dangling listlessly from a red cushion. At first, you think that’s the color before you notice the blood darkening Jio’s chest.

Kneeling at his side, Namjoon’s jaw clenches while attempting to Channel. Usually, Channeling is used to rend the body apart but in certain circumstances, it can be used to hold it together. Namjoon doesn’t wear much jade though and wasn’t trained as a healer.

“Allow me,” Jungkook says from behind you.

Dropping to his knees, he replaces Namjoon to clasp Jio’s hand in his. Closing his eyes, a thick vein pulses in the side of his neck. Despite Jungkook’s wish to enter the bloodier side of the clan, he would’ve made an excellent healer. His ability to Channel is better than anyone else in No Peak.

Jio’s aura, previously guttering, gradually smooths. Namjoon sits back on his heels, clearly spent from the effort. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turns to see you.

“Close the door,” he says faintly.

Reaching out, you obey and cross to stand by his side. Staring at Jio, you take in his bloodied state. Whoever tortured him was thorough, cutting just deep enough to let him slowly bleed out.

It’s a miracle Jio escaped, no matter how slowly his chest rises and falls. When you cross your arms, he coughs and cracks open one eye. Dazedly, Jio registers your presence.

“Horn-jen,” he rasps.

Briskly, you nod. “You’re going to be fine, Jio.”

Straining Perception, you sweep the ground for Yoongi but find him far away. Good. The further he is from this carnage, the better.

Glancing back, you seek Namjoon. “What happened?”

“Maro was waiting when Jio got home from his night shift. His wife had already left for the hospital. Maro knocked out Jio, tied him up and when he came to, started torturing him for intel. Jio managed to escape but hasn’t said how. Couple of Fingers found him in the Temple District.”

Your gaze moves to Jio. “Maro escaped?”

“Yeah,” he responds.

Stomach tight, you consider the options. Either Maro is still searching for whatever he’s after, or he found out from Jio and –

From across the property comes a surge of fury. No one else seems to notice, but that doesn’t surprise you. You’re more attuned to Yoongi’s aura than anyone present. Keeping your expression neutral, you know you don’t have much time until Yoongi arrives.

“What did he want to know?” you demand. “Did he –”

The door to the room flies open and hits the wall. The Pillar strides in, adjusting his cuffs as he goes. Yoongi’s dark hair is slicked, clothing immaculate as always. Heat curls in your lower belly, and you do your best to stamp it out.

His gaze flicks towards you, sensing your need before his expression shutters. Facing forward, Yoongi surveys the scene.

“What happened?” he asks, low and deadly.

His Pillarman steps inside and shuts the door. Hoseok leans to the wall, jacket falling open to reveal the handle of his Sig Sauer. It’s odd for a Green Bone to carry a gun but Hoseok’s job is to protect Yoongi from all threats. Although Green Bone warriors render bullets obsolete through Steeling, there are other threats best deterred by firepower.

On the couch, Jio coughs and attempts to sit up. Grunting, Jungkook grabs his shoulder and forces him down.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you say to Jio. “The doctor is coming, but if you die before they get here, you’ll be no help to anyone.”

“Are you sure it was Maro?” Yoongi asks, tension radiating from every line in his body. Even if you couldn’t Perceive him, you’d know.

Weakly, Jio nods. “It was Maro. Looks different now – leaner and wearing new jade. Scabs up and down his arms. But yeah, it was him.”

You and Namjoon exchange a look. Arm scabs could be a sign of the Itches, an illness caused by jade overexposure. Jade overexposure can happen gradually, or it could be caused by a single instance. For example, if someone were to go without jade for years and then put a lot on.

Green Bones are taught the symptoms from a young age. Severe mood swings, sensory distortion – shaking, sweating, anxiety, paranoia, and heart palpitations. When left untreated, the Itches can lead to madness and eventually, death. Better soldiers than Maro have succumbed to it, the lure of more jade greater than self-control.

The possibility flashes before you – Maro, unable to stomach being cut off from Kekon. He seeks out new jade, expecting to stomach as much as he used to. Instead, Maro breaks, paranoia and fear dragging him under. He starts to blame others, including the clan who took everything from him. A man in such a state might consider revenge his only option.

The hypothesis fits, though it means nothing good for No Peak.

“What did he say?” Yoongi asks. “Tell us, word for word.”

“He…” Jio breaks into a coughing fit. “Knocked me out. When I woke up, I was tied to my kitchen chair. I asked Maro what the fuck he was doing.”

“And?” Namjoon prods. “What did he say?”

“Said he’d been gone for too long. That it was all a mistake – leaving, taking off his jade.”

“Is that why he came back?” you press.

Jio’s head lolls. “He asked who betrayed him. Said he only told a few people about the smuggling, so one of them must’ve done it. I didn’t know,” he rasps, shaking his head. “I wasn’t one of the people Maro told. He didn’t seem to remember – or care.”

Paranoia. Another unmistakable sign of the Itches.

“What else?” Namjoon asks. “How did you escape?”

“I don’t know.” Jio frowns, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. “Maro seemed confused. He kept asking who betrayed him, and then mentioning treasure? He wanted to know where his treasure was. I don’t even know what he meant,” he admits, glancing between you and Namjoon. “His jade? I dunno.”

“It could be,” you say slowly.

“He’d ask about his treasure one minute, then accuse it of betraying him,” Jio says. “He said he went where his treasure was, but it wasn’t there. Or they weren’t there? He kept mixing up tenses. Wasn’t sure he knew where he was, half the time.”

Off to the side, you feel a sudden surge of emotion – there and gone before you can dissect. Startled, you glance in the direction of Yoongi but find him unharmed. Eyes narrowed, you watch a moment longer before you turn back.

“If Maro wants his old jade, maybe he meant his apartment. He could have gone there to search first,” Namjoon offers.

“A waste,” you say with a frown. “Maro forfeited his jade to the clan before leaving.”

Forfeited to the Pillar, more accurately. You glance once more at Yoongi, who doesn’t react. He continues to examine Jio, a slight wrinkle between his brows.

“All roads lead to me, it would seem. How did you escape, Jio?” Yoongi adds, casually changing the subject.

“Didn’t, really.” Jio coughs, the sound wet. “Managed to get an arm free, lunged for Maro and fell on the floor. Maro… didn’t really notice. He swore something fierce, stabbed my fridge with his knife and ran off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “He stabbed your… fridge?”

“Yeah.”

“That makes no sense.”

“If he has the Itches, it doesn’t have to,” Namjoon murmurs.

“True,” you say.

This feels important though, in a way you can’t pinpoint. Maro didn’t have any trouble killing before – the only reason he’d leave was if he found what he wanted. Frustration gnaws at your thoughts, certain you’re missing something.

Outside, you hear someone enter the driveway. Gravel skitters beneath tires, the car coming to a stop as someone exits.

“That must be the doctor.” Yoongi turns around, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll go let them in.”

Pulling open the door, he exits with Hoseok. You watch them leave, returning your attention to Jio.

Looking weary, Jungkook sits back on his heels. “I’ve done what I can,” he says. “Stopped most of the internal bleeding. He should live.”

The door behind you opens. “I’ll be the judge of that,” says an unfamiliar woman, striding in. Setting down a black bag, she looks around. “Anyone without medical training should leave. Now.”

Brows raised, you obey and take your leave. In the hallway, Jungkook mutters something about readying the car and disappears. You remain in the house, pacing and waiting for Yoongi’s return.

Namjoon’s eyes follow your tread. “What are you thinking?”

Shaking your head, you stop to examine a portrait of Yoongi’s father. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Something about this feels off. Why would Maro leave so abruptly?”

“He wouldn’t,” Namjoon muses. “Not unless he found what he was looking for.”

“Maybe Jio is lying. Maybe he told Maro it was Yoongi who betrayed him. If that’s so though, why wouldn’t Maro come directly here?”

“Here?” Namjoon scoffs. “It’d be suicide to attack the Pillar in his own compound. No way – Maro is smarter. If I were him, I’d set a trap. Draw the Pillar out.”

A terrible suspicion dawns as you freeze, mid-stride. This is the moment the landline rings and, crossing the hallway, you yank down the phone.

“Hello?” you answer.

Asha’s voice fills your ears. “Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” you say, turning around. “What’s wrong?”

“I have… well, I don’t know what I have.”

“What do you mean?” you press. “What’s wrong?”

Noticing your expression, Namjoon frowns and pushes himself from the wall.

“I went to Jio’s like you asked. There was no sign of Maro, so I went back to the house and… it’s strange. Maro tied Jio up in his kitchen, and there are signs of a struggle, but…”

“But what, Asha?”

She pauses. “Did Jio tell you what happened?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze flicks to Namjoon, who listens to every word. “He said Maro swore, stabbed a fridge and ran off.”

“Oh. Okay.” Asha exhales. “I was worried you’d think I’m crazy. The thing is, Maro didn’t just stab a fridge – he stabbed a photo. A person, to be exact.”

“… Who was the person he stabbed?”

Namjoon goes still, and your grip on the phone tightens. Pieces of the puzzle slide into place, leaving a picture which turns your stomach. Dread fills you, knowing what Asha will say before she says it.

“Yejun,” she says, and a loud ringing fills your ears. “She works at the same hospital as Jio’s wife, and there’s a photo of them at some ceremony. The knife… it’s straight through Yejun’s head.”

Heart pounding, you close your eyes and frantically sweep the grounds. Deep down though, you already know what you’ll find.

Yoongi is gone.

Fury boiling over, you realize this was the epiphany Yoongi had earlier. It must have something to do with the word treasure – likely a nickname between Yejun and Maro. Maro was looking for Yejun, not his jade or revenge. Or maybe it is revenge – stomach sinking, you realize what this must seem like. Maro told Yejun about his operation and soon after, Yoongi found out.

Maro wants Yejun, which is something you should’ve seen from the beginning. Yoongi realized before you and now, he’s run off to play hero.

“Stay here,” you say, turning to Namjoon. Feverish anger burns your blood. “Get Jio to the hospital once he’s stable. Thanks, Asha,” you say before hanging up.

Namjoon’s eyes narrow. “Yoongi went after Yejun, didn’t he?”

“Maybe,” you say, pushing past. “If he did, I’ll find him.”

You don’t remember reaching your car, only that once you do, you drive faster than you ever have through Janloon. The hospital is a logical starting point since that’s what Maro saw from the photo.

Shutting down your thoughts, you continue to weave through traffic. Thinking begets worry, which can lead to mistakes. Tightening your grip, you push the car faster. Roaring down the next street, you recall Yejun is working early shifts this week. She mentioned it the other day, saying how glad she was to be home in time for dinner.

Glancing at the clock, your jaw tightens. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a sharp turn, car skidding a little on the next street. If Yejun is already home, better to first check that she’s safe.

Yoongi’s sister lives near the hospital, an allowance granted with the understanding that your men keep tabs. While it’s unlikely Maro knows her home address, he could have followed her there from the hospital.

Parking swiftly, you leap from the car and sprint inside. Someone on the street protests, all bravado disappearing when they notice your jade. You skid to a stop in the lobby, zeroing in on the doorman.

“Floor ten,” you say flatly.

Open-mouthed, the man stares. When you start to move forward, he snaps to attention. “Elevator is out,” he blurts. “You’ll have to take the stairs, like the rest.”

The rest.

Teeth gritted, you pivot and take the steps three at a time. The climb upward is steep, and you use a burst of Strength to reach the top. Shoving open the door to floor ten, you come to a sudden halt.

Chaos greets you.

The hall before you is narrow, barely two meters in width. Yoongi and Maro face each other midway, moon blades drawn and locked in combat. Lunging, Maro’s blade slices Yoongi’s shoulder and blood splatters the floor. Hissing, Yoongi doubles his Strength to kick Maro in the chest, sending him flying.

Maro slams into a window, glass raining around him. Rolling Light, Maro jumps to face Yoongi, unscathed. Stomach sinking, you notice the amount of jade Maro carries. More than he ever had while part of the clan. Clearly, Maro is past the point of caring about things like the Itches.

His aura feels wrong where it touches yours, jagged and pulsing. Leaping and whirling with unknown motive, withdrawing to expand in nonsensical patterns.

Face contorted, Maro unleashes a series of blows which nearly has Yoongi buckling. Clearly, Maro has continued training in exile. He looks similar and yet different – his hair longer, beard unkempt to hide the scar on his cheek. His body is lean, that of a wild wolf after winter who fights more desperately because of it.

Steeling himself, you feel Yoongi pull his aura inward, readying for the next blow. Maro slips beneath Yoongi’s blade and slashes – and Yoongi releases, Channeling his energy outward in a deadly wave. The invisible strike hits Maro dead-on, making him stumble.

Gaze bright, Maro’s head whips upward. Sensing murderous intent, a growl slips from your throat as you rush in. Swifter than breath, you wrench knives from your belt, thrusting them upward to catch Maro’s blade.

He shudders to a halt, teeth bared in your face.

Yoongi skids to a stop beside you, disbelief warring with his panic.

“GO!” you yell, glancing at Yejun’s door. “Now!”

Yoongi hesitates before nodding, lowering his sword to dart inside. Maro seethes when he escapes, shoving with all his weight to send you backwards. Dropping into a crouch, you brace yourself with one hand and kick outward. Maro leaps to avoid the blow, landing Light with a fierce glint in his eye.

Bright studs of jade – some red and oozing – dot his chest, clearly done in haste. Maro doesn’t seem to feel pain as he walks towards you.

 “You?” he taunts, half-laughing. “You’d barely graduated when I was chosen for Horn. Must be nice,” he muses. “A reward for fucking the boss.”

Biting your lower lip, you hold back your retort. When you do this, Maro smiles, lips pulled from his teeth.

Before he can speak, you lunge forward and Channel. Energy jabs Maro’s chest – enough to stun, but not kill. Grunting, Maro’s smile disappears as he Deflects. Bringing his sword down overhead, he leaves no room to dodge. Swiftly, you Steel and hope for the best.

Maro’s blade slams against skin, though he fails to draw blood. Springing forward, you strike hard enough to rend his shirt’s fabric. Pulling back, Maro seethes.

Your next series of blows are fueled by Strength, fast enough to elude normal vision. You rely on muscle memory and Perception, countering each of Maro’s strokes with your own. He’s not as fast as you are, but his additional jade gives him an edge.

His next Channel is clumsy but strong, enough to leave you winded and miss his next blow. You don’t Steel in time, his blade catching your jacket to cut your torso. Hissing, you stumble and press a hand to the wound.

The cut feels shallow but stings, nonetheless. Fury building, you hone your Perception to a narrow cone. Maro’s aura ebbs and flows, erratically bursting as he walks towards you.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering to fight,” he says, adjusting his grip on his sword. “If anything, you should join me, Y/N – I’m your future.”

Refusing to let him continue, you rush forward and exchange a flurry of blows that end in a stalemate.

Panting, Maro withdraws. “You have to understand I loved her,” he hisses. “I loved her, and she betrayed me. She deserves to die.”

“Who did?” you ask, although you already know.

Behind Maro, you see Yoongi rush from Yejun’s apartment. He holds her, unconscious, Yejun’s aura silent without jade ability. Fervent, you wish you could gauge her vitality. As it is, all you can do is buy them time to get help.

Sinking into a crouch, you draw Maro’s gaze. 

“Yejun?” you prod.

“Yes,” Maro breathes, his gaze bright. “I trusted her, and she turned me in. Do you know what I thought about every day while in Shotar? Her. Do you know what she thought about? The clan,” he spits. “He’ll betray you, too, in the end – you’ll see. Killing them both now would be a mercy.”

