#I wonder if I am going to wind up making more fics with polls

[running2reanimation]

Progress

It’s going to get better; it has to.

He must’ve taken the train home. He stares into the darkness of his empty house, a piece of paper held in his trembling hand.

King looked behind himself, waiting for this to stop being real. For Gold to bound in. For him to wake up, because this must be a dream, a nightmare, because it doesn’t make sense.

He left here this morning with the sun at his back and his son’s hand in his.

He looked down at the paper in the hand once held by his boy, and the urge to crush the paper or tear it or burn it but none of that was enough.

He needed to destroy it, like it had destroyed his son. Like it had destroyed him.

——

He hated who he’d become in his wrath, and he was sure Gold would have too.

Purple had been here, they’d had breakfast together, but the boy had to go get his things if he was going to stay long term.

And King needed him to stay long term.

Without being driven by hate, he was acutely aware how empty the house was. How haunted, gold dust in every corner.

He looked at the stacks and stacks of books. At the pile of failed staves. At the mess on the wall. At the pile of garbage in the kitchen. All of it had to go and the day wasn’t getting any younger.

And if he was working, he wasn’t thinking about it.

——

“You really aren’t giving yourself any time to process anything, huh?” The accusation came from Purple a few days into their clean up, while King was scrubbing the counter.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you even sat down and cried?”

“No, I haven’t, I don’t have time. This has to be cleaned up right now,” King wouldn’t, couldn’t look at Purple, because he knew the boy was right. He should slow down and stop running.

“I did, y’know. When I went back to my apartment, I freaked out so bad. Part of why I left was because I figured you needed to too. Turns out you still need to,” King stared at Purple, surprised at the vulnerability the younger stick was showing him.

“I don’t think I know how,” King confessed, returning Purple’s trust in kind, “This has just always been what I do. Just keep moving.”

“Well, I don’t have any tips beyond maybe don’t because it’s unhealthy. Take a break for a breakdown at some point, please? If you need me to be here for you, I will, or if you need me to give you some space, or whatever. Just let me know,” And with his piece said Purple went back to sweeping the floor.

——

King sat at his desk, alone in the house. Purple often split his time between several homes, and today was not King’s turn.

In front of him was an empty journal; Purple suggested that it might be easier to get in touch with his emotions through writing. Purple didn’t say whether or not he had a journal and really it wasn’t King’s business if he did.

“I miss you.” He wrote. And then again, “I miss you.”

He filled the page with, “I miss you.”

His throat felt ragged, not quite sobbing, though his face was warm and wet. But once the page was full, he stopped. That was enough, it was a start.

He was cleaning out a festering infection. There was a sense of relief. Things could only get better from here.

[sequinsmile-x]

Alacrity

It was Mother’s Day here, but it wasn’t back at home.

-x-

I don't know why I thought the poll I did would have any other result than doing a Mother's Day fic today and when it's Mother's Day in the US haha

So here is your first Mother's Day fic of the season. You'll be mad at me for the first couple of minutes hehe

-x-

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

March, she thought, was a strange month. On the cusp of two seasons, the weather was unpredictable. Cold with the wind biting at your ears one day, and a textbook spring day the next. Warmth that you could feel on your face if you stood in the sun for long enough, a sure sign of all the new beginnings to come. 

Emily wonders if anywhere was stranger than London. 

She sighs as she’s jostled on the underground, the train busy despite it being a Sunday, and she finds herself yet again asking herself why she ever answered Clyde’s calls. As she steps out onto the street she’s hit by cool air, the almost suppressive heat from the train dissipating, but she smiles as she walks towards the Interpol building. Clyde offered her a car, although caveated that it would take some time because it was Mother’s Day, so she’d decided she would make her own way over. 

It was Mother’s Day here, but it wasn’t back at home. She shakes the thought off, knowing it would make her emotional, tears something she didn’t want to shed. 

Clyde has the audacity to smirk at her as she walks into his office, as if she hadn’t trekked across a city for him on what was supposed to be her day off. 

“Darling,” he says, his smirk widening as she glares at him, “You made it.” 

“Can we get this over with, Clyde?” She asks, taking a seat facing his desk. 

“Oh,” he replies, leaning forward on his desk, his hands clasped together, “You are grumpy.” 

“Clyde, I swear to God-”

“What, you had plans today did you?” 

She rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms over her chest, “I was going to go have some breakfast, and then maybe go to the Tower of London.” 

He chuckles at her, “Quite the little tourist aren’t you?” 

She laughs, shaking her head, embarrassment that feels misplaced spreading through her, tinging her cheeks pink. She’d grown up without roots, always somewhere new, leaving whenever a place felt familiar. She’d never felt as if she could explore a place as a visitor, never had the chance to look at a city and wonder what it would be like to live there because she already had the answer. It was different now she had a home, somewhere she belonged, and it allowed her to enjoy travel in a way she hadn’t thought she ever would.

Even if it was for work. 

“Well, I am here for a whole week by myself, I had to do something with my time off.” 

Clyde winks at her, always insistent on trying to flirt with her even after all this time, “Just think, if you’d taken me up on my job offer all those years ago this would be your home.” 

For a second, she’d almost taken him up on it. Fear and adrenaline from the bank explosion coursing through her, her body practically vibrating with it as she stepped outside, briefly wondering if she should just leave. Then she’d spotted Aaron. He’d wrapped his arms tightly around her, rushing over and pulling her into a hug that left no doubt in the rest of the team's minds about their relationship. A secret they had kept for months in rubble at their feet, just like the building behind them. 

Fear had almost made her leave. Her past constantly chasing her. Visible in every dark corner. But love made her stay. Love for Aaron, for his son. Her future a bright light that reminded her that her monsters were dead and buried, no longer hiding in the shadows. 

She looks down at her hands in her lap, at the wedding rings that shone in the bright lights of Clyde’s office. 

“Well,” she says, smiling at him like she did every time he brought it up, “I would have been giving up a lot more than a job if I had.” 

He hums, barely hiding a smile before he leans back in his chair, “You can go.” 

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and she frowns at him, her eyebrows knitting together, “What?”

“The issue rather resolved itself,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, “Sorry you wasted your time coming down here.” 

She clenches her teeth and clears her throat, “You couldn’t have called me?” She asks, staring at him, irritation licking at her insides, “Told me to turn back around, go back to my very comfortable bed in my hotel room?” 

“You were on the underground,” he smirks, “You would have had no service. You go home on Tuesday?” 

She shakes her head as she stands up, “Yes, I do. I’ve got an early flight, so tomorrow is your last chance if you need me for anything else.” 

“Until next time of course,” he says, eyes fixed on her as she walks towards his office door.

“You’ll be lucky if I ever answer the phone again,” she quips, and she hears him laugh behind her, “See you next time, Clyde.” 

“Do thank that husband of yours for letting us borrow you,” he replies, and she flips him off over her shoulder, smiling to herself as his laughter increases.

If she’d turned back, she would have seen the fond smile on his face.

___

Emily sighs as she walks back into her hotel suite, ensuring the door is closed behind her. She takes a sip of her coffee and freezes when she hears a sound that comes from one of the bedrooms. She turns slowly, staying quiet as she places her coffee down on the side. Her fingers twitch for the gun she doesn’t have on her hip, her weapon left all the way at home back in DC. She swallows thickly and takes a moment to gather herself, trying to reassure herself that it would likely just be housekeeping, before she calls out. 

“Hello? Who’s there?” 

There’s a beat of silence, and then one of the doors swings open, followed by an all too familiar voice. 

“Surprise!” 

She’s hit full force by Jack running at her, the young boy wrapping his arms tightly around her. She hugs him back just as fiercely, choking on a laugh as it escapes her.

“Jack!” She exclaims, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, “What are you doing here?” 

“We thought we’d surprise you.” 

She stands up straight to see her husband walk into view, their two-year-old daughter on his hip. Olivia reaches out for her as soon as she’s within reach, her tiny hands grasping for her mother. 

“Mama!” 

“Hi sweet girl,” she says, pulling her daughter into her arms. She presses a fierce kiss into her hair, feeling a tension she hadn’t realised was in her chest easing at the familiar weight against her, “Mommy missed you,” she kisses Olivia’s head once more before smiling down at Jack, ruffling his hair with her spare hand, “I missed both of you.” 

It was the longest she’d been away since she’d had Olivia, the longest she’d ever been away from her daughter. She’d almost turned Clyde’s request for help down because of it, but Aaron had gently encouraged her. Told her to go as she would have without a second thought a few years ago. 

“What about me?” 

She looks at her husband, her eyes drifting over his polo shirt, the way the muscles in his arms shifted under his skin as he puts his hands on his hips. She smiles at him, her lips sinking into her lower lip as she adjusts her hold on their daughter. 

“I guess I missed you too,” she replies, her smirk giving way to a smile as he raises an eyebrow at her as he closes the gap between them. He leans in to kiss her, and she chases him as he pulls back, stamping another kiss to his lips, “What are you doing here?” 

He shrugs as if the answer was obvious, “It’s Mother’s Day.” 

“We brought you presents. And cards!” Jack explains, his excitement clear. 

She looks back at Aaron and shakes her head, “Honey…” 

He senses her confusion, her inability to understand why he’d fly their family to come to see her when she was due home in a few days anyway. As if she wasn’t the glue that held them all together, the very thing that made them what they were.

“Jack,” he says, gaining his son’s attention as he takes Olivia from Emily, placing the little girl down on the ground next to her brother, “Take your sister into your room, and why don’t you help her pick out her outfit for today? We’ll go out for lunch soon. Mom and I will be in to help her change in a minute.” 

Jack nods, taking his little sister's hand, “Come on Livvy,” he says, walking slowly enough for the toddler to walk in tandem with him, “That’s Daddy’s way of saying the grown-ups need some time alone.” 

Emily laughs at that, her heart swelling in her chest as she watches her children walk towards the spare bedroom that had been empty her entire time in London. Aaron chuckles too, shaking his head as he meets his wife's eyes. 

“He gets that from you, you know,” he says, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her properly into his embrace, “He had nowhere near as much attitude before you moved in.” 

She smiles, and she links her hands behind his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “You love it,” she replies, scratching at the back of his head with her blunt nails, “Aaron…”

“We wanted to come, Em,” he says, his hand firm on her lower back as he pulls her closer, a fond smile on his face, “The kids were insistent on it. Livvy especially.” 

“Oh,” she says, smiling widely at him, “Our two-year-old insisted you all boarded a trans-Atlantic flight just two days before I was due home?” 

“She was very vocal about it,” he quips, leaning in to kiss her again, enjoying having her back in his arms after a week apart. Emily hums in response, “Besides, Clyde let us use one of the jets.” 

She scoffs as it all slides into place. Clyde’s insistence she trekked across town to see him, only to send her back almost immediately. He was buying Aaron time to sneak into her hotel.

“That bast-”

“Little ears in the next room, sweetheart,” he says, a smile spreading over his face that lets her know he’s proud of himself, “He called me the first day you were here,” he explains, running his hand up and down her back, “Something about you looking more miserable than he’d ever seen you. And that that was saying something.” 

“Ce bâtard moralisateur.”

“Em.”

“Neither of the kids speaks French, Aaron.” 

“Neither do I,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “But even I know that wasn’t a compliment.” 

She laughs and then nods. She bites her lower lip, her joy at seeing him, at seeing all of them, bubbling under her skin, “It’s still a long way to come just to see me.” 

Aaron frowns at her and moves one of his hands from her back to cup her cheek, holding her in place so he can look at her properly, “You’re our favourite person, Em,” he says seriously, the previous teasing nature of their conversation nowhere to be found, “We’d all travel all the way across the world to see you if we needed to.” 

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Somehow, even after all this time, still taken aback when he said something so open. So full of affection it makes her old tactics of running scream at her from deep inside where she’d buried them long again. It’s fleeting, barely a second before she lets herself enjoy the feeling of being in his embrace, the muffled sounds of their children talking through the thin hotel room wall. She simply nods before she leans in to kiss him, stamping her lips against his twice before she pulls back and rests her forehead against his. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, “What were your plans for today? It is Mother’s Day after all, so it only seems fair that you decide.” 

She beams at him, “Well, I was going to eat and then go to the Tower of London,” she scrunches her nose up, “Although with the kids with us that might not be-”

“You’re kidding right?” He cuts over her, smiling widely, “Jack is a 10-year-old boy, going somewhere like that is a dream come true. And Livvy will likely sleep in the stroller all afternoon anyway because of the time difference.” 

She nods, “Ok, that sounds perfect,” she kisses him once more before pulling back from him entirely, “We should check on the kids, at this rate we’ll be hauling Livvy around in whatever the most mismatched clothes you packed are.” He chuckles, his hand on her lower back as they walk towards the kid's room, “I hope you know this doesn’t mean you get out of Mother’s Day in May.” 

He laughs and kisses the side of her head, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

-x-

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[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: All I see is red lights

Tags: Song Fic, Pole Dancing, Modern AU, No Incest, Established Relationship, Plot What Plot, Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi, mildly sugar baby vibes!Yuanzhi

A/N: I did a poll here on whether I should be writing this fic or not, and I'm pretty glad to know that most of y'all are on the same kind of frequency as I am. No angst here, as much as I wanted to write that, it just wasn't coming together.

Many, many thanks to Ryl for the pole dancing pointers 🍑 I hope I did them (and you!) justice x

Tagging @rose-tinted-vision and @evolutionsbedingt coz I feel like this would be relevant to our shared interests :)

--

At the sound of the first pant, Yuanzhi rolls his body forward into his first floorwork style. He inhales, pushing through the shoulders and keeping his neck elongated and engaged. Arching his lower back, he elongates his right leg, pointing through his ankles.

Like he'd practised in class, he bends, keeping his body weight on his hands as he lifts his right leg and extends his bottom leg, bending and melting down into the floor just as the first chorus bleeds through the speakers.

He looks up at Shangjue as he rocks his hips back, pushing himself into an open kneel. Yuanzhi suppresses the smile at the almost awed look on his boyfriend's face.

Are the purple 10-inch heels doing it for him, Yuanzhi wonders, or are the leggings that he'd bought specifically for the way they show off his ass the things that are making his Shangjue blush so prettily?

No matter.

Yuanzhi curls himself back onto the floor, lying down, breathing in deep and going into a shoulder stance. Crossing his legs, he creates a measured clockwork motion with his back leg just as he hears the sultry crooning of the singer dip.

I really wanna know, yeah, I already lost control, oh

Remembering how Weishan jie had taught him, he turns and starts crawling slowly to the pole he had installed in the middle of their living room when he first realised that pole dancing was really going to be a thing for him. Shangjue hadn't even blinked when he told him, just gave him his black card and kissed him on the cheek.

And now, Yuanzhi just wants to show him the fruits of his labour.

Granted, he'd just been at it for a bit over two months, but Weishan jie and the other jiejies in the classroom never made him feel like an outsider for being the only guy there, nor did they shame him for sometimes not getting the moves right.

It's because of their encouragement that he is able to climb the pole, strong enough to hold on and roll himself into a front hook spin, transitioning into a back hook.

Straightening his outside leg to land, he is barely winded when he asks, "How is it?"

Shangjue remains quiet. The music climbs to a bassy climax, just as Yuanzhi grabs the pole to give himself a little more momentum to roll himself into a chair spin.

"How much did you say these lessons were again?"

Yuanzhi kicks a leg out to land. "For the pole dancing?" He makes eye contact with Shangjue. Holding on to the pole, he slowly slides himself into a split.

Shangjue crosses his legs tightly.

Yuanzhi chuckles. "Gege, can I show you more?"

[laketaj24]

Roses and Iron: Geralt

Author’s Note: Alright here is the winner of the Poll fic form yesterday! Hope you enjoy!! Thank you so much for reading!! Let me know what you think!! Requests are open but I am slow! Shout out to @demivampirew for the gif!!

Pairings: Young!Geralt X Reader

Warnings: Smut

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You paced your room, your hands shook uneasily, and it was accompanied by the beat of your heart. Tonight was the night, the betrothal to a Witcher from the academy had been arranged from your father months ago, and tonight was the wedding. But, per his request, the affair was not grand, and the only people in attendance were the two of you.

“You will do well; this alliance is needed.” Your mother entered your room dressed in her gown. The roses garnished her black dress; the attire was typical for a family of your ranking—high Majesties of the Northern Realm. Black and red were the family’s colors. “There is worry on your face.”

“How will I know I am what he wants?’

“Men do not know what they desire until they have it. Turn.” She directed. Your mother resembled you; her strong features were all you, a soft jawline and almond-shaped eyes that spoke even when she didn’t. Her soft ochre skin balanced the depth of the black dress. She started to pull at your corset drawing it tighter.

“I do not understand why this alliance is even needed.”

“It is not for you to understand; it is only your path to do as you are directed and marry the young Witcher. Let us dress you and meet him.”

It didn’t take long for you to dress and enter the great hall. The Witchers had made their way into the hall and so had Geralt. Geralt stood in front of you with a poised demeanor and a smile. It looked genuine, and he looked nothing of The Witcher’s that stood behind him. His hair in dark curls that hit his back and his eyes crystal blue that only tinged with the amber of his kinsman. “High Majesty.” He said, bowing to you. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“And you.” You bowed, looking at him through the sheer red veil. “Geralt of Kaer Morhen.”

