#Lesson one in talking goat interactions

[volvosandvampires]

Deliciously in dungeon, that is 👀

But also, the way that Dunmeshi progressively descends full on into horror and disturbing content is such a mood.

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 05

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS: we’re back to alternating POVs, many confrontations, a reveal of sorts, seoyeon is goated, namjoon is tired, yoongi learns all kinds of lessons and then instantly forgets them (as per usual), and then throws a pity party and forces MC to attend, this is the most MC and yoongi have been on the same page EVER tho, blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 10k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: GLOSSDEBUT NATION! WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK! i’m sorry this took me so long but POF5 is finally here, and hopefully the 10k wordcount makes up for the delayed update. this one is a RIDE, so buckle in and enjoy! don’t forget to send me your thoughts and theories, because they truly help the updates come faster <3 thank you to my loves @ktownshizzle and @yooniivrse for beta reading this chapter!

P.S. if you can guess the two songs yoongi’s working on in this chapter by description alone, i’ll kiss you on the mouth (they’re both arctic monkeys songs)

P.P.S. congratulations to those of you who voted 2 in my poll. please heed the warnings under the cut

CH. 05: TOO FAR TO GO BACK

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of disordered eating, vomiting, drinking, yoongi is an asshole (wbk), dirty talk, nipple play, Yoongi’s Tongue Piercing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Yoongi vividly remembers the night he first saw you. It’s hard to forget.

He and Namjoon were flying solo that night, sans band. Freshly signed to the label, forced into a blazer he’d never pick out for himself, surrounded by people who didn’t know his name yet and didn’t care to learn. Out of place. He felt out of place all night.

But, as the hyung, Yoongi knew it was his responsibility to do the dirty work. Shmooze. Connect. And, to his credit, when he put his mind to it, Yoongi was actually good at that sort of thing. He knew how to read people, how to play them to get what he wanted. It was how they got signed in the first place. He just needed to wipe the sour look off of his face and remember the goal. For Jeongguk.

It was a music showcase, a big name network. Comebacks and debuts, one after the other. Giddy rookies who hadn’t eaten in days in preparation for their stage, something wild in their eyes. A desire to prove themselves. Yoongi wasn’t there to perform, but his position wasn’t unlike theirs. He had something to prove, too. 

An appearance at the showcase was just that—an appearance. It was the after that mattered. It wasn’t just fans that went to things like this. The audience was full of bookers, promoters, industry magnates that could all mean big things for Burn The Stage if Yoongi played his cards right.

He spent the whole night tuning out blaring bubblegum pop, going over the script in his head—what he should say, what he should do. And then something stopped him in his tracks, forced him to sit up and pay attention.

A soloist, draped in something midnight blue and velvet.

You. Yoongi knows that now.

His first thought was that you had a voice unlike anything he’d ever heard before. His second was that you were beautiful.

All night, he couldn’t sit still. The tag of his blazer dug into the back of his neck. He couldn’t stop tapping his foot, flexing his fists, glancing around. All of the pressure made his chest feel unbelievably tight, because what if the night was a bust? What if nobody was interested in what he had to say? What if the label dropped them and he had to admit that he failed?

But as soon as you opened your mouth and sang that first note, the buzzing in his head quieted in an instant. From beginning to end, Yoongi was enraptured by you. Like nothing else in the world mattered except hearing you sing.

Being in that noraebang with you, years later… It didn’t feel any different. Not one bit.

Yoongi doesn’t follow you when you run. 

Maybe it’s cowardly of him. Maybe a better man than him would reach out, grab your hand, spin you back around. Say something. 

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. What to do. He doesn't understand what just happened, let alone how he’s meant to fix it. He’s not even sure if there’s anything to fix, not when everything was so broken from the beginning. 

You hate him. He hates you. That was the agreement. So he lets you go.

He goes back inside, avoids Jeongguk’s eyes. Tells everyone you felt sick, which probably isn’t a lie judging by the look on your face when you broke away from him.

It’s not like he didn’t anticipate… something. He’s noticed the way you look at him. He’d wanted to use it, to see if he could catch you in some kind of lie. Catch you staring at him a little too long to be brushed off.

But this? Your lips against his, his tongue in your mouth, the sound you made. Fuck. You almost sounded as sweet as you do when you sing. He wants to forget it ever happened. He wants to hear it again, over and over.

It all happened too fast. 

Yoongi wishes he remembered who had moved first. Someone to shoulder the blame, make things simple for him. He wants it to be you. It would be easy to slip that mask back into place, to hate you. It would be easy. He’d almost stopped, but going back would be so easy.

But something in his gut tells him it wasn’t you. That, foolishly, it was him. You wouldn’t give him everything he needs to point the finger, not like this. 

It had to be Yoongi. He kissed you.

He lifts his head, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. Jeongguk, who looks concerned. Yoongi doesn’t deserve his concern.

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but guilt rises in his throat, choking him. For a moment, he thinks he might confess—his mouth has betrayed him before. But what comes out isn’t words.

Instead, Yoongi surges forward and pukes his guts up. All over the noraebang floor.

★ ★ ★

You need to get the fuck off of this island.

You’ve never booked a flight so quickly in your life. You’d take one tonight, if the option was available, but tomorrow afternoon will have to do. In the meantime, you’ll pack as quickly as humanly possible—and then drink yourself to sleep, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to catch a wink of it at this rate.

You’re freaking out.

Your phone has been buzzing incessantly since you got back to the house, your screen filling with notifications from Jeongguk, Jimin, and Taehyung. Text after text asking if you’re okay, if you got back safe, if you need them to come home. You don’t want to deal with it, can’t deal with it right now. Not when—

Min Yoongi kissed you.

Or, you kissed him? There was kissing, with Min Yoongi, the bane of your existence. Insistently, with tongue.

An incredibly skilled tongue, at that—and that piercing. And strong hands, guitarist’s hands, smoothing over your waist, pulling you closer. You can still smell him on you, citrus and leather and smoke, and—

Fuck, no! Jesus, when did you suddenly become this desperate for cock?

This is exactly why you need to leave. You cannot keep having these thoughts about Min fucking Yoongi, you just can’t. You hate him! He’s rude, and insensitive, and he doesn’t respect you in the slightest. He’s made that abundantly clear.

You text Jeongguk that you’re okay, that you made it to the house, and no, you don’t need him to come back. That’s the last thing you need right now.

What you need is to pack.

You move through the bedroom in a frenzy, tossing your clothes into suitcases that suddenly seem too small. Hyerin somehow managed to make everything fit before you came, but now, your shaking fingers struggle to secure the zippers. Of course.

Irritated, you dig your flask out from your purse. It’s running empty, but it’s more than enough to swallow down the nausea that’s been climbing up your throat since you cut and run.

By the time you’ve packed up the rest of your belongings, the room is spinning, your gut threatening a different kind of sickness. It’s a familiar one, at least. After the events of the night, a little alcohol-induced vomiting is nothing.

Still, in an effort to fend it off, you force yourself into a horizontal position. You take a steadying breath, shifting onto your side. You know the drill. In five minutes, you’ll either be dead to the world, or hugging porcelain.

Luckily, it’s the former. Before you know it, you’re drifting into a sleep so deep you don’t even stir when Jeongguk gets back.

★ ★ ★

In the morning, you say the necessary goodbyes. 

Jeongguk is clearly confused, obviously concerned, but he doesn’t twist your arm. It must be the expression you’re wearing when you tell him you’re going. You can only imagine how it screams, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

The others are sad to see you go. Taehyung hugs you tightly, with promises to catch up when everyone is back in Seoul. Jimin does the same, although he’s remarkably quiet in comparison. 

And Yoongi…

You stop at his door last. You shouldn’t, you know that. All of the questions swarming through your brain about where you stand with him, about what last night meant—they don’t matter. A clean break. That’s what you need.

But still, you knock with a shaky fist, his stolen jacket clutched tightly in the other.

When the door swings open, you force yourself to meet his eyes. Yoongi looks surprised—for half a second, maybe—but the expression vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar indifference. His voice is flat, unreadable.  

"What can I do for you, YN?" he asks, already stepping away, like your presence barely registers. He returns to whatever he was doing at his laptop before you knocked, attention fixed anywhere but on you as he types.

You shift your weight. "Uh, your jacket," you say, holding it up. "I accidentally took it with me last night."  

"You can put it on the bed."  

You do as he says, carefully laying it down, though your fingers linger against the fabric. There’s a hesitation in your movements, a weight pressing down on your chest. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge the silence stretching between you. You clear your throat.  

"Can we… Can we talk for a minute?" you try.

His fingers pause briefly over his keyboard. "About?"  

"Well… Um. Last night. Shouldn’t we clear the air?"  

Yoongi waves a hand dismissively, not even glancing up. "Consider it cleared."  

You knew this wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but the casual way he brushes you off still stings. You steel yourself, pressing forward. "It’s just—I’m leaving. I don’t know if you heard. And I just wanted to—"  

He scoffs before you can finish, finally swiveling around to face you. He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he smirks. "What, were you expecting a goodbye kiss?"  

Something inside you hardens at that. "No," you say, voice clipped.  

His smirk doesn’t falter. "Then have a safe flight, dollface."  

You let out a breath, scoffing under it, more at yourself than anything. Stupid to think this could have gone any other way. "Yeah," you mutter. "Bye, Yoongi."  

You don’t wait for a response. You turn, stepping out of the room, the weight in your chest sinking deeper with every step.

Your Uber pulls up just as you step outside, the driver barely glancing at you as you slide into the backseat. The car smells faintly of leather and mint, and the quiet crackle of the radio fills the space, but none of it does anything to settle the tightness in your chest. You swallow hard, pressing your forehead briefly against the cool window as the car pulls away from the curb. The streets of Seogwipo blur past, Yoongi’s house slipping away behind you.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with Seoyeon’s name. Shit. You forgot you texted her this morning—she must be following up. You exhale sharply before answering.

"You’re coming back?" Seoyeon doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.

"First flight out."

There’s a beat of silence, and then, "sooner than I thought."

"Yeah." The word comes out thinner than you’d like. "I just—can you pack my schedule? As tight as possible. Meetings, shoots, interviews—whatever you can get me."

Seoyeon doesn’t ask why. She doesn’t need to. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about her—she doesn’t make your personal life her business unless forced.

"Alright," she says, brisk and efficient as always. "I’ll have everything lined up by the time you land. You sure you don’t want a day or two to breathe?"  

You close your eyes for a second, picturing the alternative—hours alone with nothing but your thoughts. "No. I just want to work."

Seoyeon exhales, like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. "Okay," she says instead. "I’ll handle it."

"Thanks."

"Get some rest on the flight," she says, like she knows you won’t. And then the call ends, leaving you staring at your reflection in the darkened screen.

The rest of your ride to the airport is quiet, save for the soft music on the radio. Your thoughts swirl, looping back to Yoongi. The way he barely looked at you, how easily he dismissed you. Maybe this is better. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to let it all go.

The flight into Incheon is uneventful, but fatigue pulls at you the moment you step off the plane. Everything feels hazy, like you’re just going through the motions. You move through baggage claim, through the terminal, into another car without fully registering any of it.

And then you’re home. Seoul is as grey as ever.

By the time you unlock the door to your apartment, exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. The familiar scent of home greets you, clean and untouched, but the silence is deafening.  

It’s strange—coming back to this emptiness after being surrounded by the band for so long. No voices filtering in from another room, no aroma of freshly-cooked food, no strumming of a guitar. Just you, the hum of your empty fridge, the quiet creak of the floor beneath your feet.  

You drop your bag by the door and let out a breath, rubbing your face with both hands. The weight in your chest hasn’t lifted. If anything, it’s settled deeper, heavier.

You’re alone, for the first time in weeks.

You’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

★ ★ ★

Yoongi can’t focus.

He sits hunched over his desk, fingers poised above the keys of his laptop, but the words won’t come. It’s not like he doesn’t have lyrics—he does. He always does. But now that they’re laid out in front of him, neatly transcribed from notebook to laptop, they all feel wrong. Disingenuous.

He’s been at this for hours—writing, deleting, rewriting—but it all feels pointless. He glances at the clock. 2:45 a.m.

The label needs a progress report. Yoongi has to come up with at least six usable songs soon, and his mind should be locked into it, but instead, it keeps wandering. Every minute, every second, the image of you keeps pushing its way in.

The way your voice shook when you asked to clear the air, the way you hesitated before leaving, like there was something else you wanted to say, but couldn't. He can't shake it. Even gone, you’re a distraction.

Yoongi fishes his phone out of his pocket for the millionth time tonight, his fingers moving instinctively as he searches for your username. 

He’s not proud of it. It’s beyond pathetic, checking up on you like this. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for—some kind of indication of how you’re doing? What you’re feeling? Yoongi knows he won’t find any of that on an Instagram account that you don’t even personally run, but it’s all he has.

All he has, short of texting and asking you himself. Yeah, right.

You haven’t posted anything new since the last time he looked, so Yoongi swipes through your most recent update again. It’s a carefully curated photo dump announcing your return to Seoul. Yoongi has probably looked at it about twenty times tonight.

It’s not like it’s a particularly interesting photo dump—Taehyung is the master at those. It’s all normal shit. Clouds outside of an airplane window, an airport selca, the details of your outfit with all of the brands tagged. It’s classic model—a pretty girl doing boring shit and documenting every last detail.

The last one, though. The last one fucks Yoongi up.

You, standing in front of your well-lit bathroom mirror wearing an Innisfree face mask, your infamous Burn The Stage hoodie—and from the looks of it, not much else.

He knows it’s not for him. If anything, it’s probably preemptive damage control. Something to appease the fans before they start asking questions, wondering why you’re back in Seoul when Jeongguk is still on Jeju. But, fuck.

Yoongi flexes his free hand, stretches his fingers before curling them into a fist again. If there are two things you excel at, it’s looking pretty and riling him up. He should be focused, should be writing, but instead, his mind insists on wandering to places it shouldn’t. Dangerous places. Places that make his cock stir in his sweatpants, while simultaneously making his throat tighten with guilt.

What a predicament Yoongi’s managed to get himself into.

He’s so consumed by his warring emotions that he barely registers the sound of Jae clearing his throat.

"Yoongi-yah, we’ve been at this for hours," Jae says, effectively breaking Yoongi out of his reverie. His lips flatten into a thin line as he swipes out of your most recent post, back onto your profile. "Maybe we should take a break."

"It’s fine," Yoongi mutters dismissively, not looking up.

Jae sighs. "I think you’ve hit a wall."  

"Yah, I’m fine," Yoongi snaps, finally glancing up, agitation creeping into his voice. "I’m working."  

"Are you?" Jae asks, tilting his head toward the phone in Yoongi’s hand.  

Yoongi exhales through his nose, sets the phone down with a pointed click, and swivels back toward his laptop. He taps at the keys, opening and closing files he hasn’t touched in hours. "Four mostly finished songs isn’t half bad."  

"But you need six," Jae points out. 

"Mm." Yoongi barely responds, still clicking aimlessly. "Still two songs I didn’t have this morning."  

"What about this one?" Jae rolls his chair closer in Yoongi’s periphery, sliding his open Leuchtturm across the desk.

Yoongi’s eyes flick to the page, and he immediately stiffens. It’s that song—the one he’d written about you, sang for you when he was bitter and angry. The reaction is instant, his body language shutting down before Jae can even say anything else. "No." He snatches the notebook from Jae's hand, shutting it with finality.  

Jae frowns. "What?"

"That’s not going on the album," Yoongi says.

"But it’s fully written," Jae points out, eyes narrowed. "And good. Why wouldn’t it go?"

Yoongi shrugs, feigning indifference. "Doesn’t fit the vibe."

"The vibe," Jae repeats, unimpressed.

"Yeah."

"What vibe?"

Yoongi hesitates. "It’ll make us sound like assholes."

Jae snorts. "Well, you wrote it."  

"Ha."

Jae sighs, glancing at the shut notebook. "It’s good, Yoongi-yah. It’s something to show the label, at least."

"I have time to write something better."

Jae gives him a long, exasperated look. "You haven’t written anything all day." His patience is wearing thin, Yoongi can tell. "Come on. I’m trying to do what you asked me to come and do."

"It’s one song, Jae-yah."

"You’ve been pushing back on everything I’ve tried all day," Jae replies, voice tinged with frustration. "I can’t help you if you don’t let me."

Yoongi rubs at his temples. He knows he’s not being fair—that Jae came here out of the kindness of his heart, just because Yoongi asked him to. Maybe Yoongi’s monopolized enough of his time.

"Yeah, I know." His voice is quieter now. "Look, it’s… I’m not trying to be difficult. I can do this myself. I know you have your own shit."  

Jae watches him carefully, his gaze so penetrating it makes Yoongi shift in his seat. Then, he says, almost too casually, "we were making good progress over the weekend."

Yoongi’s posture tightens. "…Yeah." Over the weekend. Before the noraebang.

Jae leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Could this lack of focus have anything to do with YN’s sudden departure?"

Aren’t you the source of all of Yoongi’s hardships lately? You and that stupid Burn The Stage sweatshirt, those deadly fucking silk shorts you flounced around in the whole time you were here. The fact that he kissed you—or you kissed him, the jury’s still out on that—and that you’re Jeongguk’s girlfriend, and that Yoongi has been shifting between guilt and delirious arousal since you left.

"You’re crazy," Yoongi scoffs. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

Jae hums. "Sure."

Yoongi pretends not to hear the knowing tone in Jae's voice, shifting the conversation with practiced ease. "I’ve taken up too much of your time, Jae-yah. I only have to come up with two more songs."

"You kicking me out for bringing up YN?" Jae teases. "Tyrant."

Yoongi huffs a laugh through his nose, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "I just think I need to figure the rest out on my own."

Jae shrugs, seemingly disinterested in pressing the matter any further. Thankfully. "If you’re sure. I should be heading back soon anyway."

"Yeah," Yoongi reassures. "I’m good, Jae-yah. I promise."  

"Okay. I’ll figure something out tomorrow, then."  

Yoongi grunts in response, already turning back to his laptop.  

Jae stands, grabbing his jacket. On his way out, he reaches for Yoongi’s half-empty coffee cup and confiscates it with a small smile. "I’m going to sleep. I suggest you do the same, Yoongi-yah."  

Yoongi rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. He just watches as Jae leaves, the room settling into silence once again. 

His eyes flick to the dark screen of his phone beside him, fingers twitching like they want to reach for it. Instead, he exhales, drags a hand through his hair, and turns back to the lyrics in front of him.

★ ★ ★

The set is busy today. Cameras clicking, makeup artists fussing over the music playing from the speakers. Hyerin, who has been buzzing around you all day like a fly, runs her fingers over the expensive garments you have yet to be photographed in, inspecting them for imperfections. Assistants flit around the room carting coffees and clipboards. You’re wearing Moschino. It’s everything you’ve dreaded for the past several years, but today, you’re thankful.

It’s familiar, muscle memory taking over as you move through poses. You arch, tilt, shift, your body following the rhythm of the camera’s shutter. The stylist adjusts the hem of your outfit between shots, fingers quick and efficient, but you barely register it. Your gaze lands just past the camera lens, somewhere indistinct. You don’t need to be fully present for this; you just need to be good.