“Yejun didn’t betray you,” you say to buy time. “She wasn’t the one who told Yoongi – he found out on his own.”

Maro blinks, his surprise evident for a moment before vanishing under fury. “That’s just as bad,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Yoongi and I were like brothers. Under aisho, doesn’t family come first?”

“Even family is bound by honor,” you say grimly. “Should I ever be disloyal to my brother, may I die by the blade,” you add, reciting the Green Bone oaths. “I won’t join you, Toh Marosun. Take me by force if you must.”

His nostrils flare but before he can act, you rush in. Dimly, you register Yoongi’s retreating aura and hope he’s managed to escape the building. Lightness and Strength blur as you move, Maro’s Deflection flung hastily forward.

You keep your blows unpredictable, swift enough that Maro struggles. Rage cloaks your intention as you whirl and slice in erratic patterns. Sweat beads on Maro’s forehead, Steeling wrongly for your knives to draw blood.

Sensing victory, you push harder. Gathering his energy inward, Maro lashes out suddenly in a Channel you barely Deflect. Energy rips through you, searing your bones in a silent attack. Wincing, you leap back and Channel a blow. Maro stumbles, barely shielding and you recognize a flaw.

There are few Green Bones in Shotar, which must make it difficult for him to practice Deflection. Pressing the advantage, you move forward in a quick flurry of blows. Although Maro’s sword is larger, your knives gain the advantage in the small space. He can’t move when you duck underneath, stabbing upward to pierce his soft underarm.

Howling, Maro whirls and swings at you rashly. Leaning backwards, you Steel and catch the blow on your forearm. Vibrations clang through you, rattling the teeth in your skull. The two of you lock together, Maro’s energy clashing with yours. When he doubles his Strength, you feel your Steel buckle.

Lips split in a grin, Maro keeps his sword steady. Further increasing his Strength, he’s focused on winning he doesn’t notice the shift in your aura.

Dropping your Steel, you draw everything inward and let his sword slice your arm. Maro’s laugh is manic – until you Channel outward. The last of your energy shatters his Deflection, piercing inner organs with deadly precision. You feel the moment Maro’s heart stops, his arteries rupturing from the inside out.

Forgoing any mercy, your knife slashes his throat in a clean line.

Blood mists from the wound, coating the wall behind you in red. With a gurgled gasp, Maro lifts a hand – only to go limp and fall, face-first on the floor.

Silence descends, broken only by your ragged breathing. Not far off, sirens wail, and you sense Green Bone auras closing in on the building. Eyes closed, you force yourself to breathe in and out.

No matter how often you do it, killing another person never gets easier. Even when necessary. Even when said person threatens your life and others. You fortify yourself with the knowledge that Yoongi is safe, and Yejun will live – she has to.

The cost to your soul is too high for anything else.

“Is he dead?” asks someone behind you.

Swiftly, you turn as you open your eyes. You were so focused inward, you failed to notice Yoongi’s aura approach. The Pillar’s gaze snags, stopping on the man before you.

“Yes,” you say, bending to clean your knives. Heart hammering, you wonder what Yoongi feels at seeing his former friend dead. Wonder if he’ll blame you, as Maro said.

Setting your jaw, you sheath both your knives before standing. Immediately, you see you needn’t have worried. Yoongi isn’t looking at Maro, but at you. A lone muscle tics in his jaw, observing the crimson blood staining your clothes.

“The police are on their way. They’ll clean up the scene. You’re hurt,” Yoongi adds, his voice thick.

You glance down at your arm. “It’s nothing.”

Bending again, you begin to gather Maro’s jade. You’ll be expected to wear it the next time you’re in public, but right now, the touch of it is nearly overwhelming. Minor wounds and injuries pulse with each movement, already healing from your current jade.

“I’ll take it.” Yoongi suddenly is beside you, right hand extended. “Let me help.”

Relinquishing some of the jade piercings, you slide the rest in your pockets and push yourself to stand. Turning to face him, you stride down the hall. A roiling ball of emotion settles deep in your gut.

Worry about Yejun. Fury at Yoongi’s lies. Relief, that he’s here and unharmed.

Entering the stairwell, the door hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Yoongi follows closely, wisely choosing to remain silent. Two stories lower, you find the words to speak.

“Is Yejun okay?” you ask.

You feel Yoongi’s gaze on the back of your neck. “She’ll live,” he says, sounding weary. “I left her at the hospital with Namjoon and Jiro. She has a concussion. Maro got here a few minutes before I did and had already roughed her up.”

Something about this snaps the hold on your fragile self-control. Picturing what might have happened had you arrived a few seconds later, you whirl around and grasp Yoongi by his suit jacket.

“Never,” you blurt, yanking him closer. “Never do that to me again.”

Gaze burning, you stare him down and Yoongi watches warily. He doesn’t move an inch, allowing you to manhandle him. “I know that you’re angry,” he says carefully.

With a harsh laugh, you release him. “Of course, I am! You shouldn’t have come here alone.”

“I know that.”

“Well?” you demand after a long moment passes. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Yoongi lifts a brow. “I’d do it again.”

You stare at him, aghast. “Well, then.” You pause. Shake your head. “If that’s all you have to say, I think this night is over.”

Wiping your palms on your pants, you turn away. You only make it one flight before Yoongi’s hand finds your elbow.

Spinning you towards him, Yoongi pulls you closer. You manage to avoid eye contact until his fingers slip beneath your chin, making you face him.

“I know you want me to apologize, but I won’t,” he says lowly. “I refuse to apologize for trying to keep you from danger.”

Most people would swoon, hearing this from their lover but you aren’t most people. You’re the Horn of No Peak, sworn to protect the clan – and Yoongi – from any threats.

Your gaze narrows on his. “That’s a problem, then. I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my duty to protect No Peak – to protect you. The Pillar is the spine of this clan and, once severed, No Peak can’t survive. It can survive without me, though.”

Yoongi’s nostrils flare. “And what about me?” he asks. “If you don’t survive, how do you expect me to continue?”

You go still. “Yoongi… I…”

“And for that matter,” he adds, his hand on your chin sliding to the back of your neck. “If you’re so intent on following the rules, who are you to give me orders? I’ll fight to protect the clan if I want to, Y/N.”

Fury expands from the spark in your chest. “You didn’t make me your Horn to follow you blindly,” you seethe.

“No.” His gaze softens. “I did not.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, each passing second draining some of your fire. You’re left with smoke on your tongue, a heaviness in your heart and the ever-growing certainty the time for rule-following has passed.

“You… can’t think like that,” you say eventually.

Yoongi’s brow sketches upward. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth more than the clan. More than you, as it’s Pillar. That’s dangerous precedent.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” you say, frustrated by his nonchalance. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master,” you add, reciting your oaths again. “You are the Pillar. Your life is that of the clan.”

Yoongi’s lips twist with displeasure. “It seems we’re at an impasse, since I refuse to place my life before yours.”

“Yoongi,” you snap, exasperated. “You can’t just… just –”

“Just what?” His eyes blaze. “Love you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice breaking.

Something in his face gentles. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Perceiving this truth, the last bit of fight drains from your body. Sensing it, Yoongi draws you closer and pulls you against him. Eyes shutting, you lean into his chest. Yoongi’s aura swallows you whole, an oasis of calm against the onslaught of night.

His breath warms your ear. “It was my problem to fix,” Yoongi murmurs, sounding reticent. “She… Yejun didn’t betray Maro, but she was going to – that’s how I found out. She was writing a letter to me on her kitchen table. I walked in and saw it.”

Lifting your head, you regard him. “You don’t have to explain to me why you spared your sister. I understand.”

“Thank you. You should know, though,” he adds, his voice fierce, “I will do anything to keep those I love from harm.”

You can’t help but smile, though it quickly fades. “I know you would, Yoongi. That’s a burden you can’t carry alone, though. It makes you weaker, not stronger.”

“This was my fault, though,” he says. “Not yours – nor anyone else from the clan. It was my decision to let Maro go free.”

“You aren’t responsible for Maro’s actions. And it’s not weakness to show mercy.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s not,” you press on. “Who’s to say what the right choice was? If you’d killed Maro back then, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Yejun might not have forgiven you. It’s impossible to rewrite the past, and you’ll go mad if you try.”

Yoongi looks away, unconvinced. “What type of Pillar does that make me, though?”

“One who hesitates before killing their friends.”

“One who balks at making tough decisions.”

“Min Yoongi.” Steel layers your voice and you reach up, turning his face to yours. “I would never swear oaths to someone who killed without question. Who made decisions in anger, then regretted them later. You question me when you question yourself.”

His gaze roams your face. “And what if others betray me?” Yoongi murmurs, voice lower. “Would you continue to support me if I was forced to kill Asha? Or Jungkook?”

“I’d trust you did what had to be done.”

“And what if I become corrupt?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking lower. “What if I’m the one being selfish, betraying the clan?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Reaching lower, you wrap a hand around the hilt of his blade. “I’ll kill you myself.”

Not looking away, Yoongi’s hand covers yours. “You could try,” he murmurs, some of his tension dissipated.

“Oh, I think I’d succeed.”

Releasing your hand, Yoongi finds your knee and hitches your leg against him. “If it came to that,” he murmurs, nose skimming your throat, “I’d let you.”

Inhaling softly, you close your eyes. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

Perceiving the truth to his words, you open your eyes. Yoongi stares back, letting you see the starkness in his gaze. It’s no small thing for the most powerful man in Kekon to promise you anything.

Similarly, it’s no small thing to admit he holds your heart in both hands. Which is why you need to say what you do next. Without Yoongi’s next promise, this can’t go any further.

“Don’t make these decisions without me,” you whisper. “Let me decide for myself when a job is too dangerous.”

Yoongi’s lips flatten. “You give me an impossible choice, since nothing is too dangerous for my lovely Horn.”

“Trust that I love you, then,” you say, your hand trembling as you rise to cup his face. “And that I’ll do what it takes to come back.”

Yoongi goes still at your declaration. His pupils dilate so far, they seem to swallow the light. Four years, you’ve spent fighting together. Five months of knowing him this way, and never have you uttered those words to his face.

The transformation is quick, his expression shifting to desire in barely a breath. Bending, Yoongi drags your mouth to his. “Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me you love me.”

“You’ll become greedy,” you say, breathless.

“I’m the Pillar of No Peak.” He gives a half-laugh. “I will always want more.”

“Then, take it.”

Opening your mouth, Yoongi walks you backwards until your spine hits the wall. You lose yourself in his touch, his taste, the fatal heat of his body. Fingers tangling in hair, you’re rewarded by the basest of groans from his lips. Yoongi’s hands find your body, grasping and searching to pull you against him.

Far below, the faint pulse of jade auras brush yours. “Yoongi,” you moan, nipping his lower lip. “We should go.”

Pulling away, his thumbs indent your hips. “Go where?”

“Your place. My place. I don’t care.”

“I do,” he says with a grin. “Want to wake up with you in my bed.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re so needy.”

“I am.” His lips curve. “I need many things, Y/N. You in my bed. Eventually, in my house. Your vows exchanged for mine. But first” – his brow lifts – “I need to fuck you. Need to bury myself inside you.”

Lips parting, you attempt to digest this information. Everything Min Yoongi has laid on the line. The last sentence catches your attention though, heat curling in your belly and replacing all sentient thought. The rest can come later – first, you need him inside you.

“Let’s go,” you declare, pushing yourself from the wall.

He chuckles, low in his throat as he follows your lead. Halfway down, Yoongi’s arm finds your waist to pull you against him. His teeth scrape the skin beneath your ear, pausing to nip the highest jade hoop.

“Where will you put your new jade?” he muses, pressing his erection to you from behind. “You’re running out of places on your body.”

“I’ll think of something,” you murmur, Yoongi’s tongue on your neck proving extremely distracting. “Wrist cuffs might be nice.”

“If you wanted to be cuffed” – his voice dips – “all you had to do was ask.”

“That is not what I was referring to,” you say, although a shiver traces your spine.

“Pity.”

A second before exiting the stairwell, Yoongi releases you and takes a step back. You ignore the disappointment this brings, forcing your expression to neutral. Already, police cars are arriving to hold back the crowds.

From across the lobby, you spot Asha and Hoseok in deep conversation with uniformed officers. Moving towards them, you’re surprised when Yoongi takes you by the elbow.

“I ran into Hoseok in the lobby,” he says, steering you sideways. “He and Asha will clean up and meet us back home.”

Hoseok nods when you pass, his jaw tight in a way that implies displeasure. Swallowing laughter, you push open the door and immediately, your smile vanishes. Many people have gathered, huddled in groups around the yellow caution tape.

Catching sight of your reflection, you stifle a groan. You look terrible – sweat and blood mar your forehead, the rips in your jacket showing your wounds. Before anything between you and Yoongi can happen, you need a hot shower.

“The situation’s been handled,” Yoongi says to the crowd, pulling you towards the car. “Green Bones are searching the area for remaining danger – you should be able to enter the building soon. No Peak will compensate for damages.”

With that, he opens the car door and watches you enter. Expressions shift in the crowd, a wave of relief washing over the people. Yoongi joins you in the backseat, leaning forward to instruct the driver to go.

The car rumbles from the curb, its speed slow to avoid the pedestrians in your path. Grateful for the tinted windows, you lean sideways and rest your head against the cool glass.

In the reflection, you watch Yoongi retrieve his car phone. “Namjoon?” he says after a moment. “It’s done – Maro is dead. How’s Yejun?”

Namjoon’s reply is muffled, and your thoughts wander. Once you return, you should find Jungkook and instruct him to search Maro’s former haunts. There’s a chance he wasn’t working alone and if so, you’ll need to catch his supporters.

Tonight has taken a toll though, no matter how much you’d like to pretend otherwise. Exhaustion settles while you stare out the window, watching the lights of Janloon flick past.

Yoongi hangs up the phone. “Yejun is fine,” he says, and you turn your head. “Namjoon said she lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can’t be fixed. She should be awake in a few hours.”

Relief floods your body. “That’s good.”

His hand rests beside yours on the seat, close enough to feel the heat from his palm. Exhaling softly, Yoongi shifts until his hand covers yours.

Going still, you stare at your entwined hands on the leather. The car slows beneath you, coming to a stop before the Min gates. Another moment passes before the gates open, the car rumbling forward as Yoongi speaks up.

“You can take us to my place, Galo,” he says. “No need to stop at the main house.”

Startled, you glance sideways, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. Never mind the driver’s raised eyebrows, or the fact that Yoongi just told him you’re sleeping together. While it’s true, you’ve slept here before, you’ve never been obvious. It feels as though a bridge has been crossed without discussion of what that means.

The moment the car is in park, you exit the vehicle and slam the door. Striding inside the front door, you unzip your jacket to hang on a hook. If Yoongi thinks he can share your relationship with others, you have every right to act at home in his house.

Technically, the Horn has a house on Min property, but you’ve always preferred to keep a separate residence. Your apartment in the city has served you well – except for the nights you stay here and sneak out the next morning.

Removing your boots, you set these aside. “We just discussed this,” you fume as you turn. “Ask me next time before you decide–”

Your words are cut off by Yoongi’s mouth, pushing you back until your spine hits the wall. “Couldn’t wait,” he rasps, shutting the door with his foot. “Need you. Now.”

Exhaling, you melt and arch upward against him. Grasping your thigh, Yoongi yanks your leg higher to wrap around his waist. The thick length of his cock presses to your center and you nearly whimper. Fiery anger dissolves into need – the need to touch him, feel him and wash away tonight’s fear.

“Yoongi,” you moan, turning your head. “I need to shower.”