“Geralt is fine.”

“Are you both ready for the union.” The mage looked impatient; the incongruous pair was a waste of her time, you knew it, and she did as well. “Come forth.”

The low rumble of murmurs ceased as you two met the mage. Your heart no longer felt heavy; it pattered lightly against your chest as Geralt took your hand in his and walked you towards the mage. “Today, we are here join The Majestic High Elven Court of the North with Kaer Morhen. Before me stands Geralt, the youngest Witcher of Kaer Morhen and The high Majesty Y/N.” She pauses and takes your hand and his, placing them in the wooden bowl. “We dip their hands in the water, this ceremonial. This act washes away any disputes, bad blood, or malicious intent. This makes the union pure.”

The water was calm; you sloshed your fingers around it for a second and removed it, the trickles hit the wooden floor. “Nice.”

“You are a pure elf.” She smiled. “Your heart has good intentions, and surprisingly, so does the Witcher’s heart.” The mage exhaled. “Present the rings,” She pointed to her apprentices, and they came bearing the brilliantly silver rings. “Place these rings on the proper finger, as tradition would see fit the pearl in yours in white. Once defloration has occurred, the pearl will turn the color of roses, and this union shall be complete, and the alliance shall be recognized. May the spirits guide you.” She turned, and the murmurs reconvened.

Your mother appeared at your side. “It will be done by morning.” She smiled and turned to Geralt. “You two are free to leave. The ceremony has ended.”

It had no splendor like your brothers, no trumpets played, or flowers fell. They just dispersed, and you stood alone in the Great Hall with Geralt at your side. “Shall we retire?”

“So eager?’

“I have traveled for ten days.” Geralt added. “We can only sleep if you would like; I have no intentions of rushing you in this matter. It is your decision, but I am exhausted.” He stretched his hand to you, and you took it. “Our chambers are on the east end, from what I am told. Are you familiar?”

“I shall lead the way.”

The East End chambers had been yours before your brother had married, but when he deserted his position as King, he’d lost this wing, and it had become yours once more. You lead the way up the winding steps. The East Wing had been decorated for the event, rose petals sprinkled along the steps leading to the bedroom, and you did not want to sleep. You’d heard the tales of sex, how it could make a woman feel powerful or loved. You wanted both; you wanted to be worshipped even if you did not know what you were walking into.

Geralt looked at the bed; a smile covered his face as he unbuttoned the stuffy leather jacket he’d worn and shrugged out of it, hanging it on the bedpost and then taking a seat. “It is wonderful here; I slept on a stone bed at Kaer Morhen; anything is better than that.”

“I suppose.” You closed the door and looked at him. “Will you assist in undressing me.”

“It would be an honor.” He motioned you over to the bed with an amused smile on his face. Once in front of you, he started untying the corset and gently tugging the heavy dress down your body. “I find it odd that women go through such lengths.”

“You did not like my dress.”

“I loved it.” He rebutted. “But, does one really have to dress a rose to acknowledge its beauty? It is at its finest bare.”

“Perhaps that’s how I should present myself to you, like the rose I am.” It was a relief to feel the dress and the undergarments fall to the floor. You stepped out of the pool of clothing at your feet and then turned to face Geralt. “

Geralt’s eyes locked on you, “You’re a virgin.”

“I am.”

“So here you are before me, bare, beautiful, fragile. What am I to do with you?”

“Your worse.” You answered, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Please.”

Geralt is hesitant, moving you towards him, resting his hands on the nape of your ass. The pads of his fingers were rough, proof of his training he had yet to complete. “I do not know how to be gentle.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Geralt had not kissed you the entire evening; you hadn’t expected him to beings that you had only met a few hours prior. But right now, you craved for him to touch you, kiss you, and most importantly fuck you. He didn’t need you to vocalize your request, he met your lips with haste pulling you on top of him, allowing you to take the lead, and you did so eagerly. He positioned the two of you in the middle of the bed, and you started slow. You kissed his jawline, the one thing you had been looking at the entire day; you peppered the kisses until you met his soft lips, and then you bit him playfully.

Geralt reacted, nipping you back and cupping your mound; his fingers danced at the pillowed lips pushing them back, exposing the glistening pink flesh beneath the ochre brown. “Have you ever cum on your own fingers?”

“Every night this week.” You admitted.

“You have no need for that anymore.” Geralt’s index finger dipped into you, curling before it slipped out and then back in again. You were wet for him. He started to fuck with that finger, and then he added another, and you inhaled sharply. “Did it feel like this?”

“No,” You breathed.

“Better?”

You shook your head, and the small spasms started around his fingers. It never happened that quick for you. But usually, after it did, you were ready to sleep. You rested on his chest as the small orgasm took over. “That was great.”

Geralt chuckled and rolled you onto the bed. He stood up and began to shed the rest of his clothes, revealing the chiseled, lean body you knew was under the clothes. “We have only started, my dear rose.”

Geralt climber back on the bed and hovered over you. He was hard already, but curiosity got the best of you. You reached between his legs and gripped the thick shaft. He jumped in your hands. You were beneath him, adjusting the sizeable man atop of you and the feeling of his warm cock, stroking at your entrance. “Brace yourself.” He smiled as the tip slid into your entrance. “I swear I will not hurt you.”

It was pointless to respond to him, you spread your legs wider for him, and he took the queue and slowly pushed into you. The slight sting was tolerable at first, his girth stretched you for an inch, and he halted. “Keep going.” You wriggled beneath him.

“Impatient.” He laughed. He pulled out, leaving you empty, and then he pushed into you deeper. Your eyes snapped shut, and he kissed your lips, moving slowly and then pausing, allowing you to feel him once more. He was thick, and your body was adjusting, your pussy slickened, and you wanted him to not be gentle.

“Geralt.” You whined.

“I will give you what you want,” He groaned, pulling out and then back in nearly hilt deep this time.

Your breath was knocked from you for a second once he genuinely started to fuck you. Geralt’s strokes were deliberately planned for you to feel every inch of him, and at first, they were uncomfortable, bordering painful. However, the curve of his dick hit the right spot each time he pushed into you, and though it had the potential to feel great, you couldn’t help but focus on the pain of it all.

Your nails raked down his arms as your legs quivered around him, but Geralt did not stop. His hips clapped against yours, drilling you into the bed until you began to shake. Your eyes fluttered. What the fuck was happening? Still pain, but if he stopped, you felt you might perish. Your moans replaced the pained hisses from earlier. Mewls filled the room, and Geralt had found a pace that both suited you and allowed him to fuck you the way you both wanted. He lifted your body from the mattress bring your hips closer as he fucked into you, and then placed you on his thighs. You were upright, and he was deeper, still pounding into you.

“Can you take it like this?” He whispered in your ear.

The words were sensual; you answered with your body. You started to meet Geralt’s thrust, fuck pain, pain is what you wanted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and locked eyes with him once more. And then your body erupted in pleasure, your pussy spasmed, and he was soaked with a grin. “Fuck.” Your cum had gushed out on him, soaking the bed and shocking the hell out of you.

“You feel like fucking silk.” He growled. You shook, halting your movements and Geralt continued to fuck into you until you landed back on your back, almost hanging off the bed. His hips met yours over and over, and you continued to mewl. He lasted a few more strokes, spilling into you with a shutter and a cathartic moan that only made you want to again.

 Henry Cavill Taglist: @oddsnendsfanfics @my-rosegold-soul @fallslikefeather @iloveyouyen @honeydulcewrites @thickemadame @taytayize123 @blackmissfrizzle @isthat-tyra98 @titty-teetee @yeet-me-out-tonight @inforapound @supernaturalvikingwhore  @l-auteuse @alwaysadreamingoptimist @chaneajoyyy @october505 @boomhauer @sciapod @abrokencondomiswhyimalive @littlefreya @bianaguipa @therandomthoughtsofmsparker @therealcalicali @twistedcharismaaa @singeramg @angreav @magdelen69 @madbaddic7ed @pocimaginesaesthetics @ajspencer1892 @jovanaprime @zejess93 @sapphirescrolls @sparklemichele @justgrits @persephones24 @ieshaa96 @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @mereka18 @cass-the-mess @angelic-kisses13 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @two-unbeatable-beaters @peakygroupie @sincerelysinister @rhys108   @madbaddic7ed @utterlyhopeful-fics @theemelanintrappp @ysmmsy​ @zealoushound​ @fandomfic-galore @a-dlv  @littlebvbie @hellshedevil @kebabgirl67 @frozen-nipples @xxxkatxo @bichibibi @thecurlyintrovert @tigerlillyscorner @chiddybangchiddy @keiva1000 @namjoonswifeyy​ @amorestevens​ @sohoseb​ @amberangel112​ @moonlacebeam​

[peakascum]

Reunion

First of all, thank you so much for the feedback on my first fic! Second of all, I am still trying to make the masterlist but Ia m new to this so it will take time. In the meantime, I will put a “peakascum” tag on every imagine so you will be able to find every writing under that tag on my profile. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Polly had smoked half a pack of cigarettes since the beginning of the family meeting. She had come in and sat at the most far out corner and stared aimlessly at the floor. Skin pale as ever, but her eyes held a whirlpool of emotions. She had a look of confusion, perhaps terror. A look the boys had only seen twice in their lives. The first time being when she bid them farewell at the train station before the war, the second time being when she learned the fate of her children. 

Tommy concluded the meeting, dismissing everyone to go about with their work and stared at her intently. “So are you going to tell me,” he paused to light his cigarette, “or am I gonna have to wait until you reach your breaking point?” Polly looked up at him and stood up, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It’s nothing Tom. Just stress.” She said, barely meeting his eyes. “Polly,” he started, clearing his throat, “we both know how you get when you bottle everything up. Now, I’m already stressed enough dividing everybody's jobs and calculating our next move. If this is about our rivals, you have nothing to worry about, but if-“ she gave him a pointed glance and said, “Oh come off it, Tom. It’s not about that. It’s- it’s silly.” The room stilled for a second. Polly kept staring at the window, building up courage, adjusting the words in her mind as to not sound completely delusional.

“I was at the market buying the essentials. Had to go all the way across town for that new tea that Ada likes- and I swear to God Thomas I am not on pills anymore- but I could've sworn I saw Martha.” She looked up at him, the first time since the beginning of the meeting. They both chuckled at how bizarre the idea sounded. “Martha? Our John’s dead wife Martha?” He had to say it out loud. The tone in his voice acknowledging how ridiculous it sounded. “I told you it was silly.”

But it wasn’t. To them, it did sound as if Polly was back on the self medication journey she went on since almost hanging. That was years ago. Since then, John had died, Michael had come back from America, they had moved up to high society, and had struck up new rivals on various spots in England. Life had changed. Clouds no longer lingered on the streets of Birmingham, everything started to matter a little bit more. They all missed John. Polly would pray for his soul every morning and every night. She would pray for his kids, the ones Esme took, pray they were safer and that somehow she would be able to see them again. 

The next family meeting had taken place in the small room at The Garrison. It was a quick one, more so to catch up on the day’s events. Arthur had come in around, whisky glass in hand, stumbling over his words, “So Poll you seeing ghosts now, eh?” He screamed, making the whole room chuckle and look at her expectantly. “That’s enough Arthur. Just an honest mistake.” She said, a grin painting her face, yet it did not reach her eyes. She knew it was silly, but it wouldn't be the first time she had seen the departed.

Finn stood near the door, facing Arthur’s back, laughing and mocking Polly with the rest of them. “I don’t really remember Martha well, but I don’t think you're delusional aunt Poll.” He said in a confident voice.  The room kept ignoring his words, busy with roaring laughter and the sound of their aunt’s voice scolding them all. Finn kept his posture and continued, “Besides, thought I heard John’s laugh the other day,” he mumbled. The room quieted for a moment. Finn looked up realizing they heard him and continued, “but it wasn’t, eh? Obviously. I-I’m not Polly, don’t have any of that gypsy crap with me.” 

Polly, furiously but steadily, stood up, “First of all,” she said making her way over to Finn, “it is not gypsy crap or gypsy bullshit, do not disrespect your roots.” She said as she smacked him in the head. “Now look at me and tell me what you on about boy.” She grabbed his young face in her hands. “It’s nothing aunt Poll. Just like Martha. It’s nothing. Besides, it was a woman laughing Poll,” he stammered and ripped his face from her grip. Polly stared at him, then at the whole table full of very confused Shelbys. 

“I knew it. I can feel it,” she started, earning a deep glare from Tommy.

“Do not mock me. I can feel when the air shifts. I know what I saw.”

“Okay, that’s enough Poll,” said Arthur, no longer laughing. 

The Shelbys had not made another sound, looking at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak up. Their aunt’s statement had steadied them into a haunting lullaby, reminding them of the many gypsy traditions that they secretly carried with them. The good omens, the way the wind suddenly stilled into an ominous glare that same morning; and in a drastic turn of events, the way the hairs on the back of young Finn Shelby’s neck stood up at the sound of what he mistook for John’s laugh. 

____________________

A week had passed after the eerie conversation at The Garrison. They carried on with their business, with bets and the rival gang that had pestered Tommy for months now. They were closing in around corners of Small Heath, leaving threatening notes on their doorsteps and even going as far as killing a Blinder and leaving him on the betting shop’s entrance. This caused the family to carry trinkets of good luck and repeating gypsy mantras to calm their superstitious beliefs that came with their Romanian blood.

It had all led up to the current position they all found themselves in. Thomas had a gash on his brow, causing blood to adorn his features. His gun pointing at the enemy’s face. The Weston’s were known for their brutality, even worse than a Blinders wrath. Arthur held an already dead man in his arms screaming like a maniac, threatening others who would dare come for them. Finn, Isiah, and Michael incessantly beating and battling the other men, all in a row of punches and blood and gore. A scene so obscene that would have made any person queasy. But these were no ordinary people. They were Shelbys. Polly peaked her head through the small room’s door, enough to see the violence unfold. They had been attacked by surprise at their own pub, and she feared for her nephews lives, more so now than any other time. Never taking her eyes away from the scene, she ferociously prayed for a miracle, a gift, a second chance. 

The men grabbed Thomas by his arms, dangling him whilst another pointed a gun to his face. “Mr. Shelby, always have the upper hand,” said one of them with a tantalizing smirk, “but it seems your reign is over and your crown is mine.” The men chuckled and cheered, seeing their enemy half dead in their hands. Tommy looked up and smirked, which turned into a manic laugh, making the Blinders pause their movements. “Brother?” Arthur asked, gulping at Tom’s actions. Tommy looked at them still laughing, “You think you’ll defeat me? Whenever you think you have the upper hand, I will always be one step in front of you,” he paused to spit, and continued.

“It’s my legacy, it’s my family’s legacy. And you have the nerve to barge into my territory and declare war on me?” His smile never leaving his face, blood covering his teeth. All of them looking upon him in confusion. 

The doors to The Garrison opened letting in dust and a cold wind meddle its way in. Footsteps echoed through the current silent pub. Arthur dropped the man that he held between his arms. Finn’s eyes flashed a look of confusion, recognizing the presence that made its way into the pub. Polly’s hands shook against her sides, too numb to move them. The footsteps grew louder, yet the pace never changed. Tommy looked at the men as they noticed also and chuckled, “Do you you really think I would have left my pub unsupervised for you lot to take?” 

There in the middle of the room stood a group of men led by a girl, a girl that was perhaps younger than Finn. Her dark hair gathered loosely by a ribbon, freckles adorning her face and piercing eyes that matched her posture, determined and hard. Their saving grace. Their hail Mary pass.

“Y/N?” Whispered Arthur.

In a split second the Blinders ducked behind chairs and the other side of the bar. Their guns cocked and immediately erupted in a song of metal and flesh and screams. The girl’s face never changed, her body unbothered. Each and every men dropped to their knees with multiple bullets to their bodies. 

The noise suddenly stopped. The Weston’s Leader remained standing, too embarrassed and in shock to move. Y/N made her way over and pointed her gun to his face, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” immediately putting a bullet between his eyes. 

“Holy Jesus,” Polly said as she stumbled out of the room, “Y-You look just like her.”

Y/N turned around and smiled at the woman that stood there, pale as snow, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Hello aunt Poll.”

Tommy stood up with the help of a perplexed Arthur. “Who is she?”, Michael asked breaking the tension in the room. 

“I don’t think any of you remember me clearly, I was just a girl when I left.” She said, a small smile appearing on her face. “This is Y/N, John’s daughter,” piped Tommy, looking at her tenderly. 

“You weren’t delusional Polly, I just couldn't give her cover away.”

Polly made her way over to Y/N and cradled her face her hands. “I knew it,” she breathed out, “I knew it, didn't I? I knew that it wasn't a ghost. You look just like your mother.” Polly breathed out in a shaky voice causing the girl to smile widely.

“I reached out to Tommy. Wanted to be a part of the business, reunite with my family.” She said looking around the room excitedly. 

Polly took the girl in her arms, allowing herself to sob freely. The room warmed up with the Shelby’s smiles. It wasn't Martha, It wasn't John, but it was their niece. A living, breathing piece of John’s heart for them to hold and treasure. 