And you are.

The morning had started before sunrise—a briefing with your team, a fitting for an event later in the week, hair and makeup. Then, a quick coffee you barely tasted before being ushered into wardrobe.

Seoyeon delivered exactly what you asked for. The next few days are stacked to the brim—more shoots, trendy pop-up events, interviews. You have no room for anything else.

Still, your mind wanders. Between outfit changes, between shots, between the moments where you stand still as hands fuss over your hair and clothes. Your phone sits face-down on the makeup counter, silent. It’s stupid that you even notice. That you’re even thinking about—

"Okay, let’s reset for the next look!" the director calls out, snapping you out of your haze.  

The second you step off set, Seoyeon is at your side, clipboard in hand. "You’re doing great," she says, brisk. "They’re running a little ahead of schedule, so we might be able to squeeze in that interview with Elle later this afternoon. Sound good?"  

You nod automatically, reaching for a bottle of water. "Yeah. That’s fine."  

"You holding up okay?"  

You fiddle with your straw before taking a sip, careful not to mess up your lip gloss. "I’m fine," you insist. 

Seoyeon doesn’t push, but she doesn’t look convinced either. "This is the last outfit change. We’ll get proofs back in a few days."

"That’s perfect." Your smile is practiced, professional. "Just keep it coming."

"You have an early call time tomorrow," she reminds you. "I’ll send you the details tonight."

And just like that, she’s gone again, moving onto the next task, making things happen. You exhale, tipping your head back, willing yourself to shake off the weight pressing against your ribcage.

One of the assistants calls you over to wardrobe, and you go, slipping seamlessly back into the performance. It’s easier that way.

★ ★ ★

Once Jae leaves, Yoongi knows he’s on borrowed time. He can’t stay holed up in this bedroom forever. It’s only a matter of time before Park fucking Jimin calls him on his shit.

To his credit, he’s been much more productive now that he’s alone. There’s a fifth song now, and he’s well on his way to a sixth. Sure, they’ve come at the expense of his health and hygeine, but hey. That’s the music business, baby.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. That the sleepless nights and skipped meals are for the sake of the music, that the burning in his chest is just exhaustion, not something deeper. That the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach is just another feeling to be ignored.

He’s in the middle of scrawling something down—a song about beautiful women and kissing with teeth, something reckless, maybe with a catchy bass riff for Taehyung?—when his bedroom door swings open. Yoongi hears Jimin call his name, but he doesn’t look up. He keeps his head down, pen moving across the page, clinging to his last thread of focus.

"Yoongi-hyung," Jimin says again.

Yoongi ignores him. Keeps writing, because what he’s coming up with now is way better than the song he was workshopping earlier—which, lyrically, was just a heavy handed metaphor for jerking off. Surely that says something about where Yoongi’s head is at lately.

Then—bang. Jimin’s palm slams onto the desk, making the pen in Yoongi’s hand jump. His pulse spikes in response. "Min Yoongi!"

"What?" he mutters, his grip on his pen tightening as his teeth grind together. His voice comes out hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in days. Maybe he hasn’t.

Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches forward, snatches the pen from Yoongi’s fingers, and throws it across the room.

Yoongi watches it go, the small clatter of plastic hitting the floor echoing in his ears. "What the hell is going on with you?" Jimin demands.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. Holds and releases. Tamps down his mounting irritation. "I don’t have time for this, Jimin-ah."

"Make time," Jimin says, tone final.

Yoongi exhales, finally pushing away from his desk. The wheels of his chair scrape against the floor as he turns to face Jimin, his patience razor-thin. "Fine. What the fuck do you want?"

"You’ve been acting like a jackass—"

Yoongi scoffs. "Because that’s so out of character for me—"

"—since YN left," Jimin finishes, crossing his arms with a smug finality.

Yoongi’s stomach lurches, but he keeps his face impassive. He’s good at that. Years of practice.

Jimin doesn’t back down. "Why did YN leave, Yoongi?"

"How should I know? What YN does has nothing to do with me."

Yoongi knows Jimin isn’t an idiot. He notices things. And even if Yoongi didn’t know that, the way Jimin confronted him (read: scared the shit out of his asshole) last week made it abundantly clear. But still, denial feels easier.

"You haven’t spoken to Jeongguk all week, either," Jimin points out.

Yoongi reaches for another pen, swallowing his guilt. He doesn’t want to talk about this, not now. Not when he’s finally getting somewhere with these songs. "Been busy," he mumbles.

"Bullshit," Jimin says as he grabs the new pen and throws it, too, forcing Yoongi’s now-empty fist to clench tightly. "Tell me what’s going on."

"What’s going on," Yoongi grits out through clenched teeth, "is that I have a fucking album to write. An album that nobody else but me seems to give a shit about. So I’m writing it." He scoffs, gesturing towards his discarded pen. "At least, I was." 

Jimin shakes his head, not buying it. "What did you do to her? What could you have possibly done to make her get on a plane to Seoul with no notice? I told you that you were going too far. And then we went to the orchard, and everything was fine."

Yoongi laughs, but there’s no amusement in it. "I’m not talking about this with you, Jimin-ah. This is none of your business."

"What happened outside of that noraebang, Yoongi?"

"Nothing—"

"Don’t even try to lie to me," Jimin interrupts. His voice is sharp, unrelenting. "I’ve known you since I was twenty years old. You barely drank that night, and even if you did, you can hold your alcohol. But then you come back inside, and you’re spilling your guts all over Taehyung’s shoes."

Yoongi stays silent. That’s really the only option when receiving a certified dressing-down from Park Jimin.

"And less than twelve hours later, YN is back in Seoul. You want to tell me that’s a coincidence?"

It’s not. It’s not. Yoongi doesn’t want to fucking talk about this.

"Everybody likes YN, except for you. Jeongguk loves her. And you’re entitled to your opinion, whatever, but that doesn’t mean you can treat her like trash. And you have."

The words snap something in Yoongi. His control slips. "I kissed her." Jimin freezes, eyes wide, and Yoongi looks away. "And she kissed me back."

"She…" Jimin shakes his head, like he’s trying to make sense of it. "You and YN…"

Yoongi runs a hand over his face, frustration curling around his ribs, squeezing tight. "She drives me fucking insane, okay? I don’t know why I did it. Nothing I do makes any fucking sense anymore."

Jimin exhales. "But… Jeongguk—"

"Why do you think I’ve been in here all week?" Yoongi gestures vaguely at the cluttered desk, the crumpled papers and mugs of cold coffee. The ashtray, even though he hates to smoke inside.

Jimin’s expression softens. "Hyung…"

Ah, there it is—the pity, the concern. Yoongi shuts his eyes, his exhaustion settling into his bones. He already knows what Jimin is going to say. "I know."

"You have to tell him."

"I know."

Jimin studies him for a long moment. "Hyung, it looks like you haven’t slept in days. I know you haven’t been eating like you should, either."

Yoongi says nothing, his gaze dropping to his lap.

Jimin shifts on his feet. "I’ve… I’ve never really understood you and Jeonggukie’s relationship. Nobody does, I mean… You’re both so…" He trails off, shaking his head. "You love each other. I don’t think anything could ever get in between you two."

Yoongi’s fingers curl into his palm as he recalls Namjoon’s warning from weeks ago. Jeongguk is a grown man. He’s fully entitled to make his own decisions, and you need to respect that if you don’t want to lose him. His voice comes out quieter than before. "Something already has."

Jimin takes a slow breath. "Jeonggukie knows you would never do anything to hurt him, not on purpose. You just need to talk it out with him, hyung."

Yoongi nods, just barely. "Yeah."

Jimin doesn’t let up. "Promise me."

Yoongi hesitates, then mutters, "I promise."

Jimin gives a small nod before stepping back toward the door. "Okay." He reaches for the handle, pausing. "Get some sleep first. You look like shit."

Yoongi huffs out something that isn’t quite a laugh. "I’ll try."

Jimin exhales. "Just… Deal with it before it gets any worse." He pulls the door open. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

★ ★ ★

Yoongi isn’t in the business of breaking promises, so the next night, he ventures out of his room.

He watches Jeongguk stare back at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. His stomach twists.

He has spent years protecting this kid’s dream—no, making it his mission, his purpose, his redemption. Jeongguk had been barely more than a teenager when Yoongi first met him, eyes bright with possibility, looking at Yoongi like he hung the damn stars. 

Back then, Yoongi had just dropped out of college, drowning in the weight of his own failure. He had been a classical piano major—a prodigy, people said. Someone who was supposed to make something of himself. 

But the pressure had been too much, the expectations too high, and when he couldn’t bear it anymore, he had walked away with nothing but a hollow chest and a name that didn’t mean a fucking thing outside those walls.

Jeongguk was an underclassman at the time. The voice of an angel and the dream of being in a rock band. It was stupid—childish, even—but Yoongi saw himself in the kid, saw what he had lost, and he had sworn right then and there that Jeongguk would never know what it felt like to give up. To be crushed under the weight of something bigger than himself. 

If Yoongi could make Jeongguk’s dream come true, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t feel like such a failure himself.

But now, sitting on the edge of Jeongguk’s bed, watching the hurt in his face, Yoongi wonders if he had only ever been deluding himself.

"You and YN…?" Jeongguk’s voice is careful, controlled, but Yoongi can hear the fracture beneath it.

"I’m sorry." The words taste like ash in Yoongi’s mouth. He knows they’re not enough.

"When?"

"At the noraebang," Yoongi mumbles. He wants to look away, wants to sink into the floor, retreat from the sheer expressiveness Jeongguk’s eyes are capable of. But he doesn’t.

"That’s why she left?" Jeongguk asks, realization washing over his features. 

Yoongi exhales shakily, the guilt settling deep in his bones. "I haven’t called to confirm or anything, but…" He drags a hand down his face. "Yeah. Probably."

"I thought you hated her."

"I do," Yoongi says automatically, but the words feel strange. False. Like he’s clinging to something that was never really there to begin with.

Jeongguk stares at him, incredulous. "But you kissed her?"

"It’s…" Yoongi clenches his fists, bitten down nails digging into his palms. "Guk-ah, it was stupid."

"It sounds stupid," Jeongguk scoffs.

"It was." Yoongi drags a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling over. "I don’t have an excuse, okay? It happened, and I’m sorry. How can I get you to forgive me? I’ll do anything."

Jeongguk shakes his head, the laughter still on his lips, but it’s humorless. "There’s nothing to forgive, hyung."

Yoongi stills. "What do you mean?"

"YN and I aren’t really dating."

What the fuck.

Yoongi feels his mind blank out, practically hears the record scratch. The suspicion that Yoongi’s held so tightly this whole time, and Jeongguk is the one saying it out loud. No fucking way.

 "…What?"

"You think I would bring my real girlfriend around you?" Jeongguk tilts his head, expression unreadable.

Did he say real girlfriend? What the hell does that mean?

It doesn’t make sense. Jeongguk isn’t the type to lie, not like this. But the way he’s looking at Yoongi right now—like he’s daring him to deny it—tells him this is very real.

"Hyung, ever since you met YN, you’ve acted like a lunatic."

"That’s not—"

"Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi shuts up instantly. Fair is fair.

"The girl I’m dating isn’t in the public eye, and YN is," Jeongguk continues. "We’re friends. She agreed to help."

The idea of Jeongguk hiding something from Yoongi—through a scheme this elaborate, no less—feels preposterous. It feels like a practical joke.

But the way he’s looking at Yoongi right now? There’s nothing funny about it.

Yoongi shakes his head, struggling to process. "But… Why not tell us? Me?"

Jeongguk gives him a withering look. "Come on, hyung. The backlash from everyone else would’ve been bad, but you? You’re so much worse."

Yoongi’s chest tightens. Fair is fair, but, "I wouldn’t have—"

"You don’t think I wanted to introduce my girlfriend to you, really? I knew what would happen. Things would’ve gone exactly the same as they did with YN."

Yoongi swallows hard. "I just don’t want you to get hurt."

"You’re so protective over me, hyung. Like I’m a kid. Like I’m incapable of making my own decisions."

And that? That hurts. Because Yoongi never meant to make Jeongguk feel small. Never meant to clip his wings when all he ever wanted was to help him soar. But somewhere along the way, his protection had turned into suffocation. He’s the one who pushed him to this, he realizes. The one who made him feel like he had no choice but to lie.

"Guk-ah, I don’t want you to have to hide things from me. Please. How can I fix it? Tell hyung how to fix it," Yoongi pleads.

"I don’t know." The words sound so hollow. Why didn’t he come to Yoongi sooner, if he’s felt this way for so long? Yoongi would do anything for Jeongguk. He thought Jeongguk knew that.

"Jeongguk—"

"No, hyung." Jeongguk snaps. "I introduce YN as my girlfriend and you act like a dick. You humiliate her. I ask her to go out of her way to work things out with you, which I shouldn’t have to do, and things are fine for like, a few days. And then suddenly she’s leaving, lying to me about why, and you’re telling me you kissed her?"

Yoongi stays silent. He’s played the protective hyung card, but where the kiss is concerned, he has nothing to say for himself.

"I haven’t heard from her at all since she left. Until now, you’ve been avoiding me, too," Jeongguk continues. "I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everyone treating me like I can’t handle shit."

Yoongi’s voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry."

"I don’t want to hear it, hyung. Whatever issues you’re having with her, that’s none of my business anymore. You know the truth now. Just…"

"Yeah," Yoongi says, wiping sweaty palms off on his jeans as he stands from the bed. "Yeah, I’ll… I’ll go."

He hates how final it feels. How he’s left wondering if this is something he and Jeongguk can bounce back from. A half-written album for a band that could be hanging in the balance, because of Yoongi.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop him from leaving. He just stands there, arms crossed, jaw tight—like he’s holding something back, like he’s already decided this conversation is over.

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, waiting for something. He’s not even sure what. A sign that things aren’t as broken as they feel. But Jeongguk won’t look at him.

So, he turns and walks away.

The air in the hallway feels stifling, thick with everything left unsaid. His feet carry him downstairs, back to his room. Once he’s back inside, he just stands there, staring at the door, fingers twitching at his sides.

He doesn’t know how to make this right.

Yoongi’s fingers tremble slightly as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, moving without him. He scrolls through his contacts and presses call before he even thinks about it.

The phone rings once. Twice.

"Hyung? Did somebody die?"

It’s so Namjoon to pick up Yoongi’s calls like that. He almost laughs, but it dies in his throat. He rubs his face, a sharp breath slipping past his lips as he fights to regain his bearings.

"You knew," Yoongi says simply. His voice comes out deceptively calm.

A long, heavy pause fills the line, a silence that stretches on as Namjoon’s brain catches up to what Yoongi is saying. But Yoongi knows he doesn’t need to say anything else. Namjoon is a smart guy.

"Yeah," he finally says, his sigh crackling over the line. "I did."

"Fuck," Yoongi huffs. His hands are shaking.

"Did he tell you?" Namjoon’s voice is quiet, careful.

Yoongi closes his eyes. "Yeah."

"Is it... Is everything okay?" Namjoon asks.

What a stupid fucking question. Yoongi starts pacing, desperate to change the subject. He’s working on the fly, but he’s not at all surprised by the words that end up leaving his mouth. 

"Look, I have seven songs. Book a flight for me. I’ll come show the label what I’ve come up with."

There’s another sigh on the other end of the line, like Namjoon knows better than to fight him on this. Good, Yoongi thinks. 

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Just for you?"

"I think space would be good. For a few days." Or longer.

"Hyung… What happened?"

"YN and I kissed," Yoongi says. Might as well.

The line falls silent. Yoongi can practically hear Namjoon’s brain processing the information, the shock and confusion on the other side. He doesn’t care. He just wants the conversation over with, wants to move forward.

"What?" Namjoon’s voice cracks with disbelief, the confusion clear even through the phone.

"Namjoon-ah, I’m really sick of talking about it, okay?" Yoongi says, struggling to tamp down the impatience in his tone. "I’m gonna fix it. I just need something from you."

"What do you need?"

"Can you get in contact with YN’s manager?" Yoongi swipes into his messages with Namjoon. His fingers shake as they fly over his keyboard, and then he presses send. "I need you to relay a message."

Namjoon is quiet for a long time, just the static crackle of soft breaths. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with exhaustion. "Okay. I’ll get it done."

"Thanks," Yoongi mutters, voice rough. He doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t wait for Namjoon to respond. Minutes later, he’s forwarded an email with a flight confirmation. He grabs a bag and fills it.

He has a plane to catch.

★ ★ ★

The last person you expect to see when you open your door is Min Yoongi.

It’s late. Late late. Like, ‘nothing good happens after midnight’ late. Your parents used to say that a lot when you were younger, back when your obsession with live music meant sneaking into venues past curfew. It’s funny—you never believed them. Back then, your nights only got better the later it became.

Now, though. Now you get it.

Because Min Yoongi at your door when he’s supposed to be a plane ride away from you? That can only mean trouble.

But here he is, dressed in all black, a beanie and a face mask concealing his identity from your building’s security cameras. Instead of wielding a knife like you’d expect, his arms are full of crinkly takeout bags.

"Hi, dollface."

"Yoongi? What—"

"I’m not here to fight, okay?" he interrupts, lifting the bags a little as if it’s supposed to reassure you. "Look, I brought you dinner."

Going with poison, then, you think.

"How did you figure out where I live?" you ask, dreading the answer.

"Namjoon asked Seoyeon on my behalf," he explains casually, like it's no big deal. "Or, on Jeongguk’s behalf, actually."

Oh, cool. So your manager is just giving your address away. "Why—"

"Can we have this conversation inside?" he cuts in. "The food’s gonna get cold."

You hesitate, but your curiosity gets the best of you, so you step aside to let him in. He moves past you like he belongs there, setting the bag down on your kitchen counter and methodically unpacking its contents.

"It’s chicken," he says casually. "Figured that was a safe bet."

You stare at him, bewildered. "Chicken is… Yeah, chicken is fine."

"I brought beer, too." He finally turns to look at you. You can only really see his eyes, but you can’t help but notice how tired he looks. You try not to care.

"Yoongi, why are you here?" you demand.

Sighing, he pulls off the face mask, tucking it into his jacket pocket. "Jeongguk told me the truth."

Unable to help it, your entire body goes rigid at his words. "Oh yeah? What’s that?"

"He has a girlfriend," he says, before clarifying, "that isn’t you."

You feel the world tilt beneath your feet. So Jeongguk told him the whole truth. Cool. You really should’ve returned those calls. The ones you were avoiding.

"Why did he tell you that?" you ask, and it’s not even anger that colors your voice anymore. Just a raw, unfiltered panic that you can't hide.

Yoongi turns and leans back against the counter, watching you. "I’ve been trying to figure out why you didn’t tell me that. From the start."

Your defenses instantly go up. It’s par for the course around Yoongi at this point.

"Because he didn’t want me to," you reply coolly, schooling your features into something less panicked. "So, what changed? What did you do?"

"I told him we kissed."

FUCK!

Well, so much for concealing the panic. "You—why?"

