#you show up. he's not impressed with you because he knows your bartender identity

[bookwyrminspiration]

Kihrin: here, I'll take you to meet Teraeth--

Doc, Terindel™:

[mariaxxxxx]

Blackberry (Steve Rogersx fem!reader)

Summary: You shouldn't have had too much to drink at that party, honey. (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

series masterlist

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: The following chapter has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex. I ask that you carefully observe the warnings to avoid triggers.

The party at the Stark mansion was a success as always. The cream of society was made up of businesspeople and new candidates for a seat in the American Congress. Dresses and hats fluttered in the cool spring breeze. You devoured a bowl of sugared blackberries, leaning against the bar counter, while watching your parents talk with friends animatedly about some topic involving economics and money. For God! You were so bored not even one of your friends decided to join you in this den of ostentation and hypocrisy.

And nothing, no matter how exciting it was to be in a superhero's house, could appease the enormous boredom that consumed his insides. Not even alcohol could keep you company at this point, your father would die before allowing a drop of alcohol to wet his tongue, so you were left with sugary blackberries that proved to be a good aphrodisiac on a hot afternoon.

You swallowed the last blackberry and left the empty bowl on the counter. He walked to his mother and whispered ‘’I’m going for a walk’’ in her ear and left the room before his mother could retort. You easily dodged the hundreds of guests and headed to the farthest drinks tent where an efficient bartender was juggling. The tent was outside, near a clump of trees, away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

“A blackberry margarita, please.” You asked, leaning slightly over the ivory surface.

"Identity." He asked.

“I didn’t bring it, but I guarantee that I’m of legal age.” You smiled as convincingly as you could, but he didn't seem inclined to help you. You rolled your eyes. “I’ll give you 100 bucks for the drinks.”

The bartender looked at You in disbelief. You felt internally angry; The childish features still hadn't left his face like the cute cheeks and plump lips, and that always got him into trouble.

“Not happening, girl.”

"Please! This party is a big mess, if you know what I mean. I need to stuff my face or I’m going to go crazy.”

Again he looked at her in disbelief. He was probably one of those people who only saw parts published in gossip magazines about young heirs who got into trouble.

"It went badly."

You sighed. Your father didn't even let you bring your cell phone. It was not polite, in his opinion, for a rich girl to interrupt an important conversation because of a message.

“A straight whiskey, please.” The deep voice next to him. “And a blackberry margarita.”

Without having to present ID or leave a tip to guarantee efficient service, the man, the damn Captain America, got both orders at incredible speed. The only thing You could think about was how tall and handsome he was.

"Here." He handed her the drink. “I got the impression that you forgot your identity and are being massacred by the damn bureaucracy.”

You smiled; by the drink and the wording so changing coming from a man considered by many to be an American God.

“Thank you, Captain.” You said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Steve. Just Steve.” He said taking a generous sip of his own drink. “I hope he really is of age. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

"Right. Steve. Just Steve.” You repeated with a mischievous smile. “I promise I will show you my ID as soon as possible.”

“What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You found yourself smiling and blushing at such a flippant compliment coming from such a divine man. You told him your name.

“A beautiful and delicate name. It suits you." He took another generous sip of his Whiskey and you took advantage and drank some more of your drink. It was sweet and went down as light as water.

“How can I thank you for the drink?” You asked.

"Talk to me."

You drank more of your blackberry margarita.

"About what?"

"Anything. Just… entertain me at this boring party.”

“Anything…” You took another sip. “As long as we can help ourselves to one more of these.” You got ready for your now empty glass.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Steve said, finishing the whiskey with a hint of a smile on his lips.

At some point, between conversations and glasses of margarita, Steve convinced you to show him every corner of the mansion. You accepted, looking excited about taking a tour with such a handsome man by your side. You and Steve left the tent, avoiding curious glances and boring conversations. He showed you the room where the Avengers met, the works of art that Tony insisted on buying, the training room and finally a long corridor with similar doors. He opened one of them and you entered a large room without windows, with a large sofa in the center, a minibar, a large TV that took up the entire wall and a strange device that you thought was a stereo.

It was large, clean and richly decorated. It felt like a sanctuary for leisure time. Steve pointed to the sofa and you sat down, he went to the minibar and returned with a bottle of reddish liquid. He sat down next to her.

  “Do you want to drink more”? He reached out his hand, wrapping his long fingers around the bottleneck. He extended this to You as if it were not a trap that You were about to willingly fall into. “It’s a liqueur made with blackberries. I got it from a senator at a party at the White House. I noticed how much You like the fruit and I would like You to try it.”

You had already had too much to drink. There were glasses and more glasses of margaritas, and you already felt your body a little soft, but you couldn't refuse the proposal of a man as beautiful as that. The man who sacrificed a lot for this nation. It's just a drink, You thought. Getting drunk next to Captain America, who is a hero, is a much better idea than getting drunk alone in a mansion. And you loved blackberries.

"Yes please." You mumbled, and Steve looked so proud of your response. He poured you a generous dose of drink. You drank. It was strong and very concentrated, very different from your sweet and light margherita. You didn't care you just drank more while Steve looked at You with a big smile. Beautiful. It was a beautiful smile.

One drink turned into two, then three and four.

“You’re blushing.” He smiled, he said drinking some of the liquor. “Your first kiss wasn’t that bad.”

You didn't notice. But You started sharing very personal things with Steve; You told him how your first kiss, as a child, was a disaster with a classmate you liked. You said how it was drooling and clumsy.

"It was horrible". You made a cart.” I did it because my friends wanted it. I should have waited longer.”

You don't feel it, but your knees spread of their own accord as a warm hand, not yours, lifts your dress a little and exposes the inside of your thigh and begins to massage in gentle circles as you finish another glass, laughing hard. , the heat growing whenever he got closer.

“A girl as beautiful as you should have someone.” He says in a reprimanding tone. He was close, very close. You drank more.

“No” You laugh, louder than usual, You feel so good, so light. But you feel a wave of disappointment wash over your body when you remember that you had no one. She couldn't even remember the last time she was touched or praised by the opposite sex.

“With such a beautiful face like that, it’s hard to believe.” He smiled. “Such a beautiful body and...”

He pauses.

“And…” You encourage him to continue.

“With breasts as beautiful as yours, I’m sure everyone…” He stops, looking embarrassed, his hand on your thigh about a little more. "Forgive me. This is inappropriate.

"No." You say quickly, urgently, although more slurred than usual.” I don't mind. You can praise them.”

"No?" He asks, his voice perfectly steady, with fake surprise behind it. Had you and he already had so much to drink because he didn't seem any different? “Would you mind showing them? I would love to see."

You shake your head and mumble no. With one hand, the other held the glass of drink, You released the bows on your dress that held your breasts, You didn't wear a bra, you didn't need them to make your breasts look beautiful, something you were secretly proud of. Her breasts bounce out towards him.

Steve reaches out his hand and gives it a nice squeeze. You let out a small moan at the intimate touch.

“I want to suck your six.” He blurts out.

His smile disappears, mostly in shock at such a bold revelation. But a part, a big part, of you feels flattered that Captain America wants to play with your breasts and all you wanted at that moment was for him to touch you.

"All good." You mumble in a slurred, broken voice.

Steve pushes your body until his head is between your breasts. You feel him take a deep breath, smelling you, his right hand grabs one of your breasts. He tilts his head and wraps his lips around your closest nipple.

The sensation is strange, it tickles, cold, but it warms up quickly. You had never felt someone do it like this before, it was much more like a brief lick or a clumsy and seductive suck like many boys did. But with Steve it was different. He was grasping as if trying to extract fluid that will never come out. He moans lewdly. You drop the glass and place your hand under his blonde locks, pressing his head against your breasts.

“Steve.” You let out a moan as he takes a long nip before releasing your breasts in a wet pop.

  “Where is your glass?” He asks.

You don't respond, because you're too oblivious to pay attention to his words. His body was hot, his vision blurred and his nipples hard and sensitive. You were oblivious when you felt Steve put a full glass in your hands, he mumbled a drink and you obeyed, wanting to leave him satisfied.

You drank more. Maybe four or five or six more glasses. You do not remember. The last one ended up kind of spilled because you couldn't hold it while Steve helped you take off his dress. You feel his head being placed on a soft pillow or perhaps a cushion, You couldn't tell; his vision was blurred and his senses were weak. Warm hands slide down your legs to your panties and gently remove them. Your blurred vision is bathed in the sight of Steve shirtless on top of you. Beautiful. He was so beautiful.

You're moaning and shaking with nervousness, or at least you would be if his grip wasn't holding you in place. Her pussy burned with heat and desire, it was like rough sandpaper that moved in and out, swinging a seesaw from hell.

“It hurts.” You mutter. You were a mess and you know it, the words come out slow and slurred. Humiliation rises deeper than pleasure can reach, and disgust crawls over your skin with a sheen of sweat. He had touched her before. Stimulating your clit until you came on his long fingers, but it wasn't enough, it never would be. He was big and thick, with powerful hips that caused her great pain with each thrust.

You weren’t expecting it when he tilted his hips just to rub the fat head of his cock against your aching pussy. You moan at the small shock waves caused by the brief contact with your clit, but he smothers your moans with a wet, hot kiss, taking away your oxygen. He shoved his cock back inside her ripped hole.

He moaned against You, his mouth open panting, as if he was feeling something that You didn't. The intrusion not only stretches, but burns and hurts. Dry fiction mixes with rough movement. The tears flow, You feel the wet trail they leave on your cheeks. The disorientation left You dizzy and contained, a prisoner of your own body, but that didn't stop Him from exerting his strength against You. He was heavy. Upon noticing your whimpering, the hand that was on your hips goes up to cover your mouth, spreading tears and saliva everywhere.

“It’s okay, my love.” He said between moans. “You are so beautiful and as sweet as berries.”

The blackberries. The damn blackberries were the ones who brought her here. Steve gives another powerful thrust, preventing any further thought. You scream into his hand. He begins to fuck with desire, with strong thrusts, riding his own release. You moan, writhe, scream when a sensation begins to blossom at the tip of your toes that rises to your abdomen causing your muscles to contract slightly and then relax. Steve doesn't stay far behind, he pulls out of your pussy and with one last thrust spills all of his semen inside of you.

You are sleeping too deeply to understand, but not too deeply not to hear. You hear some loud footsteps, a door closes, before you feel someone approaching.

"Mommy." You speak as you sit up, try to open your eyes, your mind is still spinning. A great light hits your eyes and you close them quickly. Little by little you open your eyes slowly until you get used to it.

You wish your mother had killed the man who enchanted you with smiles and drinks so that you would give yourself to him, you may fear that strange conversation and the lectures, but you longed for your mother's safety and her lap. But it wasn't his mother who was sitting next to him. It was him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He says as he brushes the strands of hair out of your face. “Your parents are a little upset now, but they will get over it little by little, you'll see. They will be happy for their little daughter who has won over the national hero and is about to walk down the aisle.”

"What are you talking about?" You say roughly, trying to get up, but the quick action made your body weaken. Steve picks you up and sits back down on the couch.

“I will take care and spoil you a lot, my love. You will see. I will fill you with gifts and love. We're gonna have a lot of fun." Steve says with a scary look on his face.

"You are crazy." You say in tears. “My parents will...”

"Do not worry about a thing." He pulls away and stands up, walking over to the minibar counter where a red bowl awaits him. He pities her and returns to You. “I'm already taking care of everything. All You need to do now is eat.”

Fear flooded your body You had already trusted that man and look what happened, but You had already seen too many documentaries and police series to know how much this type of person hated being contradicted. Maybe being his sweet, obedient girl would provide you with some benefit. With your body shaking, you stretched to see the contents of that bowl. A sound of disgust escaped his mouth when he realized they were blackberries.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story! 

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage. 

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

*

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.” 

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim. 

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?” 

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked. 

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.” 

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet. 

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back. 

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.” 

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering. 

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead. 

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,�� Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.” 

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder. 

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in. 

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?” 

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh. 

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.” 

[shinydelirium]

Kiro’s Rumors and Secrets: Discarded Light (Season 2 Chapters 6-9) Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

So I lied when I said I was gonna translate and post Kiro’s Season 2 chapter 12, lol. But rest assured, it will be next. Just wanted to include this R&S after translating chapter 8-9 to provide some more insight into Kiro’s character from an outsider’s perspective. Although it’s also a pathetic excuse to delay the chapter 12 translation cuz I know it’s gonna hurt just as much as the first time I read it T_T

Anyways, enjoy~

This “superstar” is always beyond everyone’s expectations.

[Chapter 1]

The giant, reinforced concrete extends high into the sky, and the spotlessly wiped glass reflects the neon and dilapidated crescent moon in the distance.

Ah Liu perched on the top of the building, aiming at the silent building opposite him.

Soon, the 8 o’clock bell and a sound in his earphones rang at the same time.

“It’s time to start.”

Ah Liu tightened the rope harness, confirmed the safety of the landing point, and jumped down into the bottomless abyss between the two buildings.

Ah Liu is a bartender, a kind of superficial meaning.

Although he is indeed employed by the owner of Mondlicht bar, his work is not just about bartending and wiping glasses.

“A guest will come in the afternoon, and you will be in charge of collecting it.”

In the bar, the man behind the counter hummed a small tune and placed the wine glasses on the shelf as usual, attached to the task at hand without raising his head.

Ah Liu nodded and when he got up, he heard the man add another sentence.

“This time it’s a long-term big deal. The employer’s status is a bit special, so be more cautious.”

Ah Liu has done many assignments, but the boss reminded him as if this is first time.

This means that the employer is really not good at talking.

The owner threw a report from the counter. Ah Liu took it and looked up in surprise after a few glances.

“What is this person?”

The owner knew what he was thinking, and smiled amusingly.

“When you see him, you will know how kind and compassionate my reminder is.”

Ah Liu put the file on the table suspiciously. The knife in his hand gave off a silver light, feeling a bit funny.

The man on the file has brilliant blonde hair and his blue eyes seem to reflect a clear lake along with a pure smile.

Even Ah Liu, who doesn’t know the entertainment industry at all, knows the person in the photo.

Kiro, the most sought-after superstar of the Inverted Smile Film and Television Company.

His smile appeared on the electronic screens in the streets and alleys as well as on the packaging bags of the new potato chips in the convenience store, making it difficult to miss for anyone who passed by.

Why would such a person who stands at the top, shining and dazzling, pay a big price for a piece of information?

Ah Liu glanced at the file. The paper listed the employer’s request and the price.

The price is irresistible, and the request is worthy of this astronomical price that is suffixed with many zeros.

“The work content of other people has already been arranged, so please prepare.”

Ah Liu made a rough estimate of the time and energy required to take this big arrangement, and then thought about his fortune, and neatly put the file into his pocket.

“It seems that for a long time, we have to work for this Mr. Kiro.”

Soon the appointed time arrives.

When the door of the bar was pushed open, Ah Liu involuntarily glances over.

The person who came in wore a black hat and was dressed up very simply. He walked straight to the bar, threw an envelope to the owner, and then reached out and took off the hat, revealing his golden hair.

“As agreed before.”

He said the words briefly, as if he didn’t want to say more.

If he hadn’t already known his identity, Ah Liu felt that the star’s temperament at the moment was more suitable for this bar than him.

The owner nodded, put away the envelope, and raised his chin towards Ah Liu.

Ah Liu leaned against the bar, turned the knife in his right hand, raised his eyebrows at the guest in front of him and said hello.

In fact, generally speaking, the attitude towards guests should be a little more polite, but Ah Liu was inexplicably teasing. Perhaps because of the other person, or perhaps he was just curious about the true appearance of the superstar hidden under his handsome face.

However, Kiro’s expression was plain and straightforward.

“My request, you should know everything.”

It was completely different from the reaction he expected. Ah Liu pulled back his shoulders and put away his knife.

“Almost. Although it’s a bit tricky, it can be done.”

It was probably the first time Kiro saw someone who dared to speak so directly. He raised his eyes and reminded him not to be serious.

“Think carefully, don’t accept the task so quickly.”

“We are in this business, and we have to do it to the end after receiving the customer’s order. Although this task is not my responsibility alone, but since it’s within the scope of my work, I will definitely do it for you.”

Ah Liu was frank and extended his hand towards Kiro.

“I will follow you in the future.”

Probably out of respect, Kiro held the hand that was stretched out, but that’s all. He didn’t seem to want any contact other than trading with the person in front of him.

“How it’s done, I will tell you later.”

After he said this, he didn’t stay any longer, so he turned and left the bar.

“Why did you find this star? He’s a bit different from what I thought.”

Ah Liu turned around, tapped his index finger on the table, making a clicking sound.

The owner slowly handed him a glass of wine and smiled meaningfully.

“He’s really not any ordinary star.”

“As for what kind of person, you will know soon enough.”

[Chapter 2]

Ah Liu is a practitioner with a sense of professional ethics.

Although he found it very difficult to understand the employer’s, Kiro’s, request, he paid enough for Ah Liu to add ingredients to the menu shamelessly. While eating instant noodles, he made preparations very rigorously.

When Ah Liu completed all the preparations, Kiro also came as scheduled, with a laptop computer.

Ah Liu didn’t think Kiro could help him with his work, but half an hour later, his impression of Kiro was completely overturned.

Kiro asked for some relevant information, then turned on the computer with familiarity, tapping the keyboard quickly with his fingers.

Soon, lines of complex codes flashed across the screen like some kind of fluorescent green tide with special beauty.

Ah Liu stared at Kiro’s movements dumbfounded and couldn’t help but utter a hometown dialect.

“Yo, how are you so good?”

Ah Liu knows that when employers choose a place like theirs, it means that they need to deliver a little more or less of their own secrets and trust.

But….it’s already hard being a star right now, do you have to have to work part-time on the side too?

The security system on the screen was easily hacked, and the red warning turned into a green traffic sign. Kiro stopped typing until he locked a certain area on the outskirts of Loveland City.

“Found it.”

He stretched his waist and habitually reached near the computer as if looking for something to drink.

When he didn’t feel anything he gave a soft “huh”. His extended hand stiffened for a second, and then quickly retracted it, speaking nonchalantly.

“I have locked a few addresses that appear to have logged in to the server, but the specific locations need to confirmed.”

“How is it on your end?”

Although shocked by Kiro’s hacking skills, Ah Liu did not forget his work, and pointed to the surveillance screen in front of him.

“The monitoring software is installed, but there is no movement yet.”

“I suggest waiting for another two or three days to take a look.”

Kiro nodded, put away the computer, put on his hat and mask, and left quietly.

Ah Liu stood up, moved his shoulders and inadvertently walked towards the window.

Next to a vending machine on the corner downstairs, Kiro, wearing a black hood, was bending over to drop coins and soon a bottle of green soda rolled out.

He was a little far away, but Ah Liu still saw the drink clearly.

The green apple flavor is very high in sugar, and young girls are unwilling to buy it, so they are always not able to be sold.

Kiro finished drinking in one breath. His eyes raised slightly, showing a satisfied look. He threw the plastic bottle into the trash can briskly, then turned and left.

Ah Liu once again became curious about Kiro.

[Chapter 3]

He didn’t meet Kiro again until a long time later.

During this period, Kiro did not take the initiative to contact Ah Liu, and he has been diligently monitoring the marked area while waiting for Kiro’s news.

The days of waiting were a bit boring. It wasn’t until one time, on the convenience store TV news that Ah Liu learned that Kiro was involved in a “wounding incident” and revealed his identity as an Evolver.

Ah Liu slurped the instant noodles. On TV, Kiro looked directly at the camera and generously admitted his hidden identity.

He swallowed the instant noodles, wondering what he was doing.

Although he didn’t have much contact with Kiro, he knew very well—this person would not be so reckless and willful, and that he might have his own reasons behind this incident.

After that, a while later, Kiro’s company also underwent some trouble, and he himself claimed to retreat for creation purposes.

In the silence, Ah Liu disassembled and reassembled the pistol bought from the black market in the dark. The screen beside the pistol showed clues that he finally tracked down.

Hunter game.

It’s time to contact his employer, he thought.

In the dark, the cheerful and broad bells rang—

The so-called hunter game, even though Ah Liu never heard of it before, Kiro specifically called him to investigate since it was also related to what they had checked before. Naturally, Ah Liu concentrated all his time and energy into it.

When following Kiro’s clues, he slowly became more aware that there was a behemoth showing his minions in the darkness.

But it paid off, and finally someone bit the hook that had been cast before.

Ah Liu stuffed a pistol into his waist, holding his cell phone, and dialed Kiro.

The phone picked up after a few rings.

“What’s up?”

“I found a building where the other party had been active. I’m going to explore it tonight. If I’m lucky, I might find something.”

Kiro on the other end paused for a moment, inhaled and quickly stopped talking.

It seemed that Kiro was not the only person on the phone. Ah Liu vaguely heard another person speaking to Kiro and his voice rose naturally.

“Savin, I’m really not stealing snacks. If you don’t believe me, then come and see for yourself.”

“Hey—wait, come back later. Now I’m bitter. As soon as you interrupted, the melody of my new song is gone.

“I never told anyone that you hid my three boxes of snacks and two refrigerators of carbonated drinks. So inhumane….”

The voice gradually became quieter, and it was probably the person named “Savin” who finally left Kiro alone.

Ah Liu felt that Kiro was really weird.

Obviously, he has the warmth of light that ordinary people can’t touch, but he had to turn around and go to the darkness.

He wanted to ask why, but held back.

Employers have their own secrets to some extent. Keeping to their duties and not asking too much is the best way to stay out of this circle.

After a while, Kiro’s calm voice came from the phone again.

“Send me the address and I’ll find you.”

“I’m fine by myself. You don’t trust me when I say this?”

Ah Liu felt that Kiro didn’t trust his capability. He repeatedly emphasized that his business potential was very good. His performance ranking has been ranked first.

But Kiro still insisted on working with him and Ah Liu couldn’t help but send Kiro the location of the building.

[Chapter 4]

Under the endless night sky, Ah Liu received Kiro’s signal.

He stood up and flung himself into the opposite building with the help of the rope. After he rolled into the room and came to a stop, Ah Liu suddenly held his breath.

There were no clues left as expected. The whole room was empty. The huge glass windows were opened and the cold moonlight showed the man’s brilliant blond hair and the timed explosive device in front of him.

“Was it successful?”

“It seems that someone expected this visit and left us a gift.”

Kiro’s expression was very calm but when Ah Liu saw the detonator under his feet, he couldn’t help sucking in a cold breath.

Kiro seemed to be indifferent, tapping quickly with both hands on the computer and laughed coolly.

“Although the internal structure is complicated, it is still flawed…”

“How long will it take?”

‘Five minutes.”

Ah Liu glanced at the time displayed on the screen and the countdown just reached five minutes.

“The risk is too great.”

Ah Liu crouched down, took out a wire from the portable tool bag beside him and gently inserted it into the bomb.

“Leave it to me, it will be done in a minute.”