[just-another-ficwriter]

Meant To Be – Part One

Pairing: Stripper!Sweet Pea x Cooper!Reader

Words: 1300ish

Warnings: Alcohol, male strippers, swearing

Summary: When Polly’s bachelorette party ends up at a Magic Mike style show Y/N can’t help but be drawn to one act, Sweet Pea. Much to her surprise, when he over hears her current family dilemma he’s more than willing to help.

Notes: A total cliche fake dating fic that I’m using part one of to fill the Stripper AU square on my @riverdalebingo card!

 You can feel the music pumping under your feet, your head a little fuzzy from the countless number of shots. You’d all drunk enough to rival a group of new college students at their first frat party and showed no signs of slowing down.

You almost laugh now when you think of how stressed you'd been at the start of the day.

It was no secret that planning your sister Polly's bachelorette party had both you and Betty worrying over the slightest of details, but the night had been a hit.  

You'd started off with afternoon tea at a small elegant restaurant, which Veronica had swiftly labelled boring but quietly ate her delicately cut sandwiches after Betty insisted the day would get more exciting. After that you'd bar hopped your way through colourful cocktails and bottles of spirits until you all stumbled to your final destination of the night.

An upscale, all male dancer venue that even had Cheryl and Toni blushing.

Polly, who currently had a face full of glitter and a pink fluffy tiara tangled in her hair had claimed it was one the best nights of her life. And while the Bride To Be was being pulled up on the stage by a sea of hunky, half naked men, you knew you should be cheering along with the rest, shoving crumped dollar bills into g-strings but something else had caught your eye.

Or rather someone else.

To the left of the stage, with his hips rolling and a prominent deep V that disappeared into his barely there shorts, you found it hard to look away.

At the same moment as you were shamelessly watched the way the spotlight glides down his toned torso, he turns and catches your eye. Your heart suddenly slams into your chest, and you blush furiously, a deep dark red. You must have got it wrong; he can't be looking at you. Not like that.

But then he smiles right at you, rows of bright teeth luminated under the glaring lights before pulling his bottom lip between them, and you’re sure it wasn't for Betty clinging onto your arm your legs wouldn't be able to hold you up under the weight of his stare.

-

“To a successful night.” Betty lifts her shot glass, knocking it against your own with a soft clink.

“To the Cooper twins, pulling it off again.” You both grin in triumph, tossing the liquid back before laughing at the way the other grimaces as it burns its way down your throat.  

“Yeah well, planning this is going to be a breeze compared to spending time back in Riverdale.” Betty reminds you with a deep sigh, and the grimace returns to your face instantly.

“Don’t remind me.” Your eyes roll before you signal for another round. Anything to make you forget about the thought of your hometown and all the things you’d fought so hard to escape seven years ago. “Oh Y/N, isn’t it time you settled down? Don’t you want move out that apartment into a real home.”

Betty giggles at the way you mimic your mother’s voice, before straightening her shoulders and doing the same. “Or when are you going to give me more grandchildren.”

The two of you knock back the next shot, barely flinching this time. “I hate that one.”

“At least you have Jug. Polly’s about to marry Jason and they have the twins.” Your voice fades off with your thoughts. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, intensifying the insecurities that hide in the back of your mind, but your eyes were already glazed over before you spoke again. “What do I have?”

“A job at one of the best newspapers in town.” She reaches over and places her hand over yours, squeezing it slightly in silent reassurance in a way that tell you you’ll always have her too.

You scoff, attempting to switch the mood back to a lighter one. “Oh please, that’ll keep her entertained for all of five minutes.”

Betty barely has time to argue back before she’s interrupted by a pair of warm brown eyes and a cheeky smile.

“Sorry I couldn’t help but hear.” He pauses so he can look you up and down, his eyes boldly lingering longer than they had when he was on stage. “Are you looking for a date to a wedding?”

Anticipation pulses through your body and suddenly you forget how to speak. But Betty notices the tension straight away and jumps at the opportunity to tease you. “Why are you offering?”

“I guess I kind of am.” He pulls a card from his back pocket and hands it to you with a smirk that has you imagining all kinds of things. “If you’re still stuck when the time comes, give me a call.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing past a group of cheering women leaving you wide eyed and still speechless.

“What’s it say?” Your sister squints to get a better look.

“Need a date for a wedding? Or someone to impress the parents? Call dial-a-date for all your fake dating needs.” You raise one eyebrow as you read it out loud, fighting the urge to fake gag. “What kind of cringy shit is this?”

“That kind that you might need.” You stare at her like she has two heads, she can’t honestly be serious; can she? “The others are too drunk to remember him; I can play along. Admit it he’s hot.”

You turn the card over between your fingers before tracing the name scribbled on the back. “Sweet Pea.”

-

At 2am, as the night finally winds down, getting Polly home seems like an impossible task.

With the plastic tiara still clinging on her hair for dear life and wobbly footsteps despite the fast she’s twirling her heels around in her hands, you almost give in and collapse before you even hit the second floor.

She’s still singing away to herself, giggling at some unspoken joke as you settle her on the couch with a blanket and a glass of water.

“My little sister looking after me, when did you get so grown up?” She asks with a hiccup. You fight the overwhelming urge to remind her that Betty’s only three minutes older than you, like you had your whole childhood and just laugh along with her instead.

“Get some sleep Polls.” You pat her shoulder and stumble to your feet, bumping into things as you make your way around the apartment.

Maybe getting Polly back was so difficult because you’re almost as drunk as her.

It isn’t until your almost in bed, fumbling for your phone that’s hidden in your bag that you remember the tall mysterious Adonis you’d met at the club.

His card is stuck to your screen as you pull it out and you heart instantly skips a beat.

This has to be a sign, right?

You quickly make your decision, barely giving yourself time to think twice before your dialing the number, your pulse accelerating with every ring.

You let out a shaky breath when it goes to his voicemail.

“Hi Sweet Pea, it’s uh, Y/N- not that you know who that is- oh god.” You pull a face at the sound of your own voice and hope it doesn’t sound as stupid as it does in your own head. “You gave me your card in the club? You probably don’t remember… anyway I was just wondering how this would work? Maybe you could call me back? Okay bye.”

You hang up, throwing the phone like it’s suddenly made of fire and collapse face first onto the bed.

What the hell had you just done?

Riverdale Winter Bingo Masterlist

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway

Meant To Be Taglist: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e

[shutupandshipit]

Blood and Diamonds - Part 1

Summary: "Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Or where Neil is a stripper at the Days' strip club when Ichirou doesn't need him for family business, and Andrew is Kevin's bodyguard. It's only Andrew's second month as Kevin's bodyguard and it had been pretty boring up until then, but it only takes one night in the Days' club for things to get just a little more interesting. For both him and Neil.

Pairing: Andreil

Rating: M

Part 2: Gold -> Next

Part 3 -> coming soon

Author’s Note:  This is going to be a three part work, but most of the chapters are going to be pretty long compared to my usual. Anyway, this is literally a major fuck it fic for me, to be honest. I am writing this solely for the pleasure of doing so.

Part 1: Lilith

Andrew wasn't one for strip clubs. He didn't like them. He didn't like the people that frequented them. He didn't like the look of them. Most of them were dirty and degrading, dark and damp with lust. Plus, most of the strippers were usually women unless you went to a very specific club. If he really needed to get off that badly, he had other means of finding a source.

Still, he found himself wandering into an all genders club at Kevin's side, eyes skipping from one table to another.

Being Kevin Day's bodyguard had been as tame and boring as he'd imagined it would be. They did get into trouble from time to time, running about on whatever adventure the heir to Kayleigh Day's drug empire wanted. He'd only had the job for a short month, and was ready for something new to spice it up.

He just hadn't imagined that thing would be the strip club that his father and the Days ran as a cover for their drug laundering.

“It'll be fine, Minyard. Try to have some fun. Find someone you like. Drink a little. It is an all genders club. There's someone out there for everyone,” Kevin said when they paused just passed the front doors to look over the dim room and black stage with its two shiny poles leading up to the towering ceiling. The room was almost too dark to see, lit with sultry crimson light and candles in red vases on every table. Barely noticeable waiters and waitresses in conservative black uniforms moved silently around the room, taking and delivering orders.

It was a much cleaner and classier set up than Andrew had imagined. “If I found this fun, I wouldn't have to be dragged along under the guise of work.”

A waitress looking like she was on the verge of crying stopped at Kevin's elbow. “Sir, good evening. We haven't seen you in awhile.”

Kevin's mouth went from scowling to his people-winning smile in an instant. The smile he wore for the public, for his sick mouth. “Raven, evening. How have things been around here?”

“Fine. Josten got into a fight with Leverett again, but Boyd and Wildes broke it up pretty quickly,” she told him, jumping on the question like a puppy hoping to be praised.

Kevin sighed. “Again? Over what? How were they even in the same room with the schedule the way it is?”

“Something about stealing Leverett's customer. She came in on her off time to argue with him.”

“Typical.” His eyes drifted towards Andrew, musing. “He is the best though, and Leverett is... inattentive. When is Neil supposed to perform tonight?”

Raven glanced down at a watch on her wrist, small and discreet. “Ten minutes, and then at closing with the rest of the Foxes.” Kevin nodded at her, and she filled the silence before there could be any. “Jeremy and Thea are upstairs entertaining in the VIP room tonight. Mr. Moriyama is visiting, and they came in on their day off to minimize potential collateral damage.”

Kevin nodded, glancing towards the stairs leading to the upper floors as his smile struggled to remain in place. “Right, he told me he'd be here. I'll have to give them a bonus.” Turning to Andrew, he said, “Well, I'm going to go speak with Riko. Make yourself at home. Watch some of the acts. We're staying here tonight, and Nicky should take over soon, so get drunk. Take from Cracker Dust. Take someone to bed at the end of the night. I don't care, but if I come down here and you're not three sheets to the wind, I'm going to strangle you.” He said everything with a smile before turning, Raven following at his elbow.

“You don't have the balls,” Andrew spat back.

Kevin didn't stop, but flipped Andrew the bird over his shoulder.

Nicky showed up thirty minutes later, high fived him, and headed up to the VIP room to read a book outside the door. If Nicky was downstairs, he'd drink. And if he drank, he wouldn't stop. Kevin didn't mind them having a drink or two on shift, but they all agreed that being drunk was unacceptable.

After Nicky took his leave, Andrew found a spot at the bar, accepting a drink from a familiar bartender. “You work here too, Roland?” he asked, watching his old hook-up walk back and forth along the bar as he prepared drinks and set out trays.

Roland grinned, coming to a stop to lean across the bar at Andrew, smiling. “The Days pay better than Eden's. Plus, I get more hours. Speaking of which, haven't seen you around lately, and then you just happen to turn up here? What's the deal with that?”

Andrew tipped his head towards the ceiling. “Mr. Day dragged me here?”

“Ah, so Kevin's the culprit. Rat bastard. Well, I'm going to get you drunk on his dime then.” He set out a shot that Andrew knocked back happily, sliding the glass back towards Roland. “The show is about to start. Neil's our best. He really get the blood flowing. Then it's Allison. Maybe after my shift is done, we can find a place to... chat?” Roland's smile was flirtatious.

Andrew didn't answer, only raising an eyebrow.

Roland shrugged, unperturbed. “The offer is there if you want it.” He bustled off towards his other customers, and Andrew turned to watch the stage.

The stage was lit with a soft lilac light, and as he watched, the patrons began to snuff out the candles on their tables until it was the only light in the room. Overhead, a soft deep voice made introductions. “For those of you who have been here before, you know what time it is.” A short cheer rose before going quiet as sensual music filtered into the room. “For those of you who may be first timers, your life is about to be changed. Next up, we have the Prince of the Stage, the man who can cut out you heart without spilling a single drop of blood, the diamond of dance... Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Wild applause disturbed the air, quieting only when the music grew loud, replacing the conditioned air with the thrumming of cello strings. A man stepped barefoot onto the stage, tight black diamond studded shorts stopping just below the curve of his ass. They strained around toned thighs, a black sleeveless shirt draped loosely over his chest and stomach, plunging in the back to reveal rippling muscle. His arms were as tones as his legs, and scared from fingertips to elbows. Everything that was usually on display by a stripper was covered, but what was on display was a nice display.

Muscular, but not overly so. Neck long and elegant. Skin tanned and dusted silver. A steady mix of masculine and feminine as he moved across the stage.

Wild curls looked black beneath the lilac light, but lacked the same depth as black hair. Probably a brunette or red head. The curls flopped over the top edge of a glimmering half-mask that resembled a fox's snout, the shadow covering the rest of his face, but not the cut of his jaw.

Andrew thought every stripper danced the same, that there could be no variation except between genders. He wasn't sure whether this was particular to the club or particular to this dance, but Andrew's mouth watered as he swung around and around his pole, sliding to the floor and arching his back before wrapping his legs back around the poll to hoist himself up.

Bills landed on the stage, but Lilith never stopped moving, climbing and careening around the stage.

He looked like he was trying to run from something, and Andrew wondered what the something could possibly be.

It had been awhile since Andrew had had such a visceral reaction to another person, his pants growing tighter with each passing moment and movement. He never moved, exactly like the others around him. Even the bartenders had come to a stop to watch the man at work.

What Andrew found curious and intriguing was the lack of actual stripping. Lilith never removed a scrap of clothing, only pulled and tugged at the fabric in suggestion. There was a flash of dimples and strap of a thong above his ass, a peak of tight curls beneath the waist of his shorts, a smear of lipstick across his jaw. His performance drove the crowd wild, but when Andrew caught a glimpse of raised scarring beneath the shirt, he knew it was to hide and not to tease. He'd wager even frequent customers had never seen more of Lilith's skin than what was already being shown.

And that was interesting.

He was intrigued in a way he knew he shouldn't be. No one with a good, stable life was stripping for a living, and Andrew's life was already messy enough without adding someone else's issues.

Nobody stripping for the Days had a stable life.

When Lilith spun to a stop at the end of the song, chest heaving, he stared across the room.

Andrew could have sworn he caught the flash of icy blue eyes staring at him.

…..

Neil sighed, pulling his mask off and staring at the smeared lipstick across his jaw where he'd fended off one of the regular female customers before going on stage. Sweat beaded on his brow, tracing down his temples. His shirt was completely soaked through, and his shorts were stuffed with bills from grubbed hands at the stage edge. No matter how classy Kevin claimed the club to be, the dancers were still strippers and the majority of customers were still gross and horny. He'd slowly started to pull the bills out when Dan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Great job out there, Neil! You really got them riled up, and you're still as popular as ever!” Dan exclaimed, ruffling his curls with a grin. Her smile fell into a neutral line as she wiped at the smudged lipstick. “You know, you don't have to do this, right? Just because you got us the positions. You've got your own work to handle.”

Neil smiled at her. “I know, but whatever I make here, I get to keep. I'm still paying off my parents' debts, and I can't do that and live at the same time if I'm just using what I get paid normally.”

She sat down beside him, turning him to face her so she could fix his makeup. “I know that, but Kevin had offered to help which is a miracle in and of itself. He's offered more than once, so you know he means it. Wouldn't he be better than Ichirou?”

Neil wanted to shake his head, but also didn't want his throat ripped out. Dan was applying small crystals to his freckled and would murder him if he ruined her work. “Ichirou is not the problem. We practically grew up together despite our fathers' best efforts. It's Lord Moriyama and his useless second son that are the problem. Lord Moriyama still doesn't trust me after my father didn't pull through on his side of the deal, and then let my mother run back to the Hatfords. No, I can't trade one thumb for another.” Neil was giving too much truth, and he felt his throat trying to constrict around his words with his need to clam up, but every one of the Foxes deserved his truth. After what his father had put them all through... They'd been through too much together to get a lie.

Dan sighed again, and sat back. “There. All fixed. Now change your shirt and shorts. You're disgusting.” Turning to glance over her shoulder as Neil followed her order, she shouted, “Allison, they're waiting for Aphrodite on stage!”

Neil gently pulled Allison to a stop before she passed him, pulling her down to whisper in her ear. “Can you check out someone for me? Blond. Short. Seated at the bar in a black suit. He's new, but doesn't look like a customer.”

Allison pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring, “Sure thing, hon. I'll let you know what I collect after I make my rounds tonight.”

“Thanks.” Neil waited until Allison was gone and Dan had focused on him again to wave at his face. “What's all this for? I thought I didn't go on again till closing.”

“Right, but someone requested you.”

Narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, he said, “I didn't put anything out saying I was taking requests tonight. You know that.” Neil only took requests when he was desperate for more cash, and Dan knew that as well too.

Dan nodded. “I know, but I wasn't able to turn them down this time. The request came from Kevin for someone else. He put down five figures. I figured you wouldn't mind if you were getting paid that much.”

Neil's mouth went dry. “How much if five figures? How does Kevin even have that much to throw around?”

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Jesus. Does he want me to fuck this guy on stage or something?” Neil asked jokingly, but Kevin with Riko could be unpredictable. He had to have faith that Kevin wouldn't ask something like that of him, and he didn't want to have to pull rank as a Wesninski and the Butcher's Son in the club. Even then, he'd only be able to pull rank on Kevin, not Riko. If it came down to a battle with Riko, the night would end with someone's blood on the walls. There was a lot of abuse and humiliation he was willing to take from Riko, but not that.