"I couldn’t just not tell him, YN," Yoongi reasons. "It was killing me. I felt like the world’s biggest piece of shit all week. You’re Jeongguk’s girlfriend." He snorts, shaking his head. "Or, at least, that’s what you both wanted me to think."

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "Okay, fine. You told him. How did he react?"

"To the kiss?" Yoongi tilts his head slightly. "I mean, better than I expected, considering I was under the impression he was in love with you."

Your brow furrows. "So he’s not mad?"

Yoongi lets out a humorless laugh. "Not at you, don’t worry."

Ah. "But he’s mad at you," you guess.

"I’m not getting a world’s best hyung trophy anytime soon." Yoongi shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but you can tell it does.

You stare at him for a long moment, processing. Then, slowly, the words slip out. "So… You flew back to Seoul to… What? Rub it in my face in person?"

Yoongi blinks at you. "What?"

"That you were right. That you knew it was bullshit all along."

Realization flits over Yoongi’s features. He doesn’t look defensive—he doesn’t even look surprised. In fact, he seems oddly amused, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "Mm. That’s more like a fringe benefit."

You throw your hands up, completely exasperated. "Then why are you here, Yoongi?"

"To have dinner with you," Yoongi says, breaking into a full-blown grin now. 

"I’m not hungry," you say flatly. 

"Look, I’m not exactly welcome in that house right now," he says, like that’s supposed to explain things any better.

"And you think you’re welcome in mine?"

He tilts his head, amused. "I don’t know, dollface. Am I?"

You gawk at him, your pulse thumping in your ears. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"A kiss isn’t exactly a solo activity, last time I checked."

You bristle. "You kissed me."

"Is that what we’re going with?" Yoongi asks, brow lifting.

"That’s what happened."

"Let’s say I did make the first move, then." You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers to your mouth, then back to your eyes. "You took your sweet time pushing me away."

"And then I got on a plane to get away from you," you counter.

Yoongi hums, his eyes darkening slightly. "Couldn’t trust yourself?"

"What—"

"You think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been undressing me with your eyes lately?" He grins, clearly enjoying himself. "I’ve felt very objectified, you know."

"Fuck you," you spit, your pulse racing.

He just laughs—low, knowing. "Everything else is all out in the open now," he says. "Might as well come clean about this, too."

"There’s nothing to come clean about," you retort, your voice sharp, but inside, you’re shaking. "I haven’t been looking at you any type of way. You should get your eyes checked."

"So it wasn’t good for you, then?"

"What?"

"The kiss."

You stiffen. "No."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Okay, then."

"You don’t believe me?" you ask, defiant.

"Don’t get me wrong, your acting has improved. But no." He leans in slightly. "You wanna know what I think?"

"No."

Yoongi grins. "I think it drives you crazy, how attracted you are to me."

Your world tilts on its fucking axis, and you know it shows on your face.

"Get over yourself," you scoff, trying to find your footing again. But Yoongi isn’t having it.

"That sound you made when my tongue was in your mouth?" His voice drops lower, rougher, and it sends a shiver through your spine. "I fucking earned that. No way you would’ve let that slip on purpose."

Your breath catches in your throat, your body locking up. Fuck.

"I can get all kinds of sounds out of you, if you let me," Yoongi continues. He steps closer, cocking his head at you. "I think you know that, too. I think you know I can fuck you the way you’ve been waiting to get fucked."

Your breath stutters, heat creeping up your neck.

"No one else has gotten it right, huh?" His voice is softer now, coaxing. "Too nice, too boring. But I can. And you hate that you want it."

His words settle into the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You can’t look at him.

"If I’m wrong, tell me." He studies you closely, hand raising to tilt your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. That first touch, skin on skin, stupidly makes your thighs clench on instinct.  "I’ll drop it. I’ll get on a plane tonight and go right back to where I came from."

The silence stretches. Long. Loaded.

Then, more gently, "am I wrong, dollface?"

You exhale shakily, and—slowly, reluctantly—you shake your head.

"Here’s the way I see it," he continues smoothly. "I have no reason to stand in the way of your arrangement with Jeongguk anymore. But you and I are still going to be around each other, whether we like it or not."

You don’t say anything. You don’t even know if your ‘arrangement’ with Jeongguk is still on, after all of this. But that’s the furthest thing from your mind right now.

"Might as well make the most of it."

Your throat is dry. Your skin feels too tight. You force yourself to take a steadying breath, despite the heat pooling between your legs.

"Beer isn’t gonna cut it," you decide suddenly. 

You push past him, moving toward the kitchen.

Yoongi laughs, watching you. "That so?"

Wine feels right. You pour yourself a glass, glancing at him across the island. "Want one?"

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, amusement evident in his tone.

You pour another glass before you walk to the couch in the living room, settling down with a long sip before meeting his gaze. "Let me get this straight."

He sits beside you, taking the glass you offer to him. "Uh-huh," he says, urging you to continue.

"You want to fuck me."

His lips quirk. "I wouldn’t be opposed."

You huff in frustration. "No, Yoongi," you say. You’re over the games. If he wants to do this, he’s going to have to put a little bit more work in. "That’s what you came here for."

Infuriatingly, Yoongi doesn’t answer right away, only taking a slow sip of his wine.

"You got in a fight with Jeongguk, and for some reason, your immediate response was to hop on a plane and proposition me," you continue. "I’m not even gonna pretend to understand that train of thought, but I do want to hear you admit it."

He pauses, considering. "That’s what you want?"

"Yes," you say firmly. "That’s what I want. Why should I let you have it that easy?"

"God." Yoongi makes a noise low in his throat, frustration and arousal combined. "Okay, yeah. I want to fuck you," he admits, unwavering.

You let the silence linger for a moment. Then, finally, you nod. "Okay."

"Okay?" He raises a brow.

"Okay," you repeat. "You can fuck me."

Yoongi’s responding laugh is quiet, amused. "Don’t sound so excited, dollface."

Shit, if only he knew. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, shocked that you’ve made it this far without folding. You may not be Yoongi’s number one fan, but you’d be a liar if you said you don’t want to take him up on all of his offers.

"I just want you to stop acting like I’m the desperate one here," you mutter.

"Okay. We’re both desperate, then."

"Thank you," you say primly, trying and failing to calm your racing heart.

Yoongi sets his glass down on your coffee table, eyes glinting as he watches you.  "So… Are you gonna come over here?"

You watch the way he leans back against the couch, his denim-clad thighs spread invitingly, and you bite your lip.

Okay. This is happening.

"Fuck it," you huff, setting your own glass down next to his and shifting your body to straddle his lap.

In an instant, Yoongi’s hands find your waist, molding to your curves. He tilts his head up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Not unlike last time, there’s no finesse to it, but it feels so fucking good—lips and teeth and tongues fighting for dominance, like there’s something to win.

Now that all of the cards are on the table, it’s clear that neither of you are interested in holding back. Your teeth nip at Yoongi’s bottom lip roughly, earning a grunt from him as his hands skim over your thighs, calloused fingers catching on your shorts.

Yoongi pulls back first, his eyes inky black as he feels you up. "These fucking shorts," he mumbles under his breath, hands smoothing over the silk before squeezing harshly. "What are the chances."

With startling clarity, you realize that you weren’t the only one looking when you were on Jeju. You left an impression on Yoongi, too. 

It makes you feel triumphant.

"Like them?" you purr, rucking the hem of your shirt up to give him a better view of the damp fabric clinging to you. Slowly, deliberately, you roll your hips, feeling the way he strains in his jeans.

"Shit, you’re a tease," Yoongi hisses, licking his lips as he helps you pull your shirt over your head. His eyes flick between your clothed core and your breasts hungrily, like he’s deciding where he wants to start first.

But your patience is wearing thin. You make the decision for him, dragging his hands up to cup your tits. Yoongi obliges, chuckling with amusement when he catches the way your nipples stand at attention already, without him even laying a finger on them.

Holding your gaze, he leans in, tongue flicking over a sensitive bud. You can’t look away—not when the cool metal ball of his piercing glides so skillfully over it, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight to your neglected cunt. It feels like he’s touching you everywhere, extra stimulation that forces a moan from your throat.

Yoongi doesn’t let up for a second, sucking and licking at your nipples until they’re aching, puffy and reddened. All you can do is take it, fingers threading through dark locks at the nape of his neck as you whimper for more.

"Look at you, dollface," he rasps, replacing his tongue with his fingers to pinch and tease. "You can be sweet, can’t you?"

"Fuck you," you gasp out, biting your lip to suppress the needy sounds that threaten to spill free. You can’t help it—he can’t win this quickly. He can’t know how badly you’ve needed this, needed him, ever since that fucking kiss.

Yoongi laughs, pinching a nipple one last time before retreating completely. "Always running that fucking mouth." Eyes fixed on yours, he moves his hand down your hip, cupping your cunt so firmly it forces your legs to spread. "Should make you choke on my dick, shut you up for a bit."

Your breath shakes in your lungs as he starts rubbing tantalizing circles over your folds. "You can be a nice girl, mm?" Yoongi growls, finding your clit such exacting accuracy that it makes your head spin, steals the moans from your throat. He noses along the line of your shoulder, murmuring against your skin, "be a nice girl for me."

"Yoongi," you moan, helpless. Without warning, Yoongi’s fingers slip under the leg of your shorts, slipping into you with an ease that makes him groan against your neck.

"So fucking wet," he growls, fingers stroking inside you, rubbing your inner walls. You can both hear how wet you are. He curls his fingers, and you cry out. "Can’t wait to feel you around my cock."

It’s his admission, the reminder that he wants this just as badly as you do, that breaks down your inhibitions. Suddenly, you’re rolling your hips, moaning as you grind down onto his fingers in a frenzied rhythm.

"Fuck," Yoongi breathes appreciatively, watching you move with dark eyes like he’s imagining you bouncing on his cock. "I’m gonna fucking wreck you."

You can’t take it anymore, single-mindedly focused on chasing your impending release. Yoongi’s fingers stroke so deeply inside of you that your eyes roll back in your head, your breath leaving you in staccato bursts of his name. His other hand returns to your breast, pinching hard at your nipple. You’re so close you can taste it.

"Go on," he encourages. His thumb moves to rub at your clit as his fingers fuck into you over and over. "Come for me, dollface."

That’s all it takes.

You sob as your orgasm hits you hard, your vision swimming. Your cunt squeezes around Yoongi’s fingers so tightly it earns a moan from him, but it barely registers. All you can do is moan, pulling hard at Yoongi’s hair until the movement of your hips slows to a stop.

When you finally come down, Yoongi’s fingers slipping out of you as you pant for breath, your eyes focus on him.

He looks fucking delicious.

Pouty lips bitten red. Dark locks mussed where they peek out beneath his beanie. Veiny hand squeezing around the thick bulge in his jeans. 

You’ve never wanted something so badly in your life, and it’s clear the feeling is mutual. He said it himself—he wants to wreck you.

It occurs to you, suddenly, that you’re not going to let him. Not tonight.

Suddenly, you reach for your discarded shirt, slipping it back over your body. You stand on shaky legs, reaching for your forgotten glass of wine and tipping your head back to finish it off. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes tracking your every movement, waiting. It fills you with immense satisfaction that he’s waiting for something that won’t come.

"Well, thanks," you say, barely suppressing a grin. "This was fun."

"What?" Yoongi replies, confusion evident in his tone.

"It’s late. I have an early schedule tomorrow," you explain coolly, tilting your head at him. "Surely, Seoyeon told you?"

"But—"

"She’ll kill me if I show up with bags under my eyes," you interrupt. "You understand."

A long silence stretches between you as Yoongi weighs his options. You watch with triumph as his fists flex at his sides, clenching and unclenching. Finally, he schools his features into something neutral and speaks. 

"Fine," he grumbles.

"Great," you say, grinning as he gets up from the couch. "Thanks for stopping by. I’ll walk you out."

The walk to the door is quiet, tension thick between you. Yoongi’s jaw is tight, his hands shoved into his pockets like he’s physically restraining himself. You revel in it, in the way you’ve turned the tables, left him aching.

You reach for the door handle, but before you can open it, Yoongi moves.

In a flash, your back is pressed against the wall, his body caging you in. His hands pin your wrists beside your head, and then his lips are on yours—hot, demanding, devastating. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a punishment. His mouth is all-consuming, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue pushes past, claiming you in a way that leaves no room for argument.

The way he surrounds you is dizzying, the hard planes of his body pressed against you all the way down. His hips roll once, slow and deliberate, making sure you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his jeans drags against your still-sensitive core. 

And fuck, you feel it. Every. Single. Inch.

Then, just as suddenly as he came at you, he pulls back.

Breathless, you barely have time to register the wicked smirk curving his lips before he steps away, smoothing a hand down his shirt like nothing happened.

"Sweet dreams, dollface," he murmurs, voice husky, eyes dark with promise.

And then, just like that, he steps away, yanking the door open and walking out without another glance. You stand there, dazed, lips swollen, body still thrumming from the intensity of it all.

Fuck.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

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[boraslus]

Short drabble!

What would Melon thinks if you asked him this:

Mild warning:

Bad at english

good interactions with [Name]

[Name] being talkative (I understand some ppl are not that talkative)

Melon is a bit off character (im trying my best for him to be accurate as possible)

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · · ▄︻デ══━一♡

It was another day in the university you're the only animal in the Cherry Academy that seems pretty close to Melon. And then you stepped in on lunch, and asked him this stupid picture.

"Which way will you go? Homo CIDE or Homo SEXUAL, you choose to our favorite history teacher!" You stupidly grinned at him.

Melon, is already confused yet, amused at how you have much of guts to be close to him. And for the very first time you're the first animal that he feels comfortable around.

"What kind of question are you asking me-" He lightly opened his eyes side eyeing and the image you showed.

"come on, I just wanna know your thoughts it's a pretty quick question anyways." You convinced him.

Melon take a long pause, his horns glinting underneath the cafeteria's lights and giving you that face card before he sighs and just go along with the question.

"If I take Homo CIDE, you'll be the first one seeing God and the heavens." Melon stated as his finger with a sharp nail pointing at your phone, sliding it on the homosexual side.

"and in Homo SEXUAL, It depends if that animal weren't annoying. Actually I'd say self-love, I mean what animal even take a liking to me?" Melon finally answered your question before he took a bite at his homemade goat cheese grilled sandwich and stares at you aa if you committed a crime.

"Wow, you really don't hold back teach! Well my curiousity is fed now." You snickered staring up at him and took a bite from your food.

"What made you question those to me?" Melon asked you staring at you after he have his meal chewed.

"Well, first of. You're the most interesting teacher throughout the most. Cause who in their right mind talks the mask of morality, like why laws are just fear in disguise." You commented and continue to eat your food.

"..I teach a subject that is meant to open one's mind." Melon closed his eyelids letting those pretty lashes close as he gave a smile to you.

"History is not just about the past, but is also a history of why this happens. Think of it as our interaction." he scoffed about it before continuing to finish his meal off.

"Ah right, no wonder someone pissed their pants during your lessons." You randomly commented with a grin.

"whoever is that is, I do hope it didn't followed by taking a crap on public restroom." Melon followed along commenting randomly at your comment and he laughed about it.

"also, another private quiz for you to interrupt me like this. You better start using Freyman Method nowdays" Melon scolded you, this time you're the only one taking the quiz, as a punishment.

[pixels-miracle-box]

... not me thinking up about yet another AU... (that's how I roll, I do a dozen AUs and then I work on none)

Basically, the idea of this AU is:

AU name is "From Paradise to Hell"

A guardian (alongside the box she's guarding) from a universe that's dying arrives in a new universe via wish.

The guardian? Happens to be the Lila from that universe.

Since she is the guardian of the miracle of, you can guess that this Lila is nice.

Her Plagg and Tikki do give her a quick lesson in how different universes work, so she decides to go by a different identity (Cerise Bianca... I am yonking the name from canon)

When she joins the class, she notices that the class is under the thumb of this universe's Lila.

"Cerise" calls out Lila- and oops- now she's outcasted... at least the blogger, baker and the spoiled brat welcome her with open arms.

... yeah most of the class is under Lila's "spell".

NOT A SALT FIC/UNIVERSE- (or at least, I'll try not to be like one), classmates may be dumb but they're kiiiiids- it's mostly shunning and maybe some conflict but we won't see things like, destruction of property.

Marinette, Chloe and Alya are "the outcasts" of the class. Marinette because, you know- she tried to call out Lila. Chloe because her and Adrien are friends. Meanwhile Alya tried to stand up for Marinette but ended up getting the same treatment. At least the besties are struggling together.

Nathaniel, Alix, Nino, Sabrina and Adrien are still interacting with the outcasts. They kinda have their own reasons why they don't get 'outcasted' themselves.

Nathaniel is not that much on interacting with the whole class, he kinda gets forgotten. Plus, since the outcasts are in the back of the classroom, it's kinda easier for them to talk with him.

Considering I'd like to imagine that both present and future Alix keep in contact, present Alix gets some tips about Lila. She isn't allowed to speak out on Lila's lies however, so all she can do is talk with the group and also try to help with gathering evidence.

Nino and Alya are partners, but Lila doesn't know this. They try to keep it a secret until things are resolved so Nino won't get chewed by her.

Sabrina is kind of in a similar situation. Her and Chloe are on good terms. However she is Chloe and Mari's double agent.

Adrien is the only one who pretty much doesn't hide the fact he's friends with the outcasts. The only reason Lila doesn't throw him to the wolves is because she wants him.

The outcasts try to hook up Adrien with Luka... mainly because they want Adrien to have someone who isn't Lila. Plus he asked them to help him find someone. (If he finds someone else then maybe he could convince his father to stop hiring Lila for shit like photoshoots).

... I kinda realized I forgot to talk about "Cerise"... oops-

Again- I mentioned she's a guardian herself, and she has her box of miraculous with her. However, her universe's kwamis act differently.

For example, the ladybug and black cat miraculi need to be used together, because they balance one another. While you can use them separately... do you really want to let someone deal with disastrous bad luck? Or good luck to the point you're questioning if you're capable to do stuff on your own?

She ends up joining Ladybug and Chat Noir in their fight against Hawk Moth.

At first, they think she's either a senti or akumatized (or another kind of illusion).

She does open up that she's from a different universe.

"Fury Beetle" does have different abilities.

With the ladybug miraculous, she can basically enhance her luck/

With the black cat miraculous, she can blast her enemy with a "bad luck" energy attack, which then attracts bad luck to the target.

It takes a while for "Cerise" to open up to Chloe. In her old universe, she was bullied by Chloe.

Chloe will get to join on the squad again, but not with the bee. She'll get the goat miraculous. (Nathaniel gets the bee)

When Marinette loses her box- the heroes are thinking if they should use the miraculi from "Cerise"'s box. She's skeptical about doing that, since she realizes her version of the miraculi are... a bit more peculiar.

They have one primarly "passive effect", and let me tell you, this effect isn't always a positive one.

For the ones I got so far, the black cat gives you bad luck (if you use both the black cat and ladybug, the effects cancel each other out). The fox makes you see things.

[cuvpake]

BIRTH OF SIN (WIP)

Sin was the original Halfling. The first and strongest attempt beyond creation. It was conceived with the remnants of two beings - The prime Noctic and an unremarkable human.