Grasping your wrists with one hand, he presses them above your head. “Do you?” he murmurs, kissing down your neck.

“I’m covered in blood,” you protest.

Glancing up, Yoongi smirks. “And?”

Stifling laughter, you push at his chest. Obedient, Yoongi releases your hands to take a step backward. “Not to mention,” you say as you move past, “I’d rather not have Toh Marosun’s blood in your bed.”

Yoongi’s next action is quick, happening in the same breath. Catching your wrist in one hand, he pulls you closer. “The next time you say a man’s name in this house,” he rasps. “It had better be mine.”

“We’ll see,” you say loftily. “Now, let me wash up.”

Releasing you, Yoongi lets you pass, and you don’t turn around. If you did, you know you might cave and fuck him right there on the floor.

Entering his bedroom, you flick on the lights. Soft, muted warmth fills a room of concrete. Bulletproof windows overlook dense vegetation, invoking the feel of a post-apocalyptic city. Pausing in the doorway, you inhale his scent.

Although you’d never tell Yoongi – it’d go to his head – this room has swiftly become one of your favorite places. Watching dawn break in his arms has brought you greater peace than any of the gods.

In his bathroom, you help yourself to his fancy products and step under the spray. Securing your hair, you do your best to avoid the strands getting wet. Cranking up the heat to high, steam fills the room as you scrub blood from your skin. The water beneath your feet turns red, and then pink before finally clear.

Once done, you turn off the spray and wrap yourself in a towel. Straining Perception, you find Yoongi showering across the house. You’re momentarily surprised he didn’t try and join, although grateful he didn’t. After five years of knowing one another, Yoongi understands when you need time alone.

You’re washing your face when the bedroom door creaks. Drying your skin, you cross to the closet and withdraw a robe. Securing the tie, you wipe steam from the mirror before opening the door.

Yoongi sits on the edge of his bed, damp hair curling at the base of his neck. He’s freshly washed and changed into a plain shirt and trousers. In one hand, he holds a crystal glass of hoji, swirling it once before taking a sip.

Leisurely, his gaze drags down your body. When Yoongi looks up, his face brims with unsaid desire. Silent, he sets down his glass and pushes himself to stand. Watching him eagerly, you Perceive his intent when Yoongi prowls closer.

Coming to a stop before you, Yoongi lifts his hand to cup the back of your neck. Tilting your face upward, he strokes your damp skin with his fingers.

Silent, he lowers his face until your lips nearly touch. “What was it you said?” he murmurs. “About the clan being your blood and the Pillar, its master?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “You know the oaths as well as I do.”

“Yes.” Bending, Yoongi uses Strength to lift you against him. Gripping you tightly, he carries you to his dresser and deposits you there. “Well,” he says, lowering himself. “Allow me to show you who I get on my knees for.”

You stare at him, mesmerized when he parts your legs. Pulling your hips to the edge, Yoongi grips your thigh with a veined hand. The sight of him like this is downright sinful. Desire courses through you, setting your skin ablaze.

Yoongi leans forward, gaze meeting yours at the first brush of his tongue. You groan with relief, thighs spreading further. Lifting his other hand, Yoongi tugs at the tie of your robe. You inhale when it opens, fully bared while Yoongi’s tongue curls against your dripping sex.

He pulls away, eyes dark and casually spreads your folds. Muttering something that sounds like a swear, he stares at your cunt before lowering his head and sucking your clit. A dark moan escapes, weight shifting to get him even closer. Forcing your thighs open, Yoongi begins to flick his tongue against your swollen mound.

He doesn’t rush this, taking his time while eating you out. Yoongi flicks, and then swirls before sucking your clit. His tongue drags to your cunt, already dripping with arousal. Humming in satisfaction, Yoongi shifts on the floor and slips his tongue inside. Gasping his name, your fingers curl in the dark strands of his hair.

His tongue slowly fucks you, barely a taste of what’s to come. “Yoongi,” you groan, moving against him. “I need more.”

“Anything,” he says, pulling back to spread you with his fingers. Yoongi’s thumb finds your clit, casually stroking until your body quivers. “Take off the robe,” he demands, looking up. “I want to see you.”

Wordless, you push the supple silk from your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at rounded breasts and hard nipples. Lowering his head, he sucks your clit again. Sliding a hand under your ass, he drags you close to the edge.

Gasping out loud, your hand fists his hair to anchor your body. In the mirror behind him, you watch your chest heave, hips undulating while he licks your pussy. Head tipping back, you lose yourself in sensation, each stroke of his tongue further coiling your tension. Yoongi is patient; he knows what you need and takes his time getting there.

Cupping his head, you move your hips while starting to ride his tongue. When Yoongi strokes your entrance and slips a finger inside, you nearly convulse.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, lifting his head. Curling that finger, he strokes a dangerous place. “Come for me.”

When his tongue resumes motion, you feel your walls convulse. Tighter and tighter until – everything snaps, a wave of pleasure cresting through you. Thighs trembling, you hold Yoongi’s hair while you cry out his name.

The pleasure slowly subsides, leaving you slumped on the dresser. Yoongi pushes himself upward, cock straining eagerly against the seams of his pants. Cupping the back of your neck, he kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself. Parting your lips with his tongue, he dives into you eagerly, one hand slipping to slide into your pussy.

Groaning his name, you fumble with the buttons holding his shirt together. “This,” you demand. “Off.”

Using Strength, you send the buttons flying. Yoongi smirks, withdrawing and pushing his shirt to the ground. Touching his chest, you stare at him, unabashed. The lean lines of his torso, the indent of his v, the jade lining his fingers where he grips you tightly.

His moon blade is absent, likely the first thing he cleaned upon entry. Still, the hum of Yoongi’s jade is a potent weapon – nearly as much as the need in his eyes.

Lowering your hand, you palm the bulge in his pants. Jaw flexing, Yoongi lifts your leg to wrap around him. The roughness of his pants against your sex makes you hiss.

“Yoongi,” you moan. “Want to touch you.”

“I want that, too,” he murmurs, hair falling into his gaze. “More than that, I want to be inside you.”

Breath catching, you remove your hand as he presses forward. You feel his cock through his pants, rock-hard and straining against your needy pussy. Swallowing thickly, you managed to undo the last button and shove his pants down. Stepping free of their confines, Yoongi palms his own cock.

Replacing his hand, you give him a squeeze. Yoongi lowers his head to close his lips around a waiting nipple. A whimper rises when he tugs, switching to the other breast and repeating the motion. Arching upward, you lazily drag your thumb over the tip of his cock.

Eventually, Yoongi looks up and hisses, “Enough.”

Reaching lower, he guides his cock to your entrance. Leaning back on your palms, you lift one knee to allow him better access. Yoongi pauses, gaze traveling your face to your chest, landing on your cunt. Exhaling softly, your head tips back as you widen your legs.

“You’re perfect,” Yoongi rasps, flicking his thumb over your hooded clit.

Inhaling, you tremble from oversensitivity. Bending, Yoongi slowly spits to land moisture on your cunt. It drips down your sex, mixing with arousal while Yoongi pushes the tip of his cock inside. He pauses, watching your face, then adds another inch.

You arch upward, trying and failing to take him in deeper. “Is that all you have?” you challenge, goading.

Yoongi merely smirks. “Do you think,” he murmurs, refusing to move, “you can make me give you what you want?”

When he starts to withdraw, you tilt your hips, and he slides in a bit deeper. Yoongi groans as he fills you, hand tightening on your waist.

“Yes,” you gloat, brushing your breasts to his chest. “I do.”

Yoongi’s gaze flares, and he pushes in a bit more. “I know you, Y/N,” he murmurs, moving one hand to your neck. Thumb brushing your collarbone, he hauls you upright and keeps your thighs spread. “I know you want this pussy filled nice and slow. I know you want me to tease you. I know you want to feel in control but have someone else do the work. And I want – no, need,” Yoongi corrects, aura flaring, “to be the one giving it to you.”

Before you can respond, he thrusts forward and fills you with his cock. A cry leaves you, unable to do anything but take it. With your legs spread, hips tilted, the thickness of his length presses to your g-spot. And when Yoongi withdraws and leaves your body empty, you think you might cry. Think you might beg to have more of his cock.

Luckily, Yoongi doesn’t want this. Thrusting into you fully, he starts to move. Filling you up with his thickness, he goes harder and harder until you can barely think straight. His hips pound yours, filling you to the brim, making you take it. Fingers brushing the jade on your throat, he spikes your arousal and drenches his cock.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at the place he disappears inside you. “You’re amazing.”

“Yoongi,” you groan. “I need… need…”

“Yeah?” His gaze lifts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Deeper,” you plead.

His aura flares briefly before he pulls out. Before you can speak, his hands find your waist, setting you on the floor to turn you around. Spreading your legs, he presses a hand to your back to push you lower.

Gripping his dresser, you look over your shoulder while he positions himself from behind. “What about now?” Yoongi asks, slipping inside with one thrust.

Lips parting, you bend further and stick out your ass. Yoongi starts to move when you spread your legs, fucking you harder. His thrusts become rougher, hips slapping your ass while your breasts bounce.

“That’s it,” he says, leaning forward to lace one hand with yours. His other slides between your thighs, flicking over your clit. “So wet and tight for me. Taking my cock like you own it.”

“Don’t I?” you groan.

“Mm,” he agrees, rubbing circles on your clit. “It’s yours – I’m yours.”

Before you can respond, he pulls out again. Draping you over one shoulder, Yoongi carries you, Light, to his bed. You scowl, hitting his thigh but Yoongi responds with a firm smack to your ass. His fingers slip briefly between your cheeks, wetting himself with your slick. Before you can moan, he deposits you on the bed.

Kneeling between your legs, Yoongi repositions himself at your entrance and pushes in.

“Oh,” you groan, heading tilting back.

You love sex with Yoongi in every position, but this is your favorite. Feeling his callouses slide over our skin, his weight heavy while filling you with his cock. Yoongi’s length slides inside, rocking into you slowly while his hair brushes your forehead.

Reaching up, you push this from his face when he starts to move. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from tonight, it’s that these moments are precious. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold him tighter.

“Marry me,” Yoongi says.

You go still underneath him. “I… what?”

Sliding his hand under your hips, Yoongi tilts them to get deeper. “Marry me,” he repeats. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of waking up without you. Living my life without you.”

“You have me,” you say, unsure whether he’s serious.

Slowly, he thrusts in and out of your body. “Not the way I want.” His eyes flash. “As not only my Horn, but my wife. I want to be your husband. I want the entire world to know I belong to you.”

Taking your other hand, Yoongi moves this to the bed while continuing to thrust. You arch against him, chasing his hips and words with your own.

“People will talk,” you say, breathless.

His gaze sparks. “Do you think I care?”

“Maybe I care,” you say. “They’ll call me a distraction. And don’t give me that bullshit about my life being worth more than yours.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi chuckles, teeth scraping your neck. “What I will say is that I’m better with you. And if I’m better, the clan is better. Not that you should marry me because of that,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

You lose your breath when he circles his hips, driving into you deeper. Thighs parting, you lose yourself in the feel of him in you. His body moves as his soul does, completing you fully. In truth, you’ve avoided this conversation because you know how it ends.

It ends with Yoongi. He’s it for you. From the first time you kissed, you knew it would end up here – it was only a matter of when. Your remaining barriers crumble as you meet his gaze.

“Yes,” you exhale, your hips chasing his.

Yoongi’s aura sharpens. “Yes?” he repeats. “Is that… agreement or acceptance?”

“Yes – as in yes, Yoongi, I’ll marry you.”

Yoongi goes completely still, ignoring your protest. A second later, he’s consumed by a wave of emotion. Need – fiery and stark – sweeps through him as he bends, crushing your lips to his. Yoongi’s kiss burns, searing and marking you for one another.

Slipping an arm beneath your knee, Yoongi pushes upward to get even deeper. You gasp with pleasure, his cock hitting a spot that makes you incoherent.

“Soon,” he adds, adding Strength to his thrusts.

Breathless, your fingertips dig into his skin. “Don’t be greedy,” you chide, losing some credibility when a moan leaves your lips.

His upper lip curls. “I am, though,” Yoongi grunts, pushing you close to the edge. “I’ll never have enough of you, Y/N.”

“Good,” you say, holding him tightly. “I’m yours, Yoongi.”

A groan escapes him, burying his face in your neck. The muscles in Yoongi’s shoulders strain, fucking you harder. “I could die hearing those words.”

“Don’t. That’s an order.”

Yoongi looks up to lock gazes. “Whatever you want. I need it, Y/N. Need this – want to feel you come on my cock.”

Already close to the edge, his words leave you trembling. Clutching him harder, you widen your thighs and feel your walls shatter when you come undone. Pleasure consumes you, vision going dark as you throw back your head. Yoongi’s lips brush your throat, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.

Swearing when you tighten, Yoongi goes harder to chase his release. On his last thrust, he breaks, your name on his tongue as hot cum fills your body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the bed beside you. Yoongi slips partway out, your bodies still intertwined.

Lifting a hand, you drag this down his side. Yoongi smiles at you before pulling out, reaching to grab a tissue from his nightstand. He cleans you with care, then rises from bed to throw it away. Slipping beneath the covers, you wait for his return.

Yoongi does so quietly, dimming the light before he joins you in bed. Slowly, your eyes adjust until Yoongi’s moon-limned face becomes visible.

“Did you mean it?” you say, barely more than a whisper.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says roughly. “And you? Did you also mean what you said?”

Slowly, you nod.

Joy floods his aura, sharp and bright. “Anything you want,” Yoongi says, determined. “You have only to ask. Cities burnt. Villains vanquished. My own name, forsaken – ask, and it’s yours.”

You can’t help but laugh, your whole body shaking. “Villains vanquished?” you tease, pressing closer. “There are some who might call you the villain of this story.”

His lip twitches. “Then, I’ll defeat myself.”

“Seems like an easy fight.”

Mock growling, he rolls to pin you underneath him. You laugh louder, the sound muffled when Yoongi bends to kiss you. By the time his head lifts, the two of you are breathless.

“I apologize,” you murmur, cupping his face. “Most fearsome Pillar.”

Baring his teeth, he nips your thumb. “That’s better.”

“Truly, though,” you tell him. “There’s no need to get me anything. Whatever I want, I can get for myself.”

Somewhat amused, Yoongi settles beside you. “Oh, I’m aware. My heart, for instance,” he says, placing your hand on his chest.

“That, I’ll accept,” you say softly, staring at your hand on his skin. Your gaze lifts. “As long as mine belongs to you, in turn.”

“A heart for a heart,” Yoongi agrees, moving closer.

Skin pressed to skin, you feel your hearts settle. No Green Bone magic ties two souls together. Instead, that magic lies within the bounds of normal humans. And yet, as you breathe and listen to the blood in his veins, you can’t help but feel something greater is at work.

Something even death could not part – although you’d dare it to try.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Go read Jade City by Fonda Lee. LOL   

[roomtemperaturesuperconductor]

The world of scavengers reign is a world of pure mutualism. The show never asks “should we isolate ourselves from nature or connect with it” because that’s a false question; there is nothing BUT connection, there is no form of life outside of the ecosystem. Whether they can see it or not, every character becomes part of the planet the second they touch down.

The question then is what their connections will look like: if it will be mutually beneficial, parasitic towards one side or the other, or harmful to both.