“Oh, come on!” Seth shouted from across the room where he was painting his chest bright orange, “You don't even get naked! Why are you getting paid the big bucks? How good are you at giving head, exactly?”

Neil didn't point out that he only ever 'gave head' to one person as he didn't have a choice in the matter. That wasn't information Seth should be privy to. He'd never hear the end of the gay slurs. He already got enough shit for being demisexual as it was.

“If you put half as much effort into your performance as Neil does, maybe you'd get paid more too. Unfortunately, you only attract one gender, and that's not enough,” Dan shot back at him as she smiled. Again, she returned her gaze to Neil while Matt intervened before Seth got himself killed. “So, the client is in a private room, last door on the left. Maybe he'll tip.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “You think it's a guy?”

She shrugged. “Kevin doesn't have any women in his group, but who knows. Maybe he picked one up and is showing her a good time.”

“I doubt that. He just picked up three new bodyguards a month ago, and I don't think Coach would let women on his team with Riko around.” Neil pursed his lips, staring at the rust red of them in the mirror. After a moment, he fitted his mask back into place and stepped into a pair of lethal black heels. “I guess I'll see you in an hour or so.”

Dan waived, smiling cheekily. “Try to have some fun, Neil. Who knows? Maybe he has a sense of humor.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he ducked out of the dressing room.

…..

The private rooms were for entertainment. Most of the time, that meant lap dances and some conversation. That's what they were meant for. For the customers to get a better look at their coveted performers. What a performer did in a private room with a customer was their business though. Most of the performers were willing to do a lot for a little bit more if Kevin turned a blind eye. His only stipulation was that they stay clean, free of any drugs that he wasn't pushing and STIs.

Some customers pushed for more than the performers were willing to give, even when they said now.

Neil wasn't innocent. When he needed money and there was an easy way to get it, he didn't waste time tiptoeing around options, but he had his boundaries.

The Foxes had made a name for themselves in both the pole dancing circles and sex worker circles. When it came to the private rooms, their word was law. After several bloodied noses and broken wrists, most everyone knew that when a Fox said no, it meant no. There was no pushing. There was no coaxing. There was no wheedling. They weren't afraid to kick a customer out, and they sure as hell weren't afraid to get violent if hands were put on them. The Foxes were known for their dances and their convictions.

Customers who requested them knew not to push.

That didn't mean the Foxes weren't willing to push the fold themselves.

Neil didn't push anything. After his mother had beat the desire out of him and Lola had taken what she'd wanted, he refused to touch anyone unless he was desperate. Even desperate, the furthest he would take it was a handjob and a few unenthusiastic kisses. He made enough money on stage most nights to cover living expenses, but feeding two people got expensive after awhile. Not including the clothes and doctor visits and shoes. When he didn't need money, he kept as much distance between himself and the customers as he could.

He rarely found a need to put himself in a private room, and he always had the same reaction at first. Nausea. Shoulders pulling tight. A sense of vertigo washed over him as he slipped into the dimply lit room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dark like the main room, all black and crimson curtains with accents of gold and dusty pink interspersed throughout. Candle light flickered along the walls, and soft rolling music played through hidden speakers. Allison's song choice thrummed through the ceiling, pulsing in his feet.

Neil knew there were microphones hidden for the performers' protection. He'd been the one to suggest their installation. If the performer ever uttered their safe word or 'No' three times in a row, guards would pull the performer out immediately.

Across the room, the man Neil had seen sitting at the bar turned to look at him. He was short, shorter than Neil at about five feet even, but his presence was overwhelming as he stared at Neil blankly. He wore all black from his shiny shoes to his belt to his tie. His hair and eyes were the only splashes of color.

Hazel eyes slid up and down Neil's body, but the man didn't move to come any closer.

Neil didn't know what he was supposed to do with this lack of reaction.

…..

Andrew was collected from the bar by Nicky just as the next dancer, a woman with long blonde hair and legs for miles, stepped out. Nicky led him upstairs, a sly smile on his lips.

Andrew narrowed his eyes in response. “What's going on? I thought Kevin wanted me to get too drunk to stand. He's ruining my streak,” he groused even though he hadn't really been drinking with purpose. He'd been sipping on his whiskey as he chatted with Roland about the dancers and skirmishes they got into. What problems could be found around the club. Which were related to Kevin and which weren't.

Really, he'd just been doing reckon, but Nicky didn't need to know that.

“A present from Kevin,” Nicky said vaguely as he opened a door and closed it behind Andrew.

Andrew knew where he was without having to be told. He'd been in a backroom like this at Eden's Twilight with Roland enough times. Granted, this was nicer, but it was also actually meant for entertainments where Eden's looked like it was simply where people went to hook-up. They were all the same in the end.

A place to have a tryst. A place to get a lap dance. A place to do business that wasn't of the body variety.

He wasn't happy Kevin had sent him there, but he was also mildly curious to see who Kevin had sent for. Who Kevin thought would be interesting enough to keep him busy.

After ten minutes, Andrew considered sitting down, but didn't want to give the dancer anything to assume. He wasn't there for a lap dance. He wasn't there for a blowjob. He was there without consent, and he knew most of the dancers had to have been pushed into situations they didn't want either.

The dancer from the first performance -Lilith- slipped into the room. He'd changed, but the outfit wasn't much different than the one before. Black shorts that were seemingly painted on, tassels of diamonds hanging from the waistband to tinkle quietly around his hips. Black top of nearly see through material with gauzy sleeves that draped around his arms. New red lipstick painted his mouth, almost the same color as his curls.

He was towering in black heels, his mask still in place as he leaned back against the door.

Andrew couldn't stop his eyes from dragging up and down the man, taking in his posture, how he seemed a little off kilter. He wondered if it was Andrew himself, the room, or just the situation that was causing him such visible discomfort.

A long, tense silence passed between them before either spoke.

“You're Kevin's new bodyguard. I didn't realize earlier. You, your twin and your cousin just joined his security detail. Renee said she knew you guys from before,” Lilith said, shoulders still pressed to the door with his back arched away from the fabric covered wood.

“And who are you to Kevin?” Andrew asked, suspicious and curious at once.

“A performer. An asset. Someone to take care of the dirty work.” The words rang with truth despite the mirth there, and Andrew had to wonder if the song and dance were familiar. “But for you? I can be anyone.”

Again, suspicion reared its head. With Riko in the same building, he couldn't be too careful, even if Kevin was the one who sent Lilith. That didn't mean people couldn't be paid off. “Why's that? Is that part of your gag?”

The man shrugged, a sly smile playing across his lips. Half lidded blue eyes looked out at him from the shadows of the mask. “Kevin paid fifteen thousand for me to be here, so I assume he wants me to make you happy. By whatever means that may be.”

Lilith sounded a little sick at the prospect, and Andrew didn't miss that hint in his voice. He was a good actor otherwise, his posture never changing.

The words made Andrew sick, and he wanted to strangle Kevin. Instead, he could just waste his money. “Stop standing like that.”

Those blue eyes blinked wide, and Lilith asked, “Like what?”

“Like you're trying to showcase something. It looks painful.”

A startled laugh fell from Lilith's mouth, and he relaxed against the door. “It kind of does,” he admitted.

“Take the shoes off.”

After a pause, Lilith sighed and stepped out of the shoes, dropping down much closer to Andrew's height. “Thank god. Those are torture. Have you ever tried?”

“No.” Andrew sat down on the couch that was across from the door, leaning back with his arms across his chest. He pointed to the cushion next to him. “Sit.”

Irritation flashed across Lilith's mouth as he hesitated. It disappeared as he padded over to the couch. His body was lithe and strong like he was aware of every aspect of himself. Sitting down, he left a substantial twelve inch gap between them, but turned to face him. “This is... unconventional. Most people want me to be naked by this point. Not that they get what they want, but...”

“I'm not people.”

Lilith laughed. “Clearly. So, is there anything I can do for you?” He crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his hands in his lap. “You've got fifteen thousand dollars worth for activities.”

Andrew let his eyes wonder over the man, considering. He knew what his body wanted. He knew that he wanted to spite Kevin for this. He knew that no matter how convincing the man was or what he was indirectly offering, Andrew could spot a liar a mile away. This man was a good one, practiced and adept, but not good enough. “Let me take off your mask, yes or no?”

Lilith tensed, but nodded. “Yes.”

Andrew spanned the space between them, reaching into Lilith's hair to rifle around for the string. Puling the bow open, he set the mask aside and sat back into his seat, opening the space between them again. He stared at the man's face, at the long lashes and gems glues to his face, the curls brushing his forehead, the highlighter on his cheekbones. “What's your name?” Beneath the makeup, he could still see the bumps and rises of burns beneath an eye.

“Neil Josten.”

Andrew sat the lie in the flutter of his eyelashes, just a minor drop. “That's not your real name.”

“No.”

“You prefer to go by Neil.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Neil's eyes darted up to Andrew's face, surprised. “I-” He swallowed, dropping his eyes again. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to meet Andrew's again, conviction in their blue depths. “What now?”

Andrew considered, chewing carefully on the inside of his cheek. “Take your shirt off, yes or no?”

“No,” Neil said immediately, flinching away from his eyes. He sputtered out a correction. “U-un-unless you really want me to.”

Interesting. “No. It's fine,” Andrew said, sliding further along the couch to give him more space, “Okay, but why? You're a stripper who doesn't take off his clothes. What are you hiding? We're playing a game here, Neil. Truth for truth. You give me a truth and I'll give you a truth.”

Neil stared at him silently for a long time before sighing. “Scars.”

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“As bad as the ones on your face?”

Neil's hand jumped up to press against the scars beneath his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. “No. Worse.”

Andrew nodded, accepting that answer and motioning him to go.

Blinking in surprise, Neil dropped his hand. “What's your name?”

“I thought you already knew my name.”

Neil smiled. “I do, but you have a twin. I want to hear you confirm my suspicions.”

“Andrew Minyard.”

“And your twin is Aaron. Nicky is your cousin. He's nice. Always gives me a good tip when I take one of his requests. Never gets handsy unless I let him. I like their significant others too, even if I only know them from a distance.” He must have seen the unease flash across Andrew's face because he quickly said, “Sorry. Kevin's an important person to me and my family. I go overboard researching the people he's involved with so he doesn't get himself killed.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't really fault him. It wasn't hard to research Aaron and Nicky anyway as their lives were documented on one or more social media pages. “Who gave you all the scars?”

Neil's jaw tightened, but he answered anyway. “My father and his associates.” His voice was tight, bitter. He sounded almost like he wanted to puke as he said, “Lola.”

“Lola,” Andrew mused, and again, Neil flinched, “What a stupid fucking name.”

Neil chuckled, the noise sounding forced to Andrew's ears. “Yes. Why did you decide to work for Kevin? How did that happen?”

“Riko tried to recruit me for his operation, but I don't work for homophobic piss babies. I needed a job, and Kevin -well, more Wymack- needed someone who could field Riko when he tries to overstep his line. Kevin and Wymack also agreed to hire my family. Riko didn't.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Which way do you swing?”

Neil smirked, and Andrew wondered how often he'd gotten the question. “I don't. I'm demisexual.”

“Interesting.”

Neil opened his mouth to ask his next question when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Instead, with wide eyes, he asked, “Can I touch you, yes or no?” mimicking Andrew's way of asking for permission. “Whoever that is, I need to convince them I'm doing my job.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed and was surprised when Neil straddled his lap, sliding his fingers deep into Andrew's hair. The way Neil kissed was gentle and exploratory despite the situation. When Andrew gripped his thighs, he unconsciously arched into him.

The door opened without a knock, and Neil broke away a second later to stare over his shoulder accusingly. “What, Jean? I'm busy.”

“Clearly.” His eyes trailed up and down Neil, disgust etched into the curve of his lips. “Little Boss just called bother Riko and Kevin. You are to call him at your earliest convenience.”

“Thanks for the message. Now get out.”

“Putain,” the man muttered as he slammed the door closed.

Neil didn't move as his footsteps disappeared down the hall. With a sigh, he looked down into Andrew's impassive expression. “Well, guess this is ending a little early.”

“I suppose.”

Still, Neil didn't move, a sly smile pulled at his lips. “I'd like to kiss you again. It was pleasant. Also... do you want me to take care of that for you?” He pointed between their bodies where Andrew pressed hard against his ass, but politely kept his eyes on Andrew's.

Andrew was achingly hard in his pants, but he wouldn't ask for anything Neil didn't want. He didn't even know if Neil actually liked men or not. He needed to look up 'demisexual' when he had a moment. “Are you asking as part of your job or because you want to?”

Neil smiled at him, carding his fingers idly through Andrew's hair. “Because I want to. Because you listened when I said no, and didn't expect anything from me. Because you went out of your way to make me feel comfortable. Those shoes really are the worst after awhile.”

“Save it for another time,” Andrew decided.

This time, Neil beamed. “Sure thing. Bit I will ask for another kiss.”

“Demanding,” Andrew commented, but obliged as he tangled a hand in the curls at the back of Neil's head and pulled him down. When they pulled apart, he asked, “When will I see you again?” Because he was weak. He was weak for a pretty face and shady back story and the ability to listen.

'And to keep an eye on him to make sure he's not a threat to Kevin,' he told himself, even though it was a blatant lie.

“So eager,” Neil flirted, lifting himself from Andrew's lap to straighten out his clothing, “Probably sooner than you might imagine.” He plucked up his mask from beside Andrew.

“That's not an answer.”

“My schedule is never for sure, but I'm here most night. Come by any time. Ask for my by name instead of my stage name, and they'll send someone back for me. If you keep treating me like a gentleman instead of a whore, you won't even have to have Kevin pay for me.”

Andrew sat up straight. “I didn't-”

“I know. Just teasing. I'll see you soon, Andrew, and...” Neil trailed off, head ducking as he stood in the doorway and tugged his heels back on. When he finally lifted his head again, there was a sad smile gracing his lips. “Thank you. I mean it.”

And then he was gone.

Andrew dealt with himself quickly, using the supplies he found in a back corner to clean up before stepping out. He sat down heavily beside Nicky outside the VIP room. “I'm done for tonight if you want to drink.”

Nicky shook his head, but put away his phone and turned eagerly to face Andrew. “So, how was it?”

…..

Neil slipped from the room and immediately downstairs to call Ichirou. “Lord Moriyama, what can I do for you?” he asked politely because he knew Ichirou thought it was arbitrary. It made him uncomfortable, and being brothers, it was fun to needle him sometimes. “Oh, sorry. Slip of the tongue. Little Boss, what can I do for you?”

“I've told you not to call me that, Nathaniel,” Ichirou quipped back, “Either of those things.”

“Not as long as you keep calling me that.”

Ichirou chuckled quietly before his voice turned stoic. “I need you tonight. I've told the other to two stay clear for the night. I understand they're at the club currently?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Your man is already here. I'm having Moreau come in to begin set up.”

“Understood.” Neil shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the dressing room, not looking at himself in the mirror as he pulled a wig with long rust red curls into place. The hair cascaded down his back, ending at his waist. “I have to take care of one small thing before I change and head in. Is that possible?” He shimmied into a silver shimmery dress with a plunging back, the only one he ever wore into the VIP room.

“Do as you need to take care of Jane,” Ichirou told him, “I hope to see her again soon.”

“This weekend. Dinner,” Neil said, tying his mask back into place. Dressed as he was, he could almost believe he was a woman.

“Good. See you soon.”

The line clicked dead, and Neil dropped his phone back into his drawer. Renee and Matt stared at him with worry as he stepped into high silver stilettos.

He turned to them, holding out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Stunning. As always,” Renee sighed, and stepped close to fix his smeared lipstick. “We need to invest in that kind that stays forever. You go through so much lipstick. Will you need me tonight?”

“Later. I'll have Jean call,” he sighed. Before he hurried out, Matt grabbed hold of his arm.

“Don't let him push you around, Neil. You're not an object,” Matt whispered so Seth couldn't hear him.

Everyone, but Seth knew what happened to Neil in the VIP room, knew that he was one of the only ones it ever happened to. Knew it happened to degrade him and nothing more. They'd all had to pull him back together one night or another.

They worried, but worry never saved anyone.

Neil sighed again and pulled free. “Not my choice, Matt.”

“Not yet, but it will be.”

Neil smiled his wide, fake, plastic smile. “I can only hope.”

Nothing would get better for him until Kengo Moriyama finally found himself in the grave.

…..

He knocked on the door to the VIP room, not glancing at Andrew or Nicky as they eyed him. He could only hope that Andrew didn't recognize him with the long sleeve and hair and dress, which was for the best. If they made eye contact, that might not have been the case.

“Enter!” came Riko's imperious voice, and Neil repressed a growl.

He pushed open the door to purple satin and blue light, and Riko with Thea sitting on his knee like a very pretty dark doll. A scowl graced her painted mouth as Riko's hand played idly with the strings of her corset. When his hand drifted between her thighs, she slapped his hand away. “No means no.”

Neil was glad to see she hadn't lost her fire. She'd always been the strongest of them, but he wished Kevin would just get the guts to ask her out instead of shooting angry glares towards them while Jeremy sat against his leg and laughed generously. The best thing about the situation was that Jean wasn't there also mooning over Jeremy.

God, the VIP room was just a roiling pool of sexual tension. He wished Kevin and the others would get themselves into a happy polyamorous relationship.