It was simultaneously a succinct failure and overwhelming success. It took form as this being in its infantry, its form indistinct save for certain goat-like features on what it considered to be a head.

But it did not know anything.

Its power was immense. So much so that its acknowledgement only serves to fuel its maker's hubris. They started out small, testing its capabilities to understand language and cognitive functions. Through this process, they learned of its connection to the mind. Although it did not seem aware of its conception, it quickly learned the basic grasp of human behavior and thoughts by peering into the headspace of curious subjects. Time went on, and they continue 'raising' their 'newborn'. It was well-behaved, despite its unknowable capabilities. It began talking in simple sentences, began showing emotions despite its lack of defining facial features. It truly seems as though they have successfully delved beyond living by bringing this being into existence. 

The creature did not know of its significance

Yet, it does not go unnoticed how they have committed one of the most heinous sacrileges - to temp creation. They bounded two unwilling, living, intelligent beings to conceive their beloved newborn. Curiously, researchers of the human and Noctic race alike converse in hushed tones, about how this creature rivals that of previous mankind's original sins. But because things were as they were around the facilities, none of them dared mention it in the presence of the project's directors. 

But the creature was still a child of man. Its morbid curiosity lead to the death of an test rabbit one day. It was captivated by the pure, white, fluffy animal. Perhaps it saw the stark contrast between the pristine coat of the rabbit against its own darkened fur. Perhaps it saw itself in the unassuming animal, innocent, oblivious and wanted to get closer. Perhaps it was the desire to assimilate, to become whole with that which is so similar to it. Whatever the reason was, a sharp maw opened and swallowed the poor rabbit whole. 

But it did not know.

For the first time, the directors were made aware of its capabilities. Although the goat-like features and mind reading ability were formed from the likeness of the Prime Noctic, it also borrowed characteristics from the sacrificed human such as twisted arms and gnawing teeth. As the indiscriminate void contorts the blood stains on the creature's body, the directors thought of an idea that would mark the beginning of the end. 

They introduced the creature to small, docile animals. But instead of encouraging it to interact, they urged it to attack, once again testing its abilities. The creature made quick work of the little critters. The directors began testing it on bigger, larger, more fearsome animals. Once its jaw couldn't swallow the target whole, the animal began to struggle and fight back. The creature was stunned, and pushed down. Although its skin cannot sustain damage, it is clear that the mere allusion of an injury sparked something new within the being - fear. It violently wrestles with the injured tiger, but the animal was relentless. As it rear its being towards its guardians - the directors - for aid, they merely stares it down, intent on watching.

The creature let out distorted cry for help, yet no one came.

 The mounting tiger pressed it down further, until a crooked arm stretched out from the void that constitute the creature's body and digs its finger into the tiger's neck. The fierce animal loosen its grip, enough for the creature to open its jaws and bite off the tiger's head. 

Though the previous lessons taught it about knowledge, idea and benevolence, this lesson began its track into fear, uncertainty and violence.

They continue raising by feeding it facts and teaching it as a normal guardian would, but at the same time, they also subject it to harsher, more challenging tests of grit. It has always been a quick learner, as it allows its fear and thirst for violence to take over whenever it needs to use physical force. Soon, its targets were not animals but buildings, constructions, its enemy were no longer beasts but armed humans and Noctics. 

The training increased in frequency. Eventually, it is able to level entire cities on its own, at the order of the directors. Unbeknownst to it, the creature was now a bargaining tool for domination among great powers that wish to rule the land. 

It is now constantly drenched in bloodshed and pained cries of others, but its education continues. The once benevolent creature is no more. 

But it did not know of anything different.

The directors quicky rose to power by the leverage that is the ungodly creation. The story of the Halfling that totals entire nations spread far and wide. This did not escape the creature's ears as people calls to it by name of Abominable Halfling, The Great Sacrilege or Original Sin. Even from before its first act of violence, the creature acknowledges that it has always been regarded as such. Thus, it took to the title: 'Sin' though it does not know what it means.

Sin's power rapidly grows. Not only its physical capabilites exceed that of the most modern destruction technology at the time, it also developed its mind reading abilities. Sin peers into the subject's head, digging deep into their mind's eye, picking out the ugly and the abhorrent to appear to them as a mockery of their own sins. 

Education in regards to knowledge has completely ceased as Sin's new purpose is solely destruction and chaos.

The directors decided, a being that possess such control over countless lives should be comparable to the gods, as it has become the antithesis of creation. With a declaration, they presented the creature to meet The Gods. They hoped, that with this newest achievement, their efforts will be acknowledge by their maker. 

But The Gods knew, under their breath, they aspire to one day usurp the throne and replace the rulers of the realm. 

Such arrogance, thought Lereus, so repulsed by mankind's hubris that it refused to participate in the offering ceremony. Begphin, ever the benign God, 

lowered his elevation to appear before the creation. She does not miss the way some directors' brow furrowed upon noticing the absence of their twin.

Sin, heralded as Heaven's Equal, stood on a raised pedestal that touched the clouds. In front of it shows a being as bright as the midday sun and as deep as the endless vacuum of space. It does not lower it stature nor bow, as it did not know of such etiquettes. Noctickind witness in awe and amazement as their creator glide down, her form taking all kinds of shapes in both lightness and darkness, while humanity can only turn their heads in wonder and anticipation of The God's judgement.

A wave of sorrow washes over all creations of the night as The God's light wavers and flickers. Begphin griefs over what has become of its firstborn. All Noctics are kin of the Lunar Mother, and they all share his pains. To her first kin, The Prime Noctic, he grants it the gift of conscience and connections, yet that gift was distorted and mangled, abused by mankind and its own kind. The Prime Noctic bonded with a human, and they were both executed for it. Not for a heresy, but for the connection that they formed that the directors took notice. Their forced reunion brought upon this creature that calls itself Sin.

[mirrorworldangel]

Hello, @iluminated-goat it's been too long since we last contacted each other! I hope things are alright there! I never hold back when it comes to my writing, especially when I am high from a fever. So buckle up, sweetie it's gonna be a VERY long one:

Stan nearly died during that ritual, in fact, it's one of the many counts of his near-death experiences throughout his life (starvation, hypothermia as a kid, etc.). Mama was minding her own business when she suddenly felt a small tear of the realm due to the ritual, so she had to go and investigate. Guilty that she had dragged him into a mess that was beyond their control, the contract is more like an apology gift from her. It would be an interesting thought of how his wandering days in Columbia and the rest of the world changed, seeing that it was his 'dumb luck' that had saved his skin multiple times.

On the night of their reunion, it was Mama who pushed Ford into the portal, possessing Stan for a bit giving her enough influence to get rid of the garbage by choking the life out of Ford first. Stan was inconsolable for weeks, which devastated Mama because he refused to talk to her until he made her help him with the project.

Yes, the circle scene got worse. All because Ford couldn't pull his head out from his ass.

For 30 years she patiently waited, watching whether Ford had learnt his lesson and when he didn't, well, Stan gave her his blessing. And Ford literally never had a single chance to defend himself at all.

Mama killing Ford and Bill would not be the same way as Stan endured; in fact, it's worse. The darkness devoured the sun and bled black ooze, Mama 'borne' into the realm like the Alien coming down from the ceiling, her shadows eloping all that tried to attack her - and she didn't even need to lift a single finger. In this world, she went a bit overdramatic compared to Aster's, so Stan probably has seen her true form. And consider Stan changing the events and erasing any horrible experiences of Weirdmageddon his final gift to his grand niece and nephew, the only last two blood relatives that love him genuinely.

After accepting Mama's deal, I like to imagine his powers would be a mix of X-Men's Gambit and the Casters from the movie Beautiful Creatures. He can use his beauty to charm others at his pleasurable whims and use cards as weapon conduits. And when he uses his magic, rose briars will form and twirl around his wrists. The same goes for Aster, but instead, they grow from his footsteps.

His youth and beauty being reclaimed would be like a renewed baptism, taking a bit of an androgynous form. He likes to be masculine and powerful, but he also appreciates a good feminine fabric that shows off his figure. His scars, however, are irreversible. He would not take the same path as Aster's, no way (he knows how that path would be a more fatal poison than cocaine). Instead, he chose the path of an observer, becoming one of Mama's spies and informants. And even if they did meet up, it would be a very painful and awkward interaction.

Mama's poem is based on my imagination of her as the 'woman in black' omen; a single glance upon her and your loved one is dead and gone. She is VERY possessive with all she has set her sights upon like a mother predator over her young. She is one of the rare Voidborns that care and love genuinely, a trace of her old past. I feel that the conditions of 'repentance' for each sinner are very vague; Mama is petty and a bit selfish, once you cross her, she'll never forgive you the slightest. So, the chances of obtaining forgiveness are close to none because she intentionally made it as vague as possible to ensure the punishment stays for a good long time.

Creatures from the Void existed before the beginning of time and the creation of light, some of them literally being the embodiment of entropy, nihilism, etc. Think of the Chaos Gods from Warhammer 40K. There are far worse beings that existed in there compared to what the Theraprism could detect. (In my opinion, Bill Cipher bragging about his vast abilities is not something special. It's not what makes him powerful, it's just a basic skill to survive the universe beyond their world, a necessary trait. If he is really as powerful as he says, then why does he need to create the Book of Bill to trick someone or start a riot when he can just break himself out easily like paying a ticket bail?)

As for Mama's name, I combined two Latin words 'beatus' which means blessed and 'amor' meaning love, which is a bastardised meaning of 'blessed love'.

I got lots of ideas about Mama's lore thanks to Warhammer and such, but I'll share them with you in the future! I need to rearrange all of my lore tidbits properly, and I also wanna share something with @muchmallows once I am done with the sketches and linearts. And, once again, thank you so much for your appreciation of Mama and so good to see you again!

Some additional Mama Evangeline lore to share for my friends @iluminated-goat @muchmallows while they're busy with their things, hopefully this post is a motivational support for them too! :)

From the last post, I did share a tidbit of a variant Stan making a deal with Mama. So here is the lore behind it:

For this timeline, during Stan's drifting years, he was drugged and got his own heart cut out and sacrificed by a cultist that wanted to make contract with Mama for selfish gains like riches and fame.

This did not sit well with her, so Mama killed off the cultist instead and revives Stan under a possession blood contract; she has the ability to physically exist in his realm, but the full authority lies upon Stan unless he willfully submits to her.

She takes the form of a broken porcelain ball-jointed doll to help Stan with his money-making schemes in his haunted dolls display collection in the Mystery Shack. She is doll-sized, so he carries her around like a child by the crook of his arm.

For the next 30 years, Stan fixed the portal with Mama's help and canon story goes on as usual; both brothers are constantly angry with each other with no chance of reconciliation, until Weirdmageddon.

Ford and Stan were arguing in front of everyone at the ritual circle, it got to the point where Ford curses having a twin brother like Stan and wondering why did he even bother falling in love with him.

(In truth, we all know that Ford did not really mean it. He outspoken what he really shouldn't have said if he wants to salvage whatever love that they still had; but you know what they say, he done fucked up!)

Stan, finally seeing the side of the man that Ford truly is, the one that Mama constantly complains and disapproves of, breaks. There, with his heart broken beyond repair and mind going mad in despair, he musters all of his rage as he speaks these words and finally succumbs fully to Mama:

"I renounced you... Stanford Pines, I shall love you no more... You are now dead to me!"

Mama, who already hated Ford since their first meeting 30 years ago due to all of the hurt that he has inflicted upon Stan, was more eager to enact her vengeance upon the bastard twin-lover that is Stanford Pines and the annoying parakeet triangle that is Bill Cipher.

In this timeline, Bill Cipher, the Henchmaniacs and Ford Pines are not thrown into the Black Forest. Instead, they're entirely devoured by Mama as offerings.

To reclaim his autonomy, Stan requested to turn back to his prime beautiful youth with a healthier body because he's still angry that all of his time, love and life has been wasted for a useless bastard. His claim mark is directly upon his chest, glowing red on top of his surgery scars.

But curse his bleeding heart that loves both his grand niece and nephew, he also asks Mama to alter everyone's memories, saying that Weirdmageddon never happened and that their Grunkle Stan has given Soos and Abuela custody of the twins before he 'died' at the end of the summer, with his tombstone carved with the words below:

"Here lies Stan Pines, a loving son, brother grandfather and uncle. He died with a betrayed heart from a love that did not deserve him."

He serves Mama unconditionally, but refuses to meet Aster because he doesn't want to ponder the what-ifs for a possibile life that stemmed from a past that did nothing but hurt him and the sight of an innocent bystander's life being ruined by Ford's callous choices.

I also wanna try make an Axolotl poem about Mama, but I can only write this much. You can say this is a hint to a grim truth to all that makes a contract with Mama:

Why is poetry so hard to write?

Oh, I almost forgot! I finally made Mama's true first name. But you have to decipher this code:

I hope both of you are able to conquer whatever is troubling both of you! Don't worry, I'll be taking my time creating more lore content for Mama and Aster here! Love you both!

[mayullla]

Title: Self-Aware Zhongli

Character(s): Zhongli (Genshin Impact)

Summary: Self-aware au; You finally gave Genshin a shot maybe because your friends pressured you to play it or found the game interesting. Downloading the game you had to wait for a bit as you found out that it will take a while. Unable to stay still watching the bar load you headed somewhere unknown to you when you were doing something else and error occurred but was quickly gone before you could notice it. The game booted up fine and you finally entered Teyvat, unaware that the characters that you will meet and talk to will slowly become aware and notice you.

Zhongli needs to keep you safe.

Warnings/Tags: Yandere themes

The moment he saw the traveler at the restaurant where Childe had introduced you to him, he knew that something was odd about the traveler. Something within was disturbed, telling him that the traveler was hiding something. It confused him, finding this feeling rather odd. Rather than something like instinct or his own experience, the feelings were more… raw almost like his magic was the one calling out.

It made him confused yet, it also intrigue him much so. And soon he took the chance to ask the traveler to join him in helping with the Rite of parting. He watched the traveler, interacted with them in hopes to get some answers. He noticed how the traveler would pause for a bit before they respond as if waiting for something.

Yet he found nothing, not even the two of them fight those treasure hoarders when you guys were in search of coco goat. Yet when he fought that time his body felt a little less heavy, a side effect of being a human. He would probably not notice it because it was so small, yet there was that itch almost yearning.

Yet it was after when he told the traveler about Inazuma and to head there did he finally realize something, it was only after that last look between the traveler and he made did he finally see.

Zhongli became confused, he didn't understand. He went to the mountains to think and consider what he now knows. Yet instead of figuring it out more questions arose, was life all for not? The many years of living, the smiles of his people, subordinates and friends all just a mere illusion of some sort? The wars and suffering of others, the pain that was experienced…all nothing?

He wanted to find reasons or answers, he wasn't sure what he was really looking for, for it seems like it is far from his grasp. So he looked at you, and somehow from you, he found his answers. He found the answers and at the same time, he found more than that…

When Zhongli finally appeared in your wishes, he smiled as he saw you cheer. He was also happy to finally see you, and talk to you not limited to his story quest and events. Now he could be right beside you every day.

He enjoyed the attention he was getting from you, when you showed him with what you have leveling him up and also his talents. Watching you as you search through your artifacts for him, chuckling when you have none ready or those sparkling eyes when you find what you were looking for.

He indeed cherished the time being with you, he just wished he had realized it more early and not at the end of Liyui archon quest when you were to say goodbye to Liyui and head to Inazuma, he wished to show you more of what the lands that he ruled over offered.

More than what the game limits you from seeing, more than that. But unlike adding more voices and dialog it was harder to do, that within him it almost boiled but somehow he was able to contain it. Instead, he just smiles when you finally log in for the day.

If he could Zhongli would have added hours of dialog into his character, so that he could tell you stories of the past and lessons that he learned as he lived in this world. But he knew that it would be too much so instead he opped to just greeting you, asking how your day was and if you were doing alright.

If you talked about your problems where he could hear you, you are definitely going to see a new dialog box from him that vaguely give you advice on how to deal with your troubles after all you are not supposed to know that he was aware. And when that trouble is gone and another one occurs that box will be replaced with another dialog again. (Cant be taking all your device storage. Otherwise, there is a possibility that you would delete the game. And he can't have that happen.)

Zhongli is grateful for his powers, that he could create a shield to keep you safe. He knows that you aren't physically here with him, yet when he is in the battle fighting bosses or even just hilichurls the fact that he could feel you right beside guiding him makes him feel at peace yet at the same time… somewhat anxious.

If he could he wants to drag you into his own world, and show you the world yet at the same time like his skill all he wants to do is keep you somewhere safe and inside his shield where he knows that nobody could break it easily.

So it wasn't a surprise that he would become even more anxious when he remembered that there are monsters and more that could ignore his shield and hurt you… worst take you away. It didn't show when you look at him in the eyes… through a screen. But there was so much turmoil and worries brewing yet hidden in his heart as he looks at you.

Worries that he cant keep you safe, that he can't reach you when something happens to you that he cant keep you safe with just his shield. It terrified him.

It grew worst when he realized that it was the same even now, that he could only protect the characters that were on the field in the game. They aren't you, they never were you. And realizing that just made him all the more desperate.

All he wants at this point is for you to be in his arms, physically. He wants to hold you, touch you and just know that you were safe this time in his arms unable to leave with a click of a button to log out.

[outofangband]

🐣❤🌦 for Maedhros or Morwen!

From this ask game here!

I’ve answered these for Maedhros before so I’ll do Morwen though of course you can always send again for Maedhros and I’ll gladly think of more

Happy headcanon:

Aerin taught Morwen to ride. She hadn’t spent much time with horses before she came to Hithlum as the Bëorians mostly kept goats, alpacas, sheep and rabbits. Horses were rare and typically only used for urgent and long journeys. She let Aerin teach her when she was about sixteen though Aerin had offered years before. The first lessons were awkward and frustrating for both of them with Morwen being very reluctant to allow any real help or instruction in the beginning. The fact that Aerin had an obvious crush on her didn’t improve the ease of interactions. But it gets better! Both Morwen’s skills in riding and her feelings about Aerin.

The first horse Morwen rides that she likes is one of Aerin’s mother, a black and white paint horse named Daisy.

Anyways I love them a lot

Summer headcanon:

Summers post Nírnaeth are restless. The long days stretch out

The ease they can work during long daylight and mild weather is obviously hindered by the siege Morwen and her household are under. Straying too far from the house even to simply gather supplies is dangerous though Morwen does risk it sometimes (I talked about that a bit here). Summer is their best chance to get certain supplies after all.

But fear and paranoia can fester in the heat and the still nights. And Morwen spends many without sleeping, sitting in the unlit kitchen or great hall with a weapon beside her. Waiting.

(Here is where I managed with great difficulty to not throw in gratuitous references to Morwen being named Witchwife or the rumors about her. But the dread only heightens with regard to this)

Sex or sexuality HC

Under a cut for sexuality discussions :) nothing super graphic or anything , I wasn’t sure how detailed you’d want it

Morwen’s sexuality is complicated.