He specializes in surgery. Ah Liu is best at disassembling and reassembling various complicated equipment. He moves cautiously.

Kiro didn’t say anything, he stopped hacking and switched to another interface.

There is nothing in this world that can come and go without a trace. No one can be completely invisible.

The ability of top hackers is to dig out some seemingly and completely irrelevant content from the vast data stream, and continue to piece together and combine them until they restore the trajectory of something generated, assembled, grown, and disbanded.

Every day, the flood of information carries everyone’s joy, anger, and sorrow, surging through the city and no one can stay out of the matter.

The people who had been in this room carefully avoided all information channels, but it was precisely this carelessness that allowed Kiro to find their exact address.

The computer snapped shut and Kiro briefly breathed out. At this time, Ah Liu also successfully analyzed the data of the detonator and shut it down perfectly.

“It’s done.”

Ah Liu stood up and looked at Kiro.

“What are you going to do with this thing? Take it away or keep it here?

“Since they gave such a ‘big gift’, how about a ‘return gift’?”

Kiro turned and walked towards the door hidden in the dark. Ah Liu picked up the device that had turned into a pile of scraps on the ground, and walked to catch up with Kiro.

After coming out of the building, Ah Liu stopped when he passed a small alley.

“Hold up.”

He shouted to Kiro and dropped a few coins into a battered vending machine.

With two crisp ‘plops’, accompanied by mechanical electronic sounds, two cyan bottles of carbonated drinks were held by Ah Liu.

He handed Kiro a bottle but didn’t move to take it. His voice was a little cold.

“I don’t like being spied on by others.”

Ah Liu laughed a few times, trying to pat Kiro’s shoulder, but was subtly averted. He didn’t feel embarrassed, so he touched his head instead.

“Shouldn’t a celebrity be used to being watched by others?”

Probably when he was immersed in darkness, no one would exactly associate him with the dazzling star on stage.

Kiro froze for a moment, then took the carbonated drink from Ah Liu’s hand.

“By the way, when the device was dismantled, how could you be sure that I could do it? Weren’t you afraid we would all be blown up?”

The person in front of him showed a slight smile. Although it was shallow, it was indeed Kiro’s smile.

At this moment, he seemed to be covered with light and shadow, and the sun and moon were equally magnificent.

“It was just a gamble.”

“It turned out that I was right.”

He finished his drink in one breath and walked around the corner with his hands in his pockets.

Ah Liu suddenly felt that Kiro was very interesting. If he worked with him, he would probably gain a lot of things that he hadn’t encountered before.

Thrilling enough, but also exciting.

For men, true friends should be like this.

In the bottom of his heart, he listed Kiro as a friend who had already had a “friend for life and death”, so he shouted to him.

“I’ll study the internal structure of the device when I go back. I’ll tell you the results but it will take several days.”

The person in the distance did not answer and disappeared into the depths of the night.

[Chapter 5]

It took a lot of effort to crack the device, and several days had passed by the time Ah Liu got all the analytical data.

Kiro sent the other party’s real server address. Following this clue and the special materials of the installation, Ah Liu has been busy for a long time. He also managed to get a sense of the so-called “Hunter Game” in his mind.

At this moment, perhaps somewhere in this world, a silent survival game is being staged.

Although he is used to fighting and killing, the nature of the incident is completely different. He feels it is necessary to tell Kiro immediately.

But the phone call couldn’t get through.

After waiting for a while at Mondlicht, Ah Liu got up and decided to go directly to Kiro.

One minute late, one more minute for risk of exposure.

However, Kiro had a deal with him, and the less people knew, the better. Instead of alerting the security guard, Ah Liu walked to the gate of the backyard with his waist bent.

The security system of the gate is complicated and difficult to understand.

When Ah Liu was scratching his head to study how to crack it, he suddenly heard Kiro’s voice.

He was sitting cross-legged in the yard with a mobile phone, a golden retriever in front of him.

Not knowing what the person on the other end said, Kiro spoke briskly, with a smile that could not be contained:

“Wait for me to show you the mushrooms I’ve grown these days! This one on top of my head is new!”

“I wrote a song at home these last few days and I will send it to you when I make the demo.”

“When the ban is lifted in a few days, I must have a big meal!”

“Do you have anything you want to eat?”

……

He naturally exudes the aura of a “little sun”. The grand light not only comes from Kiro, but it also seems to come from the person on the other end of the phone.

It turned out to be so, Ah Liu suddenly realized.

He has always wondered why Kiro had so many contradictory points, but the bright star walks in the dark, intersecting with people of his identity.

Now he found the answer.

Because even the stars that live above the clouds have a future that they want to gaze at and protect forever.

Suddenly, there was a shattering sound—

Ah Liu looked forward immediately. He didn’t know what was said on the phone. Kiro stood up instantly, holding the phone tightly, his eyes were full of fear and anger.

Next to him was a glass that has been broken into pieces.

This was the first time Ah Liu saw this look on Kiro’s face.

He seemed to have noticed something and without hesitation, he pushed aside the branches of the tree and walked straight out.

Since seeing Kiro’s first side, Ah Liu has not been accurate in all of Kiro’s predictions. But this time, he confidently wants to try again and he has a hunch that he will not be wrong.

And that is—

Kiro is a person worthy of his trust.

[babbushka]

First Glimpse, Last Looks

007!Reader x Bond Villain!Kylo Ren

3.7k ; N S F W (casual sex/one night stand with a stranger, praise kink, mirror sex), teasing and playful banter, shameless flirtation, hidden identity

                                                    --------------

You smile at your reflection in the hotel mirror, all dolled up for a night downstairs. 

You look good, damn good, if you do say so yourself. Your thigh holster is well concealed by the evening gown, the knife in the back of your heel looks like a pretty decorative element no one would suspect. And no one should suspect it, there’s not supposed to be any trouble tonight.

Well, you think as you apply lipstick in your favorite shade, aside from one man, the man you were sent here to study.

His name is Kylo Ren, a moniker if you’ve ever heard one. One of the most dangerous criminals in the entire world, and certainly one of the richest. It’s no wonder that you’re to find him here, at one of the world���s most famous casinos. It seems that the best only liked to be with the best, not that you minded. As far as missions went, you were glad to be whisked off to exotic places and put up in the nicest hotel rooms.

You leave said nice hotel room now, saying goodbye to the panorama views and big soft bed for the time being. Surveillance is the name of the game for the evening, and you’re given free reign from M to enjoy yourself. You’ve got to blend in after all, have to be unsuspecting. That shouldn’t be too hard, you think as you make your way down to the casino, your heels clicking pleasantly on the polished marble flooring, your dress accentuating your body beautifully.

The casino is a high end place, there’s a live band playing smooth jazz up on a little stage, and everyone around you is dressed to the nines, which you’re pleased to see. Pleased because at least it means this criminal has good taste, refined taste. But then again, how could a renowned jewelry designer not be dripping in luxury?

You walk around the casino, blinking away the cigarette and cigar smoke which wafts up from the tables as rich men entertain pretty women with games of craps. You can’t help but smile at the winners and feel poorly for the poor suckers who lose, but that’s the way the money rolls, isn’t it. And what money too – bets starting at ten thousand dollars and only ever climbing, you’re impressed.

You’ve got a good chunk of chips yourself, provided so that you might infiltrate the place a little better, but you’re not in the mood to make a spectacle of yourself, not tonight anyway. Mr. Ren’s reservation was supposedly lasting through the weekend, and as it’s only Friday night, you’re sure that you’ll be here for a little while.

Speaking of Mr. Ren, you begin subtly trying to pick him out from the crowd. You know he’s a big spender, a high roller, he’s always got to have attention on him, eyes on him. Unusual, for someone under suspicion of smuggling gold across foreign soil, but then again, not at all. You’d been given the brief on what he looks like, but unfortunately there are no photographs of him – they all seem to magically disappear from any and all databases. All you know is that he’s hulking, tall and wide and has a twisted mangled facial deformity – shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, you smile to yourself.

You make a little show of weaving through all the people, down towards a beautiful bar in art deco style. It’s the perfect vantage point for all the tables, and you strike up a cigarette to pass the time.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” The bartender asks as he wipes down an impeccably clean glass.

“No thank you, I’m meeting someone here.” You say easily, and the bartender smiles in understanding.

“If you change your mind, just give me a nod.” He says, going on his way, off to deal with another customer.  

You flick your ash in the crystal dish nearby on the bar counter and simply watch, enjoying the spectacle of it all – when you can’t help but hear the gentle applause coming from one of the cards tables. It seems that someone has just won a game of baccarat, which you find impressive, for the game is notoriously high stakes and oh how the dealers hate to lose.

You cast your gaze over to the gentleman who is quietly yet absolutely pleased as he pulls all the chips over to his pile, as if the money means nothing to him. You’re sure it probably doesn’t, if he’s playing and betting baccarat to begin with.

But what strikes you more than anything else, is how handsome the gentleman is. He’s got glossy black hair and proud shoulders, wrapped in a deliciously tailored tuxedo. You’re pretty sure that’s a rolex on his wrist, and while all that is well and good, you’re drawn to the irregularity of his facial features. His nose seems to be a bit too large for his face, but it’s in an endearing way, a way that you can see yourself playfully touching with the tip of your finger before asking for a kiss.

What a dangerous thought.

Even more dangerous, is that he’s looking right at you, giving you a smile. There are worse men to find you attractive, you think, as you turn away from him and give your neck a little stretch, flick your ash, knowing that he’ll take the hint and come over. M did say to have fun, didn’t she?

You feel his presence before anything else, the way he smells so wonderfully of a spiced cologne – not too much, just the right amount to get you interested. He’s warm, radiates a warmth that’s got you wondering how good it must feel to be tucked up against him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you all alone.” His voice is deep, a rich baritone that you feel down in your bones as you seductively look over your shoulder, cigarette delicately held between your fingers.

“You couldn’t? Seems like everyone else could.” You raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. It’s more of a half smirk than anything else, but you’re hung up on his dimples, on how he’s got the most darling beauty marks all across his face, a little constellation of freckles.

“Pity for them.” He leans up against the bar top, and you turn towards him, an invitation. He takes it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You can buy me two.” You reply, and he smiles wider at that, at the way you’re allowing him in. He’s so handsome, you think that if this Kylo Ren won’t show up tonight, at least you can still make the effort to look nice worthwhile.

“What do you like?” The charming man asks, signaling for the bartender to come back over.

“I’m not picky, as long as it’s in a martini glass.” You wink, and the man chuckles.

“Two vesper martinis please.” He asks of the bartender, who immediately sets to work.

“Shaken, not stirred.” You say, giving the bartender a kind smile when they nod in acknowledgement.

“I love a woman who’s particular.” The man doesn’t sit down next to you, instead he’s got one long leg crossed over the other as he leans against the counter, striking up a cigarette of his own. There’s something awfully delicious about the way it looks between his plush lips, and you’re drawn to them, to the way he flicks the match and lights it with ease.

“Really? That’s quite a modern attitude.” You tease. It’s 1964 after all, too many men are busy hating their wives, living out some white picket dream that you never had any time for.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very modern man.” He smirks with a wink of his own, and you have to look down and away, lest you start getting too obvious too fast. You’re obvious of course, but you want to seem a little aloof, want to keep him interested.

“I believe congratulations are in order, I saw you win back there.” You say, fiddling with the little napkin that the bartender lays out before you while the drinks are nearly finished.

“Oh that? It was nothing, the game’s easy, it’s all just odds and good luck, like anything else.” He shrugs, and you smirk right back at him, he’s good at this.

“Do you think you have good luck?” You ask, as the bartender places the martini glasses in front of you.

“I think I’m about to find out.” The man picks up one glass and hands it to you, takes the second one all for himself, and it’s your turn to let out a pleased little laugh, happy for the opportunity to flirt.

“Very smooth, Mr. Modern.” You concede, “Very smooth.”

“Well, I like to do some things the old-fashioned way.” The man is particularly chuffed that he’s managed to impress you – and he should, you didn’t get impressed by many men. He licks his lips and holds up his drink, preparing a toast. “You’re stunning.”

“I know.” You say, and he laughs at that, making you duck your head once again before winking, “You’re quite the looker yourself. To good luck?”

“To good luck.” He clinks his glass gently against yours, and the two of you take a sip.

The martini is pleasant in your mouth, although you have no real plans to drink enough that you might become impaired in any sense of the word. You spare a glance around the room once again for Kylo Ren, for the big hulking criminal you’re supposed to be there for, and you can’t help but let out a disappointed sigh. You knew there was an off chance he wouldn’t be at the casino tonight, possibly off at a business dinner or something along those lines, but still.

“You know, I was supposed to meet someone here, but it would seem as though they haven’t shown up.” You tell this man who’s very very gently skimming his knuckles against the back of your arm. You’re happy to see no sign of a wedding ring, and no tan-line for one either.

“How anyone could leave a woman like you out to dry is beyond me.” He says, and for a minute, you can’t help but believe that this is something more than just a flirtation for a one-night stand, that perhaps you two could really get to know each other.

“And just what kind of woman do you think I am?” You ask playfully, already having made up your mind to sleep with him. Attachments were not something afforded in your line of work, you know this, but at least bodily pleasure was available where you could take it.

“I don’t know, but I would sure love to find out, if you’d let me.” The man chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, a nervous habit that you find quite endearing, before asking softly, “I’ve got a suite at the hotel just across the way, spectacular views, even better food. Would you care to accompany me for any or all of it?”

“I’m starving.” You reply, and a hopeful smile lights up his face.

 The moment the door to the hotel room closes behind you, you’re kissing. He’s so skilled, so good at it, you can’t help but gasp under his touch. His palms are warm and they span across your back with ease, already working at undoing your dress zipper. You suddenly remember your gun that’s strapped to your thigh, and you pull away from him for a minute, looking at his handsomely disheveled state in the low light of his suite.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask outright, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Shit, no, I don’t – I must confess this isn’t something I do often. Or at all.” He’s nervous, and you can’t help but feel warm towards him, affection as you card through his locks. They’re every bit as silken as they look, and you kiss him again.

“That’s quite alright, call down for some.” You say.

He eagerly goes over to the phone, and while he’s distracted you take the opportunity to slip the small gun into your clutch purse, the perfect size for such a thing. He’s not gone for long, and you’re pleased to hear that when he asks for the condoms, he requests the largest size they carry.

“They’ll be up soon, but in the meantime, is it alright if I kiss you? You know, I’m a right sucker for lipstick prints.” The man blushes beautifully when he returns. Your hands immediately work on getting him out of his tuxedo, and he helps you out of your dress, admires the way your lingerie hugs your body.

“You’re much gentler than I thought you’d be, with hands so big as these.” You say as he carefully carefully carefully unhooks your bra, hands cradling your breasts.

“If you like it rough, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He gives you an experimental pinch, and you huff out a laugh, slinking your arms around his neck.

“Kiss me first and we’ll see where the night takes us.” You say as you stand up on your tip toes now that your heels are kicked off, pressing your lips against his.

It’s not long before someone is knocking at the door with the condoms, and then it’s as if the gates have been opened. The man scoops you up into your arms and you laugh all the way over to the bed, where he plops you down sweetly, climbs over you and rolls the rubber onto his hard cock.

The largest size looks like it just barely fits him, and your mouth waters as he kisses you, hands caressing your body, peeling away your stockings, the garter. He doesn’t suspect anything, he only kisses the inside of your thigh, and your hands grasp at the silken sheets in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you from between your legs and you nod, one hand grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him back up your body, wanting that cock in you.

“Please, I just know you can make me feel good.” You nod again and again, until he’s positioning himself right at your entrance and thrusting slowly so that your pussy can accommodate and stretch to his girth.

He groans out softly in your ear and thrusts a little further in, again and again until he’s sinking all the way into your cunt, cock huge and filling you up better than anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Ah – yes!” You sigh out happily as he kisses at your neck where his face is shoved against your throat, “Oh yes, that’s it.”

There’s a mirror on the ceiling, and you moan at the way his body moves above you as he begins to build up a proper rhythm, a steady pace that has your legs winding around his hips. 

You wish you knew his name so you’d know what to call out, but names were dangerous, and so was sentiment, and it was easier this way, easier to just have great sex and move on, leave him always thinking about you and your pussy.

You roll him over onto his back, the both of you grinning as you straddle his lap. Your hands brace themselves on his huge chest, muscular but not in that dehydrated body builder kind of way, and you bounce on his cock, give him a good ride.

“Oh god – god damn.” He breathes out, his hands coming to grope up at your breasts, sliding across your stomach and bruising your hips.

“Your cock feels so fucking good.” You admit, because it does, and that does wonders to his ego, “Fuck! Oh – oh yes, yes yes yes!”

He bends his knees to plant his feet on the mattress and he bucks his hips up into you, thick cock so hard and long, so wide, you can feel the way it nudges against your cervix, can feel the way it teases your gspot with every thrust. You’re drunk off the feel of it, your head falls back and your jaw drops open, just from the sheer fullness of it all.

“Ah – ah come on, come on faster, I can – ohhhh shit – I can take it.” You lick your lips as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he listens, follows directions beautifully, does as he’s told and you can’t help but drop, “Good boy, oh you’re so good.”

The praise seems to do something for him, and suddenly you’re being fucked in earnest, riding him and getting as good as you give him. Your pussy drools and drips all over his cock, you can feel the white hot bubble of pleasure as it rises up from your cunt into your stomach, up up up your spine in a way that’s got you moaning loud, moaning so loud that you almost want this man to cover your mouth about it.

You stay like that for quite some time, he’s content to let you make the moves, content to let you be on top, in charge, and you appreciate that. Mr. Modern indeed, you think – or you would think, if you had any room in your head to think at all, gasping and groaning out a litany of please please please more more more yes yes yes!

He comes with a grunt, and a long groan, and your hand moves down to your clit to quickly rub one out before his cock grows soft inside you, but you find that he’s quick to beat you to it, eager to fuck you through his orgasm and make sure you get off too. You’re grateful, especially as the rough pad of his thumb swirls your slick over your clit and makes pleasure spark behind your eyes, trembling atop him as you come hard.

You gasp and pant and he kisses at the corner of your mouth, licks across your teeth and suckles on your lower lip, and you get off of his lap, collapsing on your back next to him. You both look up at the mirror and groan, laugh a little with how much of a mess you’ve made – bruises and lipstick and scratches from nails littering your bodies.

You watch him turn to you in the reflection of the mirror, and you turn to face him too, his peaceful serene, blissed out post-orgasm glow making him look radiant. He’s quiet though, and this is always the uncomfortable part, isn’t it? The walk of shame where you part ways, never to see one another again.

“Shall I…I can go. If you’d prefer.” You whisper, although for the first time in your entire career, you don’t want to.

“No, no stay with me, let’s have that dinner we talked about.” He surprises you, gathering you up in his arms and tucking you against his chest. He rubs sweetly at your back, and you let yourself be held as he convinces you further with, “They’ll bring it right to us.”

“You enjoyed yourself that much, hm?” You tease, and he laughs, making your own ego preen as he nods.

“I like your company, I’d love it if you perhaps delighted me in spending the weekend together.” The man licks his lips and tilts your chin up to meet him, “If your friend won’t mind.”

“My friend?” You frown for a second, confused.

“The person you were meeting.” He reminds you and you blink, grinning and shrugging to play it off. Damn, you think, his cock really was something special, to make you forget why you were even here.

“Oh right, well I think they’ll be okay with it, I just hope they show up at some point this weekend. Otherwise this trip will have been for nothing.” You mutter, but then, then you look up at him and let yourself feel wanted, “Or maybe, maybe it won’t.”

The man smiles at you, a great big pleased smile, and you somehow get the feeling that like you, he understands what it’s like, to be lonely at the top.

 After hours of conversation and room service, champagne and strawberries, a delicious set of entrees and desserts, you find yourself content to spend the night in this man’s bed. Your suite will be there tomorrow after all, and you can’t help but fall asleep smiling, thinking that perhaps tomorrow night, you can take this man back to yours and return the hospitality.

But when you wake up in the morning, it is to an empty bed, no sign of the man. The mattress is cool next to you, he must have left during the night. The sun peeks through the curtains and illuminates the silver of a room service cart, he was at least kind enough to order you breakfast.

Smiling, you get up and walk naked over to the cart, where a little hand written note is resting atop one of the cloches. You pick it up and unfold it – and immediately feel like you’ve just been run over with a truck, when the words hit your brain:

 My deepest apologies for disappearing on you like this, but when duty calls, one must answer as I’m sure you know.

We’ll meet again, 007.

Yours truly,

Kylo Ren.

 You stand there, shocked and in disbelief – both at how he knew who you were, and how wrong you had been in your idea of him. He wasn’t some hulking terrifying thing, he didn’t have any major deformities or disfigurement – although, now that you think about it, perhaps he did have something of a scar on his eyebrow and cheek, but you passed it off as a trick of the light.

“I’ll be damned.” You say, sighing and sitting back down on the mattress, flicking the card against your palm with an incredulous smile. “Kylo Ren.”

Of all the people, you think as you dig into the eggs benedict and waffles that would pain you if they went to waste, you just had to go and pick him to fuck, didn’t you? You chuckle and sigh, knowing that this was the start of a very strange, frustrating, and beautiful relationship. What that relationship was, you weren’t sure, but one thing was for certain – M was going to have a fucking field day.  

                                                       ----------------

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[bat-besties]

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k 

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

- 

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

*

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #4: FINALE

December, 1984

So things are going well for the West Coast Avengers so far, huh?

Well, at least Tigra got out of the ocean and same for Wonder Man and the pool? That’s something??

Anyway.

How have things been going for the West Coast Avengers?

Last times on limited series: A west coast branch of the Avengers was formed on Avengers chairman Vision’s request, head up by Hawkeye and with a roster of Mockingbird, Tigra, James Rhodes Iron Man, and Wonder Man.

Their first team activity was to beat the crap out of the Shroud, a friend of Tigra’s who followed her to the new Avengers Compound under the mistaken impression that she was in some kind of trouble. Then Hawkeye offered to let Shroud join the Avengers for taking a punch so well but he declined. For some reason.

Next, the West Coast Avengers assembled to try to take down bank robber the Blank, who robbed one (1) bank before the city escalated to calling in superheroes. He also personally offended Wonder Man by escaping him but c’mon Simon, you could do better for a nemesis. Although the Blank is still a better one than the Grim Reaper. After escaping the Avengers via explosion, the Blank had Graviton pop into existence right in front of him.

In the previous issue, the West Coast Avengers help Los Angeles deal with the unseasonable winter summoned by the Casket of Eternal Winters over in the Thor book. Since Wonder Man is still bummed over the Blank, Tigra and the Shroud help him track the guy down but find out that Graviton is now the Blank’s boss. Tigra and Shroud get tossed out to the ocean along with the Blank (for being annoying) and Wonder Man is held at the bottom of a pool until he stops blubbing.

How will our heroes get out of their various water themed predicaments??