“Ooooh, the Silver Fox is here!” Jeremy crowed, jumping to his feet and folding Neil in his arms. In his ear, Jeremy whispered, “I didn't know or I would have found a way to stop it.” When he pulled back, he trailed his lips along Neil's cheek.

Neil caught the front of his corset, whispering back. “It's fine. He didn't call for me today. Something else.”

Jeremy was beaming as he pulled back, leading Neil over to Kevin. He dropped onto the left arm of Kevin's chair, pulling Kevin's arm around his hips and tucking his fingers between his legs, unashamed.

Neil smiled seductively, leaning into Kevin's right ear as he gripped his wrist. “Can you grab Jane from the babysitter tonight? Ichirou...”

Kevin turned into Neil's neck and whispered, “Yes,” against his skin.

When Neil pulled away, he pressed a long kiss to Kevin's mouth. He beamed as he pulled back. “Well, that is all the time I have tonight,” he announced, turning back towards the door and hoping he'd get away, but Riko's voice filled the room again.

“Wesninski,” Riko called.

Kevin stared at him with a warning in his eyes as Neil winked and turned.

Stepping up to Riko's side, he snarked, “How may I help you on this fine evening, sir?” He smiled, and tried to keep the venom out of his words.

Motioning him down with two fingers, Riko wrapped a hand around the back of Neil's neck. “Next week, you will be here. We have an appointment to keep.” His hand slipped down from Neil's neck, following the curve of his back and slipping beneath the edge of his dress then the strap of his thong. “Think about the baby.” Riko hand pulled away, but gripped the back of his thigh hard enough to bruise. “Don't miss our appointment again. Understand?”

Anger and revulsion welled in Neil's chest, but he only barely managed to keep it contained. “Yes.” He stood straight, and gave the room another blinding smile. “Have a good night.”

Stepping out into the hall, Neil only managed to contain himself long enough to not slam the door. Instead, he threw a fist at the wall. He hissed at the pain that spiraled up his forearm, cursing at the split skin across his knuckles. “Fuck! God fucking dammit! Jesus fuck! Fucking Riko, piece of fuck! Nasty ass hands!” He dug the folded bills out of the strap of his thong, throwing them at the floor. He punched the wall again.

He'd forgotten Andrew and Nicky were outside the door until he heard their chairs move.

“Stop.” Andrew's strong, steady voice said behind him, grabbing his wrist as he made to punch the wall again. “You're going to break your hand. You're already bleeding.”

“Neil,” Nicky said gently, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Neil growled harshly, but couldn't stop from looking at Andrew.

Andrew glanced at him, recognition there, but nothing more. He dropped his eyes to Neil's hand, flexing each finger and then his wrist. “Nothing serious. Maybe a jammed finger or two. You should get that cleaned, bandaged and iced as soon as possible.” He didn't comment about the tears on Neil's cheeks.

Taking a step back, Andrew bent down to pick up the bills and pressed them into Neil's uninjured hand, meeting his eyes. “Whatever this is, it's not worth hurting yourself over.”

“'Kay,” Neil whispered, flabbergasted as he stared through the guise of his mask, but he felt like Andrew could see right through him. It made him uncomfortable.

His mouth was dry.

Swallowing, he turned. “Nicky, I'm sorry for yelling,” he said.

Tears filled Nicky's brown eyes, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Oh, Neil, honey!” he cried, enveloping Neil in an all encompassing hug that made Neil want to cry while simultaneously drying out his well of emotions.

“Thanks, but I have to go now, Nicky. It was... it was nice to meet you, Andrew. See you guys soon.” Trying to contain his shakiness, Neil strode away. He needed to change, fix his hand, and get to Ichirou before he started asking questions.

Because Ichirou didn't know.

And Neil never wanted him to find out.

…..

“He was trying to sabotage a shipment.” Ichirou, dark and lithe and several inches taller than Neil, stood over the whimpering man as Neil pulled on the gloves Jean had set out for him. “He was caught with a detonator in his hand. Cheep. Clearly homemade. It might not have even worked.”

The man had a head of mousy blond hair that was streaked red with darkly tanned skin. His fingers were laced behind his back, wrists tied to the simple wooden chair like his ankles. A gag had been shoved in his mouth, ear plugs wedged in his ears, and a blindfold covered his eyes.

“Who do you think he works for?” Neil asked, stepping towards the chair and unceremoniously throwing his aching fist. The impact against the man's jaw made his knuckles bleed all over again, but he held back the flinch of pain. He should have just hit him with his left hand. “Do you think this is going to be a problem?”

Ichirou looked around to where Jean stood against the wall, eyes sharp and narrowed and as dark as his brother's. “Moreau. Out. Watch the door. No one is allowed in.”

Jean bowed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Turning back, Ichirou said in a low voice. “I think he works for my brother.”

Neil paused where he was considering his tray of tools, eyes wide. “What? Why would he sabotage his own shipment?”

“Profit; if he exports than he can sell at whatever price he likes and keep everything for himself. Blackmail; he may be trying to ruin Kayleigh and Kevin. Favor; if he knocks them out of standing with my father, there will be an opening to step into. There are too many possibilities to consider. He doesn't realize he'll never be apart of the family the way he wants to no matter what he does.”

“Why Riko specifically though? Are there any clue to his immediate involvement?” Neil stared at the man in the chair, eyes narrowing. There was a cold, hollow spot in the middle of his chest that he was all too familiar with. It's where he retreated when Riko degraded him, when he killed, when he remembered his parents. “You don't think it's just my father's loyalists?”

“No. There have been shipments going missing more and more often. Riko's spending had increased. When the shipments are stolen, there is little to no casualties. Also, the raven tattoo behind his ear. It might be a coincidence, but...”

Neil allowed his father's ugly smile to pull up his lips. “Well, let's ask then.” He ripped the plugs from the man's ears and the gag out of his mouth. He yanked the man's head back by the hair at the back of his skull. “Who do you work for?”

“I-I-I-I don't know.”

“Wrong answer, handsome.” Neil held the man's head still before driving his fist straight into his nose. Cartilage shattered beneath his knuckles and blood gushed down the man's mouth. “Try again.”

“I don't know!” he shouted.

“Still the wrong answer.” Neil spent several long minutes like that, asking the same question and systematically hurting the man more when he got the same answer. Blood splattered his face, dripping down his cheek. His fist ached in its glove.

The man only spoke after Neil had broken his index finger. “Okay! Okay! I'll tell you what I know!”

Neil paused where he'd been bending the man's second finger back towards his wrist, relaxing the tension.

The man dragged in a shuddering breath. “I don't know what his name is. I really don't. I just know he's part of some big important family or something. They call him the Raven King or some stupid shit like that. I never met with him face to face. There were middle men. Idiots dressed in all black who move completely in sync. It's terrifying. I was paid thirty thousand to blow up half the shipment and take the other half. I got caught before I could do anything. I don't know anything else! Please don't kill me!”

Neil and Ichirou made eye contact over the man's head. “Were you working alone?” Neil asked, “Where were you supposed to drop the shipment?”

“N-no, but she ran off when she saw me get snatched. I've never met her before tonight. I don't know her name. I don't know anything about her.” He was breathing harder. “I was supposed to drop it off at some sports stadium. It's not used anymore. The sport never got off the ground or something.”

“Hm. What about the tattoo behind your ear?”

“Drunk night when I was sixteen.”

Neil stood, walking around behind the man. He waited for Ichirou's nod to continue. He gripped the man's head. “Thank you for your cooperation.” The snap of his neck dissipated from the room quickly enough, absorbed by black sound proofing and heavy curtains. “What do you want me to do about this?”

They both knew he wasn't walking about the body. He never disposed of the bodies, just like his father never had. That was someone else's job, but he usually paid Renee a pretty penny for her services. He trusted her more than he trusted any of the lackeys walking around the estate.

“I'm giving you permission to gather evidence against my brother for this. You may use whoever and whatever means you see fit. Once you have what we need, given my father's approval, you will kill my brother.”

Neil's blood began to boil with anticipation. When he finally got his hands on Riko, he'd rip him to shreds. They wouldn't be able to tell Neil's work from his father's.

[xukunstellation]

Fantasy Fest Series: Demon of Mine || Bu Fan [Demon!AU]

Credit to @buyuefan for the gif, which sparked inspiration for this fic!

Title: Demon of Mine Pairing: Reader x Bufan Genre: Witch!AU + Demon!AU + fluff  Word Count: 2,202 words Summary: Magic can be tricky, especially when you accidentally summon a demon into your home.

A/N: My first fic in the Fantasy Fest series! At the time of me writing up this fic, demon!au is currently in the lead in the poll. Who else better to play the role of a demon that Bufan himself? Also, a disclaimer: everything is pretty much more or less fictional. I made up a few things as far as summoning demons go and I also didn’t want anyone to get any ideas, lol. Everything is under the cut because this is the longest fic i’ve ever written I think, oof. Enjoy demon!Bufan! 

Warning: mild cursing, brief mention of blood

ya’ll asked for demon!au

so i gotchu boo

you come from a family of witches 

magic has ran through your family blood line for generations, dating back to the early 1400s

contrary to popular belief, your family did not practice black magic or served the Devil

instead your family used magical skills in order to heal others, even opening an apothecary as a family business

all throughout your life, you loved learning about the functions of different types of herbs and ingredients and using that knowledge to create all types of potions and concoctions 

you also had an affinity for spell-casting and charms

every so often, your parents would go on business trips and travel across realms, bringing back new knowledge of spells and potions that you had never heard of 

sometimes they were gone for months or, rarely, a year

it did feel strange being on your own for long periods of time, but you grew accustomed to it

it also meant you were left in charge of running the apothecary, which you were all too eager for

as you flipped to a page in one of your many ancient potion-books to find the cure for nightshade rash for one of your clients, you scanned the ingredient list and saw that one of the ingredients was virtually illegible due to the fact that the ink was rubbed away over time 

“damn. how am I supposed to make this potion now?” you sighed. “guess i’ll have to ask grandma.”

after closing up the shop so that no customers wandered in, you headed to the back room. shelves lined the walls and were filled with all sorts of magical ingredients, all neatly organized according to their use. the soft sound of the fire crackling under the fireplace and the bubbling of the cauldron hanging above it filled the room. books and papers written in latin littered the tables and floor messily, the aftermath of your charms studying session from earlier

with a flick of your wrist, the books and papers levitated and swirled in the air for a moment before tidying themselves into organized stacks. another flick of your wrist, everything including the furniture moved on their own and cleared the center of the floor

“hm... what was the spell that mom used?” you said to yourself.

you had never summoned your deceased grandmother before, let alone any spirit for that matter. usually it was your mother who did the spirit contacting

looking through a spell book, you stopped at one particular spell and figured this was what you were looking for 

how to summon a loved one

according to the spell, all you had to do was draw a magic circle, provide a drop of blood and say a simple incantation. the circle will automatically summon the one you love, which you figured was your grandmother in this case

sounds easy enough

oh boy were you in for a surprise

you carefully used a piece of white chalk to carefully replicate the image  of a large summoning circle, carefully sketching intricate patterns as you go. facing the fireplace, you slowly inhaled and exhaled, a stream of wind leaving your mouth and extinguishing the flames, turning the room almost pitch black. with that said, you lit a few candles around the circle. gently running your index finger over the other, a small incision appeared. tilting your finger, you let a drop of blood fall into the circle. it was time to start the ritual.

closing your eyes, you channeled all of your energy to your core and began reciting the spell incantation. feeling the magic run through your veins, you felt the air pick up and stir around you, creating a vortex at the center of the circle. shadows danced along the walls to the sound of your chanting that grew in volume with each repetition. the once tiny golden flames were now a roaring, brilliant amethyst. 

your words came to a halt as you finished reciting the spell. the room around you also fell into a complete silence. opening your eyes, you were prepared to greet the spirit of your grandmother

except it wasn’t a spirit

hell (no pun intended) it wasn’t even your grandmother

floating in a fog of purple smoke above the summoning circle was a massive male figure around 6′3′’. his hair was a blood crimson, mirroring his glowing eyes beneath his closed lids. aside from wearing slightly loose black pants and a long trench coat, he was completely shirtless 

(you were lowkey checking out his abs ooh la la)

but what caught you the most off guard was the lilac tint of his skin, the onyx curled horns above his head, deadly talons instead of fingernails, and the powerful presence of obsidian wings that were tattered and torn at the edges and looked at least twice your size

“oh shit i just summoned a demon”

at the sound of your voice, the demon’s eyes snapped open and glared at you with what you believe was murderous intent

fuck

you were going to die tonight 

you were a healer, not a fighter rip you

just as the demon made a move to step out of circle, the spell broke. the magic that kept him afloat disappeared in a flash

causing him to plant face first onto your wooden floor

“....pfffft-”

you knew you probably shouldn’t have found the idea of a potentially dangerous demon in your home funny, but you couldn’t stopped laughing at how someone so scary looking could be so clumsy

meanwhile the demon only winced in pain as he stood back up and rubbed his face before shooting you a look of disbelief

most people would faint, pee their pants, cry, or at least scream in fear at the sight of him

but here you are laughing at him

who tf were you?

“are you done?” he deadpanned after watching you laugh at him for three minutes straight

wiping away a stray tear, you barely managed to settle down and responded, “y-yeah i think i’m good. are you?”

“peachy”

you felt the need to laugh again... until you realized that the spell you used was meant to summon:

a loved one

and it summoned this random demon 

wtf was that supposed to mean

“wait, who the hell are you?” you interrogated

“my name is bufan. i’m a formidable demon of the Underworld!” his loud, deep ass voice boomed before leaning down his height to make eye contact with you

you felt your heart flutter a bit at how close he was

“that’s uh... nice...”

“just... nice....?”

“yeah....”

awkward silence

“so who are you and why did you summon me?” bufan questioned, raising a dark eyebrow at you

“oh! i’m (y/n). i kind of summoned you by accident,” you sheepishly admitted

“how do you accidentally summon a demon?”

“how do you accidentally trip and fall while getting summoned?”

“....”

damn you got him there

“anyway,” you coughed, “all i wanted to do was summon the spirit of my dead grandmother, not a demon. i’m not even sure why the spell summoned you in the first place. not to be rude or anything but can you go back to where you came from? I'm really busy and need to talk to my grandmother so i can start this cure already”

"i can't unless you give me your first born child"

“....say what now”

you gaped at his serious poker face before slowly watching it contort into a shit-eating grin. then he broke into a boisterous laughing fit that shook the whole room with its intensity

you pouted when you realized he was pulling your leg. “this is payback for earlier, isn’t it?”

he calmed himself down to a few chuckles, “i was just trying to break the ice. it’s not every day i get summoned to a cute little witch’s home”

you nearly forgot how much of a smooth talker demons were

blood rushed to your cheeks at his words

definitely not because he called you cute

(it definitely is)

“but i’m telling the truth when i say i can’t exactly go back. that’s not how this spell works. i’m already bounded to you by blood”

you wondered what he meant by ‘not how the spell works’

“the spell book doesn’t say anything about it either,” you sighed. “i guess that means you’re stuck with me for the time being- hey! be careful with that!”

you snatched a bottle of naga venom from bufan who already was snooping around at all of the magical ingredients and things around him

“you’re awfully calm. aren't you afraid i'll take your soul or something?" he says

"bold of you to assume I have a soul"

you were joking of course and he, being a demon, could sense that you indeed did have a soul and grinned at you

“just... try and behave yourself, ok?”

“i’ll be on my best behavior”

bufan was not on his best behavior

you should have known never to trust a demon smh

having bufan around was like taking care of three year old child

he’s constantly asking you questions every time you’re trying to make potions and just genuinely trying to annoy you

“(y/n), what’s that?”

“dragon’s breath”

“and that?”

“alicorn tears”

“this empty jar says teeth. who’s teeth?”

“it’s about to be yours in a second after i punch you in the jaw if you don’t stfu”

“are all you humans so snippy?”

“oh my god”

“more like oh my lucifer amirite”

you were a unicorn’s hair away from hexing him jfc

for someone so big, he was also extremely sneaky and sly

he’s always trying to play pranks on you and using his powers to his advantage

such as using his invisibility to randomly pop in front of you or poke your sides or face when you were doing something

or hiding your phone and other necessities all over the house and sending you on an entire scavenger hunt

despite his childish tendencies, bufan was also quite reliable 

for some reason, he grew to be protective of you although he knew you could protect yourself with your own powers

whenever you traveled home alone at night, he insisted on flying you home on his broad back

which you secretly loved bc flying with bufan was always fun since he would always make it feel like a roller coaster ride by flying in loops and various speeds

there were times where bufan even acted like a mother figure which was both intriguing and terrifying

“(y/n), did you eat yet?”