She’s very particular about what she likes and also absolutely hates discussing it for one thing. I don’t think Morwen had much in the way of sex ed. Not that any of them had formal lessons or anything but Morwen lost her mother, aunts and older friends as a preteen and I don’t think she trusted any of the older women in Hithlum enough to go to them for advice until she was at least an older teenager.

One long-standing headcanon I have for her is that she finds pressure during sex comforting (only in specific places though) and has a very specific routine for afterwards.

I have a lot of thoughts too on sexuality and neurodivergence. I admit I think way too much about these characters and that very much includes their sexuality.

[bylightofdawn]

I just had a very surreal realization that my AO3 acct is dated from 2009 and that there are probably people on this hellsite who are younger than that acct. I looked at my old fanfiction.net profile filled with shameful Naruto shit I like to pretend I never wrote and that was created in 2003.

And there are DEFINITELY people on this hellsite who are younger than that. Have I really been writing fanfiction for 20+ years at this point? When the fuck did that happen? It doesn't feel like I've been writing fanfic for two god damn decades.

I mean, I've fully embraced my place as a fandom elder. One of those weird 'older' adults that obnoxious Gen-Z shitlords whinge about daring to enter their fandom and occupy the same space as them but most of the time, I don't really pay that much attention to things like age of those I'm sharing a fandom with. My only caveat is that I won't interact with underage people mainly because I do write adult shit and I don't want to deal with that kind of drama.

Sure, I get annoyed when I see people reblogging posts about how the younger generation of people in fandom are being ageist and trying to gatekeep 'old people' and those who came before them and paved the way for them. That definitely tends to get my goat but I like to think for the most part I don't follow many dramatic people so I don't have to deal with the nasty part of tumblr as a general rule.

I'm just here vibing in my own happy little bubble writing mediocre fanfic and probably talking about my cat too much on the internet. I don't bother with DNI lists and have a pretty strong no bullshit or fandom/ship wank on my blog policy and honestly? It's pretty nice. I come here once a day or so, absorb all the gorgeous fanart /fanfic and creative works there are in my little corner of tumblr and then I tab out of this hellsite and just vibe through the rest of my day.

I don't have facebook or tik tok, don't bother with Instagram etc. I have a twitter which I never use and mainly scroll through once or twice a week and that's about it. I experience just enough social media that I can enjoy my time here and then I'm out and I feel like I have a much healthier relationship with social media because of that.

I'm kind of curious to see where I'll be in ten years, if I will still be engaging in fandom then and still writing mediocre fanfic. Not going to lie, I didn't think I'd still be writing fanfic in 2023 when I was taking my first steps into fandom in 2003.

Hopefully, if I am, I am still vibing and enjoying my little bubble. Maybe one day I will actually pick up a grammar book and learn how to NOT write in passive voice and will be able to overcome the mediocre English lessons I was taught in Texas public schools. I know I'm never going to be some hugely popular fanfic writer and I'm pretty okay with that. Having seen the way fandom gets super toxic around super popular fics and people, I'm super okay with just writing with my heart and popping my head up every couple of years to offer something I hope people will enjoy and maybe want to read.

Then I'll drift into the shadows, disappearing from the internet for a year or two as my interests get piqued by something else and one day pop back up on tumblr back on my regular bullshit.

[thisisadaseyblog]

Okay, let’s talk for a minute about ALL these relationships, because let’s face it, they are all pretty cute!

George/Casey:

Okay I can gush about this for a while!! But my favorite scene between these two is in Driving Lessons, when George is like “Um Casey can you drive the kids to all their things because I’m not legally allowed to do that right now.” George is aware that he is kind of a disaster parent and there are often moments where he looks to Casey to help him out, bc while he loves Nora, he’s kind of scared of her too. You can tell he really admires Casey and I love how she is like “aw come on George” but agrees to help him anyway. Also when George kisses her on the forehead in Not So Sweet 16!! So sweet! He often sympathizes with Derek drama too. Underrated relationship.

George/Lizzie:

You all are SLEEPING on George and Lizzie! There are so many cute moments between them! I think George can sense that Lizzie is a kind and honest soul; I love the scenes where Casey and Derek are arguing and he asks Lizzie to fill him in. Also him teaching her how to dance!!! But the BEST is in Futuritis when the two of them are bonding over how crazy their family is and Lizzie is like “what did Derek do this time?” and lets him talk to her without judgment. CUTE.

Nora/Derek:

“Although I've never mentioned this, I have grown to love you.” OMG!!! I could stop right there but there is more to talk about. First of all! I love how in Babe Raider, Derek admits that he likes Nora: “I like her Dad, but you married her.” Derek never admits to liking anybody except Marti once in a while! And the fact that this happened so early on in the show is noteworthy, since they haven’t interacted too much but Nora has clearly done something to win him over. Also I love when he’s trying to pull the wool over her eyes and she amusedly sees through his bullshit. Middle Manic comes to mind. Plus in Slacker Mom when she is freaking out about the fun fair, Derek goes to tell Casey to help her mom, for no other reason than that he knows Nora needs help!

Nora/Edwin:

I get why they got no votes, but they do have their moments! Truman's Last Chance, for example. The way they are plotting and conversing together about Casey and Lizzie’s relationships. According to Lizzie her mom is kind of a gossip with the other moms, and Ed seems to live for drama (as an observer) so I think that they will potentially grow and bond over that in the future lol.

Nora/Marti:

Adorable the way Nora plays with her all the time: the scene in Make No Promises with the Barbies is precious. AND in Two Kisses One Party when they plan the birthday party! Nora may not be Marti's bio mom but the two of them have one of the easiest step-relationships; you can tell Nora completely accepts her as her own and Marti loves her back.

Derek/Lizzie:

Derek tries to vilify Lizzie like he does Casey but it NEVER WORKS because Lizzie is just too nice for him. And eventually, he gives in and openly likes her. “As my coach or my stepbrother?” “As your big brother?" It's too much!!! And as adults, I like to think that Derek would be able to lean on her as a non-judgmental ear if he ever has any beef with the family. (*cough* Dasey *cough*)

Casey/Edwin:

There are a lot of cute scenes between these two and I wish we had more! Babe Raider, Cheerleader Casey, and No More Games all come to mind. They find it easy to just play and have fun together without any awkwardness or ��do I like you or not” seesaw. Her helping him to become the mascot was the sweetest! She’s always willing to give help and he’s always willing to accept it, and vice versa. They’re also both obsessed with Derek and they bond over it sometimes (I.e. Derek Denies Denial) which is kind of weird tbh but also sweet.

Casey/Marti:

Okay, we all know Summer School Blues is the GOAT for these two, but let’s take a moment to appreciate Ivanwho! Marti comes into Casey’s room to sleep with all her stuffed animals because she wants to feel safe! She loves her Smerek but she looks up to Casey and wants to be just like her one day. I can't! I also think Surprise shows how their relationship develops; at the beginning of the show she's just the little kid that Casey occasionally takes care of, but by the end she wants to be a part of the "sister club." Aww.

Lizzie/Marti:

It’s not apparent until Season 4 and onward, but there is something going on with these two. By the end of Futuritis Marti is starting to want to become part of the “sister club” rather than just the little girl off in her own world. And Lizzie lets her sit on her lap during graduation. Plus the way they teamed up to take in the dog! Animal lovers unite! Furthermore! In Vacation with Derek, Lizzie and Marti are hanging out the ENTIRE MOVIE. Suddenly it’s Edwin who is the third wheel and complaining he has nothing to do. I’m telling you, these two become close!

[jnixz]

Not sure if I have talked on this for the Psychonauts show thing, but have an episode like Compton's cookoff with those gats judges! My fave would be that lol. How do you think it will go in a funny way and what would happen as Compton cooks them dishes lol so curious to know

oh my god just a Ram-It-Down episode that would be something haha

In-game we know that those guys are Compton’s own judgement and anxieties about his performance, grown too big that they become intimidating and overwhelming him. 

So this time since I’ve been thinking of the show as a post-game thing, I’m thinking maybe Compton is trying to brainstorm of a new dish to make and surprise people with. The goats would be tinier, and maybe their criticism would be more substantial. Still, the way they say things would be strange to us. Admittedly a lot of the funny things in Compton's level are dark as hell, and otherwise punny and satirical what with the parody of tv shows bits.

(It’s a nice change for the goat judges to help criticize on what makes great dish. I like to think they are still a part of Compton, the one that is able to judge the quality of the food He makes. Just like Jasper in the first game-- people have a little critic, and when they aren’t too much to the point of putting yourself down, they can be helpful in improving your work and not be a reflection of yourself. These goats would be his own little judges testing the flavors, texture, looks and other food criteria on the dishes he makes)

Part of the episode could be that he goes on a search for ingredients for the dishes, but before that he’d just run down in his head first if they would even taste good in theory. A little hypothetical test first in the head to imagine if it would even work, before buying and spending money.

Now I’m not overtly great at creating wacky humour with characters, but I think it’d be funny if he let Sam cook and see how she does things. This family has a lot of strange humour that make you pause, and it’d be fun what kind comes out when they are together in the kitchen.

I-uh, definitely think Compton would try to guide Sam into not terrifying the animals she interacts with. Try is the word here, he might be better at helping her not make a menu of full of food poisoning, and lessons on edible ingredients.

[restingdomface]

Lan Wangji makes extremely deadpan videos of his daily life with Wei Wuxian and their kids and nephews (and nieces if JC and JYL had more). This would include:

*shows a video of LWJ staring out the window for a solid thirty seconds, face entirely unchanged and somewhat disappointed, turns camera around to show Wei Wuxian and the kiddos putting mentos in soda bottles and trying to chuck them at each other, camera pans back to his face, still entirely devoid of emotion*

That one time Jin Ling got stuck up a tree and Wei Wuxian tried to get him down and also got stuck up there and now the other kids are looking for a ladder while LWJ just watches them from the patio, drinking tea. The kids finally give up and shamefully come to LWJ and ask him for help, he gets his husband and nephew down without a word.

The one where he buried 5yo A-Yuan in a pile of bunnies and got scolded by Lan Xichen for it because they might bite him if they get annoyed with him.

There is an entire compilation of rabbits that won’t leave him alone. Climb into his lap. Follow him with every step. Get excited when he comes outside. Hear a guqin and start looking for him. Just. He’s the rabbit whisperer. One of the black ones is just about always with him.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian interacting in any capacity is going to involve a lot of hitting each other and pushing each other over. Only-child kids think they hate each other, but people with siblings are all ‘no no, siblings are just Like That’. People think Yanli is all innocent till they realize she def only tells them to stop when she thinks they might actually get on each other’s nerves. She’s in the ‘boys will rough house and probably only have one collective braincell’ category.

People won’t stop asking him if he speaks so he vaguely makes mentions of having extremely low verbility. They ask if he does sign and he’s not really sure how (lol cause words hard) to explain to them that sign doesn’t really help when the issue is more of him not having much to say tbh. This is apparently the wrong thing to say because then people start being all ‘yeah I get you, I’m pretty dumb too, at least you’re pretty’ and he’s just sorta sitting there with this smacked fish look on his face while WWX can’t stop laughing next to him at the very idea of someone calling his husband slow. Wow. LWJ just sorta finally gets out that he has like two degrees and teaches giqun lessons and it’s amazing. The kids find out about it and can’t stop laughing for hours.

“Hey, why did you name your son ‘sorrow and longing’?” *commense 10 minute video of that time Wei Wuxian got arrested for something to do with a satanic ritual and that’s when LWJ ended up with custody of his adopted son for the next three years and he was in a really angsty mood tbh so it just kinda happened* not a single commenter expected that, even less so when he mentions that they weren’t even together at that point

Films what the viewers think is a prank at first, where he pours a dangerous amount of chili powder into a mug of hot chocolate (with a completely straight face) and then brings it to WWX who takes a drink and makes a dreamy little sigh and goes ‘you always know how to make it just like I want it’ and no one is sure how to react to this video. It’s like watching someone peel and eat a lemon.

You know that video of the girl with the deadpan voice saying she went downstairs to take a shower and there was something brown in the bottom of the tub but it turned out to be potatoes and she’s all ‘not a problem I was expecting, but a problem I can handle’? Okay so that’s how he talks in every video. WWX hands him a baby and he talks to them exactly like that. People ask if he’s good with kids and WWX is all ‘yeah, he’s not just a rabbit whisperer, he’s a baby whisperer too, he’s super great with kids’ *shows LWJ talking to a baby in That Voice while the baby looks at him in utter adoration*

“What’s it like growing up gay? Do you ever get shit for it?” LWJ.exe has stopped working, he has only met one straight couple the same age as him and they’re his sister in law. His brother has three boyfriends, one of which is his brother-in-law. He doesn’t know what a het-er-o-sexual is and he doesn’t want to. Pretty sure his uncle is acearo and hasn’t seen his parents in like 20 years.

LWJ: ‘I apologize for being so emotional in my last video.’ *viewers scrambled to find what video he meant because they ain’t ever seen that man emotional before but end up finding a video where Sizhui told him he loved him and called him papa and gave him a hug while WWX filmed, you can barely see LWJ’s left eye twitching and he pets Sizhui’s head for a moment* viewers are very confused on how this constitutes emotionalism.

Viewers ask to see his brother ‘you know, the one who apparently has three boyfriends’ and LWJ posts a video of LXC passed out on a couch with like three fully grown men all in various states of sliding off onto the floor while the teens play a game of ‘who can stack the most random objects on uncle’s bodies without them waking’ because apparently LWJ and WWX were gone for a weekend and the uncles were supposed to watch the kids (like, all ten of them probably, there’s probably a lot of kids) and it’s Sizhui filming the whole thing cause he’s the ‘good one’ and never does bad things. But he’s also like Auntie Yanli and is totally gonna egg them on from the sidelines.

WWX hands LWJ literally any food and LWJ will eat it all with a completely straight face but as soon as WWX is turned around LWJ is chugging a glass of milk with a look of death on his face. The kiddos straight up can’t stomach his cooking.

😭 someone asks why their hair is all so long and LWJ puts up a video of chatty adorable Sizhui braiding WWX’s hair while he tells him about his day at school. It’s. Too. Cute.

The never ending debate on if LWJ’s deadpan personality/speech is acting or not. No matter how much everyone assures them he’s really just Like That people just aren’t convinced.

Someone points out several times that in their house they have a room with a satanic symbol on the door. That’s just WWX’s home office it’s all good. This is treated as ‘lol WWX is so dramatic’ for like four whole weeks before LWJ posts a video of Sizhui standing outside the office looking nervous. ‘What’s wrong?’ He says. ‘Dad called me into his office.’ Sizhui replies. ‘WWX must be a very strict father,’ the viewers think. That’s not it. That’s not it at all tbh. That video got flagged on like four different platforms and kept getting removed for graphic images and half their viewers don’t. Want. To know. What happened. In that office. (WWX doesn’t even see what the big deal was, that goat was dead when he bought it shut up.)

The others do videos sometimes too lol. Videos include

Jin Ling’s compilation of ‘Mom, what’s for dinner’ and the answer is Always Lotus root and pork rib soup. Someone asks ‘lol she must make that often’ and JL is all ‘lol often, fairly sure she got same-food syndrome, it’s always soup’.

Lan Sizhui at like 17 years old: The one true secret I’ve never told my dads? My most shameful lie? Rabbits aren’t my favorite. My favorite is butterflies. *proceeds to cuddle a bun* I’m sorry Mister Bun, but you just aren’t nearly as pretty as butterflies.

Shaky video of someone sitting on the couch, pointed at NMJ: Brother, while you’re away on vacation with your boyfriends, I don’t plan on leaving this spot for even a minute. NMJ: Oh yeah? What’ll you do when you have to use the bathroom? NHS: Listen, I found a guy on Craig’s List who’s exact fetish is lazy young men who refuse to move and also diapers exist and he’ll be my slave for the week if I let him change me. NMJ: ...I’m taking you with me on vacation. NHS: Yay! NMJ: I’m also taking your phone away. NHS: -wait, no- NMJ: Too late.

Jin Ling: JiuJiu, I spilt soda on your Valentino white belt. Jiang Cheng: *incomprehensible sputtering* -soda on my Valentino white belt-!

Sizhui: *brings Jingyi a bowl of food* Here. Jingyi: Thank you! *takes a bite, face falls in terror, gives Sizhui a betrayed look* Sizhui: Dad’s worried I’m getting sick, he said this would clear my chest cold up. He didn’t consider what horrible things it would do to my bowels instead. Please eat it, he gets sad when I don’t finish what he makes. Jingyi: *glaring* Just dump it down the garbage disposal! Sizhui: *def has a fever if he didn’t think of that* Oh. Good idea.

LWJ: *swaying in place* WWX: This bitch drunk as hell. LWJ: I’m. Gonna comit. A crime. WWX: *crying a little* I love drunk hubby times. A full shot of vodka and he’s not gonna remember any of this. Hey kids, I’m taking Papa on a walk! Sizhui’s in charge!

Zizhen: *sitting quietly on the couch while LSZ, LJY and JL all argue behind him somewhere, covering his mouth with a slightly horrified look* Jingyi: I mean, that’s not fair at all! Who HASNT made out with their cousin at one point or another? Ling: ... Sizhui: You said you’d never bring that up again please shut up. Ling: ...!!!!!! Zizhen: Amazing.

That one time the kiddos hypnotized Jin Ling into thinking he was a kitten. The adults all thought it was really weird that he was finally going through the whole ‘pretending to be an animal’ phase at like ten, but then the kiddos fessed up to learning how to hypnotize and they aren’t sure how to fix it. WWX instigated a rule that no brainwashing is allowed outside his office from now on.

People ask how WWX and LWJ met and it’s told from the POV of Lan Qiren who progressively getting drunker as he tells the story of the terrible high school romance that he had to watch between bad boy WWX and his precious baby angel nephew that made him consider quitting and how no one believed them when they insisted they didn’t get together till after WWX got out of jail for the cow incident.

[spacebatisluvd]

Summary: Things do not go as expected when Hordak and Entrapta arrive in Salineas.

Content warning: Chronic pain, ableism, speciesism, Mermista being unpleasant (and responsible for most of the aforementioned ableism and speciesism), internalized ableism. Bear with me, folks. Things will get better.

-

The second leg of their journey was decidedly less comfortable than their time on the ship. “Sorry. Bethany’s not really designed for long journeys,” Entrapta said as they cleared another copse of trees. “I’ve been intending to install better shocks but—" Bethany tumbled down a steep hillside, her loping run intermixed with sliding somersaults. The harness barely held him in place, and absolutely nothing absorbed the shock of impact as Bethany barreled through the forest. “—You know how it is.”

He nodded, trying not to let his claws puncture the seat leather. “How much further?” he asked. His voice was firm, almost harsh.

“Not far!” she said. Which was what she’d been saying for most of the journey. He eyed Bethany’s path and braced himself as they approached yet another forested hillside.

Even with his armor, the jostling was aggravating his defect. Pain radiated down his arms and across his back, spreading all the way from his forearms to the base of his spine. He grit his jaw and flexed his hands, trying to focus on his breathing. Just a little longer, he lied to himself, grip tightening as Bethany leapt forward. Her landing rocked the cockpit, throwing him first into the harness and then back against the inadequately padded seat. “Doing okay back there?” Entrapta asked, glancing at him.