I’ve seen people read Kaimen and hollow’s relationship as either kaimen “corrupting” hollow or hollow “manipulating” kaimen. But the truth is their relationship is just a noxious, unstable feedback loop. Neither party is really “in control”, they’re following the guidelines of an evolved relationship that was never meant for creatures as large and emotionally complex as humans to be part of. It’s the same process that occurs with the introduction of any invasive species: simple relationships shift in unstable ways, niches swap places and gain unexpected importance, and the health of the whole ecosystem is put in jeopardy through the lack of sustainability. The truth is that the strange, lovecraftian nightmare Kaimen and hollow create together is bad for BOTH parties. It’s the worst case scenario of the introduction of humanity onto the planet; not humanity “corrupting” some ideal, static image of perfect nature, but the relationship between the two making things worse for everyone.

It’s why one to stop Kaimen/hollow has to be Levi. Whose mutual relationship with the fungus in their circuitry has created something new and beautiful. Something we see has LONG TERM affects on the planet itself with the little baby planet Levis now growing from the flowers. This isn’t the case of nature “claiming” Levi. This is a collaboration, a partnership, something that utterly transforms both sides. It really seems like the death flowers form in some way the “mind” of the whole planet. And Levi has given that mind the artificial circuitry to think on a far higher and more active level than it was ever able to previously. It’s why hollow wasn’t able to control them. Trying to wrangle levis mind is like trying to hold a whole planet in your hands. Something wild and new and beautiful has been created here.

But these transformation can be scary! Sam’s fight with the parasite, paired with his prior skepticism at trying to “understand” the planet the way Ursula was, leaves him unable to adapt. Forced to either lose himself in the process of assimilation, or die separated from it. And again, the show doesn’t take for granted that these mutual connections are “good”. They’re necessary. Sam cannot live separate from nature. But for him, that death was still better than allowing it to change him so fundamentally. His strong willed nature makes him unable to let go the way Levi or Kaimen do, and the result is he doesn’t experience good OR bad results. He’s to brittle to allow for change. He simply ceases.

And so they you have Ursula and Azi. Who are both forced to learn and grow with the planet. Forced to follow the flow of nature even when it takes them places they don’t quite want to be. While at the same time finding little ways to exert their own agency, to not get swept away in the tide. And it’s a complicated balance. One that takes constant effort and isn’t guaranteed to end how they want. But they still have to do it. Because there’s nothing but connection.

[garr9988]

I say this as a big SU fan: If I had to give Steven Universe one glaring L above all else, while fully recognizing that it may be at least in part due to the final season & Future being so rushed:

It’s having Rose and her death be so heavily suicidal-coded (the art books went in on how much she loathed herself and thought she was incapable of changing, so) and yet ending the series with Steven being so irreconcilably angry with her and the impact of her death that he locks a reminder/representation of her away in a place he doesn’t visit so that he doesn’t even have to acknowledge her existence.

Granted, the finale ended with Steven getting therapy and clearly improving his relationships with the Gems, Greg, and Connie that were similarly causing him grief, but Rose in particular is a very specific case in that we don’t see whether he improves his feelings on her, and because she’s dead she isn’t an active presence in his life that he’s compelled to reconcile with. Greg is his dad and Connie is his girlfriend, he has to like them to keep them around, but there’s no incentive with Rose.

There’s also Greg, Pearl, and Volleyball still loving Rose even with the full picture, but to me that feels barely there anyway, a half-hearted tack-on.

I still have a big gripe with the movie for tacking on Rose’s treatment of Spinel and making Rose seem even worse than before, purely because neither the movie nor Future remind the audience of the ways she eventually improved. It felt like the writers went too far when they had already given us Rose’s story in reverse and already had the characters react negatively to the news she was Pink Diamond in the original show.

There’s obviously room for audiences having to remember these things themselves and that a narrative doesn’t have to point these out all the time. But a narrative bears responsibility for the way it frames things and the way it wants or expects an audience to view something.

Rose’s redemption arc being shown in reverse IS cool, in concept! But when the audience insert protagonist and a lot of other characters get this reverse arc and act like the terrible things are the conclusion of her self, that these secrets aren’t her past that she left behind but the mask being ripped off and the true evil monster being revealed for who she is… it doesn’t leave a good taste in my mouth.

That’s certainly part of why a good chunk of the fandom hates Rose the way they do, bc to a non-negligible extent the show is fostering their view, playing it out on screen without actually correcting it.

It’s obviously realistic and possible and downright good & compelling for someone to have a very negative response to another character’s death (suicide) and the fallout they’re left with. But a character who dies in such a way, especially Rose. deserves to be given sympathy and respect within the narrative.

[gael-garcia]

SAG-AFTRA deal on AI is looking terrible, actually 😬

#SAG Actors, I want to make you aware of some of the language in the #AI portion of the tentative SAG agreement.

Though SAG leadership made much effort to protect members in AI, there are many issues you should look at. I have saved the most serious issue for the end. 1/

If a “digital double” is made of you during a film, they must get your consent and inform you of their intentions for its use, EXCEPT "when the photography or sound track remains substantially as scripted, performed and/or recorded.”2/

This is going to be left up to the studios/streamers’ interpretation. And so, any subtlety regarding how you chose to look or move for the character during the shoot could potentially be changed. Your hair, your clothes, your make-up, etc. 3/

Also, your physical placement in a scene can be changed, like your nearness or distance from another character, or even moving you from the front seat of a car "to the back seat of the car." This suggests not much agency on your part to control your character or performance. 4/

Under “(Digital Double) Use Other Than in the Motion Picture for Which the Performer Was Employed,” it says that "No additional compensation shall be required for use of an Employment-Based Digital Replica that was created in connection with employment of a performer who was… 5/

… employed under Schedule F.” It appears that if you were paid Schedule F for the first film, you don’t get paid for the sequels, where they’re just using your digital double instead of you. I suggest members get sharp clarity on this. 6/

If a “digital double” was made of you in a separate manner (on another film or privately made by you), it's referred to as an “independently created digital replica” (ICDR). There is no minimum compensation listed for studios/streamers to use an ICDR of you in… 7/

… any film they want; only consent. You will apparently need to negotiate any compensation on your own. 8/

Neither consent nor compensation is necessary to use your “digital double” if the project is "comment, criticism, scholarship, satire or parody, a docudrama, or historical or biographical work.” So, you could find yourself in a project you never consented to… 9/

…doing things you never were informed of, for no compensation at all. This is the “First Amendment” argument the #GAI tech companies are fond of trotting out. 10/

Another consent exemption is granted to "adjusting lip and/or other facial or body movement and/or the voice of the performer to a foreign language, or for purposes of changes to dialogue or photography necessary for license or sale to a particular market. 11/

The substitution of swear words is not new, but that your “body movements” would be changed suggests you’ll be used like a type of rag doll in post-production. 12/

There are still a few concerns with the Background Performers’ details, but there’s one that stands out as especially sad. "If the Producer uses a background actor’s Background Actor Digital Replica in the role of a principal performer, the background actor shall be paid… 13/

…the minimum rate for a performer… had (they) performed those scene(s) in person.” So, if an extra is “bumped up” to a principal cast member, they never get to experience that position on a set. But you get a check after the fact. 14/

And the most serious issue of them all is the inclusion in the agreement of “Synthetic Performers,” or “AI Objects,” resembling humans. This gives the studios/streamers a green-light to use human-looking AI Objects instead of hiring a human actor. 15/

It’s one thing to use GAI to make a King Kong or a flying serpent (though this displaces many VFX/CGI artists), it is another thing to have an AI Object play a human character instead of a real actor. To me, this inclusion is an anathema to a union contract at all. 16/

This is akin to SAG giving a thumbs-up for studios/streamers using non-union actors. This would be like the @Teamsters putting in their contract that it’s A-OK for the employer to utilize self-driving trucks instead of them. 17/

@Teamsters I find it baffling that a union representing human actors would give approval of those same actors being replaced by an AI Object. And don’t forget, those AI Objects are a mash-up of all actors' past performances, adding insult to injury. 18/

@Teamsters Bottomline, we are in for a very unpleasant era for actors and crew. The use of “digital doubles” alone will reduce the number of available jobs, because bigger name actors will have the opportunity to double or triple-book themselves on multiple projects at once. 19/

@Teamsters The use of these “digital doubles” will most likely preclude the need of a set or the use of many @IATSE crew and @Teamster drivers. 20/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster Audition odds will change. Winning an audition could become very difficult, because you will not just be competing with the available actors who are your type, but you will now compete with every actor, dead or alive, who has made their “digital double” available for rent … 21/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster … in a range of ages to suit the character. You also will be in competition with an infinite number of AI Objects that the studios/streamers can freely use. And a whole cast of AI Objects instead of human actors eliminates the need for a set or any crew at all. 22/

@Teamsters @IATSE @Teamster You are a complex & remarkable human. Don’t let the CEOs convince you otherwise. Seek out filmmakers & showrunners who value your basic worth & committed to human workers on their projects. These are the ones who will make work that matters. We’re going to be OK. Just hold on. /

[writing-in-sin]

KAISHIN OPINION: COUSINS REVEAL?

Since I haven't watch the movie yet, I can neither confirm nor deny the whole cousins spoiler thing. Whether or not its true, 20+ years is a long ass time and I've ignored canon before so this won't stop me.

If they truly are cousins in the movie and it ends up being canon in the manga too? Then fuck it. It won't be my canon. Especially when Aoyama is also the one planning to make Toichi alive after literally putting Kaito through horrific trauma of witnessing his father's murder and mourning him

No. Just NO

I respect that its his manga and his characters, and I as a fan, I am only borrowing his creations. But even so, as a fan, I have the right to chose what I wish to do with whatever happens in canon in my FANWORKS

Either I acknowledge that they're cousins and continue shipping them (I'm asian so the whole cousins being lovers thing isnt anything new in my culture nor is it a crime in my country...or a number of asian or southeast asian countries if I'm not mistaken. Granted, it doesn't usually happen simply because people tend to fall for friends or colleagues but cousins marrying dont raise any eyebrows here)

Or I ignore canon entirely and they stay unrelated in any way

However, if those who followed me for my kaishin content then dont worry, I'll still post anything of kaishin that comes to mind

Most likely, I'll ignore them being cousins if it ends up canon. Because honestly? There's a lot of things in canon I dont agree with so ignoring them as cousins won't be the first thing I've ignored or changed in canon. In that same vein, I'll ignore Toichi being alive too because while something like that is usually something to rejoice in any other situation or story, the whole thing is unnecessarily cruel and borderline an inhumane thing to do towards your own child. In my opinion, Toichi should not be written in such a way so for my fanworks, he will not be

To those who want him alive, thats okay. Go ahead but I will not acknowledge that canon

Also, for those who are uncomfortable at the possible canon cousins reveal then thats more than okay. You are free to unfollow or block me or any kaishin posts

So....yeah, I'll ship kaishin whatever the outcome is because in the end, the characters and manga are FICTIONAL so I can change, acknowledge or ignore canon as I wish

_____________

Anyways, thanks for reading this far. Also, here! This is my twitter side-account for all things DCMK & KaiShin moonlit_death because I'm a petty couch potato and will NEVER stop shipping KaiShin dammit!

[alwayscorvus]

"Morning hun" - Mortefi short

"Morning hun" - Mortefi short

malereader x Mortefi, fluff; warning! 18+/21+ topics hinted;

Just a quick short about daily life with Mortefi. He can be completely out of character. Because premiere is on Wednesday. And I'm just so excited that I want to write something about wuwa. But at the same time I don't want any spoilers sooo…. this is a results of reading 3 sentences from official website and looking at his appearance.

There he was. Sitting on a bed leaning against the headboard. He was wearing a loose white shirt. Unbuttoned, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your shirt.

The one you had worn during yesterday's official event, from which you and Mortefi had left earlier than you should.

Man must have been troubled by a morning chill.

Mortefi's red hairs, were slightly messy. On top of his nose, you could see a reading glasses. With thin frames, typical for any scientist. He furrowed his eyebrows gently. With focused gaze he stared urgently at the screen of a laptop on top of his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a thing that was occupying man's attention at such an early hour. You managed to spot a document of some sort and a few open windows with research that you couldn't really understand. However, bright screen hurt your still sleepy eyes enough for you to quickly return to looking at you partner.

If you could even call him that.

You shifted slightly on his bed. Careful not to let go of your lying position.

You approached Mortefi and kissed him gently on his exposed forearm. His skin was pleasantly warm.

-Morning hun -you greeted in a husky voice to which he only nodded.

That was exactly your problem. Or rather, yours only. Officially, your relationship was titled as "friends with benefits". Or at least that's how it all started.

Mortefi, born in an upper class, couldn't initiante "inappropriate" contacts with anyone other than his future spouse. And even after abandoning family obligations, as a great genius and scientific research, he had neither a time nor desire for such things.

Years later, however, he began to lose concentration and felt frustrated. His scores dropped. And that silly friend of his, gave him an idea of finding another type of "friend". And in fact, Mortefi just agreed to this.

Two of you were never particularly close. But Mortefi felt a sense of trust in you. You gave off a strange kind of aura that implied that you were a proper one for this “task.” And it's not that Mortefi even liked guys. He just wasn't looking for an emotional experience, but rather a quick and stress-relieving one. And the first person that came to his mind was you. You were sort of larger than the rest, bulkier, taller. It gave an illusion of responsibility and protectiveness. After all, Mortefi couldn't give himself into an arms of just anyone. And at the same time he didn't want to play a role where he had to do all the work. He had enough duties on his mind.

Despite this, you acted almost like a couple. Your meetings didn't end only after finalizing one activity, you spent more time with each other. You addressed each other with cliche nicknames. You took care of each other. You made favors for each other. And you attended almost all important meetings together. Even though you majored in two different fields.

Mortefi, however, was probably not ready to give you both a second label. Or he didn't even think about it at all. Anyway, why would he? You were his. He was yours. He took it for granted.

You planned to change that in the future, but you still had plenty of time to do so.

You reached out your free hand (the one not crushed under your head) and placed it gently on man's chest. Slowly making your way down to red crystalline peeking out from under a white, sloppily wrapped bandages. Petite, pretty, like little feathers. Or almost petals like. They always fascinated you and puzzled. But you never had a courage to ask. You weren't afraid of his reaction. You just didn't want to pry into his private matters.

You carefully touched a gorgeous crystalline. After a longer contact, they seemed sharp and began to burn. However, it wasn't unpleasant. You remembered that from previous occasions.

You liked it. Like everything about Mortefi.

However, you moved your hand away, because although man didn't say anything. His face began to dangerously match a color of his hair.

-Mortefi

Man hummed at your call, giving a sign that he is listening.

-Are you up for breakfast?

Mortefi nodded vigorously and began tapping with his fingers faster on a keyboard. As if he had found some new solution to his problem.

-Something specific?

-Coffee - he replied casually, to which you snorted.

-Coffee is not a breakfast

Right corner of his mouth gently lifted up.

-I'll eat whatever you eat

You pushed yourself off the mattress with both hands, moving to a sitting position. Out of a corner of his eye, Mortefi glanced at your flexing muscles. Exactly the same like when you do push-ups.

But he didn't let it show and kept on working.

-I better do something good

With a smile, you kissed him briefly on the lips and headed to the bathroom.

[where-dreams-dwell]

Loving the complexity of Madeline Ushers character: a woman who declares she doesn’t want to be limited by men, who’s life is defined at every turn by the decisions and actions of her brother.

……

Madeline Usher is doomed by her attachment to her brother, and it is the root of all her eventual pain.

When Verna offers them the deal, it’s Roderick who ‘charges forward, straight at it’ and accepts the terms despite the fact that the only ‘next generation’ they current have are his kids. Madeline agrees afterwards but only once Rodrick makes it know he is already in. I don’t think she’d have gone for it if he had objected, she’s always had a very ‘both of us or neither’ kind of attitude.