I don’t know about Wonder Man but thankfully Tigra is exceptionally good at treading water.

She has to hold up Shroud who was knocked out on impact and she activates an emergency signal beacon that’ll summon the other Avengers.

Only god and Tigra knows where she was holding that.

... Maybe pouches aren’t so bad as a costume element.

Also, Blank has gone completely missing after hitting the ocean. He doesn’t appear in the rest of this book but he’s not dead. He doesn’t have any other appearances for twenty-five years but eventually shows up in a Spider-Man #580 (also written by Stern) where he’s up to his old bank and armored car robbing and then getting in over his head with superheroes ways.

In a way you have to admire that he absolutely did not change after twenty-five years and is still doing literally everything we saw him do last issue. In another way, you have to wonder why he would move to New York when he was going to leave LA due to having superheroes.

Rob banks in the Midwest, you fool!

Anyway.

Tigra treads water until Iron Man shows up and scoops both Tigra and Shroud out of the way and wooshes them to Avengers Compound.

After dropping them off, Iron Man apparently went back and tried to find the Blank with sonar scans but couldn’t locate the dope. He speculates that he got caught up in an undertow but don’t worry. As discussed, he just goes underground for 25 years.

Iron Man wants to head off immediately and get Graviton but Hawkeye tells him to settle down.

Hawkeye is the voice of reason against the hot-heads. Its amazing where character development can take you.

Hawkeye: “I’m worried about Wondy, too... But we can’t just go smashing our way into Graviton’s lair! He’s one of the toughest guys the Avengers ever fought! The first time we went up against him, he held ten Avengers at bay... Including Wonder Man and Thor! I wasn’t there, but reading Captain America’s report on the incident made me glad I wasn’t!”

But Iron Man should know this already... he was one of the Avengers in that report.

Iron Man says he’ll need to spend more time going over the Avengers files.

Iron Man: “Iron may have fought Graviton, but I haven’t!”

Hey! Rhodey reveals his identity to the others, just like he considered doing. And just like he was afraid of, Hawkeye begins to treat him like an amateur!

Rhodey counters that he was the Iron Man during Secret Wars and did a good job saving Hawkeye’s ass during that.

But more, Rhodey’s hot-headed attitude reminds Hawkeye of himself during the kooky quartet days and wonders how Cap ever put up with him. So paying it forward, he walks back and says he was out of line to call Rhodey an amateur and that they’ll need his power to take down Graviton.

Assuming that Wonder Man is being held hostage and won’t be able to help, Hawkeye decides that the first order of business is going to need to be finding him and getting him out of whatever trouble he’s in.

For that, they’ll need to plan ahead. So Mockingbird pulls up some landsat maps and Tigra gives them the cool scoop on the layout of Graviton’s mansion.

Later, at said mansion.

Two lady escorts are whispering by the bar about what an awful creep Graviton is. Its pretty great.

Lady 1: “... He’s... certainly a striking figure of a man! But he gives me the creeps! I hate the way he paws me... I’d rather take a bath in a pool of slugs! And if you tell him I said that, I’ll call you a liar to your face!”

Lady 2: “Don’t worry! After the way he handled those super-powered party-crashers earlier, I won’t put anybody on his bad side! Assuming he has a good side! What a bore! At least he pays well!”

Its good to know that even as a super-powered guy taking over organized crime, Graviton still has absolutely no personal charisma.

There’s a wunk thwak at the door so one of Graviton’s goons goes to check it out and gets a gun shoved in his face by some new visitors.

Its popular villain Madame Masque! Head of one of the Maggia crime families! And her goon Louis!

She demands to be taken to Graviton at once and she is because would you argue with a mask with unnecessary rivets?

Madame Masque: “I heard there was new talent in the area -- working to consolidate the Southern California gangs. Talent interests me.”

Graviton: “And is that your only interest?”

Madame Masque: “No, I also love power. I’m told you’re quite a... powerful man!”

Ew.

Graviton brags about his control of GRAVITY and Madame Masque tells him he’d best watch out for the Avengers. She hears they started a new group locally and Avengers means trouble. Especially since her old enemy Iron Man is part of the new team.

He laughs off this warning because he has an Avenger at the bottom of his pool just to show off.

Graviton: “Observe... the late Simon Williams, perhaps better known to you as Wonder Man! His strength was quite remarkable, but no match for my localized gravity fields! It was a simple matter to hold him to the bottom of my pool until he ran out of air!”

RIP Wonder Man. Uh, again.

Actually Graviton mentions that even though Wonder Man has stopped blubbing, he’s still holding him to the bottom of the pool because the fool has come back to life once.

Louis, the goon, reacts in shock at seeing a dead lifeless body in the pool so Madame Masque hauls off and slaps him.

Graviton is very impressed at her management style that he begins to propose something, something salacious if I had to guess, but then some repulsors hit the pool with a KROOOSH.

In this Avengers book, an Avenger arrives to avenge.

Iron Man: “Graviton... and Madame Masque! Now, isn’t this a cozy little scene! Too bad I have to break it up!”

The armored Avengers starts aggressing at the various minions, including knocking Louis into the bushes.

Inside, the bartender takes off her bartender outfit to reveal a Mockingbird outfit underneath. I suspect that maybe this bartender is actually, in secret, Mockingbird.

She contacts Hawkeye and tells him to put phase 2 into operation.

Meanwhile, outside, Graviton uses gravity to slam Iron Man to the ground but for some reason the effort is making him feel light-headed.

Madame Masque notices and asks Graviton whats wrong but he insists that he’ll crush Iron Man but then enter Mockingbird SPANGing her stave off Graviton’s gravity shield and dunking on him.

She also reveals in thinky thoughts that as Bartender Bobbi, she drugged everyone’s drinks. Graviton still being up she attributes to him having the constitution of a moose.

Still, I’m laughing at the West Coast Avengers using their prep time to just up and drug everyone. Even if the big boss has resistance to status effects it’s a hilarious work smarter moment.

Hawkeye’s sky-cycle swoops down but Graviton just knocks it away.

In another hilarious move, that’s not Hawkeye on the Sky-Cycle.

Looks like him but it’s not.

Because ‘Hawkeye’ is a dummy and if Hawkeye came up with the idea to disguise himself as Louis, then he’s no dummy.

And if he’s ‘Louis’ then I’d bet that Madame Masque isn’t the real article either. Process of elimination leads to an obvious answer there.

But again, they put a Hawkeye dummy on a Sky-Cycle hoping Graviton would deflect it into the bushes to deliver Hawkeye’s equipment to him. Amazing!

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the pool, Wonder Man has stirred to life and has been struggling against Graviton’s power ever since Iron Man arrived. His efforts collapse one side of the pool.

Startled by that, Graviton’s concentration slips, giving Wonder Man enough of an opening to claw himself out of the pool and clobber the supervillain.

Graviton manages to cushion against the blow because, sure, gravity can do that. But then Iron Man grabs ‘Madame Masque’ and flies off to start phase three of the strategy.

The villain flies off after Iron Man, still affected by the drugs but fighting through it. Because “can’t let that Avenger make me look bad in front of her!”

Whoever decided to play on Graviton’s ego has a big brain.

Graviton hears ‘Madame Masque’ scream and swoops down to find her alone.

Because Iron Man had to do some prep.

Iron Man: “Welcome to Substation #5! They tell me that the entire southwestern power grid feeds through here! I figure that should give me enough power to beat anybody... including you! So, unless you’ve gotten smart and want to give up -- you’d better make your move, sucker!”

Graviton has not gotten smart.

But the West Coast Avengers’ plan is pretty smart.

They had Mockingbird infiltrate Graviton’s mansion and drug everybody. They had Hawkeye and a ‘Madame Masque’ show up to get Graviton to reveal where Wonder Man is, play on Graviton’s ego and libido, and I assume keep him from going wild if he has a squishy person standing next to him. And they crank Iron Man up on so many watts so he can go toe-to-toe with Graviton if he hasn’t already passed out from the aforementioned drugs.

It’s a good plan.

Probably going to cause some blackouts but... uh... look. Worthy cause?

Iron Man: This is incredible! I can feel the energy surging through my armor! There’s no sensation that even comes close to this! This is what it means to be Iron Man... this is what it means to be invincible!

Of course, Rhodey isn’t Tony. In fact, the West Coast Avengers doesn’t really have a really techy/sciencey person?

Wonder Man used to be one of Tony’s peers but he hasn’t touched science since coming back to life.

Hawkeye invented anti-gravity once but never really returned to that well.

Oh, Mockingbird has a doctorate in biology. But she’s gone full into the spy/costumed adventurer thing.

Anyway, even though Rhodey is able to blast everything Graviton throws at him, the cables he used to link to the substation can’t handle the thousands of mega-volts and begin to melt.

So just as he repulsors Graviton onto his ass, a power surge short circuits the armor.

‘Madame Masque’ runs to help Graviton but PSYCHE ITS TIGRA

She used the little cat trinket established last issue to take on her human form which looks enough like Madame Masque in the sense that she has black hair and a generically attractive body type.

Graviton manages to put up a gravity based force field and fend off attacks from Iron Man, Wonder Man, and Tigra. But knocking them away almost floors him.

Then Hawkeye and Mockingbird come Sky-Cycling by and Hawkeye shoots some tranquilizer gas arrows because, hey, why not pile on more sedatives?

Graviton brags that its a simple matter for him to increase the weight of the gas so its hugging the ground instead of his lungs.

Then he passes the fuck out.

GOOD JOB TEAM!

I honestly never thought I’d see a superhero fight end by sedating a man so much that he passed out and probably should be rolled onto his back.

The U.S. Marshals hauls away Graviton while the news shows up to interview the West Coast Avengers. But Hawkeye excuses the team saying they have another important mission to finish.

Mockingbird: “‘Important mission?’”

Hawkeye: “My barbecues are very important!”

HAH!

Yeah, the Avengers all return to Avengers Compound to finally eat Hawkeye’s steaks.

That was what was truly at stake this whole time.

Tigra says it was lucky that she was wearing a mask because she was as shocked as ‘Louis’/Hawkeye.

Wonder Man says that he can actually survive without food, water, or air but he doesn’t really enjoy it.

And Hawkeye says that just in case things had gone horribly wrong (because he’s a responsible team leader) he’d left word with the New York Avengers to assume that they were all dead if they didn’t call back by midnight.

But when he later did call back, Vision taped a congratulations message to play to the whole team.

... Vision are you so busy that you couldn’t just talk to them?

Pre-recorded Vision calls the team Avengers, cause they are. But apparently it makes Wonder Man and Tigra realize that their misgivings about deserving to be on the team have gone.

Beating up Graviton is a great ego boost.

So that’s the West Coast Avengers limited series! But like the panel says, the team is coming back for Avengers #250. The big 2 5 0, two teams!

And the team will get their own ongoing book in about a year which will go on for 102 issues. Oof. Dunno if I can keep up the two a week pace but I have a year or twelve weeks to think about it.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because West Coast Avengers! Right? Who doesn’t love a second team in a different location? The X-Men have like three or four teams, the Avengers can have two! Also like and reblog because I’d appreciate it.

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian s2 ep1 Reactions Post That’s right I’m BACK

and none of you not even god himself can stop me from rambling about space cowboy dad and tiny green baby stuff for much longer than any sane person should 

the TL;DR is that I still love this show SO MUCH, beware a bunch of spoilers under the cut!

- costume design wise I LOVE how badly the armour fits Cobb Vanth

 especially when you get shots with him and Din side by side for contrast:

It’s not just that it’s clearly not made for him (it seems he’s a lot lankier and more wiry than Boba is), he simply doesn’t know how to wear it, and he doesn’t know how to take care of it, because he doesn’t know what it means. Remember when Din’s breastplate got bent completely out of shape by the mudhorn and he had it repaired to the best of his ability long before they even finished with the ship? That’s why he looks so grounded and natural in it and Vanth has sort of a clumsy Spiderman-in-his-first-home-made-costume air about him. (also Boba’s helmet has a beautiful heft and solidity to it in this, they make all the beskar have a Feel and weight to it, makes it feel important)  

I like that Vanth is taller than Din; everything that drives home that Din’s strength doesn’t come from being naturally physically imposing or impressive is a joy to me 

- Boba’s armour seems to be confirmed to be real beskar, which gives me so much hope that they’re doing something actually nuanced and interesting with Boba and Jango’s cultural identities as Mandalorians (whether they do consider themselves that or not, for example), unlike George Lucas’ inexplicable yet unbending stance of ‘They aren’t and never were lol get fucked Fetts’  

the way the triumphant heroic part of the mando music sputtered and died when the man himself showed up tho... uh-oh this might be bad news 

man but that’s a stunning and surprising way to introduce a well-known character divorced from what makes them so iconic, though, just from that I’m going to trust they know what they’re doing (AND they got temuera morrison back I’m so EXCITED!!!). without the armor there’s the face of someone who shared that face with literal millions and at the same time must be looking older than his father ever got to at this point, and that’s super interesting as a starting point to me. (I... guess there’s still a chance it’s a fakeout and that it’s actually another clone, but that would be such a letdown when they’ve already given us this haha) 

- an excellent [mando sighs] moment

this opening scene did a great job of re-summarizing him for the audience -- establishing again that he gives you one chance at dealing with him fairly and if you insist on continuing to be an asshole about it, you’re toast, the fact that his fighting style is so much about being able to tank blows rather than not getting hit in the first place, the horror movie monster mando setup as he stalked the dude down and strung him up, the Poetic Justice predicated on some very careful word choices, and most importantly “where I go, he goes”... all wonderful, I’m sure I’ll watch this scene back for fine details and better looks at the background characters many many times 

(word seems to have spread about him and the baby for real now, which makes me VERY nervous btw)

- Pulserifle’s back! Jetpack’s back! Razor Crest’s back! Grappling line’s back! PELLI’S BACK!!!!!! Tattooine... is also back *Finn voice* Why does everyone want to go back to Tattooine????

I really enjoyed the way they fleshed out and (for lack of a better word) humanized the sand people, though, if you are going back to this desert hellplanet again that is a worthy reason to do it 

- Din swearing :O!! and one of the less egregious star wars swears too, I’m fine with this

- in campaign star wars news: I guess there was sort of both a binbon and a jubna in this ep! what a time to be alive

- as usual I love the jawa. a bright spot in any day, just a bunch of lil goblin-y friends hanging out having the best time loving sparkly crystals and rescuing silver foxes.  

get in loser we’re going shopping

-  

I uh. Do you think. Hm. Is there maybe a metaphor here somewhere. Is there perhaps a hidden, one may say double, meaning, at play, right here, in this image? Who can say, it’s just niggling at me (there’s a very similar set of shots with Toro in season 1, but seemingly the show went ‘I fear we might have gone too subtle with it, let’s amp it up this time’ over the season break loool)

honestly though this dynamic really highlighted everything I love about the ways Din performs masculinity. It’s so much softer and more community/collaboration focused and more comfortable to be around than Vanth’s version -- and Vanth isn’t a bad dude by any stretch of the imagination, it’s not hard to see why he’s like that considering where he’s from, he’s just such a... man. The lone person who can protect this village! The only man who’s got what it takes! It’s all on his shoulders and no one else’s, so do exactly as he says or he’ll put a hole in you! (I think it’s telling that one of his first comments to Din is ‘I’m sure you call the shots wherever you’re from, but ‘round here, I’m the person who tell folks what to do’, because as we as the audience knows, Din very much does not call the shots of where he’s from lol) I guess it says some nice things about the tribe of Mandos Din is from that this is how he approaches things, and it says some good things about Vanth how quickly he comes around to this smarter and less confrontational/domineering style of doing things once he’s been exposed to it and sees how it works. it’s just neat

(it’s smart of Favreau to set his ~*lone gunslinger*~ character up like this, too, it makes him so much more interesting and versatile)   

- With the way Din says ‘a Mandalorian Armorer sent me on my path’ it does seem confirmed that’s the equivalent of a priest role or a sort of shaman -- I wonder if he knows the name of ‘The’ Armorer or if they take on the role as a whole identity 

- the sheer contrast between the two people who wanted Din to take his helmet off for them in this ep tho... wants Mando’s armour off for horrible awful reasons and got exactly what he deserved:

wants Mando’s armour off for entirely sympathetic and understandable, just culturally uninformed, thirsty thirsty reasons & also having drinks together:

 (the sort of... little lick over his bottom lip he does there? keep it in your pants vanth my GODjflsadf he’s a good dude tho he understands and respects the ‘no armour removal before marriage’ thing and backs down gracefully)

- This is a nuanced thing: I don’t think I actually ship it (not in a requited way from Din’s side, anyway, Vanth I’m 100% sure about lol), but the incredible potential for out-of-context-taking of “Take it off, or I will”/”...we doin’ this in front of the kid?” is uh astounding  

(anyone got the vibe Vanth sort of had something with the bartender too? no just me? well well)

- I was never really scared Din was actually dead or hurt b/c baby wasn’t scared and I figure he’d know lol, a very useful fear barometer 

- “What’s the plan?” “Take care of the child” “What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know, but wish me luck *yeets his new bro out of harm’s way before diving in head first himself*” fksdjhfkjlashdfkjsldahfkasldjhfskldajhfsadkjfh WHAT a summation of Din’s entire approach to battle & life, dad please you carry a not insignificant part of my heart around with you be careful 

(Also with the heavy implication that Boba was watching the whole thing... can you imagine him just looking on as Din throws himself down that gullet like a madman. There must have been some ‘o_-7 *headscratch headscratch* ???’ going on for him there)

it’s kind of sweet that din trusts vanth will take care of the baby if something happens though, they really bonded quickly huh 

- the sand people who kept willingly going over to the krayt dragon’s cave are honestly braver and more admirable than anyone else has ever been, I kept just shouting in anguish as they were gobbled up, they deserved better 

- can we talk about how clear it still is that Din’s just... lonely. When he thinks he’s found another Mando and he sounds almost reverent with relief... and then it gets odder and odder (’uh... drinks? I guess... does he have drinking straws with him or -- HE’S TAKING THE HELMET OFF???’ oh buddy)

I wonder if they’re building towards something about him realizing it doesn’t have to be Mandos for him to trust and bond with people longer term? Basically all the characters he’s met and we’ve watched him form attachments to and get help from are non-Mandos -- Kuiil :’^(, Cara, Omera, Cobb Vanth, IG-11 :^’’(, Greef Karga to a degree. Establishing so firmly what he’s looking for this early would be good setup for a ‘what a character thinks they want vs. what they need’ thing later on just on a writing level, anyway, Boba Fett could bring in some interesting points of view about Mandalorianness too   

- baby’s happy gurgles when he sees pelli!!!!!! din speaking sand people language and petting alligator doggies!!!!!!

- pedro pascal’s voice work remains an utter joy to me. din’s measured, earnest, occasionally slightly stilted way of talking is still so good, and then he does things like inserting some more... idk life is the wrong word but that more charged and dynamic tone he took on when he said (”I thought you weren’t a gambler”) “I’m not”. *chef kiss*

- if the pulse rifle’s stun is able to do that to a fuckn krayt dragon... that’s some serious shit din is carrying around with him lol (interestingly the actual shooty pew-pew part of it didn’t seem to do much to it, but then I guess he was shocking it from the inside out and not through thick hide, so idk)

- my only real complaints about this ep: Vanth’s backstory ran a bit long, and not enough baby & dad interaction. the concept art’s got me tho: 

 (din often wears his original/old armour in concept art still, incidentally, don’t know what that’s about)

awwwwwww

+ omfg ;______;

- this sand people person conscientiously brushing a bantha’s teeth... blessed

- Customary flame thrower report: there was a rare useful deployment of the flamethrower. Good job Mando’s flame thrower for furthering the field of diplomacy

ETA: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS: DIN BEING COMFORTABLE(ISH) AROUND DROIDS NOW!!!! GROWTH????!?! IG-11 WE MISS YOU??????????

[savannah-lim]

Sink Your Teeth In || Savannah & Carrington

Timing: Current Location: Teeth Parties: @savannah-lim and @carringtonblackwood Content: Just vampire shit Summary: Savannah goes exploring in dangerous places again.  

Savannah’s ex-wife had been a huge Dracula fan. She’d even taken her to Whitby on their honeymoon so they could sit on the very bench Bram Stoker had once occupied. This town reminded her of Whitby, in some ways. It was a seaside town, although in New England rather than England itself, and it had a fascinating obsession with the Macabre. Recently, Savannah had started to figure out that there was a pretty good reason for that.

She wandered through the area she'd come to learn was (affectionately?) nicknamed Freak Alley, looking for somewhere to have a drink. She was sure someone online had told her to stay out of these kinds of places, but curiosity was her best friend and biggest enemy, so she walked right in, heading into what she assumed was a goth or punk themed bar called 'Teeth'. 

People looked at her a little strangely as she walked in. Maybe she wasn’t dressed appropriately. “Sorry, I forgot my black leather jacket and velvet top hat,” she said to one particularly gawpy patron as she took a seat at the bar, then she turned to the bartender. “Hi, I’ll have a Gin and Tonic.”

Carrington was having… A Night. Whether it was getting better or worse was still up for debate. Five of his six current clients had called that afternoon to cancel their appraisal walk-throughs, Walter - the fucking ungrateful, orchid-ruining excuse for an oversized Venus fly-trap - had nearly taken his hand off when Carrington had fed the vampire watermelon his biweekly meal. And to top it all off, someone had scratched his Aston. Which would cost an arm and both legs to have fixed. So Carrington was in dire need of a distraction. 

Which ‘Teeth’ was more than happy to provide. Carrington was currently enjoying a very good buzz - thanks to a bottle or two of top-shelf fae blood - when something… unusual yet strangely familiar caught his attention. As well as the attention of every other vampire in the room. There was a human sitting at the bar. A human that wasn’t an employee, and therefore not under the owner’s protection. So it didn’t take long for the vultures to start circling. 

The woman’s scent finally registered with his intoxicated brain about the time he finished his drink. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Tomorrow's headline was already flashing through his mind: FBI Agent Orders Gin and Tonic in Local Bar, Gets Exsanguination Instead. Of all the fucking nights…

“Hello again,” he said, slipping up beside her and ordering another bottle of blood. “How’ve you been? And why, might I ask, are you all alone in a place like this?” 

Savannah had felt several dozen eyes on her. Eyes she had chosen to ignore. The bartender looked at her like she was crazy, but shuffled off to fulfil her order. She looked at the menu on the wall behind him. None of these seemed like normal drinks. Maybe they all just had fancy names. A shiver passed down her spine as someone brushed past her in the crowd, a sixth sense she couldn’t quite explain. But when someone took the seat next to her, Savannah was relieved to see it was someone who wasn’t a stranger.