“I am fine.” And he was. He was fine—or he would be, when Bethany finally stopped and he could take a sedative and sleep through the pain.

“Oh—look! I think that’s the festival.”

He looked past the sea of trees, focusing on the glimpse of colorful tents just barely visible now that they’d topped a small rise. “So it would seem.” A bubble of nervousness swelled in his chest. How had she persuaded him to willingly surround himself with his former enemies for absolutely no purpose whatsoever?

He glanced at Entrapta as she urged Bethany forward. “This is going to be so much fun!” she said, fingers tapping excitedly on the controls. Perhaps not entirely without purpose. These were Entrapta’s friends. He would need to make peace with them for her sake. Tolerant coexistence should be attainable—his interactions with Sea Hawk had proven that, at least.

They plunged back into the forest, and the tents disappeared, but Bethany had her bearings and ran on, dodging trees and boulders as they went. Hordak braced himself again, grateful that he was not lying to himself this time as he mentally chanted that it was only a little further. Finally—finally—they reached the edge of Plumeria, and Bethany lowered her bulky body, cockpit sliding open so he and Entrapta could disembark. She jumped out with ease, and before he could attempt the same, her hair pressed the button on his vambraces to activate the cuffs. He paused, about to protest that he needed his hands to get down, when he found himself bodily lifted from the cockpit by a rope of hair and set on the ground. He huffed, looking at Entrapta. “That was unnecessary.”

“But fun!” she teased, looping her arm through his. The mech disgorged their trunks, and Entrapta waved at her. “Bye, Bethany!” she exclaimed as the mech ran off to explore. She leaned close and ‘whispered’, “She’ll be back in a few days.”

For once, he wasn’t listening. His gaze was fixed behind her, on the people that had gathered there. Fauns, he thought they called themselves. He stiffened his spine, despite the shock of pain that ran like a bolt down his back. They were staring at them—at him—and Hordak’s hearts began beating harder and faster. They were deep in enemy territory, with no guards, and only a shaky justification for his presence. He glanced at Entrapta, trying to gauge her feelings on the situation, but it was clear she hadn’t noticed.

She grinned at him and walked around the crowd, talking excitedly about her friends and the festival as her hair casually dragged the trunks behind them. The fauns lingered, watching them with eerie, goat-like eyes. Hordak toyed with the button to release his bonds, uncomfortable with their scrutiny and ready for a fight. All the while, his body screamed that he needed rest, but he pushed that aside, relying on his exoskeleton to keep him upright.

They left the fauns behind without incident, but he remained watchful as Entrapta led him toward a collection of yurts, the outer hides dyed in fanciful colors. A fire pit rested in the center of the circled of huts, and though the fire was not currently lit, the princesses and their partners were gathered there.

Naturally, Sea Hawk saw them first. He leapt from his place beside Mermista and waved exuberantly. “You came!” he exclaimed, running for them.

Hordak did not want to be hugged, especially not right now, but as he opened his mouth to say as much, a rope of hair caught Sea Hawk around the middle, holding him at a safe distance. “Hi!” Entrapta greeted him. “Is everyone else already here?”

“Yes—I was hoping you’d both get here before the festivities began.” He tugged at the rope of hair. “Er. Do you mind releasing me?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. I’m just not really ready for a hug right now....”

Sea Hawk blinked, then flinched. “Aw, yes. I was perhaps a touch over-enthusiastic—but I respect your boundaries. I’ll stay here. Unless...” He eyed Hordak.

“No. I do not want a hug.”

Sea Hawk did not seem put out. “When you change your mind, I will be—"

“What is he doing here?” Mermista demanded, pointing at Hordak as she stormed over. “I didn’t say he could come.”

“Well, technically, he’s not here of his own volition.” Entrapta stepped up beside Mermista, while Sea Hawk sidled over to Hordak, grinning. He kept true to his word and didn’t try to hug him, so Hordak offered a nod of acknowledgement. “See?” Entrapta’s hair tugged on Hordak’s wrist, pulling his hands up to showcase the bonds. “I kidnapped him!”

Sea Hawk grinned at this, elbowing Hordak to stage-whisper, “It was my idea.”

“I am aware.”

Mermista groaned, one hand covering her face. Their shenanigans had attracted some attention now, and the others hovered close by. The archer’s eyes widened. “You...kidnapped...?”

Catra bent in two, cackling. “You actually—!” She slung an arm over the young queen, still snickering. “Can you believe—?”

Bow glanced at her, then sidled up to Hordak’s other side, saying, “You are okay, right? She didn’t really kidnap you, did she? You want to be here? You’re not being forced, are you?” Hordak stared at him, ears back, as the archer anxiously looked him over.

Hordak was about to ask him why he cared, when Mermista threw her hands up in the air and said, “No. Uh-uh. This is not happening. It’s not cute or fun or funny. I’m done. You—" She pointed at Entrapta. “—are sending him back to Salineas, And you!” She glared at Sea Hawk. “Stop encouraging this! Stop trying to make friends with the guy who tried to conquer the world and hand us all over to a megalomaniacal dictator!”

Entrapta retreated a bit. “I thought.... I mean. He was invited.” She looked to Scorpia for help. “And-and Sea Hawk said he’d see us here. I thought there was an implication of tacit approval—“

Mermista stepped close to Entrapta, looming over her. One hand was balled into a fist at her side. The other was raised, finger extended and leveled at Entrapta’s face. Hordak’s ears drew back. “Don’t you get it?” Mermista asked, “Don’t you see what he did? He doesn’t get to just pretend like nothing happened and everything is fine! He’s lucky he’s not rotting in a prison cell.”

“Oh.” Entrapta threaded her fingers through her hair, searching their surroundings for a safe place to look. “I...I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“Hmph. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one—"

“Enough,” Hordak snapped, stepping between them and using his body to shield Entrapta. “You will not speak to her like that.”

Mermista glared up at him. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely going to take manners lessons from someone like you.” His ears flattened, and he bared his teeth, unable to articulate why she was so clearly in the wrong. “Look, I don’t care what Geek Princess does. She can stay here or she can go back to Dryl. It’s whatever. But you’re not leaving Salineas until you fix what you broke!”

A rope of hair caught his elbow. “Hordak, why don’t we go?” Entrapta had pulled in on herself, huddling against his side. He looked from her to Mermista, glowering and wishing he could find the right words to make her see just what she was doing to Entrapta.

She tugged on his arm, and he allowed her to pull him away. Sea Hawk darted forward, looking distressed. “My love, surely you don’t—!”

“Can it. He doesn’t get to go on vacation or make friends. Not while Salineas is still in ruins.”

Sea Hawk fell silent, looking from Hordak and Entrapta to Mermista. “But....”

Catra checked Mermista’s shoulder as she passed. “Whoops,” she said, smirking. “‘Scuse me.” Hands behind her head, in a pseudo-relaxed position, she walked up to Entrapta and Hordak. “So? Room for me in your ‘bot? Or do I need to find my own way to Salineas?”

Though Hordak was having trouble tearing his gaze from Mermista, he spared her a glance. “What?”

“Can I go with you to Salineas or do I need to find my own way there?” she asked, slowing her words down as if re-stating something that should have been obvious.

“Catra?” the She-Ra asked, “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Adora. Can’t go on vacation or make friends until we fix what we broke. See you in...?” She glanced at Hordak. “How long is this gonna take?”

“My work in Salineas is nearly done, but general reconstruction will not be finished for several years. Longer, if one considers the ecological damage—"

“Sure, right, whatever. See you in a few years, then!” She waved at Adora and started walking vaguely in the direction Entrapta and Hordak had come from.

Hordak cocked his head. “I do not know what game you are playing—"

Scorpia was suddenly at his elbow as well, her smile big and broad. “Uh. I know you don’t like hugs, so—" She touched her elbow to his, still smiling. “It will be an honor to serve with you again, sir.” She joined Catra, who glanced her way and offered an arm, which Scorpia took with glee.

Hordak, growing annoyed, looked at Entrapta. “What are they doing?”

Entrapta just shrugged. “No idea, but here comes Adora.”

The She-Ra paused in front of Mermista to say, “I mean...I did spend most of my life in the Horde. On-track to become an officer, too.”

Mermista stared at all of them, floundering. “But. You were a kid. It doesn’t count.”

The She-Ra shrugged. “It’s hard to tell what ‘counts’ anymore. I mean, how do you ever really know when you’ve done enough to fix things?”

With that, she walked past and paused in front of Hordak, offering an abbreviated—and what he would characterize as ‘overly familiar’—salute. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

He cocked his head, ears folded back. “I am not your commanding officer. You are not a soldier. What is—?” He sighed, taking a moment to compose himself. “Sea Hawk. You have never been in the Horde. What are you doing?”

Sea Hawk, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Adora and mimicking her salute, grinned. “Ah, but I was a no good, underhanded, scheming pirate.”

“I would find it difficult to believe if you claimed to be ‘good’ at piracy.”

“Thank you, my friend! My honest heart prevented me from taking things too far, but—" He dropped the salute to dramatically throw his hand over his eyes. Adora giggled, while Hordak tried to cross his arms, only to be brought up short by the cuffs. He sighed instead. “—I too have a sordid past!“ He inhaled deeply, and began to sing. “~As a child—~”

Hordak’s eyes went wide and panicked. He looked to Adora, who seemed just as frantic. Thankfully, the archer appeared behind Sea Hawk and threw an arm over his shoulders. “Hey, uh, why don’t we save the song for another time, okay?”

“But it’s thematically appropriate!”

“Enough of this farce!” Hordak snapped, “I do not understand what is happening!” He pointed at Catra. “You! You started this. Explain. Before I lose my patience.”

Unintimidated, Catra crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one leg. “Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t exactly conquer half of Etheria by yourself.”

Entrapta perked up. “Ooh! I see! It does seem unfair that the treaty places the bulk of the rebuilding efforts on you and you alone.”

His ears drew down. “Those were the terms I agreed to. I do not object to rebuilding what I helped destroy.” If pressed, he’d admit he found the process cathartic.

Scorpia raised a claw. “Yeah, but...it’s not fair that we’re allowed to hang out together and have fun if you’re not.”

“Exactly,” Adora said, smiling. “So, if you’re not allowed to take a break until reconstruction’s finished, then I guess we can’t take a break either.”

He cocked his head, still trying to process what was happening. Mermista was not having the same difficulties. “Ugh. You have got to be kidding. You’re seriously on his side?”

“They are not on my ‘side’,” Hordak objected, “This is absurd! I don’t even know what they aim to accomplish with this display.”

The princess from Plumeria stepped forward. “Maybe we can find a compromise?”

Catra snorted. “What? You want to put him in a guest prison during the festival?”

“I mean, that’s not a terrible idea…is it?” the young queen asked, looking from the She-Ra and the archer to Mermista.

“Yeah, actually. It is,” Catra said, arms crossed.

“Perhaps, it would be for the best,” the princess from Plumeria said, hands folded neatly in front of her. “His presence might make some people…uncomfortable. If he were to remain in a yurt during the day, Entrapta would still be able to take meals with him. Oh! And it would give him a chance to reflect on the vastness and severity of his crimes!”

“He knows!” Catra snapped. “He already apologized during treaty negotiations! The first four pages of the fucking thing are nothing but him apologizing for—”

“That kind of language isn’t very productive,” Perfuma said. “Perhaps we should form a drum circle and work out our negative feelings before proceeding?”

Mermista threw her hands up. “This is stupid! We’re not forming a drum circle—and he’s not staying.” Catra started to object again, but Mermista pointed at her and snapped, “Look, he’s not the same as you or Scorpia—and we all know Adora’s time in the Horde doesn’t even count. He’s just—he’s different. He’s not even Etherian!”

A strange silence fell over the group. Hordak looked to Entrapta for guidance, but she’d pulled her welding mask down, and her hair was frizzing. “Yeah. He’s different,” she said, voice echoing behind the mask. The hair on the back of his neck lifted, and he reached for her, sensing something was wrong.

“Starlight?”

She caught his hand with her hair, grip tight. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

“Wait—" the archer said, darting forward, but Entrapta was already walking away. Caught by her hair, Hordak followed along, bemused. “Entrapta,” he said, walking beside her. “You don’t have to go.”

She stopped to stare at him, mask down. “If he’s not welcome here, then I’m not welcome here either.”

Hordak’s ears pulled down. He stepped close to her but didn’t touch, leaning down to say softly, “You do not need to abandon your friends for my sake. You could stay, and I will return to Salineas.”

“No.”

He paused, glancing at the archer, who seemed just as lost. “No? Do you...have another suggestion?”

“If you go, I go.”

He frowned, ears down. “I would not ask that of you.”

A droplet of water condensed on the lower edge of her mask. She shook her head and the droplet disappeared. Was she...? “I know you wouldn’t.” She inhaled deeply, her breathing unsteady. “I told you, Hordak. You’re my best friend. If they can’t accept you, then they can’t accept me.”

The archer looked thunderstruck. “Wait. He’s your best friend?”

She nodded firmly. “I’ve compiled the data. My feelings aren’t clouding my judgement. He’s treated me better and been kinder to me than any Etherian ever has.” She started forward again, leaving both Hordak and the archer behind.

“That can’t be right,” the archer said, while Hordak said, “Entrapta. That cannot be true.” They looked at each other, but Entrapta’s grip on Hordak’s hands soon tugged him forward.

She walked up to the princess of Plumeria and asked, “Which one is ours?”

“Um.” She tapped her fingers together. “We actually had separate yurts for you two....”

“We can share.”

Hordak flushed. “Entrapta, is that...appropriate?”

She turned to him, mask still down. “Oh. Would you be rather be alone?”

“I.” His ears flexed. “You are...upset. I will remain with you if it would be a comfort.”

“Great!” She turned back to the other princess, who mutely pointed to a yurt decorated in various shades of purple. “Thanks!” Entrapta tugged him along, and he followed obediently.

The archer trailed alongside her. “Entrapta, you don’t really mean...? We were nicer to you than—?” He looked at Hordak and fell silent.

She paused in the doorway. “Do you want me to send you the data?”

Hordak sighed. “I am sure that is unnecessary.”

Bow looked between them. “Um. Right. I’ll, uh, figure it out myself.”

“Good!”

With that, Entrapta tugged Hordak inside and shut the door, one rope of hair deactivating his cuffs. He only had a moment to brace himself before she flung herself at him, and he found himself with an armful of Entrapta. She buried her face in his chest and huddled close. He grunted as he caught her up, pain radiating up his arms—though he would not let her see him wince. Not here. Not now.

He threaded his claws through her hair. “Starlight?”

She gripped him tighter, shaking her head. Her hands grabbed the front of his dress, and ropes of hair wound around his arms, guiding them to wrap around her in a hug. He—gently—squeezed in assurance. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insisted we come here,” she said, voice muffled. “I thought...I thought this would be fun. I thought it would be a good opportunity for everyone to get to know you better. But I misread the situation. Again. I really thought....” She sniffled and her body heaved. “I’m so stupid.”

He stiffened. “You are not stupid. You are the furthest thing from stupid.”

She looked up at him, face still hidden behind her welding mask. “Then why does this keep happening? I should have known that this would happen. I should have been able to tell. I wouldn’t have brought you here if….” She took a shuddering breath. “Why am I so bad this? It comes so easily to everyone else. What’s wrong with me?”

Hordak exhaled slowly, trying very hard not to get angry with the teenagers outside—getting angry would not help Entrapta. He pulled one hand free of her hair to cup the side of her mask. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“The evidence says otherwise.”

“You are only looking at a narrow subset of data. You must look at the whole picture.” He disentangled himself from her, but only to hold out a hand and say, “Come.” She placed her gloved hand in his, and he paused, remembering how she’d taken care of him when he’d been having one of his bad days. “Bed?” he asked, “Or chair?”

She pointed mutely to the bed, and he guided her over, sitting her on the edge. Though it caused a spike of pain along his spine, he knelt and removed her shoes. In only her socks, she pulled her feet up onto the bed, and he looked around, spotting a blanket folded neatly on a trunk at the foot of the bed. He picked it up and draped it over her. After a moment of consideration, he pulled off his own boots, though he left the compression socks on. A rope of hair pulled him up onto the bed, and he went without protest, folding his arms around her and holding her from behind. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

She nodded, leaning back against him. “Physically, yes.”

“Good. Now, let’s review the data.” He ran his claws through her hair, gently scritching her scalp. She made a soft little sound, low in her throat, and leaned in to the touch. “You have gone into hostile territory, multiple times, to rescue a friend. You have risked your life, your safety, and even your free will and sense of self in order to save them.”

“Yeah, but...who wouldn’t?”

He chuckled. “Starlight, you underestimate exactly how incredible you are.” He trailed his hand to the nape of her neck, and her head bowed forward, allowing him to run the blunt side of his claws over the unbroken, unmarked skin. “Even in small matters, you amaze me. All the little things you do for me. And for Kadroh. You are kind to us in ways we have never experienced. You treat us as people, as individuals.”

“Because you are!” she said, turning. She pushed her mask up, brows furrowed and mouth turned down.

He pressed a thumb to her cheek, wiping away the tear-tracks. “Not everyone sees that. You see things differently.” Her gaze skittered from his, but he continued. “I know that can be...challenging. Perhaps you...miss certain things. Things that others might find obvious. However, that does not mean there is something wrong with you, and it certainly doesn’t make you stupid.” He huffed a little, still appalled that she would call herself that. “Others miss what it obvious to you. Without you, I would no longer exist as an individual. Nor would Kadroh.”

“We don’t know that for sure—"

“I do.” He huffed, pushing her hair out of her face. “It seems to me that you are working very hard to understand your friends, but they aren’t putting forth much effort toward understanding you. Which is unfortunate; they are missing out on something quite extraordinary.”

She blinked. “What’s that? What are they missing?”

He smiled softly. “You, Starlight. You are extraordinary. If they can’t see that, then they are to be pitied.”

She cuddled against him, resting her head on his chest. Her hand sought his, and she laced their fingers together. For a while, they were quiet, then, softly, she said, “I know that I’m different. I’ve known that since I was a kid.” She squeezed his hand. “With everyone else, I’ve always felt like I had to change in order to be friends with them. And, when I couldn’t do that—and I never could; no matter how I tried I could never be normal—then I at least had to be useful. You’re the only one that ever seemed to like me for me.”

He shut his eyes and tried to push away his rising anger. “They are fools,” he growled.

“Then why do I want them to like me so badly?”

He didn’t have an answer for her. He just held her tight and hoped that would be enough. For now, at least.

-

I'm honestly braced for pitchforks after this chapter.

All your comments are greatly appreciated. I may not reply (for a variety of reasons) but please know that I treasure any feedback I get. Thank you! (And, uh, please be nice.)

[jungle321jungle]

Ask No Questions (I’ll Tell No Lies): Part Three

An Agent and a Con Man.

With such conflicting backgrounds it almost seemed laughable for the two to be soulmates. Fate had chosen this, but Logan had chosen to arrest the man across from him no matter what.