And then she is as much these kids parent (from what we have seen) as Roderick is. Granted we see next to nothing of the kids biological mothers so we have to assume they weren’t very involved (either by their choice or other circumstance) with their kids after Rodrick got his claws into them.

That first scene when we meet Perry Madeline and Roderick are equally dismissive of him, but she is the one asking questions and prompts: you’ve had a year to come up with an idea, is this it or is there more? How are you going to make this successful? Why will your pitch be different? She even asks Roderick to jump in ‘anytime now’ to help her handle this train wreck. And Rodrick has just received the news he’s dying but I think it’s telling that Perry is looking at both of them for validation, for support. They are equally intimidating but equally supporting him.

With Camille we don’t get 1-2-1 interactions between her and her father (despite her own obsession with winning his approval) but we do get a scene with Madeline. After Perry’s death Camille lobbies to be given the power to lead the family’s PR response, and Madeline takes her seriously and asks what she would do. When Camille lays out her plan it’s Madeline who gives a proud nod of approval and okays her actions.

Leo unfortunately gets no parental interactions from either senior Usher. Victorine only gets it right at the end just before her monstrous actions are revealed. Otherwise all she gets from Roderick is pressure and the interactions of an investor, not a father.

Tammy gets the most parental interaction from Madeline, which is tragic as she’s trying to show her father that she can be the heir to his empire. But her aunt is the one who shows up to her presentation, who gives her the pep talk, consoles Tammy (in her own way) about the failure of her marriage, who believes Tammy when she is terrified by someone in the crowd.

Frederik is always focused on his father so Madeline doesn’t get many moments with him, but again Roderick is more of a CEO or boss than a father: focused on how to protect the company, how to secure the future. Little to no concern or support to his son as he mourns his wife’s injuries, as he deals with his siblings deaths, as he takes on more pressure from the world and the family. Roderick only mourns his son (as opposed to his heir) after Fredrick is dead.

Added to this: the security on all the kids? Madeline arranges it. When more kids die? We see Madeline demand it be doubled. She’s the only one still fighting for them, fighting fate itself.

With Lenore we see more interactions with her and Roderick but her interactions with Madeline are just as sweet and show a close, loving relationship. Lenore even calls her Granny Madeline. And Madeline is the one planning to preserve Lenore via AI: this must have been the main reason she begged Roderick to kill himself. Not to save her to but to spare Lenore. What’s the bet that she started working on the AI project in earnest when Morelle announced she was pregnant?

Madeline tracks down the supernatural entity they made a deal with and tries to negotiate a new deal: again (now we know the original terms) this is likely for Lenore’s benefit, not hers. She faces down a power far beyond herself and tries to save or protect what’s left of her family. Not Roderick.

Madeline took steps to preserve and protect her nieces and nephews, and grand niece while her brother did next to nothing. Once you know the nature of their deal with Verna, Roderick’s attitude to his remaining children after they remember who Verna is is just baffling.

Madeline even makes reference to birth control that she took on the off chance the deal was real. She says to Tammy that she didn’t want children with her first husband and hasn’t since, but she has been a mother to Rodericks kids. This lack of biological motherhood hasn’t spared her for the heartbreak of loosing a child. Or a grandchild.

And it’s even the decision of a man (again her brother) which is going to end her family’s legacy in another way. His marriage to Juno, his treatment of her, his denial of her fight to get clean and his horrible reference to himself as Victor Frankenstein and Juno as his monster - this is what pushes her to sign away the company when she inherits it. Madeline speaks about the board choosing her and moving the company away from pharmaceuticals, into the fields of AI and tech. Sure Madeline then died but a lot of the groundwork was likely there, and it could have been a possible path for the company. If Juno didn’t inherit it all and break it apart. Because of Roderick, and the way he treated her. Once again Madeleine’s legacy is destroyed by her brothers actions.

The irony of 1970’s Madeline declaring she doesn’t want to be limited by men’s choices or by a man, taking steps to protect her self and her heart, focussing her work on things outside of medical drugs in the hope that one day that can be what they become known for… then being doomed to more heartbreak and failure by every one of her brothers careless actions is so sadly tragic.

[mithrilhearts]

My takeaway from the past 24+ hours...

There are so many of us that rely on ao3, whether you're a reader or writer. It brings us joy, it gives us an escape from the real world, and it lets us come together as a community to share stories and scenarios about our favorite fandoms and characters. The amount of posts I have seen on multiple platforms lamenting over the DDoS attacks is overwhelming - but with most of them comes a delightful cheer to the volunteers working to resolve this issue.

I've seen so many statements of praise for those volunteers, which is exactly what they deserve, and more. Can you imagine working for over 24 hours straight, on a volunteer basis, against something like this? They're the real MVPs, and I think our appreciation for them gets lost until moments like this rise.

With that said, here is my first real takeaway...

Don't bitch when ao3 does a donation drive. They work hard to keep the archive up and running, and with that costs money. Every server, every new addition or feature you want to see added to help make the site better, it costs money. The legal team that is defending fanfic authors??? MONEY. SO! DON'T! COMPLAIN!

I'm not saying you have to go out and donate your paycheck to ao3 - but I will say that, especially with this situation, if you can donate even a little bit to show your support, it means more than you probably realize, and even if you can't donate (which is totally okay), be kind to those who work on the archive. Send them kind words of encouragement, rather than flaming the archive because it's under attack - because yeah, I've seen people bitching AT ao3 for not working fast enough, or for it still being down. STOP IT.

My second takeaway...

Don't believe everything you see on the internet. Ao3 themselves have advised that the group claiming to take credit for this attack is to be treated with skepticism. And not only that, let's NOT automatically make assumptions about who is responsible just because of an organization's name. It's just a NAME, it doesn't identify a person's origin, background, etc. But I'm not here to dive into that much further. Point: I better not see any Sudanese hatred on my dash, or I will bite you.

My third takeaway...

Treat your fanfic writers with respect. We all now see first hand how much we depend on these stories. As I said above, for some it's an escape, a creative release, and a way to communicate with other people through similar interests. It's a beautiful creation, neither above nor below any other kind of literature.

Consider commenting, reblogging, kudos, anything you can to let the authors know you enjoyed and appreciate their works. Everyone is free to communicate in the way that suits them best, but every little bit is appreciated - as a fanfic writer myself, I can tell you that even a little heart emoji has made my day. It's like receiving a second kudos, and tells me that someone appreciated my efforts enough to give me a double thumbs up.

Any form of communication with the authors is appreciated. It lets them know that people are genuinely interested. We live in a world where INSTANT GRATIFICATION is taking over, but creations such as this take time. Talk with the authors, ask them about their wips, tell them they're doing a great job. Do NOT pester about "when are you updating next?" or the dreaded AI option - again, I will BITE PEOPLE if I see you doing this. Just...have some respect, show your appreciation, it's more than JUST FANFIC.

At the end of the day I guess this post is about being kind. Not pointing fingers or slandering people due to a name. It's about appreciating the things we do have, and not taking them for granted. Whether it's the brave cyber warriors currently fighting these DDoS attacks on the frontline, or the authors writing for not only their enjoyment, but for others too. Let's all respect one another, and show our support when and where we can.

HUGE THANK YOU TO THE VOLUNTEERS AT AO3, YOU ARE THE REAL MVPS!!!

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han is an honorable man

I can't believe that I'm making yet another post pointing out the obvious but every time I go into a Youtube comment section I'm starting to question whether me and the rest of the Mortal Kombat fandom have even played the same game.

1. He shows opponents mercy

Sub-Zero: You want peace? Let us be. Liu Kang: The Lin Kuei's sins aren't easily forgiven.

Sub-Zero: Surrender and Shao will show mercy. Mileena: If you believe that, you're a fool.

Sub-Zero: Walk away while you can. Raiden: I'll never give up, never surrender.

Sub-Zero: I won't hold back, Brother. Scorpion: Do your worst.

Sub-Zero: We have no cause for dispute. Kitana: You aided Shao's attempt to steal the throne!

These dialogues honestly speak for themselves already, they don't even need explaining. Compare that to actual villains like General Shao who sends Reiko after Bi-Han to kill him simply because he "doesn't like loose ends" even after Bi-Han saved him or Shang Tsung who killed Reptile's family out of nothing but sheer cruelty.

The fact that Bi-Han is willing to let people walk away from a fight, that he gives them a chance to walk away alive, speaks volumes about his personality. He warns his opponents in his intros and even during his end of round taunts ("Flee now and live."), he tries to solve things peacefully and without violence if possible. He's not bloodthirsty, malicious or eager to kill anyone, but will do so if given no other choice.

Despite Bi-Han's flaws, a man willing to show an opponent mercy is an honorable man. SPOILERS AHEAD: May I again remind you that Kuai Liang is not willing to show a defeated and dying Bi-Han mercy when he gets turned into Noob against his will? Not only that, but Kuai Liang wouldn't have hesitated to kill Frost who is probably around Hanzo's age at his own wedding if Harumi hadn't stepped in to save her. Harumi had to beg Kuai Liang to show someone mercy, while Bi-Han grants it without a second thought. Like it or not, at least in that one aspect, Bi-Han is the better man.

I don't know why some people think of him as this aggressive guy going around trying to pick fights with everyone when all he wants is to be left alone? It's wild to me how people think he's the problem here.

2. He respects/admires their fighting skills

Sub-Zero: You will surely test my might. Ashrah: I will overwhelm it, Sub-Zero.

Sub-Zero: This fight I will long remember. General Shao: Who says you will survive it?

Sub-Zero: I'm pleased to fight Outworld's foremost mage. Rain: Will it also please you to lose?

Sub-Zero: I hear your skills are formidable. Li Mei: As are those of all who have been Umgadi.

Can we also talk about how respectful Bi-Han is towards his opponents? He compliments them on their skills as opposed to Kuai Liang who even talks down to his own allies. Yes, Bi-Han is arrogant, but he can still acknowledge other people's strengths and respect them, even if they are his foes.

3. He admits when he's wrong

Sub-Zero: I was wrong to trust you. General Shao: Yes, Earthrealmer. You were.

Sub-Zero: I wasn't aware of Shang Tsung's experiments. Liu Kang: Had you known, would your choice have been different?

Sub-Zero: Your mother's death is regrettable. Kitana: I consider you complicit, Bi-Han.

You can say what you want about him, but he certainly takes responsibility for his actions and even shows regret over some of them. Bi-Han might not be the most compassionate character, but he does express some sympathy towards others. Compare that to Kuai Liang who tells Havik it's his own fault that his face was burned off as if he had nothing to do with it. Yes, Bi-Han doesn't show much sympathy towards Baraka for his condition, but neither does Kuai Liang. Why Kuai Liang is still considered the more honorable brother regardless of that and his very obvious ableism, is beyond me.

Bi-Han's good traits are all too often overlooked. I don't know if it's because people don't pay attention to intros, but it's so easy to see he's not a bad person deep down. It's just the media comprehension skills of most MK fans that are seriously lacking.

[angelteyam]

Water Girl (n.s.)

(gif not mine)

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Metkayina!Reader

Word Count: 10,612

Summary: You were...“different”. You had always been different. Yet something shifts when the Sully family arrives, literally crash landing into your village. No one had ever noticed you, and yet, for whatever reason, the eldest Sully boy suddenly can’t seem to get you out of his mind. 

Warnings: major character deaded, floof, angst, moar floof, some kissy and touchy (nothin weird)

A/N: this is….a beast. also do not judge me for briefly mentioning neteyam’s unalivement, I literally do not have it in me to actually write it out. 

- -

“Hush, payíva. Listen to the ocean.”

Payíva. Drop of water.

The first of many names your mother gave you. Granted, she had many names of her own that you’d bestowed upon her too when you learned to speak: mama, sa’nu, mom, mommy. It seemed only natural for her to give you a few of your own, but a couple stuck out as your favorites. 

Payíva, for when you were young, and inconsolable from having skipped a sleep, and refusing to nurse due to the pain of your budding canines piercing through gum. 

Stubborn. As always.

Kxali was overtired too, and having failed every attempt she knew to mother you, and Ronal’s treatments falling on deaf ears, your mother wrapped you tightly against her bosom using one of your father’s shawls, and walked with you along the shoreline. 

Eywa, you were your father’s child. 

Elpawe was with Tonowari on a warrior’s hunt past the reef. The trip was supposed to last a week, but by day three, you had dissolved from your father’s absence. And though neither you nor your mother knew this, Elpawe felt the distance between you was as wide as the chasm of Eywa’s great ocean. 

You were too young to understand that your father, Tonowari’s right hand, would always come back. He had to come back - not just for his mate, but for you. From the day you were born you had him wrapped around your tiny fingers, and as much as your mother’s presence could comfort you, his aura was your salve.

So Kxali did what she could as a final plea, and used a leather belt to secure a warm, deep blue shawl around her hips, before tying it around her shoulders and tucking you into the fabric. Even she could scent your father in the fabric’s weave, and as she tucked you in against her chest, your knees and arms against her as if still in the womb, your howling cries that had lasted for days on end slowed to a dull whimper. 

This whimper continued still, as Kxali scaled a small boulder at the water’s edge to rest with you, her toes dipping into the waves that swirled and tangled around the rock as they made their way to the sandy beach nearby. She settled back against the rock, one hand beneath you for support, and the other came to rest against your head in soothing, graceful strokes. 

Another dull whimper from your small, plump lips. 

“Hush, payíva. Listen to the ocean.”

Kxali let herself breathe as if she was beneath the water. Belly full of air, and heart beating in a rhythm that matched the waves lapping against the shore. A large wave crashed against the rock beneath you, and you whimpered again. 

“Hush, my droplet. The waves are talking to you. The water is with you, just like mama.”

Another wave lapped against the rock, and as if it had heard your mother, it rolled against the shore in a smooth, slow motion, whisking away and leaving a smattering of beautiful shells behind. 

Hush, small one. 

The ocean seemed to speak, and as another wave came passing by, a few droplets of salty water landed against your forehead and trickled down to rest on the perfectly round tip of your nose. 

And just like that, the wrinkles in your forehead disappeared, the tension melted from your eyelids, and your lips parted. A barely audible sigh escaped you, and your mother smiled above you as you began to softly snore.

Your father’s child, indeed. 

As you grew older, the names your mother used for you did too. Most of the time you and your father shared the same one. 

Skxawng.

Although reserved for you when you were behaving particularly like him - meaning, particularly stubborn - for your father, this meant he had missed something important. 

Sometimes he had missed your orbits for hunting trips. This you could understand, for when Tonowari called, your father answered. He had to answer. Your mother wasn’t always so understanding, but these happenings could be forgiven for duty. 

Most of the time however, and as most Na’vi males do, your father would blow right past something even though it was staring him right between the eyes. He couldn’t see a tulkun even if it smacked him across the face with a fin some days. 

A forgotten chore, or a broken spear. Or, as was usually the case, returning from a tussle with another group of males, laughing and bantering as though it had never happened, and completely covered in scrapes and bruises. 

Kxali would patch him up, of course, but if there was one thing your little mind knew, it was that you did not like to see your father hurt. Even the smallest scrape on his cheek would send you into a fit, and you’d worm your way into your mother’s grasp, dipping your hands into the healing sap so you could help your sempu feel better. 

Through eyes full of tears, you’d rub your tiny fingers on the offending mark on your father’s skin - not fully grasping that rubbing the sap in harder would not in fact make the injury disappear. Elpawe would smile down at you, even through gritted teeth, and once done, you’d pull away to assess your work.