She paid and tipped the bartender as he returned with her drink. “Carrington, hello.” Nobody was looking at him strangely in spite of him wearing regular clothes as well. Perhaps she was missing something. “I’m well, thanks.” She took a sip of her drink. “A place like this? Just because I’m not covered head to toe in tattoos with painted black fingernails, doesn’t mean I can’t find these sorts of places charming,” she teased, giving him a small grin. “But you can fix the ‘alone’ part if you want.” She cocked her head at him. “Did you just order blood? Was I supposed to use a code word or something, you know, to blend in?” 

“That’s good to hear.” He eyed her curiously. The first time they’d met, Carrington had been absolutely certain she knew shit-all about… well… anything to do with the supernatural. It was why he’d compelled her to forget what she’d seen that night. Though things could and did change quite quickly in this town. Perhaps Savannah was one of them. Either way, Carrington’s curiosity was piqued. 

He returned her grin with one of his own, one side of his mouth slowly lifting as he realized she was serious. And if one were observant enough, they might notice that Carrington sported a set of rather sharp canines behind his lopsided smile. He likely couldn’t have put them away if he’d tried, considering his current state. But oh well. In for a penny and all that. 

“Oh, I think you’ll find the charm goes much, much deeper than just the aesthetic…” Her casual invitation earned her another slow grin. “I think I can handle that.” The asked after drink came a moment later, and Carrington’s fingers paused against the bottle. He glanced at her, trying to decide how to answer in a way that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. Finally, he settled for the truth. She was here wasn’t she? “Yes.” The word was said with a slow, almost lazy candor as he lifted the bottle to his lips. “And no. But... if you wish to blend in…” There were still several sets of eyes on them as his arm slipped idly across the back of her chair. “I could show you how.

Savannah hadn’t even finished her first drink yet, but it was clear Carrington had already had a few. She decided to drink quickly in order to catch up. She had a feeling this was going to be an interesting night. “Fae Blood,” she read from the label. “Well, that’s not very nice.” Savannah waved the bartender down, much to his irritation, and ordered a second gin and tonic and a whiskey on the rocks. “Seems I have some catching up to do.” She finished her first drink almost in one long gulp, eyeing Carrington with curiosity. 

“You’re being strange,” she said, but her tone was one of interest and intrigue. She swore she could see the strange shape of his teeth beneath the dim lights. “Blending in, how?” she asked, curious to know what he’d be showing her. “I’d like to find out.” 

Carrington was well into his cups. Which explained why he didn’t bat an eye as she read the label on his bottle, other than to give her another playful smirk. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. Besides…” He leaned towards her and pointed to a tiny bit of writing on the label. “‘No Fae were harmed in the making of this willingly-donated, generously compensated, and promise-free product.’” As if that should explain everything. And maybe it did. 

“By all means.” He watched her down her drink, raising an impressed eyebrow. The sweet smell of whiskey drifted towards him, and Carrington ordered one for himself, with a shot of A-negative. “Am I?” he asked. Her continued acquiescence was slightly surprising, but Carrington didn’t mind. Not one bit. “By doing what every other human that comes into a vampire bar comes there to do…” He gave her another curious, crooked smile, eyes slightly hooded as the implications of what he was suggesting - along with his sharply pointed teeth -  made themselves unmistakably clear. “And I’d be more than happy to oblige.” His fingers drifted up her arm to ghost over the line of her neck. “Do you trust me?”

Savannah had to be dreaming. This whole thing was almost as beyond belief as everything else she’d seen in White Crest so far. The idea of a vampire bar wasn’t strange. What was strange was that he should be so brazen about it, that he should be so open, even clearly a few drinks deep. “Why would I possibly want to try that?” she asked. She wasn’t a vampire, so she could only imagine it would taste awful. “I have my own.” She downed her whiskey and lifted the second gin and tonic. This would catch up with her soon. Maybe once it did, this would feel less bizarre. 

“How forward,” she snickered, almost a little embarrassed that this situation was - dare she say it - kind of hot. A therapist would have had a field day with that. “I’m not sure I’m drunk enough yet,” she said, her breath hitching in her throat a little turning her words into something of a sigh. “But you can show me around while I get there.” She leaned into him, whispering. “And no. I don’t trust anyone. But that doesn’t mean I won’t do something foolish.”

Carrington had no reason to hide what he was. Not here. Though his track record of making good choices when partaking of fae blood - he usually avoided it for a reason - wasn’t very good. Outside these walls, however, his identity was no one’s business but his own. And a very few trusted individuals. He opened his mouth to tell Savannah that the comment had been… well, somewhat rhetorical, but his attention quickly slipped to watching the line of her throat as she downed her drinks. 

“You asked,” he grinned, letting his fingers play over the slope of her shoulder. The way her breath hitched made Carrington’s fangs ache ever so slightly, but he was more than happy to grant the request to show her around. Before he could start what would hopefully be a very short tour on the way to something far more entertaining, she was suddenly very close. Again, she managed to surprise him with her answer, and again, Carrington didn’t question it. Instead, he laughed, the sound a low, genuinely pleased hum as he turned his head to whisper, “Good girl…” into her ear. He didn’t elaborate on which of her comments he was alluding to (it was both, actually), but pulled her and onto the first leg of the grand tour. 

A good bit later, Carrington’s head lolled towards Savannah. “Are we there yet?” he asked, grinning drunkenly, fangs on full display at this point. “Or well… are you there yet? I was there… oh-” He held up two fingers for her to see. “- three drinks ago.” 

Savannah swallowed. This was bizarre in a way that somehow made sense. It would have been beyond belief if not for the fact that it was so sensible and obvious. Savannah had no scepticism left in her. Carrington wasn’t trying to hide anything. He wasn’t a stranger trying to lure her backstage. She quivered, almost embarrassed as he whispered the words in her ear. 

She decided to see where this went, no commitment one way or the other. She explored with him, danced with him, had a few more drinks with him, and gave a low laugh when he finally asked the question. “I think I’m getting there.” She swung on his arm a little as they danced, twisting herself into his arms. “Tell me something,” she said, figuring now was her best chance to get some honesty out of him. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t found me at the bar?” she asked. In spite of being pleasantly drunk now, her curiosity hadn’t shut off. Savannah turned back to him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Can you be gentle? Can your friends?” she used the word loosely. There were several humans in the bar. Savannah could see that now. She’d passed the human blood bags and the fang bangers that were either paid to be here or came for their own thrill and enjoyment. They seemed to be having fun, but Savannah didn’t doubt there was a seedier underbelly to all this. Accidents happened. 

Her shiver didn’t escape his notice, but Carrington simply tucked that particular tidbit away for later. After that the evening was a blur. A pleasant one, if a bit strange. But only strange because he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to hide a part of himself from a human acquaintance. Whether out of fear of losing a friend, or fear for his own safety. Neither of those things had even crossed his mind this evening. Savannah was… taking it all in stride. Without any evidence of a nervous breakdown in the near future. 

So, as was the theme of the evening, Carrington didn’t question it. He simply endeavoured to take things as they came for once. Her laughter vibrated against his chest as she spun around, and he let his other hand slide around her waist, holding her against him as they danced. “Excellent…” he smiled against her ear before letting his lips drop lightly to her shoulder. He stayed there as they danced, enjoying her warmth and her scent along with his own pleasantly drunken state. “Anything…” he murmured to her query. Though when it came, the question wasn’t quite what he expected. Nonetheless, the evening had thus far thrived on honesty, and Carrington was loath to change that. 

“Perhaps nothing,” he told her quietly. “Or perhaps someone would’ve fed on you. Without your consent. Or worse.” 

Her next question didn’t have a black and white answer. She’d seen the varying degrees of human/vampire interaction around the bar. Though some things weren’t meant for public display. How could she not be curious? “In general? Yes,” he said, and meant it. “We’re all capable of being gentle. We’re not much different than humans in that sense. Some good, some bad. Most somewhere in between. ” 

Carrington dipped his head towards her shoulder again. “As for myself… I’m always gentle…” His lips - along with a barely there, feather-light hint of fangs - brushed her skin as he smiled lazily. “Unless you ask me not to be...” 

Savannah's next shudder wasn't so pleasant. Fed on. Or worse. Those certainly weren't the most desirable of outcomes. "Well, thanks for coming to my rescue," Savannah teased, her words dripping with irony. She remained close to Carrington, paying specific attention to his lack of heartbeat. His body was a little warm, perhaps from the bottles of blood he'd been drinking like light beers. If she hadn't already known already, she wouldn't have guessed he was a vampire. She'd have to get smarter about that. 

She exhaled, continuing to casually dance with him as he explained his species to her, at least in the vaguest of ways. She'd try and find out more later, she was sure, once she wasn't so very distracted by the feeling of his skin on hers and how good he smelled. "Good to know," she murmured against his jawline as he promised to be gentle. She swallowed the lump in her throat as his teeth scraped against the shell of her ear.

Fuck. She was an idiot.

"Then I guess we'd better go back to your place." 

[murderadawrote]

So the reader is a bartender as a front for moving cocaine through her bar. Alfie and Ollie are there one night drinking. No one knows that she's the mob leader, Alfie wants to start distributing his rum in her bar and asks to set up a meeting. When she shows up, she hinds behind one of those Chinese hand fans. Alfie recognizes her. "I'd know those eyes and that perfume anywhere."

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted to read and I had fun writing it (even though it’s 2am and I should be asleep already lmao);

—

the shadow of a man | alfie solomons;

summary: Y/N is a young woman who tries to hide her mob leader identity from the strangers; Alfie is the stranger who discovers the truth;

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, mob leaders;

—

There’s a moment in the life of a woman when people look at you thinking that maybe you’re innocent, pure, a butterfly trapped in a world full of spiders. This moment may turn into different single moments. They look at you and they think that you’re not ready, not even close. And what do you do? You cry? Take the first ship to escape? Tell your mother? No. You simply create an empire and then make them beg to work with you.

‘The Olmo’ was a simple bar in London when I took it and transformed it into something bigger and more courageous than anything else. That’s how people in London used to describe it, courageous. I guess that selling drugs in your own bar and becoming one of the biggest mob leaders had that effect on people. But ‘The Olmo’ was my home. All the young women had to be prepared for the different roles. Waitresses, singers, dancers, women that had the power to be loved without falling in love. However, at the end of the day there was me, in a corner of the bar serving drinks to different men. And nobody knew me, I was a shadow or the dream you keep forgetting whenever you wake up. However, it amazed me how one night a man named Alfie Solomons caught me, seeing something more behind the pretty eyes and the hard working woman. He saw Y/N.

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

I looked at the girl in front of me and frowned. “Have you seen yourself?” I paused for a second and looked at the mirror in front of us thinking about the right words. “Alright, you know the rules. You wait and count to seven, if he doesn’t want you then he has to talk to me and that means-”

I got interrupted by another voice. “And that means that you have to come with me, Y/N.” I recognized the voice of my secretary and assistant, Frances, one of the few people who had the courage to talk to me as if I wasn’t who I actually was.

I looked at Molly - the girl who I was talking to - and nodded with a slight smile. “You can do it.” I told following Frances out of the private room. “Just remember what I told you and follow the plan!”

The plan was simple. Following Frances out of the room and through the corridor had me thinking about all the phases of the plan. Every night the plan was the same, never changing because that would have been disastrous. Some chosen girls had to take care of and control the powerful men, those men who wanted me dead or poor, and if those men were too worried about me to enjoy some pretty girls then they needed to talk to my men. The plan was simple. We had to follow the plan.

“What is it?” I asked Frances before opening the door of the main room.

Frances sighed and looked between me and the door. “A man.” She paused and shrugged. “Ginger told me he doesn’t look at the girls nor talk to them.”

“Drunk?” I frowned thinking about the situation. “Maybe he-”

“He asked to talk to Olmo, Y/N.” Frances interrupted me serious. “Ginger told me about him as soon as she found me. Usually I tell the girls to tell these men to fuck off, but he’s Alfie Solomons.”

I stopped thinking and looked at my friend. “Alfie Solomons?” I repeated. “That Alfie Solomons? The Jewish bear from Camden Town?” I opened the door slightly to look for him. “Where is the bastard?”

“On the left.” Frances answered. “He’s with another man, younger than him.”

He was there, observing the people, the room and frowning under his beard. I had never seen him before, only heard about him through some girls who had a thing for him. I used to tell them that Alfie Solomons was just a man and not a god killed and reborn. And that was probably what I was telling myself the moment my eyes found him between the crowd of people. The bar was full of men and I used to serve them every night, looking at them with my innocent eyes and pretty smile. But they were just men. They weren’t Alfie Solomons, right?

I slowly closed the door and looked at Frances. “He’s gorgeous.” I mumbled feeling guilty. “And dangerous.”

Frances smirked at the sound of my words. “You have to talk to him now, right?” She asked knowing well that I had to do so. “You always need to talk to the men who ask to meet Olmo. You analyse them.”

“They’re not worthy, though.” I shrugged thinking about the next move. “I could talk to him but it seems a waste of time and money.”

Frances paused and looked at me waiting for my move. “Shut up and go talk to the bear!” She looked at the red dress I was wearing and smirked. “Looking at you he will forget about Olmo for tonight!”

I laughed and adjusted the dress before positioning myself in front of the door. “Count to seven and then kill him if I drink from the red glass.” I looked at her smirking. “You know the rules.”

Walking through the crowd I was perfectly invisible. Maybe only two or three people were curious about this mysterious woman whose eyes never met the others for a second or two. Who’s the woman? Probably another waitress. No men around her, no women glaring at her, no precious jewels on. She was a copy of the other girls around the room.

Ginger’s eyes met mine and she excused herself before I took her place behind the counter. Usually the people wanted to sit on the different little tables around the room. I learned that the only men who decided to sit in front of the counter while the tables were free were dangerous. And Alfie Solomons in that moment was the only man sitting in front of the counter talking to another young man, who had the habit to glance a little too much at Ginger.

“Alfie Solomons.” I said the name of the man in front of me. He was too worried about the different scenarios that were taking place in the room to think about the bartender, but strangely my voice caught his attention.

“Do I know you?” His eyes observed every inch of my body, studying me as if he was trying to tell if I was a problem. “Right, doll, you have a wonderful pair of eyes. I would have remembered them!”

I scoffed and slightly laughed. “Two other men told me the same thing tonight, Mr. Solomons.” I smirked. “But sadly I’m not here to accept complements.”

“Two other men? Well, I’m probably the only man who meant it.” Alfie’s eyes never left me alone. “Right, doll, why are you here?”

I looked away from Alfie for a second observing a smiling Molly talking to a man and smirked. “You want to talk to Olmo, Mr. Solomons, right?” The nod coming from the man in front of me made me continue. “Well, I’m his shadow. First you have to talk to me.”

Alfie looked stunned for a second before motioning to the younger man to leave him alone. His eyes then came back to me. “If you’re his shadow then I want you to tell him that I have to talk to him about business.”

“Business?” I narrowed my eyes as I thought about the words. “What kind of business?”

Alfie sighed and came closer to me. Between us there was only the counter. “I produce rum, doll, y’know?” He was deadly serious while talking about his job. “I may not be a saint but the rum is great and I think people here would love to drink my rum.”

I repeated in my mind all of the previous words. Rum. “Rum?” I looked curiously at Mr. Solomons. “You talk about rum as if it was the key to paradise.”

“Isn’t it, doll?” He paused and then continued after another look at the people around us. “Obviously Mr. Olmo can propose something too.”

“Usually Olmo isn’t the type of man who tells the others what he wants.” I shook my head frowning. “You should propose.”

Alfie Solomons had to take a pause thinking about what was the best thing to do. “I don’t talk to bartenders as if they were the fucking owners, doll.” He smirked and looked around him. “Where’s Olmo?”

“You want to meet him.” I stated looking at Frances who was in a corner of the bar and making her come to the counter. “Well, your offer is interesting. But you should pay attention to the words you use, you offended me.” When Frances arrived next to Alfie Solomons I smiled. “Frances, take Mr. Solomons to the Red Room, I’ll call Olmo.”

“You know, doll, you’re a great shadow!” Alfie stood up and started following Frances. “But cover your eyes, they keep distracting me.”

Making Alfie Solomons wait for a nonexistent man wasn’t the best choice, but looking for a way out of the situation started getting difficult. If people wanted to meet Olmo there was always my cousin, James, who came to London from a nearby little town. He had a boring job and he was thrilled to meet mob leaders presenting himself as Olmo. But James wasn’t here and I was too tempted to talk to Alfie Solomons as Olmo. A woman and a mob leader. What was I thinking about when I told him to meet Olmo? Suicide?

And that was when - completely taken by a panic attack - I was hiding in the girls changing room out of breath and looking for a solution. Then a long black coat caught my attention. It was hidden in the corner of the room, covered by different accessories, but in my mind it represented the way out of the trouble. Hiding myself covered by the long black coat and with a wide Chinese folding fan in front of my face, walking behind Alfie’s chair and faking a deep voice seemed like a great idea!

“What are you doing?” Frances told me in front of my office’s door. “It’s a stupid plan, Y/N.”

And she was right. But I was desperate to impress Alfie Solomons and I wanted him to talk to the mob leader and not the bartender.

When I entered the office, Alfie Solomons was on the chair in front of the table. The folding fan was still in front of me and the heels I had on before were given to a laughing Frances.

“You must be Olmo.” Alfie’s voice was strong and he didn’t turn around to look at me. “I hope that pretty doll told you about the fucking offer, right?”

Talking as a man wasn’t an easy option so I simply mumbled with the deepest voice I could have done. And if Alfie Solomons continued to talk then I was happy with that. “So I offer you the rum, right, and you could offer me something interesting that I don’t already have.”

Hearing the sound of the chair against the floor and a pair of shoes walking gave me a heart attack. He was already looking at the worst mob leader of the world. Not a woman, not a man nor a human being. I was the pathetic result of years of independence mixed with a single meeting with a special man. I became the little girl who used to hide behind her mother’s legs.

“Y’know, Olmo, whenever I talk to someone I’m used to observe their eyes.” Alfie was closer, maybe three meters away from me. “Maybe you, right, could help me doing it by removing the fan.”

I don’t know if it was the anger or the embarrassment or the brain, but my hands removed the fan by showing just my eyes. Not a single soul could have interrupted the moment. Alfie Solomons wasn’t shocked nor angry. His breath was normal and his eyes were kind. The ghost of a smirk was visible.

“Olmo.” He said coming closer to me. “I’d know those eyes and that perfume anywhere, doll.”

“You meant it.” I whispered removing completely the fan and leaving the coat on the floor.

“Now, I’m confused.” He mumbled scratching his beard. “Where is Olmo?”

“There’s no Olmo, Mr. Solomons.” I shrugged looking at my feet as if I was a little girl in front of her parents after a terrible mistake. “I’m Olmo. I’m the mob leader.”

Alfie Solomons was staring silently at me. “Right, doll, you could have fucking told me before.” He said taking the coat. “Now, I won’t take my offer back so can I fucking talk to the person who owns this place?” He frowned before continuing. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

I looked at Alfie’s eyes. He didn’t care if I was a woman leading an empire. He saw me as Y/N. And that was the beginning of a deep and dangerous relationship.

[writingbymel]

Syndicate - Part 2

Author’s Note: Thanks for all the amazing support so far guys! Here’s part 2!! This ended up being so long lol I got a little carried away

Date Posted: 11/01/2019

Summary: Damon gets an idea to use Y/N to get Klaus to help him and the gang in Mystic Falls. Y/N and Klaus reunite and they all head to Mystic Falls to stop a mysterious hunter. 

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2,300+

Parts: Part 1

SYNDICATE MASTERLIST

“What did you think was going to happen showing up here?” Damon asks ordering a drink from the bartender for me. I take a sip of the rum and let out a little sigh.

“I just wanted to see him,” I reply stirring the ice around in my drink. “I was hoping to see all of them, but someone blew my cover.” I glare at Leo.

“I knew it was a bad idea from the start,” Leo chimes in before taking a sip from his own drink. “Plus I’m not the one who’s obsessed with a bracelet from years ago and refuse to take it off.”

“What are you doing here anyways Damon? Shouldn’t you be back in Mystic Falls?” I ask Damon ignoring Leo’s snide comments. Even though I hated to admit it, Leo was right. I was obsessed with my past even if I tried to convince everyone otherwise.

“You shouldn’t be the one asking questions Y/N,” Damon replies. “You want to tell me how you look like this?” He gestures to my outer appearance, “And don’t tell me you’ve aged because you look like a completely different person.”

“I made a deal with a witch the night of my birthday,” I explain. “She promised to help me conceal my identity so I could run from Klaus if I was willing to help her.”

“What did you do?” asks Damon.

“I turned her daughter who was dying,” I reply sadly.

“So what happened to your actual body?” Damon questions.

“I take it everywhere with me,” I reply laughing. “I keep it in a coffin waiting for the day I could finally stop running.”

“What is with everyone in this city and keeping bodies in coffins,” Damon responds. I just shrug not really understanding what he was referring to.

“Well you’ve been caught by Klaus now Y/N,” Leo says. “The whole Mikaelson family probably knows you’re here now. You’re either running or staying here.”

“I think I’m going to be staying here for a bit,” I say. “I have unfinished business.”

“I was desperately hoping you weren’t going to say that,” Leo groans. Leo never did like the Mikaelsons and he hated the lively atmosphere of New Orleans. He was more of a small town countryside kind of guy. I get up dragging Leo and Damon by their arms.

“We’ve got a body to return to,” I say with a smile.

“How did I get dragged into this?” Damon asks rolling his eyes. “I have more important things to do than help you with a makeover Y/N.”

“I highly doubt that,” I respond not taking no for an answer.

Hours later I woke up from what felt like a deep sleep. My head hurt, yet again. I reach over to my nightstand and take a large gulp of water. I sit up looking at the vanity mirror across from my bed. I was myself again. My Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes almost foreign to me having not been myself the past few decades.

“The princess awakes,” Damon says tossing me a blood bag. I take a few sips feeling satisfied and energized. “You look great. Better than I remember.”

I roll my eyes ignoring Damon’s compliments, “Thank you for the blood, but shut up.”

He laughs as I push past him to the bathroom. My New Orleans apartment was one of the places I missed the most when I was on the run. Everything was still in place as if no one has stepped foot inside in ages. Dust collected on the bathroom sinks. I blow gently on the surface dust flowing into my mouth and nose. I cough a bit.

“That was extremely lame Y/N,” Leo says standing by the door frame. “Even for you, but you do look great, so I’ll let it slide.”

“This is why you’re my best friend,” I say with a smile.

“Yeah even when we both know what you’re doing is completely stupid,” Leo laughs.

“The heart wants what it wants Leo,” I tell him. I was joking, but I knew a part of me wasn’t.

Leo lowers his voice, knowing Damon could be listening, “Yeah and my heart wants Damon to love me.”

“Leo you’ve been obsessed with him for decades, plus he doesn’t swing that way” I tease fixing my hair a bit. “You know he’s obsessed with the doppelgänger.”

“A vampire can dream,” Leo points out.

I roll my eyes at Leo, pushing him out of the way, “You are always trying to make drama where there isn’t any.”