“no i don’t have any time to-”

*proceeds to make eight different types of meals for you*

in addition, he always had liver medicine on hand and you have no idea how or why???

whenever you were having a bad day, he never hesitated to listen to your problems even if they didn’t apply to him as a demon

over the next few months of bufan living with you, your once quiet and uneventful home was now constantly filled with laughter, annoyed yells, and bustle. you found yourself noticeably happier

but a part of you always wondered if your happiness was only one sided

“bufan,” you called out to him one day while fiddling with your wand

he made a grunting sound from the couch that was situated a few feet from you, indicating that he heard you and was listening

“do you regret being summoned by me?” you nervously asked

no answer

feeling your heart drop when he failed to respond, you assumed the worse and laughed quietly to hide the sadness in your heart

“it’s okay if you do. i wont hold it against you,” you nodded timidly

hearing his footsteps approach you, you faintly remember hearing your wand drop onto the floor before he pulled you close to him

you’ve never felt so tiny oml

“what makes you think i regret being here?” he questioned, clearly confused as to why you were suddenly bringing this up

you shrugged, “i don’t know... i mean, you were kind of forced to. do you miss being on your own?”

“do you?”

it took you a moment to quietly reply, “i’ve gotten used to feeling alone, so if you wanted to leave, i would let you”

bufan could hear the loneliness that lingered at the edge of your words. little did you know, he already knew how much you meant to him from the very first day he met you. there was no way it was an accident. he pulled you tighter to him before kissing the top of your head

“silly little witch. who says i’m going anywhere?”

you tilted your head up at him in surprise, “you’re saying that if you had the chance to leave, you wouldn’t take it?”

“you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to”

and you swear that that was the moment you knew you had fallen for a demon

maybe performing that spell wasn’t a mistake after all

perhaps the universe knew that bufan was meant to be your loved one

because there was no better feeling than always coming home to a certain demon of yours

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Dissonance Chapter One

Description: After spending a year studying abroad in America, Y/N returns to Seoul hoping to greet the familiar city as a new girl. But what will she do when she’s met with old friends she’d rather forget? It seems the strings of fate are determined to test her resolve...and her willpower.

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Pairing: Taehyung x (f) Reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Rockband BTS!Au, Bassist Taehyung!Au

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Whoa!! So here we are hehehe. I’m so excited to start this new journey with you guys. I cannot even begin to express how overjoyed I am that you have stuck around with me through Arranged, and I’m glad you guys chose Tae in the poll! This is gonna be fun, and I can’t wait to go on this ride together. That said, this story is so different! It’s been a hell of a lot of fun and a little challenging to write it thus far. Big thank you to @musicandmusing you have been such a huge help getting through the tougher parts of writing this chapter. Please send me a message if you like it, hate it, whatever! I really can’t explain how happy I am when I get to talk to you guys, so I hope I get to do it more in the future! I’ll respond to all asks within a day of receiving them. As always, please send feedback, critique, questions, or comments my way! 

Ah! And this is important!

My posting schedule for this fic will be once a week, as twice a week was too much for me with Arranged. I really wish I could maintain a twice weekly posting schedule, but it has been remarkably strenuous for me and while I’m not complaining, I really want to give you the best writing that I can. I’m sorry if this disappoints any of you!

So, expect a new chapter every Sunday at 1:00PM PST!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Masterlist

The sun pressed softly against the bare skin of my arms as they flapped on every jump, flailed on every descent. Sometimes my hands would search for something to grab onto, seeking purchase on anything and finding nothing but the mesh net of my neighbor’s trampoline. Sometimes I would fall onto my bottom in a fit of giggles and reach those grasping hands into the air where he would stand, his form eclipsing the sun, a silhouetted body that looked from below to be larger than the earth itself.

“Get up!” he shouted through laugher. He reached a bronzed forearm down towards me and I clamped a hand around it, hoisting myself up to stand beside him.

He grinned at me, that grin that always had me grinning too, and patted his black bowl of hair down around his ears. His mother had told him he’d grow into them. I wasn’t so sure about that. I struggled to look at him past the glare of white-hot, yellow sunlight behind his head. Squinting my eyes, I bent at the waist in the hopes that perhaps at the right angle he could blot out the sun once more.

“What are you doing?” he asked, still smiling.

I shook my head. “The sun!” I said. “It’s too bright.”

He raised his brows and grabbed my shoulders, hopping to the side and turning me with him so each of us stood with sunlight casting shafts across the sides of our faces. “Better?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But that was no fair! You double bounced me,” I said with a pout.

He flicked me hard on the center of my forehead and I cringed. “You tripped me earlier,” he said before turning his face to the side to peer with a tilted head at the sun.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, clamping a hand down over his eyes. “You’re gonna burn your eyes out.”

“No I won’t, that’s a myth,” he said, smacking my hand away and giving me a frown. “The sun is really cool when you think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…it’s shining so bright that it hurts to look at it. But still we wanna look, you know?” he said, suddenly pensive as we stood barefoot on the hot nylon trampoline.

I shrugged. “It’s just hot gas, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah, but it makes people look, even though they’re not supposed to. Just because it’s living so brightly.”

“But what does it matter if it’s bright if it’s just gas?” I asked.

He pursed his lips, thinking. “I wanna be a person like the sun.”

“Gassy?”

“Y/N,” he groaned, turning to me.

He looked at me, and the deep brown of his eyes seemed in the light to be on fire. In my ten years I’d never seen more ambition in someone’s eyes than I did in his. I wondered what my friend could possibly mean, what he could be talking about with his eyes glittering like that. I wasn’t sure why, and I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I grabbed for his too-big, calloused hand and held it firmly, nodding my head. 

“You’re already bright. But I’ll help you get brighter,” I said with a resolute steeliness in my young voice.

“Excuse me?”

I startled awake and rubbed my eyes as the taxi driver stared over his shoulder at me, his bushy, grey-laced eyebrows knitted as he nodded his head a few times. “Um…are we here?” I asked, unable to keep the drowsiness from seeping into my words.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said, pointing to my large duffel bag as it sat beside me, practically the size of a second passenger. “I got a bad back. Can’t help you with that.”

“Right,” I said with a forced smile. “I wouldn’t have asked.” I rifled through my satchel to find my wallet and, once in hand, slipped some cash from the side pocket. I handed the bills to him and nodded my head. “Thanks,” I said before exiting the car, yanking my duffel bag out the door with me. 

I dragged my bag laboredly to the sidewalk and waved as the taxi driver sped off without a second glance. Sighing, I glanced over my shoulder at the tall, brick-faced apartment building. It had been a whole year since I’d seen the place. Its lofty roof pierced the blanket of foggy, cloudy sky overhead, and the sharp wind teased a chill up my spine. I rubbed my upper arms gently to coax the goosebumps down. I then looked down at my bag as it lay limp on the ground. If I wasted any more time the rain would come and wash it away. Part of me wanted the rain to wash me away too.

“Y/N!?” screamed a voice from above. Perhaps the voice of God?

“Yeah?” I called back, glancing up to find the source.

“Oh my God, I’m coming!” she called. Not the voice of God. Just the voice of Lee Yuna.

I smiled fondly as she yanked her body back inside the building, shutting the window behind her as she disappeared inside. Left alone once again, my body felt uncomfortable in the city, and the skeletons in my closet had turned to ghosts of memories in my absence, specters wandering around every corner, lingering like smoke in alleyways. Even taking glances around the street brought back a painful swell of remembering. But after what felt like only a few seconds, she was panting in front of me, the front door of the apartment building still swinging behind her as she rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

“You okay?” I asked with a laugh.

She looked up at me, blew her bangs out of her face with a puff of breath, and gave my arm a firm smack. “You said you were coming home tomorrow!” she shouted, causing a few walkers across the street to look and whisper.

I smiled and swayed, letting my head sway too. “Yuna,” I whined. “I missed you.”

Her frown eased and she rolled her eyes, pulling me into her for a warm, long hug. Still clinging to me, she whispered, “You okay?” A repetition of my question, this time posed towards me and asked in earnest.

I shrugged. “Better. That’s all I can ask for, really,” I said, pulling away to push her hair behind her ears. “Let’s go inside, hm?”

We struggled with my duffel bag for a good fifteen minutes, coaxing it over the lip of the front door, past the reception desk, slumping it against the wall as we waited for the elevator, pushing it with all our might into said elevator, and then, eventually, dragging it with whatever energy we had left into the apartment. I collapsed onto it with a thump and let my body lay limply atop the thing, a few secretly stored boxes poking into my side.

“Yuna! You can’t just ditch me in the middle of making kimchi-,” started a voice from the kitchen. A voice I knew belonged to-

“Haewon!” I called with an exhausted sigh, pushing myself to my feet as our friend emerged from the doorway on the right, deep eyes wide, black hair tied in a lopsided bun.

“Y/N!” she shouted before launching towards me, capturing me in what was more of a full-body attack than a hug.

I laughed, using the wall beside the front door for support to keep from toppling over. “Hi,” I said.

She pulled away and gave me a pout, her cheeks red from being in the kitchen so long. “Why didn’t you call to tell us you were coming home early?” she asked.

“It was a really sudden change,” I said. “That said, we have plans tonight.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Yuna, holding a finger up to seize my words. “You haven’t even told us how America was.”

I raised my brows. “America? It was cool. I saw a bald eagle.”

“What?” called Haewon, her arms still wrapped around my neck.

“I went up north. You know Seattle?” I asked, glancing at my two friends as they slowly nodded. “Well, north of there.”

“Y/N,” said Yuna as Haewon tightened her bun and released me, sitting on the couch with her eyes trained on me. “You’ve been studying abroad in America for a year and all you have to say is that it was cool and you saw a bird?”

“It’s a rare bird,” I defended.

Yuna sighed. “Oh my God, enough with the bird,” she said. “How was the food? Did you eat In N’ Out?”

I laughed and nodded. “I did. Oh! And I brought something nice for you guys,” I said, rushing to my duffel bag. I tore it open and moved a few things around until I found the two boxes I’d stored near the top. “Here you go,” I said with a proud grin.

“What…what is it?” asked Haewon from the couch, squinting at the skinny rectangular boxes in my hands.

I raised my eyebrows. “Girl Scout Cookies,” I said. “I’ve been holding onto them for a few months, but I think they’re still good.”

“A few months?” asked Yuna, her eyes suddenly dull as she looked at the boxes. “And what are Girl Scout Cookies?”

I gaped. “You don’t know?” I asked. “They’re like…an American classic. Little girls come to your door and ask if you want cookies and you buy them and then you eat the whole thing in one sitting and hate yourself. It’s tradition.”

“Are they expired?” asked Haewon with a grimace.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. You can only get them during a special time of year and-you know what? Forget it. I’ll eat them myself.”

“No!” shouted Yuna, suddenly interested in the cookies in my hands.

I stuck my tongue out at her and shook my head. “You had your chance. Begone, wicked one.”

“I really want them though! I’m sorry I didn’t trust you!” she called as I hopped over the duffel bag and hovered in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“First you didn’t care about my bald eagle, now you don’t care about my Girl Scout Cookies?” I asked, a sneaky grin finding its way to my lips. “I’m offended.”

She launched herself towards me and, before I could turn into the kitchen where the heavy smell of garlic and fish sauce greeted me, she had grabbed both boxes, her hands creating ugly dents in the sharp corners. 

“Hey!” I shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Those are my gifts to distribute as I please!”

He cocked a brow. “And we are very appreciative of your gifts,” she said, tossing a box to Haewon. “What’s a thin mint?” she asked over her shoulder.

“It’s the best flavor. Next to Samoas,” I said, sighing as I leaned against the doorframe.

“Anyway,” said Haewon, examining her box with a soft smile. “Tell us about what it was like. Tell us the actual story.”

I raised my brows. “There is no story. It was fun. That’s it.”

Yuna looked at me, once again serious and putting a very serious damper on my mood. “Y/N…,” she said, giving me that knowing look that she knew made me anxious.

I shrugged. “What more can I say? Let’s just…make kimchi or something,” I said with a cautious look at Yuna.

She sighed, her arms crossed, a box of cookies in her hand. “We’ll talk more,” she said. “For now…what plans do we have tonight?”

Ah, she conceded. I grinned, joining Haewon on the couch and pulling my knees to my chest. “We’re going to a concert.”

At a quarter past ten, the three of us stood in front of a stout grey building in Hongdae, only a few blocks from our apartment. We all stood close as we braced ourselves against the chilly fall weather, huddled in front of the entrance. Yuna smiled beside me, nudging my side with her elbow as Haewon scrolled through her phone.

“I can’t believe you got us tickets to this show,” said Yuna.

I glanced at her with a scowl. “I told you, I didn’t get them. Jimin called and invited us.”

Haewon sighed as she tapped away at the screen of her phone. “Can’t believe you came home because a boy told you to,” she said.

I scoffed. “He didn’t tell me, he asked. And he was excited about it since he was the one who scheduled it for this day in our neighborhood. And I wanted to come home and surprise you. And he’s not a boy, he’s Jimin,” I said, counting on my fingers as I made each point.

Haewon lifted her eyes, her face alight with a blue electronic glow from below, and shrugged. “He’s in one of the hottest bands in the city,” she said. “I think he qualifies as a boy.”

“When you’ve seen him kick himself in the head and then cry about it you kind of stop seeing him that way,” I said with a laugh as I remembered the day when I was in third grade, just after I’d met him, when he’d been trying to pass a soccer ball to his friend across the field during recess and had accidentally smashed his forehead into his knee on the upswing.

“Let’s get inside,” said Yuna, hopping a little at my side. “I’m cold and there are cute boys to see.”

We waddled together into the venue which was already alight with the buzz of an anxious crowd. A beefy man inside demanded our tickets, which I provided in the form of the email Jimin had sent. He raised his brows and nodded gruffly, granting us access into what felt like an elite club of miscreants. People crammed together, filling almost every available space, leaving Yuna, Haewon, and me to try and force our way through the fray and into the thicket. My hand clasped with Yuna, with Yuna’s other hand clasped with Haewon’s, the three of us snaked through the hazy room, smoothing into vacant spaces in the crowd until we were as close the the stage as I could manage. 

“Hey, you know all these guys right?” asked Haewon from beside me, her voice fighting with the din of the massive room for dominance.

I shook my head. “Just Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook,” I said. “And the second two I only know through Jimin.”

Yuna furrowed her brow as she stood in the middle and turned to me slightly. “Wait, you know V too, don’t you?” 

I stiffened, blinking a few times, before shaking my head with a dismissive shrug. “Not really.”

“That’s not true though. You grew up with Jimin and-,” started Yuna before the lights went dim and, thankfully, cut off her train of thought. I didn’t want to board that train tonight.

A hush fell over the crowd, everyone speaking quietly as if the slightest noise might disturb whatever was coming. I’d been away too long, and I’d never seen Jimin’s band perform for such a large and excited crowd. Most of their rise had occurred over the course of the year I was abroad and, with a slight pang of guilt, I wondered if it had been hard on them.

I refocused on the thrum of the crowd, the jittery energy that seemed to pulse, to ebb and flow, through all of us. It was odd. I’d never known the band to have this sort of impact. Perhaps I really had missed a lot while I was gone. I remembered sitting in on band practice when the group was only a four-man operation in high school. We would sit in Jimin’s musty basement, using speakers Jungkook had stolen from his work at the electronic store. Back then I thought I could be their biggest fan forever, back before the band even had a name. Yoongi playing drum sounds from his keyboard, Jimin playing acoustic guitar, Jungkook singing his heart out, and Taehyung-

“Are you guys ready?!” cried a voice I recognized from backstage.

Kim Namjoon. Bangtan’s almighty leader. Thank God he’d come around when he had, just before college had begun for Jimin. From what Jimin told me, he made the group much more cohesive, more focused. He gave them a name, and he helped them reach their potential. That was what Jimin said at least. I wouldn’t have known firsthand, because by then I wasn’t going to shows anymore. I was always a fickle fan anyway.

“Make some noise!” he called again, and the crowd began to roar. The noise was deafening, but even despite the ringing in my ears I couldn’t help but smile. I was nervous, vibrating with anxiety, but melting into the crowd eased my troubled mind.

“Is that the best you can do?” asked Namjoon, his tone slightly disappointed.

Once again, the crowd went wild, arms flying, voices wailing into the dark venue. Namjoon chuckled into the microphone and I could barely register seven bodies walking onto the stage. The stage lights were still shut off, leaving the crowd in darkness, the only light source belonging to the stray cell phone screen floating above someone’s head here or there. 

“Here comes Bangtan,” Namjoon said quietly.

A moment of silence.

A moment of tension.

And then…

A moment of rapture. 

The stage light turned on, revealing all seven members as they stood behind their microphones. Jungkook had a hand on his mic already, grinning into the crowd. Boy, had he always had such remarkable stage presence? Gone was the goofy kid we used to tease about his bunny smile, and gone was the boy who, according to videos Jimin sent me, had not only a week prior gotten a chopstick stuck in his left nostril. In his place stood a young man with all the charisma of a rock star, eyes rimmed with what I could see from below was light makeup. Makeup! On my Jungkook! 

Beside him was Namjoon, only this time he looked like a photograph. Long legs, guitar strapped over his shoulder, a smirk on his face and his hair dyed a particular shade of coppery blonde that caught the spotlight just right. He gave a sweeping glance across the crowd, offering a dimpled smile. On Jungkook’s other side was a guy I knew was named Kim Seokjin. Jin for short, according to Jimin. Another picturesque young man, standing dashingly in front of his own microphone, no instrument necessary to give strength to his presence. 