“Ma sempu all better?” You’d squeak, and he’d smile. 

“All better, little one.” He’d sigh, and he’d pull you in tightly to his chest, grinning at your mother behind you. 

And every time, Kxali would lightly smack him on the head. 

“You skxawng. You know how she gets.”

And as you grew older still, your mother and father took to calling you the same thing.

Paysmung. Water carrier. 

You may have been Metkayina, but something about your natural abilities in the water and with the ocean’s many creatures had even Ronal scratching her head. Your mother barely had to teach you a basic breath hold before you were swimming off like a fish, running your hands along an ilu’s belly as you swam beneath her. 

You were the one who gave Tsireya her first breathing lessons. You were the one who discovered which shells looked the prettiest in bracelets, and which looked the best against the pitch black of hair. You were the one who started testing your breathing ability by fetching shells from the ocean floor. 

Nothing entirely marvelous, true enough, but when you emerged from the ocean with piles of massive shells in your arms that no one had seen before, the waves clinging to your ankles as if they didn’t want to say goodbye, and no ilu in sight for that matter, you had the entire clan stumped. 

Gradually, though, as you approached your rite with no desire to take after your father’s path of warrior or your mother’s path as healer, and as you continued to spend your days beneath the ocean’s blanket of safety with no interest in a mate, the clan and all her people started to forget about you. 

Not Mama and Papa, of course. But neither of them particularly wanted you to follow in their footsteps. You were different. Softer, and quieter as you had grown with age. Sometimes you could fade into the water as if you were made of the ocean itself. And when you emerged, leaving behind small tokens for your parents that now covered every surface of your marui from floor to ceiling, hung across nets and dangling from ropes that made them twinkle like stars, well…neither of your parents was intent on discouraging you. 

Elpawe held sway, too. Some sort of power in convincing Tonowari to let you be. You did not have the warrior’s spirit, or the spirit of a healer like your mother. And one thing your father was very certain of was that he did not want his little payíva to be forced into choosing a fate you would not readily choose on your own. 

He even managed to convince Tonowari that you weren’t entirely useless. He did teach you how to fight, so you could defend yourself if you ever truly needed to. And your mother taught you to heal basic scrapes and mend small cuts, and to tend to the elderly and the sick. Where Ronal went, your mother followed, and you followed behind when you were needed. And when Tonowari watched you emerge from the water with a net full of fish you’d guided in as if you were their commander - well, that was a done deal.

And thus, you were left alone. 

Left alone as your mother and father grew in their duties. Left alone with no siblings to keep you company, and with the village’s children skeptical of you from the beginning, you had no friends besides those who lived beneath the ocean. Left alone to bond with your own spirit sibling, your very own tulkun, who would take you swimming father and deeper into the blue water than you’d ever gone before. 

Left alone with no mate, and no prospects who interested you, either. 

Invisible. 

That is, until the Sully family arrived. 

You were on the outskirts of the village, hopping along a ring of rocks that stuck out from the ocean during low tide, when a group of five ikran flew overhead, circling a sandbar at the village’s edge. They landed in a flurry of sand, hands raised and unarmed. 

And far too blue.  

The clan emerged in droves from their marui, and rode in from the waves at every angle on ilu and skimwings in a rainbow of colors, gathering around the new arrivals like a school of fish. You watched Tonowari and your father approach from the water, dismounting their skimwings and moving towards the strangers. Your mother and Ronal came from the back of the village, winding their way through the crowd. 

You sighed, having a feeling you’d probably be needed, and leapt into the ocean, allowing a swell to carry you towards the shore. You popped up next to Tsireya as she broke the water’s surface on her ilu, allowing yourself to catch your breath.

“What’s going on?” You wondered. 

Tsireya shrugged and rolled into the water, strolling up through the shallows to meet Ao’nung and Roxto. 

You watched as she and the smaller of the two sons met eyes, and as she tilted her head down to giggle. 

Gross. 

Of course Tsireya would immediately peak the newcomer’s interest. Why shouldn’t she? You may have been obtuse at the best of times, but you weren’t blind. Tsireya was one of the more beautiful girls in the village, and from the way the younger Sully looked at her, he wasn’t blind either. 

You rolled your eyes and plopped down to your knees, wiggling them into the wet sand of the shallow water. The water reached your chest, allowing you to tilt your head and watch Jake Sully’s plea for uturu. As Tonowari looked to your father and mother standing behind him. As his eyes met Ronal’s, and they shared a knowing glance, communicating in a way only mates could without words, before granting Jake Sully’s request.

You could see your mother’s eyes scanning the crowd and the water below, before they found you with a knowing smile. 

You smiled in return, and tilted your head in a silent gesture. You were going back out into the water. Your mother nodded, and signed to you. 

Go. Be back before eclipse. 

You nodded and pushed from the sand, legs extended as you floated onto your back, allowing your belly to fill with air before rolling over and diving below the surface, angling back to the spot from whence you came. 

What you hadn’t noticed was the older Sully boy watching you the entire time. 

After he’d shoved Lo’ak gently with his shoulder when the younger boy couldn’t peel his gaze from Tsireya’s, Neteyam’s eyes had scanned the crowd. Half to survey the surroundings and half out of an inherent protectiveness, while the rest of the clan had come to the shore, you had remained in the water, staring at his father with nothing more than blinking curiosity. 

He could barely see you in between the throng of people. But something in the tilt of your head, in the doe-eyed innocence of your gaze, and the way the ocean clung to you like a second skin had him very, very curious. 

When you pushed from the shore and floated on your back, rolling over and swimming away as if you were a fish instead of Na’vi, he had to chuckle. 

You hadn’t even noticed him noticing you. After all, no one except your parents up to this point had out of anything other than animosity, or because you were “different”, and not in a good way. While some - Tonowari and Tsireya, like your father - were accepting of those different from them, much of the clan felt the opposite. And as a result, the clan preferred not to notice you.

But you noticed them. 

You noticed everything. The glow of a new mother’s skin. A breaking fever. A warrior’s wound when it wouldn’t heal. Things you could appreciate in silence, small things more often than not. Secrets you could share with the water. 

You preferred the ocean as your friend anyway. 

But this - these new arrivals, this was a big thing. Several 9-foot tall things. And at first, Jake Sully, or rather Toruk Makto, commanded all of your attention. He mystified you. A walking legend. You knew his story, but seeing him in person was a whole different experience. 

He may have been a legendary war hero, but he and his family knew nothing about the way of water. More than that, the oldest of his children looked to be about your age. 

They were worth watching.

So when you watched their first diving lesson from afar, lounging on a large ocean rock, and when their first breathing lesson went less than spectacular, you too had to press the back of your hand to your lips to keep from laughing. 

You may have been a skxawng, but these children reached a whole new level. 

One of them - the girl, Kiri, seemed a lot like you. 

She explored the same spots you did, ran her fingertips along the bellies of the rays just like you did, and plucked shells from the ocean floor as if she’d been doing it all her life. 

So one afternoon, as you watched her scan the ocean floor, you unearthed an iridescent purple shell from the sand and swam over to her, pressing it to her palm with a smile. She smiled in return, and you nodded, swimming away.

From that moment on, Kiri was a kindred spirit. 

You were never far apart, though you tended to drift away when a particularly colorful fish caught your eye. Call it a short attention span. But usually, you never swam too far, keeping her within your eye line.

You had enough shells as it was already. So if you found any more, you’d gather them for her, leaving her little piles on the beach as she sat in the shallows. Back and forth, almost like a game, if only so you could discover what her favorite color was.  You were never gone more than a few minutes before you’d return to her side and lay in the sand together, letting the sun soak into your skin and warm the chill of the water. 

You didn’t even really need to speak. Kiri understood your facial expressions more than words, particularly in the way you’d roll your eyes, so you’d just sit in comfortable silence together, building small structures out of sand and decorating them with the shells you found. Sometimes, little Tuk would join you, staying strictly to the shallower waters or the beach, allowing you to bring her tokens of appreciation as well. Tuk wasn’t picky - she didn’t have a favorite color.  She liked everything you brought her, big and small. 

It was a strange sort of comfort, having friends who didn’t even really need you to speak. You could just exist, even in silence, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. While the ocean may have been your friend thus far, it was nice to have friends of your own species. 

And the more time you spent with Kiri and little Tuk, the more Neteyam noticed you. 

The more he noticed the ease with which you hopped from boulder to boulder before diving into the water. The more he noticed the little treasures you’d find for Kiri and Tuk displayed in his family’s mauri. He started to wonder where they were coming from, and how they’d found so many. And then he started to notice that wherever Kiri was, you were usually within diving range. He started to notice the piles of treasures you’d leave her and Tuk, either on the shore or on the edge of their marui. Now, they grew to necklaces and bracelets, woven from their favorite treasures you’d found. A new braid that seemed to pop against their dark hair, a vibrant, colorful shell at its end. 

You were never far away from his sisters, and as he was never very far away from them either, Neteyam became the very first to take notice of you. 

To be fair, no female had peaked his interest yet either. He was far too busy staying attached at the hip to his baby brother until now. With Tsireya taking Lo’ak under her wing, Neteyam had the free time he’d never had before to take in the ocean around him. 

And where there was ocean, you were usually swimming within its waters. 

This time was valuable to Neteyam, and usually short lived. Stolen moments like the movement of the waves, there one minute and gone the next. Of course, as the eldest sibling, he still had to keep a reasonable eye on his younger brother and sisters. But with Jake learning the Metkayina’s ways with Tonowari and your father, Lo’ak under regular supervision by someone other than himself, and Kiri and Tuk always within the reef’s circle when they weren’t with Neytiri, Neteyam had the chance to take a breath. 

In the same way Tsireya had caught Lo’ak’s eyes, you had captured Neteyam’s attention. 

He started to learn your ways more than the Metkayina ways he was meant to be studying. He learned the boulders you favored when they appeared during low tide, and those you favored during eclipse. He learned your favorite paths to swim, and which you hadn’t explored yet. 

And boy, it made him laugh when he’d trail you to one of said favorite spots, only for you to dive into the water without even blinking, not realizing he’d been following you. 

Selective hearing, maybe, or pure tunnel vision, you usually only noticed the things you were interested in, or the things that were directly in your eyesight. Neteyam was worth noticing, of course, you just hadn’t laid eyes on him yet up close, and you hadn’t yet realized the irony of the one person you were destined for being the one thing you had failed to notice. 

Like two moons passing. Two arrows firing towards the same target. Now, Neteyam was just holding his breath, waiting for the two of you to collide. 

If you would ever open your skxawng eyes and notice him, for Eywa’s sake. 

It took you a solid week to finally realize he existed. And the only way he managed to accomplish this was waiting for you to take your spot on a boulder during a particularly sunny afternoon. He dove in from the shoreline, scanning the ocean floor for something he knew would peak your interest, and found a smooth, polished sea stone that glistened like crystal. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve kept it. 

He’d grabbed it from the sand, and rubbed it clean with a few swipes of his fingers. It was the size of his palm and oval shaped, with no imperfections. When he turned it in his hand, it seemed to sparkle, reflecting the colors of the ocean and the whiteness of the sand. When he passed it by his face, he could see the yellow of his eyes reflected on its surface. Special, and perfect, and new, it was strange the way the stone reminded him of you. 

He was positive you hadn’t found something like this yet. 

He pushed from the floor with his feet, aiming straight for the boulder he could see you sitting on, your feet dipped in the water beneath you. Slowly, he eased to the surface and emerged from the water. 

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing when you noticed who it was. A low hiss left your lips, but Neteyam just…smiled. 

You cocked your head, eyes still narrowed, skeptical of the stranger as he swam towards you. As he approached, he raised his hands, one still closed around something. 

“What is that?” You gestured. “In your hand.”

Neteyam eased up towards the boulder and grabbed your wrist, extending your palm towards him, and placed the smooth stone within your grasp. 

“For you,” he breathed. Still smiling. 

You stared at the stone in your hands, flipping it between your palms and holding it up towards the afternoon light, allowing it to glint in your eyes. Neteyam just grinned, watching your increasing awe in what he’d found. 

When you finally met his gaze, and he was still beaming up at you with a toothy grin like you’d never seen before, you couldn’t help but blush and gaze back at the stone in your hands.

“Thank you,” you murmured. 

Neteyam nodded, pushing off from the rock. He still wore that same bright smile. 

As he floated back towards the shore where Kiri and Tuk were playing in the sand, he touched his forehead and released his palm towards you in a silent gesture. 

I see you. 

You could feel the heat spread across your cheeks. Turning your attention back towards the stone in your hands, you tried your hardest to keep your gaze from flicking back and forth towards Neteyam as he swam for his sisters on the shore. 

Tried, and failed. 

The way his deep blue skin seemed to ripple through the ocean water, instead of blending in like yours. The swing of his arms, and the dance of his braids as they floated behind him. 

You could still feel the cool, smooth surface of the beautiful new treasure he’d brought you as it lay in your palms. And yet, your eyes stayed glued to him as he emerged from the water, stumbling a bit in the sand when he tried to shake the water from his braids. You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

Definitely a skxawng.

Later that evening, you placed Neteyam’s rock on a shelf in your marui, right in the middle of all of your favorite treasures. Tilting your head, you studied its presence among the rest of your collection, noting the way it reflected the colors of all the shells nearby, brightening their shades and making its own rainbow on the floor of the marui below you, taking the best pieces of each and turning it into something new and brighter. In all the time you’d picked pieces from the sandy ocean floor, you hadn’t found anything quite like this. 

Neteyam had definitely gotten your attention. 

The next day, you returned to the same boulder, sitting in silence as Kiri wandered the shore behind you. The rock was warm beneath you, and as you lay flat against its surface to bask in the sun, you heard a light splashing that was distinctly un-wave-like coming from your right. 

“I know you’re there,” you sighed. 

A chuckle came from the same direction as the splashing, and you felt a presence ease up from the water and climb across the boulder to lay next to you. 

“How’s it going, water girl?” 

Water girl. 

And thus, your most recent nickname. You had to chuckle a little; only a skxawng like Neteyam would come up with a name like “water girl”. But alas, it did have a certain ring to it, and of the many names you’d had over the years, something in the way he said it made your insides flutter in a strange way you’d never known before. 

It wasn’t paysmung, that was for sure. But it would do. 

“Never better, tree boy.”

Another chuckle. 

“Tree boy?”

You finally turned your head and opened your eyes to find him as close as he could possibly get without actually touching. His wide, yellow eyes were mere inches from your own, beads of ocean water still clinging to the tips of his eyelashes, and glistening from his forehead. 

You couldn’t find it in your heart to try and lie to yourself - he was kind of pretty. 

You smiled. “Water girl, tree boy. It fits.”

Neteyam smiled, and up close his smile was even brighter. It was effervescent, glowing like the rock he’d brought you the day before, and you couldn’t help but grin in response. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the sun overhead, letting the warmth of the midday dry his skin. 

And just like that, a peaceful silence settled in the air.

It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but as you watched the rise and fall of his chest, and the glisten of his cheeks as the light hit their peak, you swore a school of fish was swimming through your stomach. One of his hands rested gently against his stomach, lifting and sinking as he took slow, deep breaths. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was asleep. 

His eyes fluttered open, and you snapped your eyes shut, feigning that they’d been that way the entire time, and that you hadn’t been staring at him as if committing his features to memory. You heard him chuckle softly, and when your eyes opened, he too was scanning your features. 

As you watched his eyes flick from the top of your head to the pinnacle of your chest, where your neck dipped and curved into a hollow at its base, you felt your pulse quicken and a small ball of tension seemed to roll through the air around you. The school of fish in your stomach turned into a full swarm, dancing and spinning and tickling your insides. 