I make my way into the living room of my apartment only to see Damon raiding my liquor cabinet. Not surprising.

“That’s one thing I’ve always liked about you Y/N,” Damon says feeling my presence in the room, “You were never cheap with your liquor,” he turns around with a grin holding up some aged whiskey.

“So are you finally going to tell me what you’re doing here in New Orleans? With Klaus of all people?” I ask reaching into my cabinet to break out some whiskey glasses. He looks at me and pours us each a glass of whiskey.

“There’s a new vampire hunter in Mystic Falls,” Damon starts. “We’re convinced Klaus is the only one who can save us. For some reason this hunter is fast. Supernatural fast and they somehow have the help of a witch.”

“Are they a vampire?” I ask.

“That’s the thing,” Damon responds. “We’re not sure. Stefan is back investigating with everyone and I’m here trying to beg Klaus to come back to Mystic Falls. Somehow everyone was convinced I’m the one he hates the least.”

“Maybe you’re just the best at begging,” I joke. He laughs slightly.

“So what’s your big romance plan,” Damon asks. “Are you going to show up at Klaus’s door and beg for his forgiveness?”

“I didn’t come back to New Orleans to commit suicide,” I reply knowing that showing my face would anger Klaus more. Damon laughs. “How are you going to convince Klaus to go back and help you guys? Last I heard you guys tried to kill him and his whole family.”

“Details details Y/N,” Damon says setting down his empty glass in the sink. “While I love this reunion, I got an original to drag back to Mystic Falls.” He states before disappearing out the door with a flash.

Klaus’s POV

“People have really gone to drastic measures to provoke you brother,” Elijah says laughing out of disbelief.

“Honestly it’s impressive if anything,” I mention. “She looked nothing like Y/N.”

“What if it was Y/N?” Rebekah asks hopefully. I grow irritated with my younger sister.

“Tell me darling sister how would Y/N look completely different,” I retort. “The only way that would be possible is if she had the help of a powerful witch.” I walk out of the room not wanting to talk about the situation any longer. I go into my art room only to see Damon. So much for peace and quiet.

“I already told you Damon I’m not going back to Mystic Falls. I have no reason to help you. I thought I made myself clear,” I grab some of my spare paintbrushes dunking them in water to wash them.

“Can’t you find it in your tiny heart to help us?” Damon jokes. I turn my back to him rolling my eyes. All the Salvatore brothers and the children in Mystic Falls irritated me— one moment they would be trying to drive a stake through my heart, the next they would be finding ways to get me to help them. “What if I reunite you with Y/N?”

“You and I both know Y/N disappeared years ago,” I reply not believing the words I was hearing.

Damon reaches in his pocket for his phone and dials a number. “Hey Y/N can you help me conv—” Before Damon could finish I pushed him up against the wall.

“How dare you try to fool me,” I say angrily. Damon struggles against my grip.

“Jeez talk to her yourself why don’t you,” he squeaks shoving the phone against my ear.  

“Hello?” I ask.

I hear a familiar voice answer, “Hi Klaus.” A voice I fell in love with centuries ago. I slowly let Damon go.

“God I told you,” Damon says brushing off his clothes. “Do you Mikaelsons not trust anyone?”

“No not really,” I respond quietly.

“So are you going to help us or not,” Damon states.

“Bring Y/N here and I’ll consider helping,” I tell him.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Damon says excitedly. He quickly disappears out the door.

Y/N’s POV

Come to the compound, the only way the big bad hybrid will help if he sees you  - D

I sigh at the pressure now put on my shoulders. If I didn’t go face Klaus and the Mikaelsons, Damon wouldn’t get help and everyone in Mystic Falls would be put in more danger. I really didn’t want to confront them this soon, but it looked like I had no choice. I grab my bag and Leo raises his eyebrows at me.

“Were you really about to visit the Mikaelsons without me?” Leo asks.

“No way,” I reply. “I would not be able to handle all that drama alone.” I grab Leo’s arm and pull him out the door.

Walking down the streets of New Orleans felt like home to me. I remembered the path to the Mikaelson’s from my place like the back of my hand. Two rights and one left took me straight into the center of the Abattoir. Rebekah was outside drinking a cup of blood looking curiously at the latest fashion magazine.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” she asks. She speeds over and takes a closer look at me. “Wow it really is you,” she pulls me into a hug.  

“This isn’t the welcome I expected after staking your brother ages ago,” I say with a slight laugh. Rebekah pulls away.

“Y/N, I think all of us have tried to kill Klaus once. Plus that was ages ago,” Rebekah explains laughing. She looks over at Leo. “And you are?”

“Oh Rebekah this is Leo,” I explain. “I met him a few years ago when he just turned.”

She gives him a small smile, “Klaus is upstairs, but I’m sure he’s heard you by now knowing my nosy brother.” Damon makes his way into the courtyard.

“Y/N thanks for coming,” Damon says.

“You honestly didn’t give me much of a choice,” I reply. Damon begins to drag me up the stairs.

“Wait I’m not ready,” I state stopping in my tracks. Damon groans.

“Y/N,” I hear a voice at the top of the stairs. I look up to come face to face with Klaus. He had smudges of paint all over his clothes. I smile at myself a little bit. Even after centuries nothing has changed.

“Klaus,” I reply.

“Damon,” Damon says attempting to break the awkward tension. I would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that I was staring at my ex-boyfriend who I thought I would never see again. Klaus extends his hand out to me.

“Let’s talk,” he says pulling me upstairs. I sit down on the couch in the living area as he hands me a glass of blood which I take graciously. Klaus stares at me, but I try to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

“Where did you disappear to all these years?” Klaus asks.

“I’ve sort of been jumping around everywhere,” I say staring at the thick red liquid in my cup. Normally I would be taking the opportunity to drink it, but I couldn’t stomach anything at the moment. I set the drink on the coffee table. He responds with a nod. “How are you not lashing out at me right now?” I ask. “I tried to kill you Klaus.”

“I was angry for years Y/N,” Klaus replies. “I never thought I would see you again.” He walks over to sit on the coffee table across from me. I hold my breath as he suddenly gets closer, “You really did hurt me Y/N.”

I stare at my hands in my lap, “I still regret it to this day.”

“Why did you do it?” Klaus asks.

“Someone threatened my family,” I reply sadly. “To this day I still don’t know who it was. The stake just showed up on my doorstep with a note.” Klaus remains silent. “I really am sorry Klaus.”

“I have a vampire hunter to kill,” Klaus sets his glass down before getting up and making his way towards the stairs. I reach out to grab his arm. He looks at me quietly.

“I’ve really missed you Klaus,” I tell him. He reaches out to push some of my hair out of my face.

“Me too,” Klaus whispers.

“I’m coming to Mystic Falls too,” I state.

“If you insist,” Klaus says making his way down the stairs. As I turned the corner I saw Damon, Rebekah, and Leo huddled at the bottom of the stairs attempting to listen to Klaus and I’s conversation.

“Don’t you all have supernatural hearing?” I say rolling my eyes at them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Y/N, we were just looking at the stairs,” Leo laughs.

“Sure you guys were,” I say pushing past them. “Mystic Falls here we come!”

Damon shakes his car keys, “I’ll drive.”

I look over at Klaus and he gives me a small smile. For someone I haven’t seen in centuries, I felt my feelings for Klaus wash over me all over again. We all piled into Damon’s car and headed to Mystic Falls.

PART 3

[nelllraiser]

okay, boomer | montgomery & nell

LOCATION: the ring. PARTIES:  @therealdeville and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: in which montgomery scopes out his prey. 

Montgomery had been attending brawls in the ‘Ring’ since -- well as long as they could remember. It was a place for the most rotten of White Crest and of course that suited him just fine. Not everyone here was rotten of course, there were some that just wanted to fight because they were angry. Some did it for money (Montgomery could sympathise with that) and more did it because it was all that they knew. Montgomery had come here for a very specific purpose. Penelope Vural. August Thompson, the cringe of a man that he was, he had warned Montgomery that she wouldn’t be an easy target. Magic aside of course. So Montgomery had decided that it was up to them to learn more. “Give me a double of Glenmorangie,” he ordered the bartender, “hold the ice.” They took the Scotch and sipped it, muscling through the crowd with ease to get a better look at the fight going on in the middle of the cage, their quarry would be here somewhere and Montgomery found it ever so fascinating to watch something in it’s natural habitat. 

Nell had just finished with her fight, blood still trailing down her arms as her adrenaline high wore off. Soon enough she’d go to get cleaned up, but first she wanted a drink, needing something to parch her throat after the beast she’d just downed put up a decent fight. There were bottles backstage, of course. But she wanted something stronger. Her target was the bar at the back of the Ring where all the other concessions were, though it was somewhat hard work to get there. After all, some people loved to hound the fighters as soon as they got out of the cage, though Nell would never really understand the logic behind it. Who in their right mind would approach someone so readily after seeing them rip something apart in an underground fighting ring? It didn’t matter, though. Soon enough she had her drink and was standing near the hunter she didn’t know was a hunter, and talking to one of the other fighters who’d had their match earlier in the evening. 

Montgomery took a long sip from their whiskey before turning to the pair of fighters. “That was quite the show you put on there,” Montgomery had been impressed by the fight, “taking an alghoul on in such a capable manner.” He raised his glass to his lips, the condensation on the edge of the glass slowly trickling down its surface. Swallowing they surveyed the scene curiously. This was the target. She certainly seemed to require someone with some skill, obviously this was not someone that spineless fool August had felt that they were capable of dealing with on his own, but that was where Montgomery came in. “Do you think that you would be able to beat one hand to hand if it were entirely fighting fit?”

Nell turned at the unfamiliar voice, noting the rather distinct accent that the man before her was speaking with. She was ready to graciously accept the praise, not one to brag, but certainly not one to shy away from her accomplishments either. But before she could get the words out, the man was already speaking again. In an instant, her amicable expression turned to narrowed eyes, and a slightly wrinkled nose. “And what exactly do you mean by that?” Her tone was already displeased, not enjoying the way he was insinuating that she might have done her job incorrectly, or that she wouldn’t have been able to handle something as simple as an alghoul in any form.

Shrugging gently, Montgomery drew his glass to his lips once more and took a long sip from the whiskey within. “I imagine whoever brought it in was a little rough with it, there was a rather distinctive limp on it’s left side and it looked like it favoured it’s right side too, I’m sure that you noticed it of course, your fighting seems to indicate that you did focus specifically on that area, a good tactic and one that worked well. However, if it were one in the wild that had not been …” Montgomery paused and tried to think of the appropriate phrasing, “... damaged in it’s capture then I would be interested to see just exactly how you faired.” He didn’t need to say the words fair fight, they were clearly implied. 

“I brought it in,” Nell said haughtily, hackles already beginning to rise at the tone of the man. “And if you’d paid enough attention you’d have seen that I hit it at the beginning of the fight. But you’re right about me focussing it’s injured side, once I’d injured it in the Ring.” Who was this guy? Where did he get off on picking apart her fights? “Who are you, anyway?” Her arms crossed over her chest, a sure sign that her temper was rising. “It wasn’t damaged in its capture. And I would have faired just the same either way. Even if you are wrong, or maybe just blind, old man.” After all, he had graying hair, didn’t he? “What’s it to you, either way?” Was he looking to stroke his own ego somehow through these accusations?

Grimacing gently, Montgomery made a face and shrugged, “Absolutely, injured in the ring, I must have been mistaken.” Montgomery wasn’t really that interested in what had actually happened, they just needed an excuse to fight her and she was giving him one. She just didn’t entirely realise it. “I’ve been a patron of this establishment for quite some time now, you can call me Montgomery.” Swigging the last of his whiskey, Montgomery placed the glass on the bar and turned to her. “I was just wondering how you would fair in a real fight that’s all, but I can see that I’ve wounded your pride and for that you have my sincerest apologies. Allow me to buy you a drink as recompense.” 

Nell considered his words for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out whether to believe them or not. She let it drop for now, and only barely concealed a roll of her eyes as his identity came out. Great. Another old, white guy thinking he knew better than anyone else, and was entrenched in the history of the Ring. No doubt he had many opinions about how it should be run, or how fights should go. “Alright, Montgomery.” Even his name was crotchety and stuffy. “A real fight? What’s that supposed to mean? If you’ve been here a long time then you should be well aware that this shit’s pretty damn real. But I’m happy to give you any other demonstration you might require.” She’d kick the ass of anyone who wanted to imply she couldn’t hold her own. “My pride is fine. Seeing as there was no slight against it in the first place, since I won, and captured the alghoul perfectly.” Even if it hadn’t been perfectly, she’d never let this guy have the satisfaction. “I’m alright on the drink.”

A wide smile crossed Montgomery’s lips and he stepped from one foot to another. “A demonstration?” Montgomery asked. He had to stop himself from licking his lips. Almost too easy. The younger generation were really something. Montgomery had seen their handiwork across the world, so much fire and passion. It was fascinating. Montgomery could see why someone like this would frustrate that craven August so much, he could’ve never hoped to compete. “Did you have something in mind? Perhaps you can show this … old man a few tricks?” Montgomery was sure that she thought that this would be an easy one and done. Maybe she was right, that was the whole point of this, he needed information. Pride was something he could allow to come to harm for the payout and the eventual trophy. “Of course, I’ve overstepped once again, how insensitive of me, my apologies.” Montgomery could tell they both knew that he didn’t mean it. 

Montgomery seemed all too willing to fight, and as his interest seemed to pique, Nell gave him a quick, calculating once over. He may have had grey hair, but he certainly look able-bodied, more than able-bodied. Good. Then this wouldn’t be boring. “I’d be happy to. There’s plenty of open arenas that aren’t being used. Even the sparring rooms backstage.” If he was going to take her up on a fight, she wasn’t going to say no. There was little Nell would back down on, and this certainly didn’t fall into the category of walking away. Her gaze hardened a few more decibels as he apologized, the false sincerity of it only making her blood boil even more. “I’m sure you can make up for it in the arena.”

Raising an eyebrow, Montgomery acted as if it were a hard decision. Things couldn’t have been going better if he had planned for this to happen himself. It was weird how things worked out, Montgomery couldn’t help but wonder what wouldn’t work out later on. However, the money was still good enough and the trouble hadn’t been too much. Not yet anyway. “If you’re sure that you can manage that many fights in one night then I would be more then willing to have you show me a few things, I’m certain you’ve got plenty of things to show this old man.” Witches were a fickle bunch, giving humans magic powers had been a bad joke. “Lead the way my dear.”

Nell waited not so patiently, not caring in the least that it’d barely been ten minutes since her fight had ended. That just meant she was still warm and ready to go, right? Besides, she was looking forward to getting some hits in on this smug bastard. “Trust me, it won’t be a problem,” she retorted, leading the way towards one of the backstage sparring rooms she'd mentioned before. “I wish I could say the same for you.” Again, she looked over her shoulder at him, already trying to identify if there were any weak points she might be able to hit. But she sneered to herself at the words ‘my dear’ the simple phrase giving her more than enough fire to make this fight interesting. “Just don’t cry when I kick your ass.”

[tricktster]

You’re an icon and I followed you like a few days ago and you’re on my list of role models?? So like. Yeah. You’re kind of epic and keep doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing because it seems to work. Also idk if this is at all relevant to your career but u seem to be successful and functional and shit SO any general advice for an ambitious person or specifically for someone going into law/politics

1) Choose better role models. 

No, I kid, that is a very sweet thing to say. As far as advice goes, I can give you a basic principle that will be very easy for me to tell you, very hard to actually adopt, but I swear to god, once you have it, you will immediately see the impact. This advice applies only in a general sense to the American business world, but feel free to dm me if you want more specific advice and I can probably hook you up. 

If you’re interested in law/politics, you’re talking going to grad school, where there is a very small pool of people in charge of your destiny and then a lot of people fighting to be recognized by them. Then, after that, there’s the work world, where there is...  a very small pool of people in charge of your destiny and a lot of people fighting to be recognized by them.  These people in charge of your destiny will generally be very impressive, with the kind of resume and experience that will make you feel pants-on-head stupid. They will be intimidating. They will make you extremely nervous. They might be unfriendly. You will not want to ask them questions or engage with them, because they are Very Important and You Do Not Want To Bother Them.

You know who doesn’t have that problem? The mediocre, rich white dude from Greenwich, Connecticut who sits in the center of the front row and always raises his hand, even when he has absolutely nothing of merit to say. He was born knowing Very Important People. They don’t make him nervous. He genuinely believes that he is entitled to their time and expertise, because nobody has ever taught him otherwise. So he raises his hand, and even if he’s spewing absolute nonsense every time he gets to speak, that Very Important Person knows his name, and in the end, he will be in a better position with his B- and name recognition than you will be with your A- and a face the Important Person couldn’t pick out of a lineup of two. People help people they feel comfortable with. People don’t feel comfortable with people who are nervous around them.  

Understanding this puts you at an enormous tactical advantage. Jeff Connecticut is where he is because he knows somebody. You’re there too, because you’re smart and you’ve worked hard. If you can be as confident as Jeff Connecticut, and hang on to those brains and that work ethic, the Very Important People will not just remember you, they will go to bat for you. They will see themselves in you, and they will want you to succeed. So, start by practicing making yourself uncomfortable in low-stakes situations. Go to a party by yourself and meet everyone in the room.  Eat dinner by yourself, and win over the bartender. Take an improv class, and then go back a second time, even if you flopped. Laugh off your little mistakes and minor embarrassments, and tell other people funny stories about them later, like they didn’t hurt you even a little. Eventually, those little embarrassments will be just as funny to you as they are to everyone else. Insecure people are too proud to laugh at themselves, but you’re comfortable with you, you can show some flaws - people are drawn to folks who are confident enough in their own skin to admit that they’re a little flawed. I mean, don’t go overboard, don’t ONLY self depreciate, but it’s good to be humble. So go to a meet and greet with your favorite author, the person who wrote the book that means so much to you that it’s basically tattooed on your soul, and make it your goal to be calm and relaxed and charming, without trying too hard, and if you fuck it up? Who cares! If you flop, tell the story about how you made an ass of yourself when you were talking to, I dunno, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, to another Important Person, and then the two of you can laugh about it together. 

You need to believe that you are worth knowing, and that takes practice if you’re not Jeff Connecticut. I know that sounds fake, but I swear to god, once you genuinely believe you’re the type of person other people want to be around, you become that person. And while you’re being that person that everyone likes to be around? Bust your ass. Work harder than everyone else, and show initiative by being the one to volunteer for the uncomfortable gigs, the public speaking events, the things you’ve never done before and you don’t know if you’ll be able to do. You can do it. People dumber than you do it all the time, they’ve just had more practice, and they only got that practice because they asked for it even it was scary. Fuck it up? Try again. 

Oh, and don’t forget who you are at the core. You’re stealing Jeff Connecticut’s confidence, but you’re not Jeff. You’re better. So be kind and respectful and genuinely interested in the people who work under you, who have jobs that society deems less important, who have different values and drives than you do. You’re not better than them, no matter how far you go or how Important you get. And someday, when you’re in front of the room as a Very Important Person in your own right, make sure you call on the kid in the back who’s tentatively raising her hand and looking unsure of herself. Recognize that the loudest voices aren’t always the smartest, and that a diverse workplace with diverse ideas will generally be more valuable that twenty people who were in the same frat together and who always arrive at the same conclusions because they’ve got identical perspectives. Look out for the people just starting out. Don’t be a dick.

I hate to end this screed on a downer, but I can’t leave this out. Even though it’s 2019 and equality is here etc etc etc, let’s recognize that most of corporate america is still polluted at the top by really retrograde gender shit/race shit/everything shit, so if you’re not a cis straight white man, do NOT volunteer to do things like cleaning the office microwaves or making the coffee, even if you were raised to want to be helpful and it’s in your nature to just do a task that needs doing. If someone asks you to do that shit, and it genuinely isn’t your job, don’t be shy about telling them that you need to do your actual job, not coffee fetching, but prepare for a backlash anyway. This sucks ass, it shouldn’t be this way, I hope this is different for your generation, but as it currently stands the old farts in charge will think less of you if they catch you doing what they consider Women things (like dishes), and will like you more if you do Old Man things (like scotch and adultery). 

Oh, and this part really, really, really, really, really, REALLY sucks, but you will need to learn how to golf. 

[willowandfog]

Chapter Two Is Here!

This new fic is the second part to my fic I wrote for InuKag Week, One Week Sooner. If you haven’t read it yet you can read it here.

I would like to dedicate this new fic to @ruddcatha​, she was a huge supporter and a tremendous help to me when writing One Week Sooner, and when we were so choked up on the tragedy of the story she suggested I write a sequel. So a huge thank you @ruddcatha​, I love you!

Summary: When you look at me, do you see what you lost or do you see all of me?

Read it:

FFN or AO3 or below the cut:

If you would like to be tagged for this fic, please let me know!

Chapter Two

Two days passed before she considered texting Inuyasha. She was glad she hadn’t given him her number, it gave her time to process and decide what to do. Now that she had met him she was eager to know him. Despite her negative thoughts on the situation she found herself pulling out her phone to text him. 

From: (Maybe Kagome?)

3:56 PM

Hey, it’s Kagome. If you’re free I’d love to go out tonight.

From: Inuyasha

4:15 PM

I’m glad you finally decided to go out. I’m available, did you have something in mind? 

From: Kagome

4:16 PM

Kinda. Could you pick me up at like 9? Dress cas

From: Inuyasha

4:16 PM

Mysterious. Yeah, I’ll be there at 9, where do you live?

Kagome gave him her address before sighing with relief and nervousness. She glanced at the time. She had a little time but was too nervous to do anything other than start getting ready. She showered and was blow drying her hair when she got another text from Inuyasha. She turned off the dryer and set it down on the sink, picking up her phone. He had sent her a picture of an outfit laid out on a bed. A red polo shirt and simple black jeans.

From: Inuyasha

5:56 PM

Will this be ok?

From: Kagome

5:57 PM

Lol. Are you getting ready all ready? =P

From: Inuyasha

5:59 PM

Just making sure I have something appropriate to wear. Since I don’t know where we are going.

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

What shoes are you wearing?

He sent her a photo of a pair of black converse. 

From: Kagome

6:01 PM

Lol. That will be fine. Looks like I’m changing what I had planned though. 

From: Inuyasha

6:02 PM

Why?

From: Kagome

6:02 PM

One sec.

Kagome ran to her room to lay out the outfit she had planned on wearing on the bed. She laid out her black leather jacket and tucked her red lacy camisole inside of it, grabbing her black mini skirt to lay beside it before heading to the door to snag her red high-top converse from the floor. She carried them to her room, setting them strategically and snapping a photo. She sent the photo to Inuyasha and laughed at the irony. 

From: Inuyasha 

6:05 PM

I thought you said casual? You look like you’re going on a hot date.

From: Kagome

6:06 PM

It is casual! I’ll see you in a few hours.