Behind him, offset to the side, was Park Jimin, hair styled expertly out of his face, a honey color that suited his skin tone. I could see from my vantage point the glint of blueish contacts and stifled a gasp. He’d never been the type to wear those sorts of things! The mom in me wanted to hop onstage, grab him by the ear, and scold him for compromising his preferences for fame. But then I saw the bright smile on his face, a smile that outshone not only the spotlights, but the entire stage. And I smiled too.

In the back beside the drum set was Min Yoongi, fingers already settling on the keys, eyes resting half-open on the keyboard in front of him that obscured him from view. His hair was bleached and looked, at least from below, to be holding up well despite his lamenting about it on social media. I’d teased him about his hair falling out lately, and while he would usually fire back with a quip of his own when I teased, on this issue all he could do was agree with me.

And then, behind him, was a smile that stole the breath from my lungs. The smile was attached to a cute face with eyes squinted against the stage lights and a jawline so sharp it cast shadows on his neck. Mystery boy’s hair was fluffy, probably styled that way, and fell just above his eyebrows which he rose in a silly expression I wouldn’t have expected from a drummer in a rock band. The crowd still screamed around me, and as they did the drummer transferred his right drumstick to his left hand so he could raise his pointer finger and thumb in a little heart that had my real heart thumping in my chest.

The girls in the crowd shouted in response, a magnificent display of hormones amongst the sea of high-pitched wails. I smiled and Yuna leaned close to me to shout in my ear, “Who’s the drummer?”

I shrugged. “Dunno,” I said, then turned to her, still unable to stop my grin. “But I’m in love with him.”

She laughed and nodded, but didn’t argue. I returned my attention to the boy in the back, wearing a wildly printed button-down shirt and that shining smile. But before I could enjoy the view, motion to the right of the drummer caught my attention and, to my great distaste, I glanced to the side to capture it. 

And there he stood.

Kim Taehyung.

Or at least, what I thought was Kim Taehyung. His hair had been dyed a shade of silver I couldn’t name and was growing past his eyebrows, shaggy around his head and unrestrained. His features looked the same, but somehow not. His lips were still the same rosy color I remembered, his cheeks still high, his shoulders still broad, his neck still slender, large hands still holding the same bass guitar he’d had since high school. His eyes, although sporting grey contacts, were still his. But something about him was completely different. A year can really change a person…

Before I could dwell on it, the drummer smashed down mightily on his set a few times and, with that, the song began. Jungkook and Jin started belting into their microphones, singing a song I could recognize only vaguely from clips Jimin had sent me when I was abroad. Jimin and Namjoon strummed steadily, Namjoon occasionally adding a riff that struck me as particularly pleasing. The beat was heavy, with emphasis on the drums, and thusly emphasis on the drummer. I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t look away from the joy on his face.

The music continued and as it did, the crowd began to bounce, almost in sync. On instinct, my hands lifted to the sky with Yuna and Haewon, all of us jumping in time with the others. All of us were sandwiched, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, chest to beck. If we lifted our feet, I suspected we would have stayed upright with how closely packed everyone’s bodies were. There was an electricity in the crowd, a kind of syncopation that was hard to put to words. Jungkook and Jin continued singing, backed up by Jimin now and again. I was content to continue with the concert that way, focusing only on the members I could stand to look at, and would have enjoyed the evening far more if I could have managed it, but like he always did, Taehyung seemed to steal my attention without even trying.

His husky voice blasted through the speakers around the warm venue as he sang a few lines. The lights focused on him and he shut his eyes as he began to really feel the rhythm. As much as I hated myself, I had to admit that he was a natural. Something gave me pause, however, just as he was about to finish. His spotlight flickered slightly before petering out, leaving him in dimness as he sang and played, unaffected. A few of the other stage lights came on and turned off until, for a split second, the back light flashed, illuminating him from behind. And, if only for a moment, it was just like my dream. His form was eclipsing the sun once again. My chest ached because, just as the spotlight returned and he slowly finished his verse, the boy I used to know seemed to be shining so brightly it hurt.

“Park Jimin!” I shouted as I approached my friend backstage. He grinned when he saw me and held his arms wide and, with his invitation, I rushed into them. “For someone so small you give really big hugs,” I remarked, only to be greeted with a sharp smack to my arm. “You did so well.”

Everyone had cleared out by then, security ushering them out into the cold autumn night, leaving behind the damp floor and the humid air of the venue for the sharp bite of nighttime wind. Yuna and Haewon were going to stay and meet the guys, but during the final song someone spilled a full can of beer on Haewon’s sweater, leaving her wet and irate. Yuna said she’d take her home. When I’d offered to accompany them, both of them told me not to take another step and urged me to meet up with Jimin anyway.

Only meeting up with Jimin meant meeting up with everyone.

And that was something I didn’t really want to do alone.

“Come inside!” Jimin chided, still beaming from the praise, leading me by the shoulder through the threshold of an open door. Surprised, I saw all manner of sweaty young guys, drying off or settling into lumpy couches or removing makeup roughly with wipes. Conversation was boisterous, and the atmosphere was rowdy enough for me to slip in without notice.

I flushed as my eyes caught on the fluffy top of someone’s brunette head and I turned back to Jimin before I could get caught staring at that drummer. “Oh,” said Jungkook at the vanity, turning to see me with a face half-streaked with makeup. “Hey,” he said before returning to his task.

Jimin scowled. “You’ve been gone a year and all that kid can say is hey,” grumbled Jimin at my side. “Thanks for coming back a day early by the way! I really thought today was the right day.”

I shook my head as he led me inside, pulling a chair from the corner and ushering me to sit down. “It’s fine. I wanted to support my little Jiminie,” I said, grabbing for his cheeks and finding them much less pinch-able than before.

“I am also your friend,” said Yoongi from the corner, typing away at his laptop without once lifting his eyes to meet me.

I thought a moment. “Yeah, but you don’t care if I support you or not.”

He pursed his lips as he mulled this over and then gave a shrug. “Fair.”

Jungkook turned to me again and frowned. I raised a brow, silently asking what his problem was, and he simply puffed a little and rolled his eyes. “Hey, are you egging me on?” I asked him. 

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well why?” I asked. “I just got here!”

“I sent you a Snap a day ago and you opened it but didn’t respond,” he said.

I scoffed. “A day ago I was in an airplane.”

“Didn’t the plane have wifi?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

He fumed for a moment before his contemptuous gaze turned soft and he chuckled. “Did you bring me a souvenir?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s a postcard from Yellowstone,” I said, then thought. “I forgot it though.”

He gaped. “You forgot it?”

“I remembered Jimin’s gift,” I said, rifling through my satchel with a smile as Jimin bounced below me, settled criss-crossed on the floor. I produced the silver chain and let it dangle in the air between us.

Jimin’s eyes flashed before they went wide and round, snatching the necklace before I could even explain what it was. “Is this a new chain?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I got a little pendant for it too,” I said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the trinket.

He turned the small silver circle at the bottom of the chain around to examine it. “Are…are these your initials?” he asked.

I nodded. “At first I bought it for myself but I thought it was too long so I’m repurposing it.”

“I believe the technical term for that is ‘regifting,’” said Namjoon from the sofa beside me. 

I’d been deliberately avoiding the right side of the room, careful not to let my gaze linger anywhere it shouldn’t. “Even if I gifted it to myself to begin with?” I asked, brow furrowed.

He laughed and shook his head at me. “I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know. Jimin tells me everything,” I said.

Namjoon’s eyes went wide and he turned his gaze to Jimin who by then had snapped the necklace around his neck and was fiddling with it gently. “Does he?”

Jimin nodded. “You know we’re childhood friends.”

“Pretty shitty friends if the only gift she gives you is something she bought for herself and didn’t want,” said Jungkook with a look over his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not his only gift,” I said.

Despite his age, Jimin was still as excitable as a child as he looked up at me. “Wait really?

I nodded. “I also may or may not have found a signed Haim album at a music store in Portland.”

“What?” he shouted.

“Jimin?” said a voice from the right.

Damn the right.

I turned to be polite and came face to face with the drummer, his expression soft and kind as he peered at both me and Jimin. I went stiff as a bone under his gaze, unable to say or do much of anything.

“Yeah?” said Jimin.

“Who’s this?” he asked with a laugh. “I’ve been waiting for you to introduce her,” he said. Man, even his voice was handsome.

I chanced a glance to his side and saw Taehyung, face buried in his phone and feet propped up on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Had he even noticed me? And more importantly, the drummer had been waiting? My heart thumped.

“Oh! This is Y/N. She’s my childhood friend,” he said with a sweet smile. “Tae’s too.”

I winced at the last part, crossing my legs and waving lightly at the members I hadn’t met. All two of them. Jin was resting against a wall on the floor beside Yoongi, playing with an acoustic guitar. He stopped only to give me a smile and a nod. And that left only-

“My name is Jung Hoseok,” said the drummer, smiling gently.

I returned it. “Nice to meet you.”

“So stiff,” said a voice I wasn’t expecting. I turned to face Taehyung who was suddenly staring directly at me, a wicked smirk on his lips. “You’re still as awkward as ever.”

I raised my brows, lacing my fingers atop my knee. He had some nerve. “Mm, and you’re still intolerable.”

He nodded his head. “Glad to know some things don’t change.”

“My sentiments,” I said, returning my attention to Hoseok who by then was shifting uncomfortably. “Sorry. He gets under my skin.”

Taehyung snorted and sat up straight. “You’re just testy,” he said, looking at me with a cold indifference that briefly hurt.

But I was grateful, at least, that our interactions were bristly. Better this than the alternative. “Mhm,” I said with a smile. 

“Anyway,” enunciated Jimin with a cough into the crook of his elbow. “Y/N has been gone in America for a year studying English. She goes to Hongik.”

“Jesus, is this an interview?” asked Taehyung, groaning as he resumed his previous position, leaning back so far his chin nearly brushed his chest, scrolling easily through his phone. “Listing her specs?”

“At least I have specs to list,” I said under my breath. 

He shot me a sharp look before returning his focus to his phone. “Ah yes, an English Language and Literature degree from an art school,” said Taehyung with a snort. “How could I have forgotten?”

I smiled to myself, shaking my head. He could be such an incredible dick. A rush of memories flooded back to me of his worst moments: the time he’d made a girl cry after she confessed to him in high school, the time he’d called Jimin’s mom and got him in trouble when Jimin had stolen his favorite pick, the time he’d gotten so upset over a particular song he was learning that he snapped at me and told me not to talk to him anymore. The guy had a penchant for pushing buttons and watching the chaos. I wasn’t sure how or why he’d picked it up. I supposed that somewhere along the way someone told him that getting far meant getting mean, and he’d taken it to heart.

“Um, what is this?” asked a high female voice from the doorway behind me. I turned to face her, a young girl of probably twenty or so, dark hair brushing her shoulders in a tidy line, eyes a peculiar shade of greenish brown. Did everyone start wearing colored contacts in the year I’d been away?

“Oh hey!” said Namjoon with a smile. “We were just getting ready to leave.”

The girl raised her brows and crossed her arms. “Funny. Doesn’t look like you’re getting ready,” she said. Her petite face said she was happy, but her sarcastic tone said something different.

Namjoon glanced around the room and, with a dismissive shrug, looked back at the girl. “Is there really a rush?”

She sighed, gripping the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Yeah kinda. Just…the fans are gonna figure out where we’re parked eventually and you remember what happened in Itaewon,” she said.

Taehyung snorted in the corner and glanced up from his phone. “Yeah. A girl threw her shirt at me and another one grabbed my-,”

“Enough!” called Jimin from beside me, waving his hands.

Taehyung chuckled some more to himself. “Anyway, if you guys could maybe…pick up the pace? That’d be sweet,” said the girl. She looked a little too young to sound so tired.

“Sunny,” whined Jungkook from the vanity with a makeup-smudged smile.

“Lighten up.”

“If I don’t keep you guys on track nobody will,” she defended with a pout. “It’s like herding cats.”

Hoseok gave a bright smile. “Hey, we’re all really appreciative of what you do for us, right guys?” he asked, prompting a series of grumbled, distracted responses from the rest of the guys. 

Sunny, at Hoseok’s comment, beamed for just a moment and I caught the way her cheeks went a little pink. Did I have a right to be jealous? “Thanks. Ah, and who’s this?” she asked, pointing a painted finger at me.

I raised my hand in a wave and smiled. “I’m Y/N. Just a groupie.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” she murmured with a pointed look at Taehyung that he didn’t see past his phone screen.

“She’s not a groupie,” said Jimin, giving my thigh a smack. “She’s my friend.”

“Oh…well, at any rate you guys really need to get a move on. If we don’t get outta here soon we’re gonna get flooded again and-,”

“Sunny?” called a distressed female voice from the black abyss of backstage.

Sunny stiffened and glanced over her shoulder. “Shit. That’s Mijin. Have you guys even gotten you’re outfits back on the rack yet?” she asked, her breathy voice rising with frustration.

The guys glanced amongst themselves, clearly spent from the concert as they could hardly move their heads, and Taehyung groaned. “Oh my God, if I wanted a lecture I’d go home,” he said lowly.

“Maybe you should,” teased Jimin with a laugh. “Your mom texts me now to see how you’re doing.”

“Really?” I asked, then cleared my throat as Taehyung looked at me sternly.

“Just…please get ready to go. I’m not gonna ask you twice,” said Sunny, sweeping her pointer finger across all of the boys to seize their attention. Their attention remained steadfastly un-siezed.

Namjoon nodded at her with a dimpled grin. “We will!” he said, but even I could tell it was an empty promise.

She sighed and gave one last furtive glance over her shoulder before turning on her heel and jogging down the hallway until the blackness beyond enveloped her entirely. At Sunny’s exit, the guys began chattering easily once again, having forgotten her warning as quickly as they’d heard it. As I looked around the room, I realized that none of them were quite working at…full capacity. Yoongi was still caked in makeup, Taehyung couldn’t be bothered to change out of his stage clothes, Jin was playing with a guitar he’d gotten from who-knows-where, and Jungkook was still struggling with the same wipe he’d been using when I arrived. I faulted Sunny on weak execution, but perhaps she had reason to be concerned for them.

“So, your stage outfits,” I said to Jimin softly as he fiddled with his necklace. He turned to me and smiled. “Are they yours or are they costumes?”

“Not really…costumes per say, but they’re special outfits that our stylist picks out and then holds onto,” he said, pointing to his flannel. “I already put mine away. Mijin is getting them all dry-cleaned so she asked us to hang them over there.” He pointed a finger towards a rack in the back of the room, just behind Taehyung’s head which explained why I’d missed it.

I sighed and walked a few paces forward until I was settled right in front of the devil himself. “Hey,” I said to him, my voice awkward to my own ears.

He peered up at me with suspicion before his eyes focused again on his screen. “What?”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying desperately to think of some way to speak to him without sounding strange. It was a horrible, novel dynamic between the two of us. But as I remembered the exhaustion in Sunny’s face, I couldn’t waste more time. “Strip,” I said with crossed arms.

His eyes went wide and he stared up at me like it was the first time he’d seen me. I reveled in it for the second or two it was there: a brief glimpse of innocence which was, predictably, replaced with a lecherous grin, his gaze roaming up and down. “Well, why didn’t you ask sooner?”

I rolled my eyes and gave the side of his leg a kick with the tip of my black boot. “These clothes don’t belong to you. If you ever wanna leave this sweaty room I suggest you change.”

He raised his brows and then, without much of a fight, stood to his feet and walked roughly past me, presumably to find a bathroom in which to change clothes. 

I cleared my throat, struggling past my fluttering stomach, as the guys resumed their leisure, and sailed up behind the vanity. “Jungkook,” I said, catching my reflection in the mirror as I stood at his flank.

He turned to me and blinked a few times, eyes wide. “What? Why are you so close to me? What are you trying to do?”

I chuckled and grabbed for a second wipe, handing it to him. “Take it from a person who wears makeup recreationally, you’ll need more than one. It’ll make it go faster,” I said.

Jungkook took it gingerly and, with an air of caution, began rubbing his skin with the damp thing, eyes never once leaving mine in the mirror. “Thanks,” he said, tentative.

I nodded and set my sights on Yoongi. “Hey, Min,” I called across the room.

Lazily, he lifted his gaze to meet my eyes. “Hm?” 

“If you don’t take off that stuff,” I said, pointing to my own eye, “you’re gonna get an infection.”

He scoffed. “Will not.”

“Bet,” I said with a smirk.

For a moment the blonde boy wavered and then, as if possessed by the spirit of fear itself, he shut his laptop altogether and grabbed for the bag of makeup wipes Jungkook was holding. Namjoon eyed me from his spot on the couch, one eyebrow cocked and a small smile on his face. I tried not to notice the look of a hatchling plan in the brown of the leader’s eyes, because I had a feeling I knew exactly what he would ask.

I was never cut out to be a manager anyway.

Before he could approach, I slid past Jimin and into the doorway. “Guys, if you’re not ready by the time I get back I’m gonna take my boot and smack each of you upside the head. Respectively,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Jin as he plucked discordant notes. He blinked at me before setting the thing aside and settling into Yoongi’s previous chair.

“Wait where are you going?” asked Jimin from below, turning his pout towards me.

I smiled. “I’m gonna check on Sunny. You guys seem…short-staffed,” I said. “I’ll be back in ten, maximum.”