No one - quite literally no one - had ever made you feel this strange sort of tension just from existing. 

But in the same way you found him kind of pretty, he too was entirely raptured by your beauty. In the way the darker skin around your shoulders and hairline turned soft and creamy towards the center of your face. In the fullness of your lips, and the way they parted softly as he gazed at you. In the way the color of your eyes matched the blue of the ocean like no one else he’d seen, as if you were part of the water itself.

He turned toward you, resting himself on an elbow, eyes still scanning for any hesitation from you. But you were frozen, still as the rock beneath you, as he brought a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

He started to smile, and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, there was a commotion from the shore. You both sat up, tilting your heads to watch as Ao’nung approached Kiri as she lay in the shallows, three other boys following him.

Neteyam’s stare instantly hardened. 

“I’ll be back,” he growled. “Stay here.”

You tried to reach for him, but he dove into the water before you could grab his wrist, swimming for the shore just as Lo’ak approached the group from the other end of the beach. 

You watched as he emerged from the water, as he shoved Ao’nung away from Lo’ak, and prodded him with a finger to the chest. Ao’nung raised his hands, and as Neteyam pulled Lo’ak and Kiri away, you allowed a brief release of breath. 

And then Lo’ak punched Ao’nung in the face. 

Three times. 

You were already on your feet when Ao’nung hit the sand, but when Neteyam scratched his head and leapt into the fray, you dove into the water in an instant. 

You had just reached the shore when Lo’ak was being pulled by his tail, grasping the nearest Na’vi by the ear. After all, when Lo’ak was grabbed, he tended to grab right back, and with tenfold force. Even you knew this. 

Kiri was safe, and fine, on the edge of the fight and trying not to laugh. Neteyam had a clear edge over another boy, and had him pinned by the full force of his body weight. And while no one at noticed your arrival yet, when you walked right up to Ao’nung and grabbed him by the queue, jerking him away, everyone stopped moving as Ao’nung let out a particularly girlish squeal. 

Ao’nung’s eyes widened when he realized who had grabbed him.

“That’s…enough,” you growled. “Honestly, behaving like a child.”

You released Ao’nung’s braid, tossing it from your hands. You could feel Neteyam’s eyes boring holes in the back of your skull, Lo’ak’s too. But the way Ao’nung was completely baffled by your intervention, when you had done nothing of the sort for years, had a strange sort of pride swelling in your chest.

You were not one for fighting. Eywa, you weren’t even one for words. Ao’nung only knew of you as the silent freak, who was not even fun to pick on because you simply didn’t respond. 

Suddenly, you’d barged right in, and while Neteyam had managed to get them to back off, you had Ao’nung gaping like a fish. 

“Three of you,” you continued. “Against one. Really upstanding behavior, Ao’nung.”

Ao’nung’s eyes narrowed, and the surprise wore off. 

But still, you kept speaking, tilting your head and matching his squint.

“Shall I fetch your father?”

Ao’nung instantly closed the distance between you, puffing his chest and squaring his jaw with yours. 

“That’s rich,” he leered, “coming from the biggest freak of them all. You’re even worse than Kiri.”

Before you even had a chance to respond, and before the telltale tears could well in your eyes, your gaze was interrupted as Neteyam quite literally forced his way between you. He shoved Ao’nung aside for the second time, with such force that Ao’nung stumbled into the water. 

This time, however, Neteyam kept one arm wrapped securely around your waist, and his tail around your upper thigh. 

You were pressed flush to him, as if you were a second skin, giving you a front row seat to the clench of Neteyam’s jaw. 

“Stop. Leave her alone.” 

Ao’nung studied his surroundings. The three others still hadn’t stood from the sand, where they lay with hands clutching their various injuries. Lo’ak stood between them and Kiri, and despite the slight sway of his stance, his fists were clenched and his brow was hardened in a gaze eerily similar to Neteyam’s own stare. 

And what was worse - from over Neteyam’s broad shoulder, you could faintly make out the silhouettes of Jake, Ronal, and Tonowari approaching from the edge of the village. 

They didn’t look happy. 

Ao’nung turned to his friends, and gave a slight gesture. 

“Let’s go.”

They left, leaving you still pressed to Neteyam, your hand now resting against his bicep. It was warm beneath your fingertips, and you could feel the ripple of his muscle beneath your touch as he let go of you, replacing the smooth skin of his back with a firm grip on your waist as his eyes turned to meet your own. 

“Go,” he murmured, voice lowered as if no one could hear. “Go back to the rock. I’ll meet you soon. I have to talk to my dad.”

You nodded, looking past him as Jake stopped halfway to you, just as Ao’nung passed him with the three others. You had only seconds before he would reach you. 

Your eyes returned to his, dipping below to where a cut had opened in his lower lip. 

“Will you be alright?”

He nodded. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

Reluctantly, you slid from under his grasp, and turned back towards the water. You turned briefly to Kiri and Lo’ak, making sure they too were alright, before you jogged away and leapt into the water, swimming for the same boulder you’d just come from. 

You stopped halfway to catch your breath, and turned your head to where Neteyam was following Jake back towards the village. Jake had a firm grip on Lo’ak’s upper arm, and was tugging him along the sand, wearing the same scowl he’d had moments prior. 

Neteyam’s head was hung low, his fist pressed to his cut lip, braids only barely swinging as he trudged behind his father. 

You sighed. As you turned back to finish the brief swim to your boulder, you sent a silent prayer. Hoping Jake would go easy on them - particularly on Neteyam, who had only stepped in to protect Lo’ak, and who would have succeeded had the odds been more evenly matched. 

When you reached the boulder and climbed out of the water towards the surface, you stood for a moment, watching the now miniature figures of Jake, Lo’ak, and Neteyam disappear into the shadows of village. You sighed again, and having hoped you’d be able to see them from your small vantage point, you sank down onto the rock. 

Feeling perfectly hopeless. 

If anything, you wished you had done more. You wished you had followed Neteyam immediately, or even more that you had managed to grab him. That you had dove into the water together, and approached the group at the right moment. 

You wished, more than anything, that you hadn’t waited. 

It was starting to gnaw at you - that your life seemed like a bottomless pit of waiting. That you had no power other than to stand still at life’s rocky edge, helpess to do anything other than watch as moments passed you by. You were the silent one; the powerless one. The freak, as Ao’nung had put it. And even if you tried, you could quite literally do nothing to help as those around you seemed to suffer. 

Now more than ever, this gnawing deep within started to feel more and more like a heavy weight. It hadn’t bothered you until Neteyam had entered the picture, but the vision of his split lip, and the bruises beneath his right eye, and the scrapes on his chest now made the tears you’d held back come bursting to the surface. 

You had only known him in actuality for no more than a day, and yet the way he’d come bursting to your rescue had you not only confused, and perfectly and completely smitten, but utterly heartbroken that he’d even needed to do so. 

And moreover, entirely positive that you weren’t worth saving. 

Kiri was - there was no question about that. Lo’ak definitely was, especially when he was that outnumbered and still managed to do considerable damage to his assailants. 

And then…there was Neteyam. 

Neteyam, who had successfully stopped the fight with nothing more than his presence. 

Neteyam, who when you arrived had Roxto pinned beneath him, who had Roxto powerless to fight back as he swung punch after punch. Who would have won for the second time if there had been one less to account for. 

Neteyam who, in truth, did not need your help winning. 

You had yourself fully convinced of this by the time you heard a light splashing coming from your left, and growing closer. You felt the lump in your throat swell as Neteyam eased his way onto the boulder, and that same lump grew larger when he grunted at the effort of bringing himself to your side. 

That groan, that all-encapsulating sound of pain, had you nearly shattering as your eyes opened, and you sat up to meet him face to face. 

When his eyes met yours, and you came in full view of the now purple bruise beneath his eye, and the cut in his lip that was seeping blood, and the scratches on his chest that extended the full length of his right pectoral muscle, you made a strange squelching sound, and plopped your head to his left shoulder. 

If you could have only seen the way Neteyam’s eyes widened at your touch, and softened at the feeling of wetness on his skin when he realized you were crying, you would have only broken more completely. 

Neteyam was not used to girls he liked crying on him, that much was certain. In fact, Neteyam didn’t have much time for girls period. So the fact that you seemed to be upset - over him - was entirely perplexing, confusing, and perfectly heartbreaking, all at the same time. 

Sure, he’d wanted you to notice him. Sure, he’d wanted you to return his pathetic attempts at affection, that he hadn’t yet realized you didn’t find pathetic in the least. Sure, he’d wanted to bring the two of you closer, and he’d wanted nothing more than your worlds to finally collide.

But not like this. 

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t particularly enjoy standing up for Lo’ak day in and day out - but that was his job. Literally, as the oldest brother, it was in his internal code to defend his younger siblings. It was his job to get Lo’ak out of the trouble he somehow managed to always be getting into.

But this - this was new. This was different, and ugly, and soul-wrenching. He loathed the feeling that ate him up inside now, as he brought up a hand to rest against the back of your head. 

He’d seen Jake do this for Neytiri many times. He’d seen Jake comfort Kiri this way, and he’d seen it work. 

What he hadn’t picked up on was the mirroring of pain that Jake felt when he had to comfort those closest to him. Realistically, Jake just hadn’t shown this, especially when his kids were around. It would have been helpful to know how much the sound of you crying - over him - would absolutely obliterate him, but then again, Jake probably would have never discussed it, even if Neteyam asked. It would have been helpful to know that by comforting you, that by taking away your pain, he would only be absorbing it into his own skin. 

So, Neteyam did what he knew how to. 

With the one hand still resting on your head, he brought the other to the small of your back, pulling you in as closely as he could, stroking your skin in soothing, circular motions. Hushing you, whispering in your ear, and trying with all his might to get you to stop crying. To make you stop being sad if he could. 

Because as he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t yet seen you smile. 

Actually smile. 

You’d grinned, of course, and bared your teeth at him in a hiss. You’d smiled with your lips closed, and he’d seen you let out small smiles, only when you were around Kiri or Tuk. And he definitely hadn’t seen you laugh yet. 

The moment he realized this, he decided right then and there that if he had any say in the matter, you wouldn’t ever be sad like this again. That he would never, ever give you a reason to cry over him again. 

And just like it was his duty to protect his siblings, Neteyam made a solemn vow to himself, the ocean, and Eywa - and frankly, anyone who was listening - to add you to that list. 

He would never again stand for a skxawng like Ao’nung, or anyone else, making you feel like you were less than the perfect being you were. And he certainly wouldn’t allow anyone else to ever again make you feel like you were a freak. To Neteyam, you were as perfect as the stone he’d brought you the first time you met, and the moment you were done crying, he was going to make sure you knew it. 

And if Ao’nung wasn’t already bruised into the ground from Lo’ak’s powerful right hook, then Neteyam was going to put him there, chief’s son or not.

Neteyam let loose the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. For the first time since he’d climbed up to meet you on the rock, his focus shifted from where you sat silently, head still resting on his shoulder, tears slowed and breathing returning to an even keel, to the salty water stinging the cut on his lower lip.

You felt him shift, as he brought the hand that had been resting on your lower back up to his lip, and you felt him tense beneath you at the self-inflicted pressure.  A low groan left him, and you finally had to tilt back from your spot against his shoulder to study his face. He was blinking from the pain, his tongue rubbing at the offending cut, smearing a trail of blood across his chin. 

You brought your hand to his, pulling it away from his face to give you full view of where his once perfect lower lip bore a gash the size of your thumb. You winced, and brought your free hand to his cheek, stroking with your thumb the area that had bruised beneath his eye. And without thinking, you leaned in, gently pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth where there was no cut. 

Perhaps you thought it would make him feel better. Perhaps you thought you could take away some of his pain. Perhaps you were hoping for some sort of redemption, after you had behaved quite unlike yourself for the past few hours. After you hand dissolved at the mere sight of him, and had sat there like a skxawng with your head in his shoulder, your salty tears soaking into his skin. 

Still, you had no idea what came over you.  

Now though, as you studied his face, and his still widened eyes from your half-kiss, and ran a gentle finger over the scratches on his chest, you felt your normal steely resolve return somewhere deep within you. 

“You’re hurt,” you murmured.  

Neteyam shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

As he spoke, the blood was beginning to pool, even from such minimal effort. You shook your head and stood from the rock, pulling him up with you by the hand. 

“Come. Let’s get you patched up.” 

You dragged him down the line of boulders, chuckling softly when he nearly missed a jump, stumbling slightly from the rocky surface. As you reached the outskirts of the village, you both slowed from a jog to an easy walk, Neteyam only needing to extend his gait to come level with you, his arm brushing against yours as you made your way to your marui. 

You had to swallow down the slight spark of excitement building in your throat at his touch, and forced your focus to narrow on the injured boy following you. 

This was no easy feat, to be sure. But as you entered your marui, and gestured for Neteyam to sit on your mat, you felt that same steely resolve take over as you gathered your supplies. 

When you turned back towards him, a pile of bowls and dressings in your hand, Neteyam yet again had his hand against the cut, and his tongue running against it’s edge.

“Stop that,” you barked, “You’re making it worse.”

Neteyam’s hand dropped to rest in his lap, and as you knelt before him, organizing your supplies at your side, you could feel him watching you. Studying you.

You chose for the moment to ignore his piercing gaze. Instead, you brought a hand to his ankle, gently pushing it aside where he had been sitting cross-legged, allowing you to scoot your way in between his legs. He allowed his arms to stretch out behind him, resting the majority of his weight on the heels of his hands. 

When he had made himself mostly comfortable, you started with the scratch on his lip. If only just to get him to stop messing with it. 

You cleaned it first, wiping away the smears of blood, and after you’d cleaned and sanitized it, you gently applied pressure with a clean cloth. 

“Hold here,” you whispered, and Neteyam obeyed, bringing one hand to rest upon the cloth. 

This gave you the chance to apply a smooth, buttery healing salve to the bruises beneath his eyes, and those smattering the skin around his neck and chest. Next, you applied the same salve gently to the scrapes on the skin of his chest, and wrapped a bandage from around his shoulder to cover them, and to allow the salve to seep into the cuts so they would heal. The muscles in his chest rippled beneath your touch, and a low hiss left his lips from the slight, momentary sting as you finished your work. 

Finally, you gently pulled his hand away from his lip, removing the cloth with it. 

The bleeding had stopped from the pressure, and the wound was now clotted. You took the same salve on the pad of your forefinger, and eased closer to Neteyam, your face mere inches from his own. Studying the wound, you brought a hand beneath his chin to steady him, and bending forward, you flicked your eyes up to meet his. 

“This will sting again,” you muttered, waiting for him to gently nod.

When he closed his eyes, you went to work, applying the salve as quickly and gently as you could so the sting wouldn’t last. 

You didn’t even notice that as you finished your work, removing the bandage from around his chest where the salve had soaked into his skin, Neteyam could not stop staring at you. You didn’t notice, that is, until you bent back, resting on your heels, and came face to face with him.

This time, Neteyam had closed the distance between you, his knees resting against yours, and has he brought one hand to tangle in your hair, his other hand swept a stray strand behind your ear for the second time that day. 

And just like that, your breath was stolen from you in a small sigh that left your lips. 

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. 

For a moment, it was just you and him, eyes connected. His piercing gaze seemed to search yours, eyes flicking back and forth, scanning for any sign of hesitation from you. One of his hands rested on your cheek, and the other rested against the back of your neck, still tangled in your thick hair. He blinked once, twice, still studying you for any sign of pause, or resistance.