Kagome took her time getting ready, deciding to leave her hair down she curled it into gentle waves. After failing for the third time to get her shaky nervous hand to draw a wing on her eyelid, she sighed and tossed her pencil down. She crossed her arms across her vanity and laid her head down with a groan. She had apparently fallen asleep because when she lifted her head back up and glanced at the time on her phone it said 8:47.

“Fuck!” She jumped up and looked around her room, she was still in her underwear and hadn’t finished her makeup. “Shit, shit, shit.” She was in a panic, her heart racing. She reached for the outfit on her bed, then stopped. Remembering that she couldn’t wear that. She wanted to cry. “Ok.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Calm down.” She told herself. “It’s just a date, he might even be late picking you up.” She opened her eyes and groaned, knowing that wasn’t true. If anything he was probably gonna be there any second. 

She went to her dresser, pulling out a black camisole identical in style to the red one she had wanted to wear and putting it on. She grabbed her light colored high waisted skinny blue jeans from another drawer and yanked them on, hopping around to get them over her butt. She tucked her camisole into them before doing up the button. She raced back over to her vanity and grabbed her eyeliner, giving the wing one more try, perfect. It perfectly matched the one she had on the other eye. “Of course.” She mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. She gave the air a super light spritz of perfume before spinning herself in it. She waved at the air, hoping to disperse some of the smell. She should have put some on earlier so it had time to settle and not be so strong but it was too late now. 

She dabbed some blush on her cheeks and a gentle sweep of highlighter across the tops of her cheekbones. Setting her brush down she took a deep breath studying herself in the mirror. She didn’t look half bad, she was proud of the look she’d managed to throw together in, she glanced at the clock, four minutes. She sighed in relief. She grabbed a pair of All-Star socks from a drawer and her leather jacket off the bed, making her way to the living room. She sat down on the accent chair to pull her socks on, and when she leaned down to pick up her shoes, they weren’t there. She dropped her head in defeat before making her way back to her room to grab them off the bed. She was back in the chair and in the middle of tying her first shoe and tucking the laces into the sides when there was a knock on the door. Her heart jumped and she felt her nervous panic start up again. Pushing it away she called out towards the door. “It’s open!”

The door swung open and there stood Inuyasha looking like God’s most gorgeous gift to womankind. Even in his jeans and polo, he was stunning. She blushed, looking back down to pull her other shoe on.

“I hope you knew that it was me. You don’t even keep your door lo-”

She glanced up at him when he stopped. He was staring at her, and she realized that she was bent over so far that her boobs were about to pop out of her camisole. She smirked, clearing her throat to get his attention. “I keep the door locked at night.”  She finished tying her shoe and stood. She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and tugged it on. 

They rode in semi-awkward silence, Kagome was too nervous to talk and Inuyasha seemed… She looked over at him, he had one hand on the wheel, and his left elbow was propped up on the window, with his hand to his face in a deep contemplating gesture. She told him he should turn at the next light, and when they were heading down the next street she sat forward and gestured to a parking garage on the corner. Inuyasha finally found an open spot after a few minutes of circling and parked the car. 

He followed her lead down the block, walking close beside her. “I thought you’d be more talkative.” Kagome said, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye.

His gaze turned to her and her heart skipped. “Sorry, lots on my mind. But you’re right. I’m probably making a horrible first impression.”

“You were the one that said dates are for getting to know each other.” She teased.

“Right I did. So, care to tell me about yourself?” He raised a brow at her.

“Not really.” She mumbled before stopping at an unmarked door on the side of the building. She smiled at him. “Hope this is ok.” She yanked on the heavy door, and led the way in. 

They were bombarded with loud thumping music and the sounds of a crowd, as they approached the bouncer Kagome remembered Inuyasha’s sensitive ears. She turned to look back at him, his ears were wilted slightly but his face didn’t show his discomfort. “Are you going to be ok in here?” She asked, raising her voice slightly for him to catch her words. He raised a questioning brow but nodded. Kagome turned back to the bouncer.

“Kagome!” The bouncer said, smiling. The big shouldered man had ginger hair and a scruffy beard. He stood from his stool and hugged Kagome briefly. 

She smiled at him while handing him a fifty for their entry. “Good to see you, Doug.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked past. 

Inuyasha followed, leaning down behind her to talk into her ear. “Do you come here a lot?” 

She looked back up at him, smiling. “No, not really.”

“But that guy seemed to know you well.”

“I know a lot of people.” She led him over to the bar area. The club was fairly large but there was nothing fancy about it, it looked like a normal club, the only thing that made it special was how exclusive it was, not many people knew it existed. 

She ordered two shots of Buffalo Trace from the bartender and handed one of them to Inuyasha. “You do drink right?” 

He rolled his eyes at her before taking the shot and setting his glass down. He motioned for the bartender for two more. When the bartender handed them over, Inuyasha scooted one towards her with a raised brow. He motioned with his head towards the shot that was still in her hand as he took another. “Need me to finish that for you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking the shot in her hand and followed it with the one on the bar. “We didn’t come for a drinking contest. I know I’d lose that.” She said to him. “How many you need for a buzz?” 

He shrugged. “A lot more than two.”

Kagome laughed. “You can decide how many you want.” She motioned for one more and when it was handed over she told the bartender to put all their drinks on her tab. He nodded before walking away. Kagome raised her shot to Inuyasha before downing it, then made her way to the dance floor. She didn’t wait to see if he followed but went out and began dancing to the dubstep style music. When she felt hands on her hips she glanced behind her, it wasn’t Inuyasha but a very drunk blonde girl. The girl smiled at her and tried to get Kagome to join her group of dancing friends. Kagome glanced around for Inuyasha but couldn’t spot him over the crowd. She was dancing with the girls for a bit and drawing the attention of some guys when she spotted Inuyasha not far away. He danced like he was straight out of a Justin Timberlake music video, and a group of girls had surrounded him. He was allowing them to dance on and around him but was keeping his hands to himself. 

Kagome slowly made her way towards his group, starting to feel her slight buzz. She watched him dance from the edge of the crowd, a smile on her face. She liked that he seemed to be enjoying himself. When his eyes lifted and met hers, she found herself biting her lip through her smile and giving him a small wave. Still dancing, he made his way towards her and when he was close enough, he reached past some of the other girls to take her hand. Pulling her through the crowd and into his chest. 

“Hi.” He purred into her ear. 

She blushed up at him, “Hi.”

He began dancing with her, keeping her close against him. “If you don’t come here often, why are we really here Kagome?” His face was close to hers and she suddenly found it hard to breath. 

“Mostly to see how you’d react.” She confessed, flushing. 

He put his lips to her ear. “Did I pass your test Kagome?” 

She leaned her own head up toward one of his ears. “Not yet.” Pulling back she began dancing with him, while pulling out her phone and shooting off a text. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and turned so her back was to him. He stepped forward to place a hand on her hip, and began moving along with her. 

They’d been dancing for only about five minutes when one of the female bartenders approached them, carrying drinks. Kagome gratefully took them from her, turning to Inuyasha with a grin. She handed a shot glass to him. They clinked their glasses and took their shots. Kagome handed the empty glasses to the woman and she in turn handed over two more. Kagome handed another to Inuyasha. He raised a questioning brow at her but joined her. They did one more together before the bartender left them. 

When Kagome turned back to Inuyasha he pulled her against his chest. His brow still raised, he leaned down to sniff her. “Your shots weren’t really shots were they?” 

She fought down her grin and shook her head. “The ones at the bar were though.”

He shook his head at her. “Why would you do that? You do realize it’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to get me drunk. So why are you doing it?”

“I wanted to see if you would notice. Did you smell it or was it that you were questioning my tolerance?”

“I know you can only hav-” He stopped abruptly. 

Kagome leaned forward. “What did you say?” She spoke loudly over the music. “Look I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to do that if I did. We can still have a good time.”

Inuyasha shook his head and took her hand in his, he pulled her towards the exit. She frowned but didn’t resist. When they were outside back on the sidewalk she finally spoke. “Look I’m sorry if it really upset you this much.”

He was leading her back towards the garage but suddenly stopped and turned to her. “I’m not upset, Kagome. But now that I know this was all some kind of weird test and you didn’t actually want to be here, I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

“You are?”

“Of course, this was hardly a real date apparently.” He scoffed. 

They made it back to the car and were on the road soon after. Kagome felt a wave of guilt come over her. She felt like she had messed things up but was still conflicted if dating him was even a good idea. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“You’ll see.” 

Fifteen minutes later he parked outside of a large building. Unbuckling he smiled at her. “Come on.”

He took her hand and led her up the stairs to the entrance. There was a man dressed in a suit standing at the door, he opened the door for them as they approached. “Mr. Takahashi, we haven’t seen you here in some time.”

Inuyasha nodded to the man but went inside. There was a huge ballroom inside, large round tables took up one side of the room and there was a huge dancefloor. Couples twirled and danced around each other on the floor, each one was wearing a suit or long gowns. Inuyasha stopped near a coat attendant, turning to try to take Kagome’s jacket from her.

“Inuyasha!” She hissed at him, holding her jacket firmly around herself. “What are we doing here? I am not dressed for this!”

“Neither am I, it’s ok. No one's gonna care.” When she gave him a panicked look he leaned over to speak into her ear. “Have faith Kagome. Trust me.”

She looked into his honey eyes, trying to find something that wasn’t there. She bit her lip before nodding and allowing him to take her jacket. She rubbed at her arms, suddenly chilly at the loss of the jacket on her now bare arms. Inuyasha handed the jacket to the attendant and took the stub from the man. He turned back to Kagome and chuckled a little at her nervous look. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the dancefloor, rubbing her arm with his hand to supply her with some of his warmth. “It’ll be ok.” He whispered to her. 

Kagome looked around nervously, some of the people looked at them with odd looks but most didn’t pay attention to them. There was no music currently but the couples were already waiting on the dancefloor for it to begin again. Inuyasha gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. When they reached the edge of the floor he turned to her. “Ready?” He whispered.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to slow dance Inuyasha.” She hissed at him. 

He took one of her hands and rested it on his shoulder before taking her other hand in his. “Just follow my lead, that’s all you have to do.” Then the music started. He placed a hand on her waist and began to lead her through the steps. Kagome could only guess that it was some form of a waltz. She tried not to watch his feet as they moved, trying to feel the direction his body was directing her. She let out a slow nervous breath. 

“I don’t think I’m good at this Inuyasha.” 

He smiled a sweet smile at her. “It takes practice. You’re doing fine.”

By the time the song was over, she was able to follow the simple pattern the dance seemed to be. The next song began and the steps seemed to be different and she found herself trying to follow the previous pattern and stepped on Inuyasha’s foot a few times. “I’m sorry!” She squeaked. She found herself having to watch his feet again to follow along. When the song came to an end she finally looked up at him and he was grinning at her. 

“Doing ok?” He asked. 

“How do you remember all of this?”

“Like I said, practice. You’re doing great. And my feet are fine.” He winked at her.

She bit her lip, blushing and looked away. They danced through a few more songs and she found that she didn’t need to look at his feet through any of them. And when another began he pulled her closer, so she was pressed up against his chest. She looked up at him and saw a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Now you can’t watch my feet.” He teased into her ear. 

Kagome found that she was glad that she didn’t need to as she took the opportunity to rest her head against his chest, taking in the scent that was uniquely his. She sighed in contentment. After a few moments, Inuyasha laid his head on top of hers, moving his hand from her waist to wrap his arm around her. She relaxed, feeling comfort and safe in his arms, the feeling foriegn to her. 

The song ended and she pulled back away from him, avoiding his eyes. She cleared her throat and pretended to straighten her shirt, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so comfortable with him so quickly. The next song started immediately but unlike the others this one had a much quicker pace and seemed to be in the jazz genre. 

Kagome shook her head, making a move to leave the floor. “Nope. Can’t do this.”

Inuyasha grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving. “Come on.” He pleaded. 

She laughed pulling against his grip. “No! I can’t do that, look at them. I don’t know how to dance like that.”

“That’s ok, it’s still fun.” He yanked again, pulling her to him. “Just watch and try to mirror the movements.” When she stood there stubbornly he laughed. “You’ll have fun, I promise.” He joined the others in their fluid movements, eyes never leaving hers. “Come on, Kagome. You know you want to. You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Besides it’s fun just to try.” 

She sighed and tried to join in, turning a bright red. “This is payback isn’t it?” She asked him. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s fun, and you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

She managed to watch the other ladies nearby out of the corner of her eye, Kagome was able to follow along but caused them to be a few steps behind the others. She reached her hand out to Inuyasha like the other ladies did and when he took it, he spun her around before bringing her close to him and dipping her down. He held her there for a moment, looking into her eyes. 

Kagome blushed, biting her lip slightly, staring into his amber eyes. “I think in the movies this is where we would kiss.” She whispered. 

Inuyasha let out a burst of laughter and he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the end of her nose, Kagome’s heart skipped. He leaned forward again, placing his lips next to her ear. “I heard that.”

Her blush deepened and she smacked his arm. When he stood her back up, Kagome realized the song had ended and everyone was clapping. “Why is everyone clapping? Is it over?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, we came in late. Why? Disappointed?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually.” She stuck her tongue out at him before turning to make her way back to the coat attendant. 

The ride home was in silence again, Kagome still feeling a bit embarrassed about him realizing she was affected by him. I mean, what woman wouldn’t be. He must be used to it.

Inuyasha walked her to her door, and after she unlocked her door she turned back to him. “Ummm.”

He stepped forward and pulled her in for a hug. “Look.” He swallowed. “I know we just met, but I had a lot of fun, even though the night started out kinda odd. I hope we can try again sometime.”

“I think I’d like that.” She whispered. 

He pulled back slightly from the hug to look down at her. Hesitantly he leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight Kagome.” He pulled away and turned, heading down the stairs. 

[jlalafics]

“Rent Control”-Epilogue

We’re here! I can’t tell you how much fun I had writing this!

Anyway, I plan to put this on FFn and AO3 some time next week so you can read the whole thing uninterrupted. 

Also, just to warn you. This is LONG.

If you haven’t read the other parts, follow the links below:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Summary: Katniss Everdeen has found the perfect home in San Francisco—great neighborhood, an easy commute and, best of all, it’s rent controlled. There’s only one problem; the landlord will only rent to a married couple.

Enter Peeta Mellark.

_____

Rent Control

Epilogue: One Year Later

“Rue, I want the buffet to go here.” Katniss pointed to the back of the space, adjacent to the living wall. “Presents will go on the round table that we’re setting up at the entrance. The table linens are coming with Annie and Finnick—I found them at this awesome vintage shop in Oakland. They’ll be great if we ever decide to have any other special events…” She turned to the young girl. “Anything else that I’m missing?”

Rue chuckled as she ticked things off the iPad she carried in her hands.

“How about breathing? Seems like you missed it during that entire conversation.”

“Very funny, smartass,” Katniss retorted though she smiled fondly at the girl. “Sometimes I wonder why Peeta and I hired you.”

“Because I am the S-H-I-T…and because I can make a kickass Kouign-amann,” Rue replied, her grin just as affectionate towards Katniss.

Katniss nodded. “True.” She took a deep breath. “I just want everything to be perfect tomorrow for them. They’ve waited for so long…”

“It’s going to be great,” Rue assured her. “Now, you need to relax…have you even eaten?”

“No, just been busy and it escaped my mind.” Katniss sighed. “I could go for a cheese bun.”

Rue scrunched her nose. “Oh God—is that what you and Peeta call it now?”

“No, she’s actually really into my buns.”

Peeta appeared before them with a tray in his hand. Pressing a quick kiss to Katniss’ lips and placing the tray on an empty table, he presented her with a cheese bun which she took and began to eat with relish.

“I do love Peeta’s buns…” She winked at the man before her, cheeks full of food. “Among other things.”

Rue rolled her eyes at them. “You two disgust me. Go get a room—or an alley.”

“Now why would we do that when have those awesome mirrors Johanna gifted us in the back?” Peeta said with a smirk.

“I thought you said those were there so we could all keep an eye on each other in the kitchen!” Rue exclaimed. “Now I will never be able to make anything in there!”

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Katniss asked, finishing off the rest of the bun as she wrapped an arm around Peeta’s waist.

“Yeah…but only because I really like cake!” Rue told them as she gathered her things off the counter next to her. “And, Annie’s potato salad!”

In a huff, the girl marched through the revolving door going to the back of the building.

Peeta and Katniss looked to one another, identical grins on their faces. Hand in hand, they went to the front where a long communal table stood and Peeta helped Katniss step onto the adjoining bench to sit on the wood surface before joining her.

When they were settled, they turned to one another.

“Happy Anniversary,” Peeta told her.

Katniss smiled and took his hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Together, they turned to look out the front window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the moment and with one another.

++++++

“You won’t even tell me?” Katniss asked as she followed Peeta out of the kitchen.

“No,” he responded firmly as he went to the buffet table. Taking the piping bag, Peeta examined the three-tier cake before going to the middle tier and adding another perfect white frosting flower. “You also made me promise not to tell you.”

“You’re mean!” she responded petulantly. “See if I ever go down on you again.”

“Gross.”

Annie and Finnick, along with the rest of their brood, entered the bakery. Jack—now four—immediately went to Peeta to show him the Pokéball that he had in his grasp. Sarah and Rose dispersed to run around the bakery to which Finnick managed to wrangle one of the twins.

“Rose, we don’t run around Uncle Peeta’s bakery!” he told the girl in his arms.

“Sarah!” the one-year-old replied.

“Oops—sorry, kid,” her father replied sheepishly.

“I am so glad that we decided on that vasectomy,” Annie said as she went to hug Katniss. “Also—really gross. Why were you talking about ‘going down?’”

“Peeta won’t tell me,” Katniss informed her.

“Yeah, well that’s why we’re having this shindig—” her friend said as she placed the large bowl on the buffet table. “—so we can all find out as a family.”

“Actually…” The tips of Finnick’s ears went red. “Peeta kind of told me already.”

Annie’s brows furrowed at her husband. “Well…no head for you, either!”

“Are we interrupting something?”

Beetee stepped into the bakery along with Wiress, bright smiles on their faces.

“No, just some marital corporal punishment,” Peeta told the couple. “Speaking of which—congratulations on the engagement!” He placed a kiss on Wiress’ cheek before shaking Beetee’s hand. “Santorini must have been good for you.”

“And, check out that rock!” Katniss said after embracing Wiress.

“Beetee knew how I felt about diamonds,” Wiress explained with a gentle smile. “So, he came up with this lovely thing…and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

“It originates from the 1920’s,” Beetee said as they stared at the ring. “The ruby is still in great shape and that design for the setting—they don’t make them like this anymore.”

“Wow…” Katniss was impressed; the ring was a work of art with its intricate carvings and a setting made to look like the ruby was the center of a golden-petaled flower.

Her gaze went from the ring to meet Peeta and she found him staring at her, a strange expression in his eyes.

Katniss could usually read him like a book—but this look was different.

“Hello! Hello!”

Everyone cheered as the celebrant entered the bakery.

Effie was glowing.

In the voluminous emerald dress, she looked like Mother Earth herself.

Well, her belly was about as round as the earth.

Haymitch followed, looking perfectly respectable in a dress shirt and slacks, his dark hair tied back.

Taking a deep breath, she looked to Peeta whose gaze went tender as he reached for her.

Together, they went to greet the soon-to-be parents.

++++++

“You two did really well,” Daphne said to Katniss and Peeta as she looked at the buffet table approvingly.

It was a great array of food; Annie’s potato salad and fried chicken—signatures from her restaurant, empanadas from a nearby Spanish restaurant, fresh salads created by Katniss’ mother, and Peeta’s three-tier cake with the ‘Hey Baby!’ topper made by Prim, who was a master calligrapher.

“We’re actually going to be partnering with Annie’s restaurant to create a new lunch dish,” Peeta said, his arm around Katniss. “Katniss thought about it. My brioche buns with Annie’s fried chicken. Robin taught Katniss how to make her slaw, so they’re pairing it with that. Should debut by the end of the month.”

“Perfect,” his mother replied. “I’ll have your father update the website to announce it.”

“I’ll take a picture when it’s out for our Instagram,” Katniss offered.

His mother beamed at Katniss. “You found yourself a good partner.”

“Don’t I know it,” Peeta agreed.

“Oh! There’s your mother,” Daphne told Katniss. “We went to Manhattan for a girls’ night and ended up backstage at Hamilton! Can you believe it? I’m going to see if she brought the pictures!”

With that, she rushed over to Katniss’ mother and the two hugged excitedly before they began to peruse Robin’s iPhone.

“That’s so creepy,” Katniss said.

Peeta grinned at her. “What? The fact that they had a girls’ night and are so far from that? Or that whenever they are with each other they become teenagers?”

“I don’t know…I didn’t think that they’d be so close…after everything,” she admitted.

Katniss looked around at the crowd of people who had come to Effie and Haymitch’s Baby Shower and Gender Reveal—the motif was a sage (and neutral) green.

A lot had changed; she was no longer at Johanna’s, instead becoming the designer for the bakery. Peeta had convinced her that it would be great for her portfolio. Together, they had come up with a cohesive design that gave the bakery its homey yet eclectic vibe. There was soft wood and greenery everywhere; there was no disposable ware, only large, thick mugs and glazed plates—very hygge.

Eventually, Katniss had transitioned into Business Manager to do the hiring. Rue was a recent graduate from the San Francisco Culinary Institute, and she couldn’t come more highly recommended as a candidate for Assistant Baker. She was creative and kind, eager to learn, and they took to her immediately. She hired a few more people for front-of-house including Finch, Rue’s roommate and Thresh, who decided to follow Peeta after he quit the coffee shop.

Johanna, who was currently chatting up one of the Haymitch’s co-workers, a tall drink of water with thick-framed glasses, encouraged her to spread her wings. Prim, bored with the East Coast and longing for adventure, took Katniss’ place at the boutique and was living in the Mission District above a bar that she occasionally bartended for.

Katniss’ gaze drifted to Effie and Haymitch. Her landlords looked jubilant; Effie caressing the bump that had surprised all of them seven months ago.

The Abernathys were celebrating their anniversary at the time. Everyone had joined them for dinner in the apartment’s backyard. Wine bottles were opened, some questionable things were smoked…and by morning, the Abernathys were found under their lemon tree, covered in a picnic blanket and wearing nothing under it.

A few weeks after that, Katniss and Peeta had their grand opening.

It had gone perfectly—until Effie vomited at their front entrance.

They assured her that she was ‘christening’ their new business when, in actuality, a little peanut was currently lounging in her uterus.

It had happened—the long-awaited Abernathy child had come.

“I think it’s time for them to do the reveal,” Peeta said into Katniss’ ear.

She nodded in agreement. “Everyone’s had their fill. I’ll let Rue know to grab the cake knife in the back.”

Peeta went to the couple to lead them over to the cake that would tell them their baby’s gender.

He winked at her before guiding Haymitch and Effie away.