I quickly swiveled and walked out into the darkness of backstage, pressing myself close to the wall so I wouldn’t be in the way of the tech crew dismantling equipment. Having seen how frazzled the young girl was, I was anxious to locate her to see if I could help out, if only a little. I wandered for a moment, passing workers who didn’t bother acknowledging me with a smile or even a bit of eye contact. If nothing else, the atmosphere bred anonymity. And that was always welcome. I meandered around to the right side of the stage. Or was it the left? Jimin was always the one who did theatre when we were kids. 

One thing I did know was that I was nearing an exit, as I felt the cool rush of breezy autumnal wind bracing against my skin in slender drafts. I pressed a little closer to myself, moving my chin to my chest to keep from losing more heat to the night. In the distance, I heard a toilet flush. I shuffled along the walls, shambling aimlessly in search of any sign of that hapless manager, perhaps a hint of that lilting voice, a ghost of her dark hair disappearing around a dark corner. But I was met again and again with nothing but crew until-

My body collided into someone else’s launching the both of us backwards and sending me into a heap on the floor where the drafts were far chillier. I shivered as I regained my bearings and shook my head.

“Shit! Are you alright?” asked a voice I knew all too well.

My heart thudded. “It’s me,” I said, rubbing my arm as I stood to face Taehyung looking much more…Taehyung than before.

His hair was restrained with a black beret, his torso fitted with a white shirt and a jacket that seemed too thin, wearing the loafers he’d bought with his first paycheck from the art supply store in high school. He’d yanked his black face mask down below his chin as he appraised me, suddenly with a lackadaisical indifference.

“Ah. No harm then,” he said before brushing past me.

Only the backstage corridor was cramped and his shoulders were too wide. He’d made no accommodations for me and, once again, sent me stumbling. This time I had the wherewithal to catch myself on something before I collapsed, seeking purchase like I had when we were kids on his trampoline and for once finding something to steady myself. 

But, of course, it was the pristinely hung outfit he was carrying to the back room.

I yanked the black sweatshirt from its hanger and, with a sick feeling in my stomach, I heard a seam rip. “Shit,” I breathed as the fabric lay limp in my fingers.

Taehyung turned, eyes wide, and stared at the sweatshirt, now with a gaping hole in the side. “What did you just do…?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing! You shoved past me! You know there’s not much space back here!” I shouted, pointing my finger at him.

Taehyung mimicked me. “You should have moved!”

“Why should the world bend because you’re walking through?” I shouted.

He scoffed. “Why should the world bend because you got back from your joyride year abroad?” he shouted back.

I gaped up at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“We scheduled this whole concert around you!” he yelled. “Jimin and Sunny had to organize everything and here you are! Breaking shit!”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t even scheduled to come home today, you idiot! Jimin got the date wrong!” I said. “I had to pay an extra two hundred dollars to change my flight! Now I’m gonna have to work doubles to pay rent!”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay a lot more to replace that!” he retorted with a smug grin my way, pointing to the sweatshirt.

I hadn’t noticed in the low light, but as I glanced at the thing now, I happened upon some red detailing on the arms. Hastily, I turned it over to get a better look and, to my horror, I realized what it was. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” said Taehyung with a laugh that I couldn’t help but feel was sadistic.

“You know I’ve always had a thing for Gucci.”

“You just perform and sweat in a Gucci sweatshirt?!” I shouted. “You just lounge in it? Casually? Gucci?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t buy it. We used our ticket sales to purchase our performing outfits. And it’s not me you wanna be talking to right now,” he said, grinning.

I shook my head. “No! I refuse to take responsibility for this, Taehyung!” 

He shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you,” he said, leaning down close to me. I could feel his breath against the skin of my neck, ruffling my hair. He smelled like he used to, faintly of lavender. He chuckled, the breath of it sending shivers up and down my spine. “You break it, you buy it.” 

“Ugh,” I said, shoving him away by the chest.

He began to laugh again, and before I could tell him off Namjoon’s voice beat me to it. “What’s going on back here?”

I turned to face in in the low light and noticed a small smirk, the one he’d worn before, had worked its way back into his features. How much had he heard? “What did you break?”

“Namjoon!” called Taehyung with a whine, suddenly pouting as if he were the victim. “She ripped my sweatshirt. The one I wear for concerts.”

I gaped at him. “You goddamn traitor,” I whispered under my breath, to which he only cast me a wink without turning his head towards me.

“Oh,” said Namjoon, but his smirk said it all. He’d seen everything.

Behind him a small figure came running and as she approached his flank, I realized it was Sunny. “Oh no,” she said, pointing to the sweatshirt. “That’s not-,”

“It is!” said Taehyung, crossing his arms.

“I’m so sorry. It was a total accident,” I said, my voice quick and frenzied.

Sunny’s eyes were wide, her mouth agape, one slender hand touching her cheek. “That’s gonna cost…like, fifteen-hundred dollars,” she said.

“W-What?” I asked, shaking my head wildly. “No, I can’t afford that. I…I haven’t even started working again. I’ve only been back a day. I-,”

“Slow down,” said Namjoon, that immobile smile still sparkling in the darkness.

“Let’s talk this out.”

“Namjoon, I’m really sorry but you know it was an accident. I-I work at a coffee shop. I’m not gonna be able to pay for this,” I said, shaking my head. Tears had begun to well in my eyes, but I kept them at bay by steeling my gaze, clenching my jaw.

Sunny sighed, her brows knit, and her head fell to the side slightly. “This is really messy,” she said, exhausted. I’d only wanted to lighten her load, but I’d inadvertently added to it…

I noticed Taehyung eyeing me in my peripheral. He was scanning me, picking over me with a fine-tooth comb. He knew me well enough to know my tells when I was trying not to cry. After all, the last time we’d seen each other I was wearing this same expression. I noticed him lean towards me, almost microscopically. If he thought he was having a moral crisis now, it was far too late. I took a half step away from him.

“If you can’t pay,” said Namjoon, tossing his head this way and that, his tone sensible. “Then work it off.”

“What?” said Taehyung.

“Excuse me?” said I.

Namjoon shrugged and placed a hand on Sunny’s shoulder, bringing her limp form forward as she stared ahead, still slack-jawed. Presumably still in shock. “Our lovely manager is in over her head.”

“W-No! I am not!” called Sunny, regaining her senses with a frown.

Namjoon raised a brow. “You sure?”

Sunny cleared her throat and looked towards me. “I mean…I offered to manage you guys when you only had two-hundred people at your concerts. I had no idea it would get this big. I guess…I’m a little overwhelmed.”

I stared up at Namjoon with furrowed brows. That stupid plot he’d been cooking in the backroom had needed only a catalyst: a catalyst I’d all too eagerly provided. “Wouldn’t you like some help, Sunny? Like…a co-manager?” asked Namjoon with a bright smile.

Sunny pursed her lips in thought. “I always kinda considered Mijin my co-manager, but she’s too busy keeping you guys pretty so…,” she said, then turned to me, appraising me. She looked me up and down. “Hm,” she said. “With a little polish…yeah, maybe you could work.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I…classes start on Monday and I work part time and-,”

“If you don’t have the time, then you can just pay for the sweatshirt instead,” said Namjoon with that stupid smile that felt anything but comforting.

“Jesus,” I breathed, glancing briefly at Taehyung and catching a glimpse of worry in his expression. 

“Listen,” said Sunny, approaching me and grabbing for my hand. I lurched away before letting her hold my fingers. “You got the guys to listen to you. That’s something Mijin and I have been trying to do for a year.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t make me a manager.”

“It kinda does. I’m…I’m doing my best, but I’m making careless mistakes lately. It’s too big for me to handle alone,” said Sunny, her voice reeking with desperation.

I cringed a little. “I-,”

“She messed up the date for the concert today,” offered Namjoon, to which Sunny gave a glare his way.

“Pretty sure that was Jimin’s fault…,” I mumbled, but my words fell on deaf ears.

“He’s right. I’m not doing the best I can because I’m spread too thin. You wanna help me, right?” asked Sunny with a smile.

Looking down at her, at that innocent, hopeful grin…I saw a bit of myself. Who I was before I left. I stiffened and looked at Taehyung who was now staring at Namjoon, as if trying to communicate something nonverbally to his leader. I tried not to notice the way his jaw strained sharply, the way the scant lighting made his skin glow. 

I didn’t want to spend more time with this particular skeleton. I wanted to let him, like the rest of them, become a ghost, a whisper that only appeared in my mind when I passed a certain ice cream shop or bowling alley. But it seemed some skeletons were more stubborn than others. And it seemed that fate wasn’t ready to shake Kim Taehyung from my life just yet.

I sighed and turned towards Sunny. With a painful twist of my lips, I said, “I’ll do it.”

[icypantherwrites]

Fundraiser Fic List and Statistics

I would like to thank everyone once more for their support of my friend and special shoutouts and love to the individuals who purchased fanfiction commissions from me  through my fundraiser and helped me raise over $300 that went straight to my friend. Thank you!

I have officially finished all of the purchased fundraiser commissions so thought it’d be fun to do a little by the numbers post along with links to all of the fics. For the record I am now taking fic commissions due to the furthered interest (you guys ♥) and you can find details here if you want to commission your own.

The full fic list will be below the keep reading tab as it got a little long. ^^; All right. Here we go.

Total number of fics: 13

Total number of words written: 95,713

Start date of first published fic: March 11, 2018

Finish date of thirteenth published fic: April 10, 2018

Longest fic: So Much to Offer* (10,361 words)

Shortest fic: Poison (2,876 words)

Lance as main/second main character: 13/13 (yup ;p)

Hunk appearances as main/second main: 5/13

Pidge appearances as main/second main: 2/13

Shiro appearances as main/second main: 1/13**

Keith/Coran/Allura appearances as main/second main: 0/13**

*In the Name of Love is technically the longest but that is because I went and added a second chapter. Commissioned wise it is not the longest one. 

**I give Keith two third spots though for his roles in Smile and The Price of Peace, Coran one third spot for Smile and Shiro one third spot for Passing Grade. Allura sadly got passed over for all of these cept for a small role in The Price of Peace. So sorry, hun. I love you though ♥

Most Popular Fics -- Top Two

(deigned by a combination of hits, comments, kudos and bookmarks)

1. The runaway winner was The Cost of Winning with 2,601 hits, 37 comment threads, 356 kudos and 78 bookmarks. This one featured Lance and Pidge captured and forced to fight in the arena. Lots of platonic Plance and some BAMF moments for both. (it has a sequel too for the aftermath which would appreciate some love ♥!)

2. The runner-up was Sounds of Darkness with 1,841 hits, 32 comment threads, 282 kudos and 70 bookmarks.  More Langst abound featuring sensory deprivation but some soft and warm platonic Shance to make you not want to sob in a corner by the end all while making sure you can hear yourself crying. 

Fics that Need More Love -- Bottom Two

(deigned by a combination of hits, comments, kudos and bookmarks)

There is not enough Hunk love in this fandom. Please. Give my ray of sunshine more of it. He deserves all of the happiness... even if both of these involve him in pain. Whoops.

12. Please know that If the World Should Freeze was one of my favorites because it features the best relationship there is in VLD, platonic Hance ♥ The boys find themselves in an icy wasteland with a happy serving of Hunk!whump. Yesss. Rang in with 517 hits, 19 comment threads, 92 kudos and 14 bookmarks. 

13. The other Hunk!whump fic of Strength of Your Word rounds out the bottom here.This is another adventure between him and Lance involving some less than savory weasel aliens and a jewel that everyone wants to get their paws, er, hands on. Totaled in at 483 hits, 22 comment threads, 86 kudos and 13 bookmarks.

And that rounds out the stat lines! You can find all thirteen fics below to peruse at your leisure. Please do be sure to leave a comment on them if you read and enjoyed; I really appreciate them ♥ Thank you and enjoy!

Tumblr Poll!

Last thing before you head off. These stats were all compiled via AO3 (which has taken over as my main platform) but I’d love to hear from the Tumblr audience for an informal poll rather than data stats. Which fic of the thirteen was your favorite? Feel free to comment below or send it via an ask! If majority was my favorite fic of the set I’ll do a little something ♥

Fic List

Posted in order of publish date, oldest first.

Poison

Summary:  Lance is fine. Or, at least he keeps telling himself that. He’s most definitely not a victim of the unknown disease with no cure sweeping through the city. Nope. But now he’s coughing up blood? Maybe… maybe he isn’t so fine after all. / “H-Hunk,” he whispered. “I… I think I’m s-sick.” Hunk let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Yeah, Lance. You are.“ Alternate universe, Langst

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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The Cost of Winning

This fic will have a sequel follow-up focusing on a recovery arc. Date TBD. Story is complete as is though.

Summary:  “The Blue and Green Paladins serve no purpose to the Empire,“ the Galran commander smirked at his bound captives. “And as such you have no use except as arena fodder.” He chuckled. “Give us a good show before you die.” / Lance is determined to protect Pidge and save her from the arena. She will not die here. Over his dead body. Hopefully it’s not quite that literal of a promise.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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In the Name of Love

Summary: Lance just wanted to buy a flower. Instead he's now the newest victim of a serial killer who has no plans to release him until he has served his purpose. Lance may be a Paladin but he's got a higher calling in life now. And it starts with his death. / "Do not try and resist again," his captor warned, "You will not like the consequences." Lance's voice cracked. "Like being eaten?" 

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Passing Grade

Summary:  If Lance stayed in the shower long enough maybe the water would wash everything away. Maybe it would make him forget unwanted hands and the scratchy couch. Maybe… A sob tore through his throat. No. There was no forgetting. But he did have to paste on a smile and try to because no one could find out. Otherwise it was all over. AU - College

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.Net

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Faces of Home

Summary: There were murmured, familiar voices when Lance awoke that quieted almost immediately when he blinked open his eyes. “Easy, easy,” someone soothed as he tried to sit up. Someone familiar. Lance gasped. “Mamá?” Because somehow… somehow he was home. / Lance is injured in a fight against the Galra and wakes to find himself in the care of his family. But… how did he wind up back on Earth? Something wasn’t quite right…

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Sounds of Darkness

Summary: Lance couldn’t see. Or hear. Or move. The silent darkness was all encompassing and it was pressing in; choking him, drowning him, blinding him. He screamed but it was swallowed whole into the void of nothingness. Lance trembled, pain shaking his limbs, and faintly wondered if he’d even made a sound at all.

Read it on: Ao3 Fanfiction.net

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Smile

Summary:  Lance glanced at the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was remembering. Like, the first glance had freaked him out but it really wasn’t that noticeable. He worried his lip in indecision before finally making his way over to the mirror. He had to know. Just… just a peek. Without further ado Lance gave a tentative smile. And despair crashed down once more.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Nothing to Be Afraid Of

Summary: Hunk will admit it. He’s afraid of many things and being captured by the Galra alongside Lance ranks at the top. But it’s the Galra who should be afraid. After all, they just unleashed a brilliant engineer and a quick-witted sharpshooter in their base. Better watch out. – “Uh, Hunk, what are you doing?” “Making bombs,” Hunk replied cheerfully. “Oh, okay- bombs?” Lance squeaked.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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So Much to Offer

Summary:  “I suppose though I should see what we’re working with, hm?” the slaver mused. “A pretty face is only part of the package after all.” His dark eyes met Lance’s and he shivered at the absolute depravity that stared back at him. “Let’s see what you have to offer.” / While trying to save his dying team, Lance is captured and sold into the slave trade. Time is running out… for everyone.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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If the World Should Freeze

Summary:   "Lance, st-stop," Hunk moaned, stumbling and splattering crimson upon the snow. "I c-can't…" The rest of his words trailed off as dark spots danced in his vision. "No!" Lance dug his hands into Hunk's vest as though that could keep him upright. "Don't you dare. Keep moving!" / Hunk and Lance are stranded in an icy wasteland but the cold is quickly becoming the least of their problems. Because the huge, hungry creature chasing them? Yeah. They're in trouble.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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The Price of Peace

Summary:  (Sequel to The Cost of Winning) They may have escaped the arena but things back home are far from all right. Keith is struggling. Shiro is hiding. Lance is suffering violent flashbacks and she’s having nightmares too. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. Pidge hates it. She wants her space family back. Not this broken version of them. It looks like she’s just going to have to fix it. And Lance is going to help.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Strength of Your Word

Summary: “Open his mouth,” Hunk heard the order and Lance’s chokes turned to a low moan. “Let’s make him smile nice and red,” came the hiss. And Hunk? He’s had enough. / Lance saves Hunk. Hunk saves Lance. Rinse and repeat. It’s what they do. So when a simple mission turns deadly these two are going to have each other’s backs. No matter the consequences.

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net

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Disjointed Soul

Summary: Lance falls victim to a Soul Leecher, a dark spirit that is drawn to disjointed souls to steal them for itself. The Paladins must go into Lance’s very soul to save him, uncovering truths about themselves and Lance in the process. Time is of the essence before Lance is lost forever. Good thing they have such helpful soul guides.

—

“Hi there baby Lance,” Hunk greeted.

“Ohwah,” Lance burbled back. “¡Ohwah!”

“Ohwah?” Pidge repeated.

“I think he’s saying ”hola,’“ Hunk grinned. "You know, "hello” in Spanish. Hola, baby Lance.“

”¡Ohwah! ¡Ohwah!“

Read it on: AO3 Fanfiction.net