And other than the fact that you had stopped breathing almost entirely, there was none. 

Your heart didn’t even have time to skip a full beat before Neteyam brought his lips to yours. 

For a moment, all you could taste was the tangy bitterness of the salve against your lips. For a moment, it seemed as if your lips hadn’t actually met yet, the salve creating a slippery barrier between you where your lips couldn’t find traction. 

And then Neteyam was pulling away, just for a moment, laughing breathlessly, grabbing the cloth from beside him and wiping away the salve from his lips and yours.

You laughed, really honestly laughed as he palmed the cloth against your lips, muffling the sound only slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he brushed the cloth against your lips. 

He was laughing too, and once the salve was gone, the both of you had to pause, catching your breath. 

Of course your first real kiss would be tainted by a skxawng with a cut on his lip, that you had just spent time trying to heal. 

When both of you had caught your breath, Neteyam’s eyes met yours, and he smiled at you. You already thought his smile was blinding, but now, you swore you could see the stars reflected in his wide grin. You couldn’t help but smile in return, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips. 

“You skxawng,” you breathed. “I just fixed that cut.”

Again, Neteyam closed the distance between you, hands gripping beneath your thighs to draw you into his lap, where you wrapped your legs around his waist and draped your arms over his shoulders. As you rested there, safe and warm within his grasp, your gaze meeting his, Neteyam let loose a deep, weighted sigh. And again, his hand came up to rest against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking against your lower lip. 

He shrugged, grinning still. 

“I don’t care.”

And for the second time that evening, with bated breath, Neteyam closed the short distance between you and brought his lips to yours.

This time, you had the upper hand. This time, he angled his head to parallel with your own, allowing the kiss to instantly deepen. This time, his hands gripped and massaged at the skin of your thighs, coaxing a sigh from your lips that met with his own heavy breathing in a tangle of knotted air. 

This time, instead of the bitter salve, all you could taste, all you could feel was him. 

He tasted sweet, and minty, with a salty edge that reminded you of the ocean. And while his lower lip had been marred by a deep cut - which you would be thanking Ao’nung for later - the rest of his lips were plump and soft and perfect against your own. Like molten lead, or a pair of pearls fused together with time, his lips against yours matched like two pieces of the same cloth.

And slowly, a knot began to grow within you, deep within your core, that had you positively certain you couldn’t get enough of him. 

Neteyam couldn’t get enough of you either. When your small, soft hands scratched against his chest, he let out a low moan that he was positive he’d never made before, and he grabbed at you with a force like he was going to sink you into his skin and never let you go, like he couldn’t exist without you.

And maybe, in truth, he could, but as you pushed from his lap and grabbed him by the neck, pushing him against the mat beneath you in a furious tangle of teeth, lips, and limbs, Neteyam was absolutely certain that while he could live without you, he definitely didn’t want to. 

It was there, on the floor of your marui, that you stayed with him until eclipse had long passed. Until your lips had become bone dry, and his cut had come open again. Until all the breath had sucked from your lungs, in a way you’d never felt before in all your years mastering breathing where there was no air. 

It was there that Jake and your father found you both, dead asleep, tangled up together and splayed out on your mat. A blanket covered you, and one arm was wound around Neteyam’s chest, your legs wound between his.

Jake hadn’t seen Neteyam sleep this peacefully in years - not since Lo’ak had started walking. 

His eyes met your father’s, and they shared a knowing grin, before backing out of the marui to meet with Neytiri and Kxali on the edge of the village. Neither of them had the heart to interrupt the two sleeping teenagers, and both of them seemed to have a deep understanding that while the two of you had grown up apart, now, you had found each other. Now, you had found a small slice of peace, and though they didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of the mischief you two would get up to together, it paled in comparison to the thought of forcing you two apart. 

Neither Jake nor Elpawe were going to let that happen. 

Of course, Lo’ak took the mickey out of Neteyam when he returned to his family’s marui the next morning. The Mighty Warrior had spent all night, tangled up with a girl? In Lo’ak’s eyes, Neteyam deserved some teasing. 

Neteyam took it well as always, shoving Lo’ak gently by the chest, playfully grinning as Lo’ak shoved him right back, sending Neteyam stumbling over the marui’s edge and right into you. 

You caught him by his arms, steadying him. 

Seeing Lo’ak behind him grinning like the devil, and surrounded by his family, you tilted your head and gestured towards Neytiri and Jake. 

“I see you,” you spoke, bringing your finger from your forehead towards Neteyam’s parents. 

They nodded, returning the favor, and you did not particularly like the knowing grin on Jake’s face, or the steam that seemed to be coming from Neytiri’s ears at the sight of her oldest son with a stranger from another clan. But when Jake placed a hand on Neytiri’s knee, she softened, and smiled up at Neteyam.

“Go,” she said, “And be back before eclipse this time, please.”

Neteyam nodded, not speaking, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. Chuckles arose from his siblings, and you could hear the entire family dissolve into laughter as Neteyam tugged you by the hand towards the beach. 

When you reached the shoreline, plopping down into the sand, Neteyam sitting next to you, you finally let loose the laughter you’d been holding in. 

Your head tilted back, you let out a loud, barking laugh, shaking your head, and looked to Neteyam.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, in between a fit of giggles. “I’m so sorry.”

The way he was looking at you, brows quirked, studying you again, made you remember that first day on the rock, when you had studied him the same way as if you were committing his features to memory. You didn’t realize of course, that Neteyam actually was committing your bright smile and the sound of your laugh to memory, somewhere deep in his mind where he would never forget it. 

And then he smiled, and laughed with you, and tackled you into the sand, sending you both into another fit of howling laughter. 

When he pulled back, only for a moment, he smiled down at you, and waited for you to smile in return, before connecting his lips with yours. This kiss was new, and different - passionate, tender, and slow, his lips seemed to dance with yours. Not only that, but he brought one leg between your own, the other pressed firmly into the sand beneath you, and his entire upper body seemed fused with yours in a perfect molding of skin against skin, like roots digging beneath the earth. 

Again, you found peace within each other’s touch. The world around you disappeared until it was just you and Neteyam. Even the sand beneath you faded away, and all you could feel was his chest pressed to yours, and his hands gripping at your waist and your thighs and anywhere he could easily reach. You were certain he was going to leave bruises behind where his fingers dug into your skin, but if you were positive of one thing, it was that you didn’t mind. 

If you could have one wish, if Eywa could grant you one thing, it was that you could stay here forever with him on the warm sand, tangled up in his arms, his braids tickling against your cheeks, his smile mirroring yours when he pulled away, breathless and sighing. 

When he did pull away to breathe, you didn’t let him stay apart from you for very long. 

In the same way he’d grasped at you like you were a lifeline, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled him back into you, reconnecting your lips in a flurry of motion, and wound your legs around his hips, giving him access to the soft skin of your thighs. 

And if you were feeling particularly bold, you’d grasp him with your legs and tackle him into the sand, pinning him beneath you in a wild spray of hair and limbs and breathless laughter. 

There you’d stay for as long as you could, hands against his chest and lips fused together like iron, his own palms exploring places they hadn’t before, running up and down your back, and your thighs, and the roundness of your bum, squeezing and grasping at any soft parts of your skin that he could reach. 

You’d let him, sighing breathlessly against his lips. And sometimes, you’d pull him into a sitting position, grabbing at the nape of his neck. The more you started to explore each other, the more you discovered things you liked about his supple skin, and the more marks he left on your own, in the soft spots where your neck met your shoulder. You too left a few marks of your own, in little scratches on his back, or in the equally buttery soft skin of his neck and shoulders. The more marks you left behind, the more beautiful noises you coaxed from his lips, and the more you enjoyed peppering his skin with brands claiming him as yours.

Days, and weeks, and months passed like this, in a beautiful blur of young love. 

Neither of you planned for Neteyam to leave you behind. 

And what was worse, you hadn’t even been there when it happened. You were there for his funeral, off somewhere in the water as Jake and Neytiri laid him to rest with your ancestors. As Lo’ak and Payakan swam by, brother with brother. When Jake and Neytiri went to the Spirit Tree, you followed them, tucking yourself deep into the branches where they couldn’t see you, and connecting your queue to one of the glowing palms.

When Jake found you on the beach a few days later, crying into your hands, he had plopped down in the sand next to you in a manner eerily similar to Neteyam. 

When he’d wrapped an arm around you, bringing you into his chest, he told you - and only you - what he’d seen in the visions the Spirit Tree gave him the night of Neteyam’s funeral. 

Somewhere in the middle of his story, your tears had slowed. Somewhere during his tale, you’d looked up from your hands, wiping away your tears, and leaned into his strong embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Jake uttered in reply, squeezing you a bit tighter. “I’m sorry too. He loved you, you know.”

You nodded, sniffling. 

“I know. I loved him, too.”

Later that evening, as your mother came and kissed you goodnight, wiping away a few stray tears from your eyes, she lay next to you and sang you to sleep with the same song she’d sung during your early years. 

You’d cried in her arms for several minutes, and she’d whispered in your ear just as Neteyam had. It had only made you cry more, how little things were reminding you of him, chipping away at the gaping hole he’d left behind. 

As you finally drifted off, your mother still stroking your hair, she’d whispered to you in the silence, just as she’d done when you were a baby. 

“Hush, paysmung. Listen to the ocean,” she murmured softly. “He is in the water now. He is with you.” 

- -

You padded along the beach, one hand held above your brow to shield you from the sun, toes digging into the sand as you hopped along, jumping over shells the waves were leaving behind. The trees blew in the wind, and the waves were on your left, crashing against the sand and pulling back into the ocean. 

Your hair blew in the breeze behind you, cooling you from the warmth of the sun, and you turned, smiling, to watch as Neteyam came jogging up to meet you. 

Oh, Neteyam. 

He was even more stunning in your dreams, if it were even possible, and his effervescent smile still had the power to make you smile in return. 

He came running up to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest, lifting you off your feet and spinning you in circles. Making you smile, and laugh, your head ducking into his shoulder as your long hair tangled with his braids. 

When he set you back on your feet, the both of you slightly dizzy, you smiled up at him, your arms still wound around his neck. His arms were still tightly around your waist, strong and muscular, pressing you flush against him. 

One of his hands released a braid from where it had stayed tangled in your long, wavy hair, but while one of his arms stayed wrapped around you, his free hand came to rest softly against your cheek. 

“How’s it going, water girl?” He breathed, smiling. 

Suddenly, a great sadness overcame you, and even in your dreams you felt a lump rise up in your throat, constricting you. 

“My Neteyam,” you croaked. “Why did you have to leave?”

“Ah, water girl,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, and brought his forehead to yours, your breathing tangling together as a few stray tears escaped down your cheeks. When your eyes finally opened, tears were spilling down his cheeks too, and you brought your thumbs to swipe them away.

You were allowed to cry - Neteyam was not. 

“It’s okay,” you gasped. “I’ll be okay.”

Neteyam smiled sadly at you, brushing your hair from your face. The both of you could tell you didn’t quite believe your own words. 

“I know. I know you’ll be okay, water girl.”

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them together in slow, tender circles. A breeze blew through, sending your hair blowing wildly behind you, the beads of Neteyam’s braids clicking against each other in the wind. And still, you did not break apart for as long as you could bear, only separating from him when the both of you could no longer breathe. 

Once again, he brought his forehead to yours. 

“I can’t stay,” he murmured. “You have to wake up soon.”

Your chest started feeling as if it was going to cave in, and a panic rose up within you like a great wave. 

“No,” you choked out. “I don’t want to, I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.” 

Neteyam ran his thumb across your cheeks, swiping away another wave of tears from your skin. 

“I know, my love.”

A great wave crashed from behind him, splashing up against your calves, tangling you in the water. 

“It’s time,” Neteyam sighed. 

“No,” you protested. “No.”

You grabbed onto him as tightly as you could, digging your face into his shoulder and pulling him into you. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you cried between sobs, “Please. I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know. But it’s time. The ocean is calling,” Neteyam said as he separated from you, holding both of your hands in his. 

Another great wave crashed onto the shore, rising up around you and pulling Neteyam from your grasp. 

“Neteyam, no!”

Neteyam looked out at the ocean, and turned back to you, a bright smile once again adorning his beautiful features. He reached for you, your fingers barely touching his, the ocean rising and pulling the two of you apart. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m with you.”

As he swam off into the water, you watched him until he was a small speck on the horizon. It was only then that he turned, and waved at you in a silent goodbye. 

As you waved back, the ocean swelled around you, wrapping you in a tight embrace that smelled distinctly like him.

Don’t worry, water girl. I’m never very far. 

- -

ow this horted

thank you for reading 

xoxo, carrie

[longing-for-rain]

I don’t even understand the character Sokka stans are stanning. It’s not even Sokka. It is like they are taking the big strong tough guy Sokka thinks he is and acting like that is his actual character when it isn’t. I know not all of them are z*kkas but it does seem like atla renaissance and z*kka popularity added to this trend of taking Katara traits and giving them to Sokka instead

Me neither? I honestly don’t dislike Sokka as a character. I never particularly related to him like I do with other characters, but what frustrates me is how the fandom treats him in relation to other characters, especially Katara.

I definitely agree with you that there was a noticeable shift with the ATLA renaissance in 2020. I was in the fandom long before then and the biggest shift I saw was character bashing taking a faux-progressive spin. For example, Mai bashing used to involve calling her ugly and abusive, but shifted into shoving her into sapphic side ships for the aesthetic instead (while still making jabs at her appearance and demeanor, of course, because people can’t be normal about lesbians). As for Katara, it’s even worse. I’ll get into that.

I remember that historically, Katara has been one of the most bashed and hated on characters in the fandom. People would call her bossy and self important, say she was too emotional, that she was too rude, that she didn’t care about other people’s problems, etc. It was blatant back then, but I honestly see the same trends now, just more covertly. People acting like Katara is not as mature as Sokka, not “mom friend,” or otherwise downplaying the responsibilities she had to take on, fundamentally, are operating on the same logic. They do it in a very jokey way a lot of the time or even act like they’re “letting her be a kid” but really it’s just erasing the nuance of her character in the same way overtly misogynistic fans once did.

Because here’s the thing. We can all recognize Katara was forced into a parental role at an early age and that wasn’t fair to her. But acting like that was something that randomly happened on its own is not addressing the problem. But these fans refuse to address the problem by answering the question of why Katara constantly has to take this role…because that would require them to hold Sokka and Aang accountable for their actions and these people will not do that.

I really do think this is tied in with zukka too. I will say that I’m not a zukka anti. I actually really enjoy some zukka content because it can give a refreshing perspective. But I do see a lot of characterizations that are deeply annoying because they really seem like they’re trying to replace Katara. They want the Zutara dynamic but want slash. And I know these characterizations are no longer unique to zukka, but I would agree they were popularized by it.

Just off the top of my head:

The character who is the first of the group to trust Zuko? That was Katara. Sokka was the one in favor of leaving him to die whereas Katara trusted him twice during Book 2.

The character who emotionally connects with Zuko? That’s Katara.

The character who Zuko feels safest letting his guard down around? That’s Katara.

The character who helps Zuko heal from his trauma? That’s Katara.

The character known for showing the most compassion to others? That’s Katara.

The character who primarily bears the burden of having to step up into a parental role? That’s Katara.

The character who represses their emotions to be strong for others? That’s Katara.

And yet, for some reason, there is this new wave of fans who take all of these traits central to Katara and give them to Sokka instead. It’s just frustrating. Sokka is his own character. He’s different. I really just think this is a new brand of misogyny where we take traits like these for granted in female characters but overemphasize them in male characters.