Then, there were herself and Peeta.

Financially and in their work lives, they were doing great.

However, after their pretend nuptials, they had gone into a standstill. They were perfectly content for a while, unmarried and living in sin.

Lately, however, she had felt a longing.

And, as Katniss looked around at their family and friends, moving along in their personal lives, she realized that she wanted more.

She wanted them to be real.

Katniss wanted to get married.

++++++

“Before our soon-to-be parents cut the cake, does anyone have guesses on the gender?” Stephen called out to the crowd.

Everyone had gathered around the cake table excitedly waiting for the cake to be cut. His mother and Robin were already taking photos on their phones of the couple as Thresh—a budding photographer—took a few shots on his old Canon. Prim was quietly taking bets; the pool was already in the mid-hundreds, and the bets went from how much Baby Abernathy would weigh to how long into labor would Effie finally snap at Haymitch for impregnating her.

“I’m pretty sure, girl or boy, it’s going to be a dick,” Peeta’s father responded with a smirk.

“Christopher!” Effie put her hands to the sides of her belly. “Not in front of my baby!”

Haymitch guffawed. “He’s got a point there. No matter what gender, he or she is coming out with a set of balls and a penchant for rebellion.”

“Well, you’re as ready as you’ll ever be,” Beetee assured them good-naturedly. “So, come on—just do it already!”

“That’s what Effie said,” Finnick cackled.

Effie looked to Jack. “Cover your eyes, sweetheart.”

The little boy followed instructions and Effie immediately flipped Finnick the bird.

“I thought you said no cursing,” Finnick retorted.

“I wasn’t speaking, I was gesturing,” Effie said testily. She whipped over to her husband. “Now give me the knife.”

“No, I think I’ll keep any weaponry for now, sweetheart,” Haymitch said.

Together, they turned to the cake, and Haymitch quickly cut into it revealing the bright blue of the delicate sponge.

There was a collective scream as everyone rushed forward to congratulate the couple.

Peeta and Katniss hung back, content to watch the jubilee by one of the posts of the bakery. His girlfriend leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around Katniss’ waist.

“You happy?” Peeta whispered into her ear.

“Oh yeah,” Katniss mused. “How could we not be happy about a little Haymitch in the world?”

“You know that kid is going to be all Effie,” he responded. “She is going to spoil the shit out of him!”

“True, but they deserve to,” his girlfriend said. “They waited for so long.”

Peeta looked around; their world was changing rapidly. Almost two years ago, Katniss was just the pretty girl from a boutique who he low-key had a crush on—and fantasized about during cold San Francisco nights.

Now, they were running a business together, living together, and just falling more for each other as time wore on. Peeta couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t waking up next to her gorgeous face. He didn’t want to imagine it.

He had always wanted Katniss in his life—and Peeta hoped that she wanted the same.

Because locked in his desk in the back was a ring.

Beetee wasn’t the only one who went vintage.

++++++

“You are stressing out, sis,” Prim remarked.

“I know, I know…” Katniss admitted as they walked around the CityTarget. “I’ve been so busy with the bakery that I haven’t had time to buy stuff for the apartment. We ran out of toilet paper last night—and it was during a time when one of us was prairie dogging.”

“Egads!” They reached the aisle with the toilet paper and Prim threw in several value packs into the cart. “Take as much as you can! Geez, you’re making co-habitation real appealing.”

“You lived with me for years,” Katniss retorted.

“Well, I was a kid for a majority of it—I didn’t know any better,” Prim said with a grin. “Really though, you seem kind of…not-so-fresh looking.”

“I’ve been feeling not-so-fresh.” Katniss pushed the cart towards the health aisle. The bakery needed more bandages for the first aid kit. “Now that the baby shower is over, I thought I’d feel better, but I’m not.”

Prim peered at her. “You getting sick? Peeta holding out on you?”

“I’m fine,” Katniss insisted though she yawned. “And, Peeta never holds out, especially since I’ve been super into him lately.”

Her sister raised an interested brow. “Explain.”

“Like for the last week, I’ve been obsessed with his…scent,” Katniss told her as she grabbed a value pack of bandages. “Literally, I wanted to lick the sweat off of him.”

“You freak nasty!” Prim bounced next to her. “I’m so proud.”

“So, that’s not weird?” Katniss asked, continuing down the aisle as she looked at the list on her phone.

“Well, we all have fluctuating hormones during our cycles,” Prim informed her.

“Hmm.” Katniss checked off the bandages, her next destination was dental floss.

She stopped, her brain connecting every symptom she had been experiencing into one realization.

Her eyes darted to the display in front of her.

Pregnancy tests—and they were all on sale.

Prim looked to her then to the display then to her sister once more. “Ohh…shit.”

Katniss could only agree to the sentiment.

++++++

“How long do these things usually take?” Katniss asked as she sat on one of the couches in Johanna’s boutique.

“Pretty quickly,” Johanna said as she looked at the three sticks assembled on the counter. “They all say ‘Pregnant.’”

Katniss shot up and rushed over, her eyes bulging as she looked at the three identical tests. “No.”

“That explains the whole sweat obsession,” Prim said.

Johanna looked to Prim. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really,” she replied. Prim put a hand over Katniss’ trembling one. “So…are we happy?”

Katniss took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to just regroup.

She had always wanted children. Yes, it wasn’t expected and it was pretty early in the relationship; they were practically infants when it came to the relationship game in comparison to everyone around them.

However, Katniss couldn’t imagine having children with anyone but Peeta. She could see him with their child, teaching him or her to bake bread. Other images of their life with their little bun flashed in her mind…walks through Golden Gate Park, picking out the best ingredients for the bakery at Farmers’ Markets, falling asleep on their cozy couch in front of the fireplace during Christmas…

Finally, Katniss opened her eyes.

“Yes. We’re happy,” she told her sister and Johanna.

Prim reached over to embrace her. “Congratulations!”

Johanna joined in, a wisp of a tear in her usually sharp eyes.

“He or she is going to be the best dressed kid in San Francisco, thanks to Auntie Johanna!”

Prim pulled away to look at her sister. “So, how are you going to tell Peeta?”

“I don’t know—” She gathered them back together. “Just keep hugging me!”

++++++

“This is a bit of a surprise,” Robin remarked. Next to her, her husband flipped through a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle as his own father looked through an old copy of People that had been lying on their coffee table.

“I know!” his mother, who joined Robin on the lounger, added. “We never get invited here!”

The door opened and Prim stepped in along with his brothers.

Peeta had told Katniss to expect Bran and Alex as they wanted to check out the bakery, having missed out on the grand opening.

“Sorry! I get so confused at SFO!” Prim explained as she took of her coat and when to greet her parents and his own parents. “Took me forever to find the right terminal!”

Bran and Alex immediately tackled Peeta, sandwiching him before he could stop them.

“Guys!” he yelled. “You’re here because I have something serious to talk about!”

“We know,” Bran replied. “But there is something important that needs to happen.”

Peeta shook his head. “NO.”

Alex smirked. “Yes, little brother—the Mellark round-up.”

Together, Bran and Alex began to jump up and down.

“Mellark! Mellark! Mellark!”

Then, if Peeta wasn’t embarrassed enough, his mother and father joined in.

“Mellark, Mellark, Mellark!”

His mom was getting incredible jumps despite being in the sharpest heels imaginable.

“What is going on here?” Effie had arrived, along with Haymitch, who was greeting Stephen and Robin. “Daphne, you’ll destroy your Louboutins!”

“When there is a Mellark roundup, you must roundup,” his mother replied simply as she stepped away and rushed forward to hug Effie.

“Annie and Finnick should be coming soon,” Effie told the group as she plopped down on the space that Robin made for her on the couch. Katniss’ mother helped put a pillow behind Effie’s lower back. Their landlord sighed in contentment. “You’re a lifesaver, Robin. It takes me forever to get off our couch…”

“Won’t be much longer, I’m sure,” Robin assured her.

“Good, because I’m seriously done with this,” Effie said.

Finnick and Annie, along with Beetee, followed along a few minutes later. Wiress would be watching the Odair children who were all having their afternoon naps.

Once everyone was seated, Peeta settled himself in front of the group.

“First, thanks for coming,” he began. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I—”

“You want to propose to Katniss,” Haymitch stated. “I mean, it’s not exactly brain science.”

The door clicked and Johanna rushed in. “Sorry, I’m late! What did I miss?”

“Captain Obvious just stated the obvious,” Alex informed her with a wink. “Or in the simplest of terms, my baby brother is finally proposing to the woman who he was supposed to be married to a year ago.”

“Oh.” Johanna looked to Prim, who shook her head. “That’s great…”

Peeta immediately sensed something wrong in their expressions.

“What?” He took a gulping breath. “She’s not ready, right? Or, maybe she’s having second thoughts?” A sharp squeak escaped his throat. “I think I’m might be hyperventilating—”

“You’re overreacting,” his mother said, interrupting his moment of panic. “If you know Katniss like I know you do, you will know that she loves you.”

“And, that she wants more than anything to be with you forever,” Robin added, a tender smile on her face.

Stephen put his arm around his wife before looking to Peeta. “So, what do you want us to do?”

“Help me figure out how to propose to her,” he replied, his eyes going around the room. “Everyone in this room knows Katniss and me better than anybody else in the world. And, I just want this to be…perfect.”

“It will be, because it’s coming from you,” Beetee said sincerely. “However, if we’re trying to get organized, we first have to establish when.”

“That’s simple,” Stephen said. “Katniss’ birthday is in two weeks.” He looked around the room. “It would be the perfect excuse if she asks why everyone is here.”

“How about we all meet up again in like two days or something?” Annie suggested. “Before then, let’s all come up with some ideas to talk about during the meet-up.”

Everyone agreed to her plan.

“Peeta, why don’t we talk about Katniss’ likes and dislikes?” his father suggested. “Might help get everyone’s minds going.”

“Sure,” Peeta replied as he began to pace. “She’s not big on loud functions or anything where she’s in big crowds…can’t stand artichokes—thinks they’re wasteful…hates people who talk on those earbuds that aren’t connected to anything.” He paused, smiling to himself. “She loves sunsets…cheese buns…and—”

“Your penis?” Prim interrupted.

“Primrose Everdeen!” Her mother scolded.

“Come on, mom,” Prim said. “What did you think they did—sleep side by side in spacesuits?”

“No, but no need to be crude,” Robin admonished.

“So…two days?” Johanna called out.

“Two days!” everyone agreed.

+++++++

Prim grabbed Johanna’s arm as soon as they walked out of Katniss and Peeta’s apartment. Her parents and the Mellarks were already congregated at Haymitch and Effie’s for drinks before heading back to the rented home they were sharing while in the city.

“What the hell was that?” she asked her boss. “You almost gave the news away!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was coming into a meeting like that,” Johanna said. “I actually thought it had something to do with Katniss’ birthday.” She blew out a breath. “They’re going to have so much on their plate.”

“Well, it’s not our plate to worry about,” Prim told her firmly. “Just keep cool until Katniss figures out how to tell Peeta the news.”

“What news?”

They both jumped and turned to find Bran and Alex before them.

“Nothing!” they chorused together.

“Please.” Alex put an arm around Johanna. “How can you resist a Mellark?”

She threw his arm off her shoulders. “Very easily.”

“Come on, sis,” Bran pleaded. “Katniss has news? She’s not really breaking up with him, is she?”

Prim snorted. “Get a grip, bro. My sister is so into to Peeta that she told me—just a few days ago—she literally wants to lick the sweat off him.”

“More than I needed to hear,” Bran said.

“I want to hear more!” Alex responded. “Just more stuff I have on little brother.”

Prim walked towards the stairs, ignoring the Mellark brothers as they started a chorus of ‘Please!’. She was never good with being pressured and had a penchant to snap.

Katniss was much more impenetrable—except when it came to Peeta, apparently.

“Please leave it be! Katniss will tell Peeta about the baby when she’s good and ready!”

Her eyes squeezed shut when she realized what she said—SHIT!

The door of the Abernathy apartment opened slowly.

Taking a deep breath, Prim prepared herself for the onslaught of questions.

“Five, four, three, two, one—”

Her mother responded first, tears thick in her voice. “Your sister is pregnant?”

Swiveling around, Prim saw the heads of her parents, the elder Mellarks, and the Abernathys sticking out of the apartment door. In front of her, Bran and Alex stood, their jaws hanging open to which Johanna tried to push Alex’s up.

She turned to respond to her mother.

“Yes, Katniss is. No, I don’t know how long. She went to an appointment to confirm it today. I don’t know anything else. Above all—no one can tell Peeta!”

There was a collective nod and everyone stepped back so Haymitch could close the door.

With a wink at her, he closed it behind him.

“You are not good at keeping secrets,” Alex concluded with a grin.

“I know…” Her hopefully-soon-to-be brother walked over and gave her a hug. “At least I’ll be the baby’s favorite aunt. You and Bran can fight over who’s favorite uncle.”

He pulled away. “Not fair! Bran can actually get the kid a pony! He has a fucking pony guy!”

Johanna quirked a brow at the eldest Mellark brother. “Why would you need a pony guy?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Bran said. “How about us brand new Aunts and Uncles have a drink?”

With a tired nod, Prim allowed Bran to lead her down the stairs and to the closest bar.

++++++

Katniss sighed, allowing for just one second the feeling of contentment to flow through her.

There it was, six weeks and five days old; a peanut of a thing, really.

A peanut with a heartbeat.

Stepping off the lightrail train, she walked onto the street island and headed in the direction of the bakery. It was already closed for the day and Peeta was probably in the midst of closing paperwork. He was diligent about being there everyday to make sure that everything was tip-top. She loved that about him; his constancy in all things.

Peeta had promised his parents that Mellark Bakery would be a success on the West Coast. He had achieved it, putting a new spin on his parents’ bakery, with gluten-free pastries and vegan-accessible food that broadened their customer base.

Getting her key out, Katniss unlocked the front door of the bakery and stepped in just as Thresh walked out from the back.

“Hey Katniss,” he greeted her. “Peeta’s in the office.”

“Thanks, Thresh,” she replied. “How did it go today?”

“Pretty run-of-the-mill, for a weekday,” Thresh informed her. “Great morning rush, decent lunch, and then kids coming in with their parents after school.”

“Maybe we should have discounted pastries from 3:30-5:00—” she mused. “—for the kids and their parents. Great time to get rid of the current day’s batch.”

“Great idea, boss lady.” Thresh gathered his things from the counter. “I’m off but let Peeta know that I checked and we’re still good on almond flour.”

Locking up after Thresh, Katniss headed into the kitchen. She loved the smell of it; the flour, sugar…even the scent of chocolate—that must be the baby’s doing as she was not into the cocoa bean.

Here, she felt wrapped up in this beautiful life that she and Peeta created for themselves.

Would it still be wonderful with the three of them?

Pushing her thoughts aside, Katniss went to the open doorway of their office. Peeta sat with his back to her, his shoulders hunched and deep into the spreadsheet on the screen in front of him. Next to him, his phone rested, the rough voice of Tom Petty singing about Mary Jane on its speaker.

She knocked against the doorway.

“Did I ever tell you how sexy you look with a spreadsheet in front of you?”

Peeta met her eyes, his cheeks coloring. “Probably not as sexy as you look taking counter orders.” Swiveling his seat, he patted his lap. “We’re low on chairs.”

Katniss obliged, primly sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Peeta pressed a kiss to her lips. “How are you doing today? You headed out pretty early. Everything okay?”

“I’m great,” she told him. “Just had an appointment.”

Here it was, the moment when she should tell him of their impending offspring.

Peeta yawned suddenly. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. It’s been a very long day for me. Did Thresh tell you whether or not the almond flour was okay?”

Suddenly, now was not the time to tell him especially when he was tired and processing spreadsheets—

“He said the flour was fine.” A familiar tune wafted into the air and she abruptly stood up, holding her hand out. “You want to dance?”

Peeta nodded, taking her hand and rising from their ergonomic and expensive office chair.

“This song always makes me feel like I’m in a 90’s romantic comedy,” she told him as The Cure filled the room.

Peeta met her eyes, his own crinkling in laughter. “Aren’t we?”

She chuckled and nodded, her head going to his shoulder.

“The good kind, like Reality Bites or 10 Things I Hate About You—with witty dialogue and a kickass soundtrack.”

“Well, we have the witty dialogue,” Peeta told her. “Just need that soundtrack—” He stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. “There’s something different about you. You look…sparkly.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Real witty.” She pulled him closer. “Just keep dancing.”

Her birthday—it was coming up.

She would just tell him then—and he couldn’t say anything bad because it was her day.

Somewhere in her head, Katniss swore she heard the baby call her a chicken.

++++++

Two days later, the group gathered once more sans Beetee, who would be watching the Odair kids. He had already sent Peeta an ample outline of his suggestions that included recreating he and Katniss’ first date down to the dress she wore for it.

Katniss was at the bakery for evening inventory. Rue agreed to pretend she needed help to give them ample enough time to discuss their ideas.

“Okay, Annie and Finnick—what do you got?” Peeta asked, a clipboard and pen ready in his hands.

“Well, we thought it might be cute if the kids helped in some way,” Annie said, looking through her own list. “Like maybe Jack could hold the ring for you or the girls can give her flowers…” She looked through the rest of her notes. “Sorry guys. The girls are teething and Jack is going through a phase of just waving his little Jack around, if you know what I mean. Our ideas are not so good.”

“So, your kid likes to be naked,” Johanna replied. “Everyone goes through a naked phase.”

“When did you get over yours?” Prim quipped.

“I haven’t,” Johanna simply replied.

Peeta jotted down Annie’s suggestions.

“No, they’re fine. I take everything into account.” He looked around the room, stopping on the Abernathys. “Haymitch? Effie?”

“How about you do something in the garden?” Effie said. “I mean, I can decorate—”

“You mean I can decorate,” Haymitch interrupted. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you on a ladder.”

“But I have all the streamers from the baby shower and Katniss loves green!” his wife protested.

“Before this turns into a fight that Haymitch won’t win—” his mother told them. “—Peeta, just note it and let’s keep going.”

“Okay then.” Peeta wrote down the suggestion before going to his mother and father. “Mom? Dad?”

“Well—” His mother turned to look at Robin, who practically bounced in her seat. “We thought that we could blow up some pictures of you and Katniss sequencing your relationship!”

“And then we could do like a few them of your future,” Robin added. “Like one of you two getting married and one of you and Katniss with your baby—”

Prim, who had been drinking a glass of water, suddenly coughed.

“M-Mom!” she sputtered; her blue eyes wide with shock at the possibility of her mother revealing Katniss’ secret. “They don’t even have kids!”

“Oh pish.” Robin waved her hand easily. “Nothing that can’t be photoshopped.”

Peeta wrote down the suggestion. “That sounds pretty cool. I mean kids seems a little far—”

“You don’t want to have kids with my Katniss?” Stephen suddenly asked.

Peeta’s head snapped up. “Of course, I do! It’s just—”

His father suddenly towered over him. “Just what?”

A whimper suddenly escaped his mouth.

“I just thought that I would first like Katniss to accept my proposal before actually thinking about children…”

Bran jumped up, his hands going to both fathers’ shoulders.

“Chill, Dads.” He gave them pointed looks. “I mean, let them work that out when they get to that moment.”

“Anyway, before the parents decide to hijack your proposal, Bran and I came up with something,” Alex said. “We think that you should do something musical for her.”

Peeta shook his head vehemently. He already knew where this was going.

“No, bros.”

Prim scoffed. “Yeah, like Peeta can sing!”

“You’d be surprised,” Bran told her. “I mean, we—”

“Stop!” Peeta jumped from his seat. “I’ll put it into account but…”

“You know her favorite song, right?” Alex asked.

Peeta nodded, his cheeks burning. “Of course.”

Alex put an arm around his younger brother. “Then, just think about it.”

“Fine,” Peeta told him begrudgingly. “But I’m not making promises.”

“Just make it romantic,” Johanna told him earnestly. “Because in the end, Katniss is just like any other person; she enjoys a good romance once in a while.”

Peeta suddenly grinned, thinking of his conversation with Katniss the previous night as they danced in their small office. “A romantic comedy…”

Then, it came to him.

++++++

This was hell.

Katniss put a cool washcloth to her forehead as she sat on the floor of her bathroom. Peeta had offered to stay home with her, but she assured him that it was just ‘female issues.’ There was no need for him to miss out on work and Prim would check on her in the afternoon.

The moment he left, after promising to call at lunch, she immediately rushed into the bathroom to throw up the contents of her stomach—maybe her stomach itself—into their toilet.

She didn’t know how long she could take doing this, keeping this misery to herself.

Peeta got her into this. He should suffer, too.

“A few more days…” she told herself.

In a few more days, it would be her birthday and she could tell Peeta about their baby.

With that thought, Katniss laid down on the cool porcelain floor and fell asleep.

++++++

“She’s a wreck…”

Katniss blearily opened her eyes hearing her sister’s voice.

“What did you expect?” a deep voice asked. “She’s carrying my brother’s spawn.”

A washcloth was placed on her forehead.

“Just let her rest. She’s stressed out, keeping all of this from your brother.”

Katniss was soothed at Johanna’s words.

“Should we get her to their bed?” asked Alex. “She looks a little peaked.”

“I’m fine,” Katniss finally grumbled, her eyes opening to find Johanna, Prim, and Bran on the floor with her. Alex leaned against the doorframe. “If you take me to the room, I’ll just end up here, anyway.” She glared up at Johanna. “I can’t believe you told them.”

Johanna gave her a mock scowl. “Me? I didn’t say anything. It was your brainless sister.”

Prim gave her a pout. “Sorry, Katniss. You know I can’t keep secrets.”

“It won’t be a secret much longer,” she informed them. “I’m going to tell him on my birthday next week.”

“Your birthday?” Johanna repeated. “When did you decide that?”

“Once I got the confirmation that there was a little peanut-sized being inside me—also, when I chickened out on telling Peeta that same day,” Katniss replied and sighed. “We can never get married now.”

“Why not?” Alex asked.

“Because once I tell your brother, he will propose to me. Not because he wants to, but because he’ll feel obligated to. I don’t want to trap him like that. I mean, we can raise the baby together—”

Bran reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. “Oh sweetie, my brother would never marry someone just because of obligation. Every move that Peeta makes, he makes with love.”

“I know.” Katniss sniffled. “Damn hormones. I just don’t want him to regret me…or the peanut.”

“He would never,” Alex assured her.

Katniss suddenly shot up, twisting in the direction of the toilet before retching into it.

The four other occupants reared back before Prim gathered herself to hold her sister’s hair up.

“Let it out,” Prim told her soothingly.

“I think I just threw up a lung,” Katniss replied miserably. “Help me up. I feel so gross. I need to change my shirt.”

Bran, the brawniest of them all, scooped the nauseous expectant mother up easily. “I got you.”

“Thanks, bro…” Katniss closed her eyes. “You smell like Peeta…but I’m not even turned on.”