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams​ @ollyollyoxinfree​ @gattonero17​ @chumo-cookie​ @dreaming-always​ @anxiety-ismy-name​ @mrbubbajones​ @janustheliar​ @simplyapannightmare  @why-do-you-care

Ao3 - Masterlist

~~~~

Part Three

“Daniel! You look positively dashing.”

Janus forced a smile on his face as he made his way over to Remy. The two exchanged the standard kiss on each cheek before he spoke, “Evening Remy. You’re looking well as always.”

“Well?” Remy asked, adjusting the sunglasses he had no use for in this event hall, “I was hoping for a better compliment than that.”

Janus resisted the urge to gag and he instead gave Remy’s companions a nod, before he looked back to the man with a suggestive smile on his face, “Well you have company here, I don't think they’d like to hear what it is I am really thinking.”

~~~~

“I assume your true thoughts were more... colorful?” Logan interrupted.

Janus gave a smile in return as he stirred more sugar than necessary into his coffee, “I know multiple languages, Agent. There were rainbows of all spectrums in my mind.”

~~~~

Remy gave a laugh and Janus barely had time to mentally prepare himself before Remy had thrown an arm around his waist- and it was dangerously low. “Well feel free to whisper then.”

Janus gave a smile as he leaned in and whispered, “Any finger below the belt will be broken.”

Remy didn’t even have the audacity to acknowledge the words as a threat as he instead pulled Janus closer to him, “I like how you think babe.”

“Daniel Perez,” Janus stated, introducing himself to Remy’s friends given it seemed the man wasn’t going to do it himself. 

“He helped organize things here tonight,” Remy supplied. “He’s gonna help me get some nice stuff.”

“I didn’t organize anything,” Janus corrected with a modest smile. “I just convinced my father that there was a good investment in sponsoring the auction. And then in return he sent me to oversee his investment tonight, but I’m not worried so I think I’ll mainly oversee the alcohol.” The words were simple ones, but they were enough to cause the small group to chuckle, and for him to get an out. He turned to Remy with a tad bit of mischief in his eyes, “Would you like me to get you a drink? Champagne perhaps?”

Remy didn’t give him a reaction at all as he said that would be fine and let go. While Janus was thankful to move away he couldn’t help but be a tad frustrated. What would it take for Remy to do something other than give a smile that made him want to punch it off? He forced himself to take a calming breath as he headed to the open bar pulling out his phone as he did. He was greeted with a text from Remus. 

I like him

Janus didn’t bother with a reply.

“Things just seem to be going amazing don't you think?”

Janus barely looked up as empty glasses were set before him, “How are we looking?”

“The Target just walked in,” Virgil replied as he poured. “And the artist is stationed.”

“Good. Then do me a favor and make sure he follows the plan?”

“I don’t leash him.”

Janus picked up the two glasses of champagne and turned to walk back to Remy, “Maybe you should.”

~~~~

“What? You’re not going to ask what my marvelous plan was?”

Logan blinked at Janus boredly in return, “Was I supposed to? Wasn’t the whole point of all this that you were going to tell me?”

“Well yes, but I’m telling you what I heard, saw, and thought. Clearly I did not see my own plan go down. I had an alibi all night.”

“Fine. Then do tell me Blank, what was this plan of yours?”

Janus opened his mouth to respond before he closed it, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, why don’t you tell me? ...How would you do it?”

“I’m not a criminal, I would never do such a thing.”

“Humor me,” Janus requested leaning forward in his chair. “I did say I am interested in how you think after all.”

Logan paused taking in the face across from him before he set the notepad he had been writing in down with a sigh. “Do I get any more details?”

“If you need them.”

“A rich club owner trying to buy a present for the victim’s birthday... and from what I understand your forger, Roman, and your thief, Virgil, were there. Roman to do what I am still not sure, and Virgil to blend in if he was posing as staff. And I assume Remus, your hacker, was in a safe location monitoring everything. And this was all at an auction for the elite. That is the basic information correct? Oh and of course there’s the painting that was stolen from the victim’s home.”

“I believe that’s all.”

“Well I supposed the first thing you would need to do is convince the victim, Thomas Sanders that he wants the forgery.”

“Alright, how?”

“How?” Logan repeated in agreement. He paused in thought his mind lacing and weaving together Janus’ words until he came to an answer. “You’d make sure he overhears.”

~~~~

Janus was thankful to escape Remy for the little time he could. He crossed the room of guests still milling about waiting for the event to start keeping a pleasant smile on his face as he did. There was an art to walking through a party. Janus had learned that he needed to smile, make eye contact, and flow as the people did- it didn’t matter that the crowd was taking him in the wrong direction- in a space like this he’d reach his destination through patience. He had learned that as he went he needed to have a small presence by way of giving compliments here, pausing to ask someone about their life there. But he always knew where to draw the line. He needed to speak just enough for them to wonder where they had met before- but not so much that they would need to ask him, and certainly not so much that they would dare remember him. 

As he neared the Target coming towards him, he found himself morphing into a group casually and directly the conversation the way he wanted. 

“What am I interested in?” he repeated louder than necessary as the Target came closer. “The Crown Jewels, by C. I can't believe that such a painting lost to time has resurfaced.”

“I didn’t even know it was up for bid,” One of the women commented. “I can’t believe it's been found.”

“I love C’s works,” someone else put in. “The whole man is an enigma. He’s only known by a letter, and isn't it true that even a depiction of his face has been lost to history? That he destroyed his only self portrait?”

“Any work of his would be a reflection of his soul wouldn’t it?” Janus asked stepping back slightly- only to bump into a man. As wine spilled down his sleeve he hurriedly turned and apologized to the man. 

The Target was apologizing profusely himself. “I am so sorry! I will pay for your dry cleaning Mr.... um?”

“Perez,” Janus supplied. “Daniel Perez.”

~~~~

“Let me stop you there.”

“What?” Logan asked, slightly annoyed. “Is that not how it went? Planting the idea of the painting in his mind? And I assume you most certainly had your hacker place images of The Crown Jewels all over his web searches.”

“While I won’t deny that, but rather I’d like to ask you something... What was it I told you when we first started this conversation?”

“Your real name.”

“Before that.”

Logan paused his eyebrows knit as he glanced over his notes, he didn’t have anything written prior to the man’s true name. 

“It was back before we left my place,” Janus started. “I told you that I had...”

“You told me that you...” Logan paused racking his brain as he tried to run through their long conversation through his mind before letting out a curse. “You met the victim last night.” 

“Ding ding! So, how do you think it went down if I didn’t interact with him on the night of the auction?”

Logan drummed his fingers on the table slightly as he thought, “Well... just because you usually take the lead as the grifter... doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“Go on.”

~~~~

Roman was itching for his chance to do something. Until now he had been flowing among the guests with ease, Janus’ lessons- lectures echoing in his skull. It was truly annoying, it had been years since he and Janus met, and yet he still couldn't get that nagging voice giving orders out of his skull. Roman gave a laugh as the rest of the group he was with did before he took a breath pushing memories of Janus away as he moved on to the next group. But unfortunately they resurfaced. “There was an art to walking through a party,” Janus would say. And quite frankly with that Roman couldn’t disagree. The flow of people were like the strokes of a brush. Each one different yet distinct and completely and utterly connected despite itself. And each one would interact with another and many different ways. So Roman followed the strokes of the painting he could not fully yet see. He could visualize it though, everything he wished to go right tonight and in the future, but Remy had already been one unexpected blemish and he hoped there wouldn’t be more. So to do his part, Roman smiled, laughed, and talked his way in and out of groups of people- out of swirls of paint until he found the portion of the canvas which would become his masterpiece. 

And all it took was one intentional step back. 

The Target was apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry. I will pay for your dry cleaning Mr. um?”

“It’s not important,” Roman told him with an easy going smile. “I’m no one of your status Mr. Sanders, and this blazer is almost out of season anyway.”

“Everyone is important in their own way,” the man disagreed. “But I couldn’t help but overhear. Is it true The Crown Jewels is up for auction tonight?”

“It is,” Roman nodded before he gave a slight laugh, “but now that I know you’re interested I’m not sure I have enough to buy it myself.” As the group laughed with him Roman felt his phone buzz in his pocket, Remus was right on time. He quickly apologized to the group he was with and the Target as he put his phone to his ear and fought the flow to head towards the back room. 

~~~~

“Better?” Logan asked. 

“Much. But I’m not letting you off that easy. How do you think we got the painting accepted? Or how we made sure Thomas didn’t buy it?”

“I’m still working on the first question,” Logan admitted. “But if you had Virgil handing out drinks he could easily slip something in the victim’s which would upset his stomach and cause him to leave.”

“Close, but I’ll give you one for free. Virgil also helped with the distribution of the small appetizers which went around and conveniently found their way to the majority of the people interested in the painting.”

“The ones you hadn’t used as plants.”

“Precisely.”

“So with them and Thomas Sanders gone, Remy was free to buy the painting. And as for getting the painting appraised and inspected... You could have just paid someone off, but that’s not your style.”

“You know me too well, Agent.”

Logan paused scenarios running through his mind as his fingers tapped on the table. There were options- many of them. Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly as he did. He could feel the sun beating down his arm given it had changed positions but he didn’t think to adjust how he sat. He needed to come up with an answer before Janus lost interest. But how was he supposed to come to a single conclusion with so little infor- “You told me your job was an appraiser at first didn’t you?”

Janus gave a satisfied yet surprised smile, “If you have an idea, then tell it.”

~~~~

It had been just over two weeks since Janus had started his job as the newest personal assistant to a man who seemed to have a revolving door of them. Two weeks were barely anything in the larger scheme of things, but they had felt like eternity. He had been sent off on so many pointless errands and he had been running all around the city so often that he seldom had time for what he had actually gotten the job to do. Not to mention the man called his boss was one of the largest assholes he had met (first Remy and now this man? Janus seemed to have terrible luck). His boss barely acknowledged his presence when he was around and when he did, it seemed Carlos was the hardest name in the world to remember. 

“His assistants leave so often he doesn’t know any of their names,” a woman had told him pityingly once. 

That Janus understood. It was part of the reason he had gotten the job. What he didn’t understand was why nine times out of ten he was called by a female name. 

“Marta you're three minutes late.”

Janus attempted to keep his mask on, “I’m sorry sir. There was traffic.”

“Account for it next time.”

“Yes sir.”

“What’s next on my schedule?”

“Well given you canceled your meetings involving any gallery heads today, what's next is a meeting with a man who found an old painting in his grandfather’s home and would like it appraised.”

“Send to a grunt worker to do. Or hell, do it yourself for all I care.”

“I have not been trained in this sir. Also given if the painting is real it would be best to have your name on it.”

For the first time the man across the desk looked up from his computer to stare at the face Janus had put on. “What is it?”

“The Crown Jewels sir.”

The man leaned back in surprise and Janus could see the scheme forming in the man’s mind. His suspicions were only confirmed as the man said, “Does he know its worth?”

“I doubt it.”

“Keep it that way. And make sure we’re the only ones who know about it.”

“Yes sir.” 

Greed would always be a fun thing to twist. 

~~~~

“And then you’d have Roman come with the painting and the man wouldn’t really be too interested in if the painting was real or not. He’d be more interested in the amount of money he could make and the notoriety he could gain.”

“All true, but you’re missing something.”

“Which is?”

“Someone would notice if Roman carried that large painting in its frame. He had to roll it up to bring it. So if it is simply a painting... then how do we get a bug in Thomas’ villa?”

“The appraiser of art probably would know someone in framing...”

“I’d assume.”

“So you’d put someone there as well, to plant the bug in the frame.”

~~~~

“This one isn’t right either.”

“What about this one sir?”

“Hm? Oh Carmen you’re a genius! This one it is. I'm headed to my next meeting, you stay and coordinate.”

Remus bit the inside his lip as he tried not to laugh as Janus gave his boss a nod. Even from his spot across the room he could see Janus’ annoyance slipping through. It was always funny to him. Seeing the true Janus beneath the layers of makeup, wigs, and contacts. As much as he tried, he was always the same person- and yet Janus seemed to be the only one who couldn’t see that. 

Remus sat the counter listening casually to their conversation as he awaited customers. Not like there would be many of them. There hadn’t been someone in at all yesterday, and yet his boss didn’t seem to have noticed. Remus of course had mainly because it just shined light on the fact that he was bored out of his mind. There were so many things he could be doing. He could be playing games, hacking people for the hell of it, watching something, or doing all of the above at once. And yet he was restricted to an old framing shop and his phone. His phone of course was the saving grace, he had recently bought the newest model when he and Roman had returned to visit their parents a few months prior, and since it had rarely left his hands for more than a moment. That had been an interesting trip... he had hung out at the marina, drank, partied, and hacked his father’s company for sport. But then he again aside from boring moments like now that’s all he ever did. 

“I’m going to have you lock up today, alright? I have a few things to do.”

Remus gave the man his heartfelt promise that all would be in good hands. So when closing time came, and he had locked up Remus had nearly run for his backpack and pulled his laptop from it. He couldn’t stop himself from silently running his fingers over the keys in anticipation as he turned it on and signed in. When he had he got to work. First pulling up his secure servers before he pulled the bug from his bag and began to sync it. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he worked the colors he had programmed lighting up after each press of a key. This was what he loved doing, sure the rest of it was fun. But using the skills he had gained out of spite was the greatest thing. If only it had lasted longer. But when he was done he shut his laptop and put it back and took the bug with him as he went to the painting. It was already in the process of being framed, but as Janus had anticipated Remus’ boss wouldn’t be done until the following day due wanting to be extra careful and delicate given the nature of the “rare” and “one of a kind” painting. He ran his fingers gently across the wood and metal until he found the spot he had recognized and he pushed it forward before pressing it down. The small compartment opened inward and he dropped the small bug into it before he pulled the cover back into its slot. 

~~~~

“While I am convinced that the bug was hidden in the frame,” Logan said, interrupting himself. “I don’t understand why the need to steal the entire painting last night.”

Logan didn’t miss Janus’ smile dip slightly before it was replaced. “We haven’t reached that part of the story just yet. But-” Janus stopped suddenly as the ringing of a phone could be heard. “Sorry.” He pulled it from his pocket and answered it in on motion. “Yes? ...What am I doing? I’m working. There was an-” his eyes looked over Logan’s form before he spoke again. “An unforeseen circumstance, but I am dealing with the predicament. What are you doing?”

As the conversation continued Logan couldn't help but analyze the man across from him as he did. Janus’ body language screamed he was relaxed, and he was incapable of lying in Logan’s presence, and yet somehow everything he was doing seemed to be for show. He wasn’t actively lying, but without hearing the other side of the conversation there was no way Logan could know the scale of this lie of omission.

“Well I do trust you can handle that yourself,” Janus was saying. “Or are you suddenly incapable? ...Virgil, despise is a strong word... You wound me. I nearly- he hung up on me.”

“Working?” Logan repeated. 

“Well you seem firm in not wishing to romance me so yes, I’m working. Going above and beyond my usual methods, but given you have no warrant for my arrest and yet you’re here anyway, you’re doing the same. Anyway what was I saying?”

“Stealing the painting.”

“Right, right. But before I tell you about that, don't you want to hear more about how I dealt with Remy?”

“Quite frankly it doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”

~~~~

“So everything is set for tomorrow then?”

Janus raised an eyebrow, “How many times do you plan on asking me that? This is my line of work you know.”

“Not really sure you should be using that as the basis.”

“Says the man who drugged me.”

“Oi, who’s fault is it really that you got drugged?”

Janus could only stare at the man seated across from him in disbelief, “Yours!”

“Run me through it again,” Remy ordered as he made himself comfortable with both legs thrown over the side of Janus’ arm chair.  

Janus rolled his eyes, but ultimately he complied. “It's simple, you and I keep Thomas with the guests and out of his office, while my guy runs in, grabs the bug and leaves. And he’ll be under the cover of my hacker.”  

“Why not leave the thing? You said it was sending you the audio already. Why retrieve it?”

“Because, once the blackmailing begins those people are going to go knocking down Thomas’ door and he’ll do the math that all this started after he got the painting. He can then tear it apart, but if there’s nothing to find and no way to trace us. The end.”

Remy didn't seem completely satisfied but given he was too busy typing away at his phone to speak, Janus took it as an opportunity. “Why do you even want to participate in this? Did Thomas do something to you?”

“What does it matter to you?” 

“It doesn't.”

“Then keep it that way.”

“Did you decide what you want yet?” Janus asked to redirect the conversation. “I’m leaving soon and I rather finish everything before I leave.”

Remy paused before he turned in his seat to sit properly. He flicked his sunglasses up and his unsettling gaze fixed itself on Janus, “What if I told you want to stay?”

“That’s not of equal value,” Janus replied automatically. “You’re already getting a cut of the future profits.”

“But think of all the fun we could have, babe!”

“No.”

Remy gave a frown as he considered Janus before he gave a shrug, “Then I’ll have to keep thinking.”

“Please tell me things are set. Somehow each time I spend time with Remy my skin crawls more instead of less.”

“Everything is set,” Virgil confirmed from the other side of the line. “Roman got us each a ticket to different places and then from there we’re on our own and as agreed we will meet up in a month. Even different forms of transport.”

“Good.”

“But how do you plan on getting out without Remy knowing? The rest of us should manage but it's clear he’s uh... attached to you.”

Janus gave a sigh, “I plan to give him a little diversion of sorts. The day after next is when we leave. You all don't need to worry about me I’ll-”

“I’ve never worried about you once in my life.”

“Please remind me why I am friends with you?”

Virgil ignored him, “So how are you getting out? Remy’s clearly got connections based off of what Remus reported. Dangerous connections.”

“Well that sounded a tad like concern didn't it?”

“Janus.”

“Fine. I’ve been acting more distant to Remy later and at the party I’ll drop a rumor to his friends. I’m almost done spinning the silk around him, and then once I break it hopefully he should get stuck long enough that I have enough time to leave. It should take him about 18 hours after the party starts to get free and come after me, but my flight is in 19, and I plan to be at the airport past security long before that.”

“Don't fuck up then. I’ll talk to you after.”

Thomas’ villa was beautiful. That Janus already knew from all the pictures and planning done, but it was entirely different seeing it. 

“Quite the place right?” Remy asked pulling Janus close. 

His two friends eagerly nodded in agreement, and with that the four of them headed to the door. When they approached the door was already opening to allow them entry. And when they had it was clear the party was in full swing inside. People looked up as they entered, most likely wondering why Remy had bothered showing up this late when the party had started closer to eight, but then again most of them probably knew that Remy had a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps that was why no one commented on how late they were. Rather they hurriedly shoved drinks into their hands and absorbed them into the conversation. 

“Remy!”

Janus turned with Remy and turned to look at Thomas Sanders. It was kind of strange, meeting the man he had come to the city for months after he had planned it. He had access to every detail Remus could dig up about the man’s life, and he had been listening in on Thomas’ conversations for weeks, and yet here and now was the first time they had ever locked eyes.

“Thomas!” Remy greeted with a slight slur as he greeted the other man. “How are ya?”

“I’ve been good. But how have you been? I have been trying to contact you for weeks to thank you properly for the painting!”

Remy gave him a dismissive wave, “See I ignored those because I didn’t want you trying to give it back to me. This is to make up for all the birthdays I missed in the past and those I’ll miss in the future.”

Thomas gave a laugh in response, “Of course. And oh, hello to your friends.”

“You already know those two, but this is Daniel Perez,” Remy introduced. 

Janus gave the man a smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. But um, Remy?” Thomas asked. “Can I pull you aside to talk for a minute?” Thomas asked. 

“Sure thing babe!”

Janus watched as they walked off to the side, and as he went back to the conversation happening in front of him he kept glancing over to the two. As time passed the friends finally noticed.

“Daniel?”

Janus turned from where he had been watching to face Remy’s two friends. “Hm?”

“I said you should join us next week at the network's party,” Sofia told him. Janus had been listening to their conversation of course, but Sofia and Manuel were co hosts for entertainment news, and if he wanted them to take up his story he’d need to up the drama.

“Oh,” he nodded slowly before his gaze flickered back to Remy. “I’m... not sure if I can make it.”

Manuel took the bait, “Is something going on between you two?”

Janus shook his head quickly, his eyes darting over the listening ears he amassed from neighboring people, “It's fine really. I shouldn’t...”

“You can tell us,” Sofia insisted.

Janus gave a sigh before he leaned in slightly, “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore. The hot and cold, I mean.”

“I know he’s a flirt but he's a good person.”

Her partner gave a nod, “He’s just trying to have fun before he settles down with his soulmate. Didn’t you say you were doing the same?”

“Well yes but...”

“But?”

Janus paused looking around before he leaned in again, “I found my soulmate.”

“Oh who?”

The woman beside him slapped him on the arm, “Idiot, he means Remy!” she hissed.

“Oh... oh... I understand. Wait, you said hot and cold?”

Janus gave a nod and let his gaze fall to the floor, “He... he dismissed me... I’ve been staying here trying to hope something will change but it never goes further than anything you guys see. He puts an arm around me and shows me off but he... he dismissed me.” Janus gave a slight sniffle and he forced himself to look up the ceiling blink repeatedly as if trying to hold in tears. 

“Oh my God,” Sofia gasped. “He did? I am going to-”

“Don’t!” Janus told her quickly. “Please. I just want to enjoy tonight and then I-I’m actually leaving to go on a trip tomorrow. I just... I just need to-”

“Somewhere to think?” Manuel guessed.

“Yeah... but please don't tell him I told you. I don't want more drama. He’ll try to stop me from leaving and I just need to be alone. I’m only here tonight because I promised him weeks ago that I’d come.”

“You poor thing,” Sofia frowned, gently taking his face in her hands and wiping away the beginning of tears. “We’ll keep your secret. And give him a stern talking to once you’re gone okay?”

Janus gave her a thankful smile. “Okay.”

~~~~

“How long did they manage to keep the secret?” Logan questioned.

“Do you not watch the news?” Janus asked with a smile.

“I was more concerned about coming to arrest you.”

Janus gave a laugh in reply and Logan silently hated how much he tuned in to the pleasant sound. “They didn’t make it twelve hours, but Daniel’s name was kept out of it. And Remy is currently stormed by paparazzi, but he’ll make it out sooner than later.”

“I see. And you claimed you’re leaving today?”

“Is that a problem?”

“It might be... but what happened for the rest of the night?”

“I did my part, kept my alibi. Remy was talking to Thomas most of the night, so I left it to him to ensure Thomas was distracted and Virgil wasn’t caught. The end.”

“That’s it? Logan asked in disbelief. “There must be more.”

“Oh? Do you like my story that much, Agent?”

Logan ignored him. “What about the painting? Why steal it? What is to be gained? I highly doubt that you were suddenly feeling bad about lying about rediscorved art.”

“Of course not. No that was... a hiccup of sorts... as if the murder wasn’t already.”

“What do you mean?”

Janus gave a small sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose as if upset at the thought of it, but he told the story nonetheless. 

~~~~

The moment Remus had altered the security footage he was moving. He left the staff quarters and headed to the base of the villa. He checked his surroundings to ensure he was alone twice, but then he could hear Remus’ voice in his ear. 

“No one is watching you but me Virgie.”

“Something feels off,” Virgil whispered back.

“You’re always paranoid. I wouldn’t let you get caught. No! What? He deserves a red card for that, not a yellow!”

“Are- are you watching the game without me?”

“Hurry back and I won't have to. Oh do you want color commentary in the meantime?”

“No.”

The word was ignored as Remus began to describe the game going on, and Virgil did his best to ignore it as he began his ascent up the trellis. He bit his tongue as he climbed silently worried about whether it would hold his weight (despite the fact he had tested it multiple times previously) but even so he climbed it. The trellis came to a stop beneath the balcony so now came the next issue. He took a deep breath and pulled the metal spikes from his belt and stabbed one in above him before he did the same with the next. And then he was hanging. It was slower moving than he’d like to admit, but he had done this in harder locations higher from the ground. He reached the end of the underside of the balcony and reached up to begin the turn from underneath to the side. He just needed to keep his foc- 

“Goal! Yes!”

Virgil jerked in surprise and quickly steadied himself as his heart rate spiked. “Remus?”

“That was such a good- hm?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You could at least say please, manners are everything Virgie.”

Virgil held in a retort as he climbed further and reached up for the railing. It wasn’t until he had both feet firmly placed on the other side of it did he calm even slightly. The halls were empty and Remus was monitoring, but that didn’t mean that Virgil was planning to move slowly. He hurried down the hall keeping his steps as quiet as possible and headed toward the office. He glanced back and forth out of habit before pulling out his lockpicks. The long pieces of metal were as familiar to him as his own fingers, and perhaps that's why in a few expert clicks, the door was open and he was on the other side of it. The room was dark and quiet, but that was to be accepted given the host was elsewhere in his home. Virgil took a step in turning on his headlamp as he did. When he did, the painting was easy to spot. It hung on the wall behind the small bar looking out to the rest of the room. He went to it quickly and ran his fingers over it looking for the compartment Remus had engineered, but he couldn’t find it.

“Remus, where is it? The opening?”

“Bottom left.”

Virgil frowned and put pressure on the spot once more only succeeding in deepening his frown. “It's not here.”

“Yes it is.”

“No its-”

“Just shove it forward then- Someone’s walking your way. Get it and get out.”

“I would if I could.” 

What must’ve been a Greek swear echoed in the earpiece, “It's the Target, I don't know if he’s headed for the office or somewhere else, but he’s about to turn to the hall. Get out now.”

Virgil could hear the footsteps now. He bit his tongue in thought as panic rose in his chest. He hurriedly turned off the headlamp as they grew closer each one echoing on the floor as it came closer. But there was nowhere to hide in this room- not if he didn’t know what the man was coming in here to do. Damnit, what was Janus even doing? The idiot only had one job for the evening and it seemed he couldn’t do that. Would Virgil really have to teach him everything? 

Virgil ran eyes over the room in the dark before a wardrobe stuck out to him and with no other choice he bit back a curse as he moved to the door- locked it- and ran for the wardrobe. He had just closed the door behind him when the office door opened. From his spot holding his breath amongst the rich man’s clothes (hell why did this man even have a wardrobe in his office? Did rich people change clothes in the middle of meetings?) Virgil could only see the light of the room, but he could hear. The Target had crossed the room and was rummaging through his desk. Time seemed to slow as Virgil’s body cramped at the uncomfortable position, he couldn't risk moving. He was already barely fitting in the space as it was, and movement could cause the door to open and he couldn’t have that even if the cramping on his leg could be due to his former injury. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the feeling. This was no different than any other challenge. Challenges were the breath of life. They were what inspired Virgil to move forward despite everything, because nothing came easy. His mom had taught him that, and even if she hadn’t he had realized it soon enough. Because what came easy wasn’t always deserved. 

The closing of the office door and the click of the lock were like blessings. Virgil climbed out giving a sigh of relief as he did. He flexed his leg a few times before he closed the wardrobe and moved to stand in front of the painting once more. But he still had no clue how to access the planted bug. 

It was another swear in his ears which distracted Virgil from his analysis of the frame. “I need you to stop talking about the game.”

“I...I think he’s dead.”

Virgil froze, “What?”

“I-I don't... I looked back to the game and when I looked back there’s a ton of blood on the floor!”

“What where?” 

“At the end of the hall!”

“I’ve had enough,” Virgil decided, removing the large painting from the wall. “Drive the van as close as you can get.”

~~~~

“He was spooked by the victim’s death and took the whole painting then?”

“Yes,” Janus nodded tiredly. “Virgil has been doing this longer than me, but he isn't as skilled in keeping his emotions in check.”

“And the reason there is no footage of the murder is because Remus had already been looping that area because Virgil was due to make his escape that way.”

“Correct.”

Logan paused in thought as he squinted at Janus as the words settled in his mind. And just like that all at once, the riddle had an answer, “That would mean the killer had to know that the footage was being manipulated.”

“They would.”

“And the only person who knew what was happening that night, who was there, and who wasn’t you or Virgil was... Remy.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” Janus nodded. 

“But why would he-”

“I’m sure you can figure that out yourself, Agent. My story was about what I am doing in this city. Not about the murder.”

“They’re connected,” Logan argued. “This means Remy has been murdering people for weeks! And-”

“Perhaps, but they also are only strung together by the word of a chronic liar and an Agent out of line.”

Logan faltered as he looked into Janus’ eyes. The man had let his confident mask shatter to reveal what was true because at this point it didn’t matter. Logan already knew the truth, he had known it since the conversation had started or perhaps even before then, in this situation, he was powerless. 

“I’ll catch him,” Logan said anyway. “Remy will be charged.”

“I believe that you’ll try. But now, Agent... I think I should be going.”

No. “You can’t-”

“Why not?” he asked standing. “This is a conversation, not an interrogation after all. One happening off the record. Even if you were to arrest me one day in the future, this would all be more than circumstantial. So I need to leave the country before Remy catches up with me.”

No no no no.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to find Blank, get his answers and arrest the man no matter what. It didn't matter that Blank or Janus was his soulmate. It didn’t matter that he didn’t even have permission. All that mattered was that he couldn’t let Janus walk away. He had been doing this for too long. For so long he had been chasing the wolf in sheep’s clothing and his merry band, he had been running through countries and letting time pass. It had been over two years followed by six months of riding a desk hoping and praying for this moment. He had spent six months pretending he was satisfied as long as he had Patton but this moment here was what he had been yearning for so it couldn’t just- just end. 

Emotions had never been Logan’s strong suit. Everyone who knew him knew that. But never more than now did Logan wish he could explain the passion- the anger- the fear- the joy- the sadness and more that filled him to the brim. 

“Please remember that this case isn’t everything. I know you’ve devoted yourself to it kiddo- and you know I love how into your work you get but... but you’re more than the case.”

Patton had said and meant those words, but here and now Logan wasn’t sure if they were true. Because even if he could arrest Janus here and now what would come from it? He’d arrest the man, and feel better for what? A day? A week? A month? But it wouldn't change that he would still be chained down by his desk by his superiors. It hurt. More than emotionally it hurt physically. There was a pain in his chest and it hurt. It hurt more than he wanted to admit- even if it was just admitting it to his soul. It was hard to admit that he needed more than Patton- when he knew that Patton would give him everything if he dared say the word. He needed his job- what he truly loved more than any person. And the only way he could keep any grasp on his former position and the former case... was to let Janus go.

“I will arrest you,” Logan promised finally.

Janus gave him a smirk and a slight nod of the head, “Let’s see if you keep that promise Logan... And when we meet again, do me a favor and try to be more romantic. If you do... perhaps I’ll have another story for you.”

~~~~~

“Lo!”

Logan lifted his head to see his lover’s face. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Did you-”

Patton’s words were cut off as Logan moved forward to embrace his fiancé tightly. 

“Lo?” Patton asked softly as he hugged him back.

“I’m sorry,” Logan told him as he buried his face in Patton’s shoulder. “I should’ve been better to you.”

“Hush,” Patton chided. “What could be better than hugging you? Well I guess I prefer it when you’re smiling and hugging me. But this can lead to smiling Logan so it's okay.”

Logan couldn't stop the small chuckle which left his mouth.

“Oh I hear him already.”

Logan shook his head as he pulled back enough to wipe at his eyes, “I love you, Patton.”

Patton gave him a bright smile back, “I love you too. Now I’m going to start dinner and you can tell me about your day and if you met Blank some other time if you don't want to talk now, okay?”

“I met him,” Logan confirmed. “And... well, I got more than I bargained for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have you ever considered the thought of having two soulmates?”

Patton’s mouth dropped open in surprise, “No way!”

“Yeah... he is.”

“Wow... well I know I just said I’d wait, but can I go back on it?”

Logan gave a laugh as he pulled Patton close to him again, “Yeah... you can.”

~~~~

This line of work was never something he had seen himself in. He had grown up thinking his only choice in life was to become a businessman and be better than those he was exposed to. And then he had witnessed a robbery, and he fell head first to a world he hadn’t known. And despite everything he had fallen in love with it. The art slipping his way into any group was something he had learned, and it was the art of the lie that he had perfected which allowed him to be such a notorious conman. And nothing could be better than that. Cons allowed him to meet amazing people, travel, and do something only he could. Others could steal, others could paint, others could hack, but only he could weave one another together to reach the goal. Only he was the one who could put things together- or he was supposed to be. But Logan was an anomaly, and even if Janus had the ability to lie to him he was sure the man would have figured him out on his own. “A long while,” that’s how long Logan claimed to have been tracking him. He couldn't help but wonder how long that had been. How long had it been that he had left behind enough clues to let his soulmate into his mind? He'd have to do better if he didn’t want to come this close to being caught again. But at the same time... the thought of Logan catching him wasn’t a bad one. Janus gave himself a quick and mental shake, no. He had other people to think about, and- and if Logan did catch up with him he was sure as hell going to make the other man earn it.

A soft sigh left his lips as he tried not to think about how uncomfortable the coach seats were as the plane moved closer and closer to the tarmac. It had been a longer flight than he had anticipated given the weather not allowing them to land, but now he was more than grateful for a chance to stretch his legs. Then it was off for a month of relaxation and planning before doing it all over again. As the plane landed and began to taxi he reached for his phone and pulled it out to turn it on and was greeted by a barrage of texts. 

He didn't recognize the number having wiped off all personal data before boarding the plane, but reading through them it was clear enough who they were from. 

What the hell Daniel!? WE HAD A DEAL

Bitch where the fuck r u  

I will fkin find you!

What do uthink ur smart or someth? 

I have ppl everywhre. They told me about u!

ANd when i tell them that u fkin destroyed me?

i’ll kill u

They went on like that for a while but Janus paid them no mind, and he did his best not to smile as he picked up his napkin and rubbed it over the phone. When it was his turn he climbed out and took down his carry on and moved to leave. He gave his thanks to the flight attendants as he did, ensuring he complimented a woman’s earrings as he did so he could drop the napkin- and phone in her trash without her noticing. 

“One month to relax,” he breathed out as he left the plane. One month of no work... he wasn’t entirely sure he would survive that long without doing what he loved. But, perhaps it would make quite the prologue. 

~~~~

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Sequel

The end! But as you see above I'm planning for sequel! So I hope you're curious about learning more about the history of Janus and crew and about Remy. So yeah, until then!

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

The thing is, Luke had nothing.  

His mother went insane when Luke was an infant. Luke left her but the one time that Luke returned to his childhood home (an entire five years after running away), Hermes told him not to come back. Hermes severed whatever ties Luke had left with May. 

His father? Did not help him. Not at all. Not even once. Hermes admits to not helping Luke and when he does say that he’ll talk to someone about getting Luke help...the help that comes is only there for Thalia. It’s important to note that Hermes doesn’t see Luke as a hero, but Luke sees himself as one before he even gets to camp. 

He tried to make friends with mortals but they thought that being a demigod was cool...even though it’s pretty clear that there’s nothing cool about being homeless and hunted down like prey. Luke understandably didn’t want to be friends with people who didn’t understand him, so he left the mortals. No friends for the first eleven years of his life. 

The one friend that he did find, Thalia, was closed off and withdrawn. She didn’t want to share more than the bare minimum of information, going so far as to not even tell Luke the name of the goat they followed for three whole days. Thalia died three years later. When she returned to life, she didn’t hesitate to try and kill Luke. 

Then there’s Annabeth, who was never a friend to Luke, but whom he saw as family. Sometime during the five years they were at camp, Annabeth stopped seeing Luke as family and started to see him as a potential mate. She blushes whenever he’s around, she pants when he hugs her, her voice turns breathy when she talks to him. That’s such a huge shift in dynamics that it had to have impacted how often they interacted. You’ve also got to take into account the fact that Annabeth is very quick to turn on Luke after his betrayal, claiming that she knew he was capable of cold-blooded murder the whole time. 

Luke is put in charge of teaching sword fighting for the entire camp. We don’t know how young he was but the consensus is that “as soon as they saw his skill.” Considering that Annabeth is a cabin counselor at twelve, and that Percy got his first sword fighting lesson a week into camp, it isn’t unreasonable to assume that Luke was given this position soon after arriving at camp. They put him in charge of teaching the other kids how to defend themselves from monsters. The guilt alone that Luke must have felt when the kids died on quests or over the off season would be enough to cripple most people; not even including the fact that whatever sense of self-worth he still possessed must have gone down the drain.

Throughout that, Luke wasn’t even using his own sword. A theme throughout the series is that everyone gets a Special Weapon with a Name (Riptide) or Significance (Annabeth’s dagger). Luke didn’t get something like that until Kronos gave him Backbiter. 

Luke’s quest was the only quest in the whole series that was utterly pointless. Everyone else went on a quest for life or death reasons but Luke’s quest was given to him solely because Hermes didn’t think that Luke was a hero and that Luke needed to prove himself as “great.” We don’t know what happened on Luke’s quest, except for three facts: he didn’t get the apple, he came back with at least one injury (the scar on his face) and Ladon’s claw, and after he returned, all quests were banned until Percy’s quest. His quest was a joke that he didn’t even win, and it caused everyone at camp to treat Luke differently.

The Hermes cabin wasn’t even for him (and his siblings). They had a worn down cabin overfilled with the kids that were unwanted and deemed less important by camp.

Kronos spent two years grooming and manipulating Luke. He stoked the anger and made Luke’s wounds fester. He made promises that he had no intentions of keeping. When Kronos finally asks something of Luke, it’s a theft. Something small and easy enough, considering. When Luke fails, he’s punished harshly enough that months later it still makes him afraid. After that, Kronos asks for more and more very quickly. Failures are met with harsher and harsher punishments.

Even the meager friendship/relationship that Luke managed to make with Kelli was spoiled after she killed someone.

Kronos’ final punishment is to take Luke’s body. Luke is still in his body but he can’t control it. He tries so hard to regain control for the entire year that Kronos has his body.

Every single thing that Luke ever has in life is systematically - and usually violently - ripped away. That is, those things he’s lucky enough to get. What isn’t taken away, he’s forced to give up.

In the end, Luke is forced to give up the one thing he has left: his life.

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