He guffawed. “Gee, thanks.”

Everyone else followed them down the hall to the bedroom and Bran gently placed Katniss on her bed.

“Let me grab you a shirt, sis,” Prim said quickly before going into their closet and returning with an oversized white t-shirt. “Do you need anything else?”

Katniss shook her head. “I have a bottle of water by the bedside. I’m just going to lay down for a while. Peeta said he would call soon.”

Nodding, Prim went over to kiss the top of her sister’s head. “Get some rest, okay?”

Katniss nodded before closing her eyes. She was out before Prim even closed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Prim turned to the other three.

“Fuck the plan. Peeta needs to propose like right now,” she informed them.

“Are you kidding?” Alex said.

“No, I’m not. Katniss is unpredictable and moody…she might tell him right when she wakes up for all we know. We have to beat her to the punch,” Prim told the three before looking to Bran. “Text all of our parents. Johanna, alert the building. Once this is all done, then we go to Peeta. Agreed?”

They all agreed quietly, not wanting to awaken Katniss, before getting to their duties.

++++++

The door of the bakery had barely closed for the day before the group barreled in. Peeta and Katniss’ parents, and well—the whole damn building were suddenly standing right in front of him as he was putting pastries away.

“What’s going on?” Peeta demanded to know.

Prim stepped forward. “You need to propose—now.”

He froze, a half empty tray in his hands. “What?”

Johanna took the tray from his grasp so she could have one for herself.

“If you don’t, there’s a chance that Katniss might say no,”

He looked at everyone’s anxious expressions. “But, the plan—"

“We figured it out,” his father told him. “It’s all set up.”

“How did you manage that?” Peeta asked.

“Katniss’…female problems knocked her out cold,” Alex offered. “At least, that’s what Prim told me.”

“We worked quickly and quietly,” Beetee assured him. “It looks great.”

“But…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” Peeta said in disappointment.

“Peeta.” Robin lifted his drooping chin. “When did anything between you and Katniss ever go as planned?”

Peeta looked into her eyes—Katniss’ almond eyes—before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Reaching into his pocket, he handed her a set of keys.

“Will you get the ring? It’s in the bottom-left drawer of my desk in the small petty cash box.” His gaze went to his mother, her own eyes glittering with tears. “My mom knows the combination.”

Then, Peeta turned to the rest of the group.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

Blinking slowly, Katniss finally opened her eyes. She was relieved to find that her stomach was no longer rumbling. She carefully sat up, her gaze going to her side table where a note in Prim’s writing laid on a packet of Saltines, saying ‘Eat me’.

Katniss opened the packet quickly and scarfed down the crackers while texting Prim to thank her. She was surprised to find that she had slept late into the afternoon.

Her phone dinged with a response. ‘Are you okay?’

She typed back, ‘I’m feeling much better.’

The next message came quickly: ‘Johanna and I are downstairs in the lobby. Come down and meet us! Also, can you wear that dress that you wore on your first date with Peeta? Effie was telling us about it the other day and Johanna is thinking of having it recreated exclusively for the boutique.’

Katniss swore that she had worn it at some point in front of Johanna but typed back in agreement, letting Prim know that she would be down in a few minutes.

Going to her closet, she pulled out the rust dress that she wore that first date. Without that date, she may have never run into Gale and he wouldn’t have texted his mother like a little bitch.

However, if he didn’t, then maybe her and Peeta might have still been living that lie.

In some ways, she should be thanking Gale—right after punching him in the nads.

Quickly, Katniss threw the dress on. She still fit in it nicely, her boobs filling the top a little better, but their little bun was still well hidden. After making sure that she didn’t reek of vomit, Katniss made her way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Stepping onto the main floor, she found Prim and Johanna missing—but the door leading to the backyard was open. It wasn’t uncommon to find a group of them congregating for a glass of wine or just to talk about their day.

She loved this about their building; it was a community—a family.

As Katniss stepped into the backyard, her mouth fell open.

She didn’t see Prim or Johanna but found something entirely different.

To both sides of the door were easels with blown-up photos of herself and Peeta. She continued down seeing that first photo at their City Hall ‘wedding’ to a photo of themselves in front of the Mellark Bakery on its grand opening. It was easy to piece together that they were all set up to show the sequence of their relationship.

However, the last two before the archway of the garden showed two images of what was supposed to be their future.

One was an actual wedding, their faces photoshopped—masterfully—on a bride and groom in front of beautiful rose archway. The guests all happened to have the faces of their families and friends.

Then, there was the last one; the one of herself—with a very nice rack she might add—holding a baby in her arms. Photoshopped Peeta stood behind her, gazing adoringly at their little one.

Her hand reached to the little one’s face and with a sigh, Katniss wondered who their actual little one would look like.

She moved forward, entering through the thick archway where she was greeted by Beetee and the Odair girls.

In front of her, a large white curtain going from one side of the yard to the other had been drawn up, keeping her from seeing what was behind it.

Katniss looked to her neighbor. “Hey Beetee, what’s going on?”

He smiled at her before reaching behind him and presenting her with a delicate daisy crown.

“The girls—” Beetee looked to Sarah and Rose, who giggled and bounced excitedly. “—and I were in charge of this lovely crown.” He placed it carefully on her head. “The girls chose the flowers.”

Katniss looked to each twin. “Thank you, Sarah. Thank you, Rose.”

Beetee held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Tentatively, she took it. “I’m a little scared of what I might find behind that curtain.”

The man next to her chuckled as the little girls ran ahead.

“Now when has that ever stopped you from leaping forward?” he asked her, a softness in his dark eyes. They stood in front of the curtain and Beetee parted it with just enough space for her to walk through. “Go ahead.”

Taking a deep breath, Katniss stepped in.

The beginning strains of her favorite song came on and she let out a breath of shock at the sight.

Her family along with the Mellarks were there, all gathered to one side as the Abernathys, Odairs, as well as Beetee and Wiress stood to the other side. She walked down an aisle of rose petals gazing up at the streamers creating a beautiful sage-green big top.

Then, her eyes went to the stage in front of her. “Holy shit…”

 “I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday I'm in love…”

 It was Peeta…on stage…singing into the mic—and why did she not know that he could sing?

Katniss felt her lips turn up in a grin when Peeta winked at her, his mouth against the mic.

 “Saturday, wait

And Sunday, always comes too late

But Friday, never hesitate...”

 And, was that Bran on the drums behind him…and Alex on bass?

“I don’t know if Peeta ever mentioned that he and his brothers had a band,” Daphne said suddenly next to her, blue eyes bright with mirth. “They were quite the thing in our neighborhood.”

“I can imagine why,” she replied breathlessly, watching as Prim and Johanna sang back-up to Peeta’s lead vocals. “He’s good.”

Daphne gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He stopped singing for a long while—until you came along. Now, he would only do this again for you.” She moved Katniss forward gently. “Go on, listen to his song.”

 “Always take a big bite

It's such a gorgeous sight

To see you eat in the middle of the night

You can never get enough

Enough of this stuff

It's Friday

I'm in love…”

 Katniss didn’t know if it was the baby or just her, but she could feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach as she walked towards to the stage.

Oh shit—her stomach lurched; it was neither her or the baby.

It was her stomach.

Katniss could feel the bile rushing up and she lifted her skirt with one hand and used the other hand to cover her mouth before rushing to the left side of the garden. The music stopped abruptly in a jangled mess as she reached the end and let the vomit erupt from her mouth.

She was barely aware as someone gathered her hair up as she continued to throw up into what looked like a set of begonias.

“Oh God…whose flowers were these?” she choked out through tears and vomit.

“Don’t worry about it,” Haymitch said off-handedly behind her. “Those tenants were huge douches.”

A cool hand went to her forehead. “Are you okay?” It was Peeta. She realized as she leaned back against his chest that he had been holding her hair. “I didn’t think that it was humanly possible for someone to vomit that much in such a short span of time.”

Katniss closed her eyes, feeling the relief of being in his arms after such a trying day.

“I didn’t know you had such good voice,” she breathed into his chest, exhaustion taking over.

“Just one of my many talents,” Peeta told her and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You wanted romantic comedy, right? Don’t all good romantic comedies come with a kickass soundtrack?”

She laughed wetly. “They do, but they don’t usually come with vomit.”

Peeta chuckled, his chest contracting as he let out a shaky breath.

“No, they don’t. Some of them do come with one of these—” Peeta pressed his mouth to her ear and her skin tingled at the warmth of his breath against her ear. “Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me—for real this time?”

Her eyes opened and Katniss sat up, her gray ones suddenly watering at his words.

“Are you only asking me because I’m pregnant?” she managed to blurt out.

His eyes suddenly widened to a degree that could break world records—or cause a major headache.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Uncle Peeta?” Jack suddenly stood in front of them holding out a tiny red box. “Your mommy told me to give this to you.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Peeta ruffled his unruly locks before the little boy went to join his family. He turned back to Katniss. “Take a look.”

Shakily, Katniss took the box and opened it. There laying inside was a beautiful pearl ring surrounded by small diamonds on a thin band.

There was no way in hell, with a ring like this, that he did not plan this proposal.

“This is real.” She met Peeta’s eyes. “Are you okay…about the baby?”

Katniss felt her chest swell as tears lined his deep-blue eyes and his mouth split into a grin.

“We’re going to have baby,” he said thickly.

Peeta kissed her soundly, despite what Katniss was sure was the most rancid-flavored kiss.

But if that wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

When they pulled apart, Katniss beamed at him.

“We’re having a baby…and getting married as soon as I brush my teeth.”

Peeta helped her up and she adjusted her skirt, brushing bits of grass off.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s possible,” Peeta said. “We’d have to wait until tomorrow—”

“Actually—” Beetee approached them and handed Katniss a piece of paper. “Signed by the mayor herself.”

It was a marriage license, their names already on it with today’s date as their official wedding date.

They both looked to Beetee and he shrugged. “I came prepared.”

++++++

Many months later…

“Come on, little mama.” Peeta rubbed the small of her back. “Just a bit longer.”

Katniss groaned as she trudged forward. “I am so sick of being pregnant.”

“Really?” He gave her a smile. “I couldn’t even tell.”

“Why did I marry you?” she asked, grinning at him.

“Because I’m adorably irresistible,” Peeta told her as they reached the front. “And, I have a huge—”

“Ego,” Katniss finished for him. She pressed a kiss to his lips. “And your penis is not so bad.”

“Better curb your tongue,” he warned. “Our daughter might come out with a sailor’s mouth.”

“Help me up.” Holding Peeta’s hand, Katniss carefully stepped onto the bench and onto the flat surface of the table. The table creaked as she settled. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

Peeta joined her quickly, pulling her close.

“We can’t stay here for too long. Haymitch and Effie are expecting us. It’ll be their first date night since Luke was born,” Peeta told her.

“I know. Effie told me she’s been ‘aching’ for Haymitch.” Katniss blanched. “When she is really tired, she has no filter.”

“That was more than I needed to hear,” Peeta replied. “I guess it’s better than hearing about Alex and Johanna.” His brother had finally worn down Katniss’ friend and was now happily shackled after being married by an Elvis Presley impersonator in Las Vegas. “I don’t think my parents have forgiven them for eloping.”

“Well, they’ll forget once this one is born,” Katniss assured him, her hand on her swollen belly. She looked to Peeta. “Do you regret that we didn’t have a big wedding either?”

“Hell no!” he exclaimed. “I married you at sunset in front of our friends and family and it was actually official—”

“After I vomited in the middle of your performance.” Katniss leaned back against him. “I can’t believe I married the Nick Jonas of the Mellark brothers.”

He groaned. “Please stop with the Jonas references.”

“Okay…but when our daughter is sixteen, you can bet your ass that I’m playing the recording for her,” she responded.

“Deal.”

They sat back, looking out the window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the silence of the moment.

The silence didn’t last very long.

“Oh crap.” Katniss turned to her husband. “Help me up.”

He looked to her, used to her frequent trips to the bathroom and sudden need for pastries. “Why?”

“Because my water broke all over this table and it will cause water stains!” she burst out. “We just finished paying it off!”

Peeta jumped off it immediately, almost breaking that perfect Grecian nose in the process.

“It’s time?”

Katniss nodded, a bright smile on her face. “It’s time.”

 ______________

I hope this sated your appetite. I wish I could go into each character and tell you what happened to each but that would be like…ten more pages. I’d by happy to tell you via message on Tumblr.

For now, just know that Katniss delivered a healthy baby girl—and Peeta’s nose ended being broken, anyway. Next baby, he’ll be sure to not suggest that Katniss hold off on the drugs eleven hours in.

They’re still deciding on a name having vetoed Primrose the Second and Johanna the Great.

Suggestions for names are appreciated as well as presents for the newest tenant of the building.

Just a few other notes:

-A kouign-amann is actually a really flaky cake but here in San Francisco, they’re sold in a donut size so I think of them like cronut. Whatever it is, it’s flippin’ delicious.

-We have CityTargets in San Francisco, which are smaller versions of Target, and they’re basically made for urbanites or if you’re by the one next to San Francisco State University, college students.

-The current mayor of San Francisco is London Breed, I figure she’s still mayor in this timeline of the story.

Song: “Friday I’m in Love”-The Cure

Thank you for sticking around and reading!

With love, JLaLa

[minsugapie]

Now You See Me: part 28 (3512 words) - rap sex

• • • • • •

You’re a content creator that is wanting to change up your brand a little bit.

Yoongi is a faceless musician. Well, he’s two people at once. He’s Agust D online and while performing, but he’s Min Yoongi in real life.

Who will he be to you?

• • • • • •

PART 27 // PART 28 // PART 29

masterlist

• • • • • •

tags : @dixonsbugaboo @mayumioutloud @minhyukstealer @pocketfullofsuga @pwinny00 @rjsmochii @yoonglemickdoongle @live-2-fangirl @cherryicy123 @vernooope @okaysoplshelpme @thebleuprince @minyoongone @original-internetmonster @princesskimnamjoon @waddlingmyg

• • • • • •

With the best outfit that you were able to conjure up from your closet on a budget, you walked into the bar with alone. Everyone was going to meet you there.

You were easily the easiest person to impress, and although you had already seen Yoongi perform before, you were sure that you were going to be amazed, no matter how much you wanted to avoid him and hide your feelings from the world. After what Jade had told you about their relationship compared to your relationship with him, you knew that you wanted to at least tread lightly in the waters of Min Yoongi.

She basically flat out told you that Yoongi liked you, but other than the kiss in the hallway, you weren’t sure that he even liked you. People could kiss other people without wanting to actually be with them. You’d been played by guys in the past. It happened.

And then there was the fact that you were still unsure about seeing Hoseok again. Your father had made it clear that he wanted you to marry him (I mean, you already knew before but still). You’d barely breached the subject with Hoseok on game night, but you just couldn’t see it. Why would Hobi be in love with you of all people. He deserved someone good, someone positive.

The bar was already dark and foggy, but you couldn’t tell whether it was a fog machine or simply a bunch of smoke from vapes and joints. You thought it was probably the latter. It even smelled a little ripe in there, a mixture of alcohol, sweet JUULs, and MJ. Along with the smell, the air practically felt sticky, the temperature already hot.

The search for your friends was brief. Tae and Hobi were always the loudest, currently making a fool of themselves amongst your newer friends, Jimin and Jungkook. Jade was yet to make an appearance. You distantly wondered if she was keeping Yoongi company until he went on stage.

Speaking of the devil, he was clearly not with the group because this was his performance, but you wouldn’t have minded just getting a glimpse of his surely mask-covered face. You’d very nearly forgotten that he was Agust D here and not your Min Yoongi.

Your Min Yoongi. Even the thought was bordering on problematic. If this night didn’t go as planned or even head in a remotely positive direction, you’d be crushed. The only reason that you’d agreed to go was to clarify and/or solidify what was going on between the two of you. If he didn’t make any sort of move. You were going to. You had to.

Looking around, you were happy that there were more people here than the last time. He’d been rapping here for a few years under his alias, but no one had put two and two together. With the release of “Seesaw”, he’d finally revealed to the online community that he was a musician that not only played Piano and got people to sing on his tracks, but also that he rapped. It had surely increased the crowd for this show. On the way in, there was even a lineup at the door. You were able to just walk in, thankfully, because he’d still put your name on the list. He had told you on multiple occasions that he would never take your money if you came to watch him because just your being there was enough of a reward for him.

The greetings from your friends were almost lost to your ears because you were craning your head to see if Yoongi was possibly walking around, visiting with other people. It was quite obvious to everyone that you were not here to see them. You were definitely here to see the man on your mind.

“Hello, earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved his hand in front of your face when you were staring directly into the drink that you’d picked up from the bartender on the way to the already full table of guys. You were clearly only here for one thing.

As much as you loved them all and enjoyed their company (most of the time), you were not up for any chit chat. Frankly, you were still trying to pull yourself out of your depressive state, and you were also not entirely sure that you were ready to meet Jade yet.

After stalking her profile, you were 100% sure that she was both prettier and a better person overall than you were. You’d never seen someone spread so much love and happiness. The only rival that you could think of would have been Hobi.

“Sorry, Chim. I’m just a little distracted,” you answered, spinning the bottle of alcohol in your hands.

“You’re just nervous about having to talk to Yoon about the kiss, right?” Jungkook piped in from beside you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Hobi look at you and frown. He then quickly looked at Tae, but your brother just shrugged. Hobi was always so protective, just like a brother would’ve been.

“H-how do you even know about that?” You stuttered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear in embarrassment. Yeah, you kissed Yoongi, but you just assumed that he was not much of a gossip and wouldn’t have told anyone. You were clearly wrong.

“Your guy told us. He also may have revealed that he was nervous about you meeting Jade,” Jimin slyly admitted, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Because she’s his ex, and he still hangs around with her?” Everyone, including your brother were surprised that you didn’t have a bigger reaction than that one. Your eyes wandered to the stage, only to find it still lifeless and unlit.

With a sigh, you listened as Jungkook continued, “Yeah…how do you know that?”

“Jade and I have been texting a little bit here and there. She initiates the conversations, but I can’t not answer her.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Jimin announced with a huge smile. “Jade is walking this way.”

“Sorry, but who exactly is Jade?” Hobi asked, completely unaware that she was coming up right behind him. You were completely astonished at how pretty she was. You wondered how it was physically possible to be born that way.

“I’m Jade,” she whispered in his ear, causing him to jump and fall off his chair. While he was seated on the ground, she smiled at him and politely took a seat in the chair that he was occupying. Turning to me, she beamed. “You must be Y/N! Yoongi has to me so much about you!”

You couldn’t say the same.

“Hi,” you replied, not being able to take your eyes off her hair. It was literally curled to perfection.

Once Hobi finally got up at the floor, you could see him shifting his eyes from you to her, wondering what exactly was going on.

“I’m Hoseok,” Hobi introduced himself with a bow.

Jade graciously took his greeting and then commented, “Oh, so you’re Hoseok…”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He started, but all of the lights suddenly went out and everyone’s head turned to the stage.

You instantly stood up and walked closer, nursing your drink on an open potion of the floor. A few more people joined the space, filling it quickly. Jimin and Hoseok came and stood on either side of you while the other stayed back and kept the table.

Yoongi slowly walked onto the stage and took the microphone that was waiting nicely in the stand. Absentmindedly, you wondered what Yoongi and Jade had been talking about backstage. You were in such a daze that you completely forgot to ask.

He was wearing a cap and a mask under his chin for hiding his identity. It was a special request to keep the lights down to avoid anyone seeing his face through the shadows. It didn’t matter to you any way that he came. To top it all off, he was sporting ripped jeans and a jacket —typical. Did he even own anything else?

The performance was similar to the last one, except that there were a few new songs. After the first few songs, you again confirmed that the man was meant for music. Agust D’s performance was truly hype. He got the crowd into it and talked about so many difficult things like depression and social anxiety.

You realize then that you are definitely in love with Yoongi. How could you not have been? Maybe you’d even been in love with him for a while, you weren’t too sure. You’d been talking for months, and he was the only person you’d thought about in weeks. He captured your full attention, even when you weren’t with him.

His passion was a large factor of that love as well. When the beat for “Agust D” rolled in, you can’t look away, you’re entranced. The people you’re with all noticed this. It wasn’t long into the song that Yoongi’s eyes found yours. You were surprised that he found you with all the people in there. You were hidden behind a couple really tall guys and their girlfriends, and when he focused in your direction, they were quite excited.

It wasn’t until they realized that he was not looking at them but at you. It was the fastest part of the song, and he just kept looking at you and walking closer to the end of the stage and towards you. The people in front of you parted slightly to give him a better view of you. Your cheeks reddened at the intensity of his rapping. Just thinking about how fast he could move his tongue made you think back to the kiss. You wanted his tongue against yours again.

When you realized that you definitely should not have been thinking about that right now, you brought your hands to your cheeks and covered them with your hands. You felt a pair of hands on your back push you forwards slightly, but you wouldn’t budge. It was Hobi, and you didn’t notice that after he nudged you, he backed away, clearly distancing himself mentally and physically from you.

This moment was yours and Yoongi’s. It felt like there was nobody else in the room, but also felt so intimate that you were sad that there were many people all around.

His gaze never leaves your face for the rest of the performance. It’s his closing song before the second artist came on, so when the song finished, he was breathing hard and clearly sweating. His eyes were still on you as he pulled up his mask, trying to hide his identity from the prying eyes.

The bouncers were very strict on not having flash photography either —they would hunt you down. It was basically an unwritten agreement that when people came, they would just not post videos and keep the performance to them.

“What?” You asked, finally being able to breathe again. You hadn’t noticed, but your breath became uneven and hard when Yoongi was performing for you.

“He totally just had rap sex with you.” Jimin’s voice was even and sure when he looked at you.

What the hell was rap sex?

Yoongi was still staring at you

Rolling his eyes because he could clearly tell that you didn’t know what he was talking about, he continued, “I shouldn’t need to explain this, Y/N…In fact, I’ll just let you figure it out on your own.” You didn’t need to know what Jimin was talking about. All you knew for sure was that just the words sex and Yoongi in the same sentence made you flustered. They were making you flustered and hot.

Yoongi bowed, thanking the crowd one more time before exiting the stage. You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him now, but you knew that you needed to reign in your emotions and get yourself together or else only gibberish would come out of your mouth.

Making your way back to the table, you were still flushed and had to get yourself together. People were sure to comment on your state. Plus, if you wanted to hold your own in front of Yoongi, you couldn’t be looking like you were. So there you were, standing awkwardly around the table, waiting.

It seemed like hours until he made his way to your table. You hadn’t participated in any conversations with your friends, opting simply to nurse another drink and wait for Yoongi. You had no idea what you were going to say to him or how you were even going to react when he finally said a word to you.

He greeted all your friends and Jade before going to stand between you and Jimin.

“Hey,” he said, taking quick sip of your drink. You looked at him like he’d grown two heads. This guy hadn’t spoken to you in ages, and there he was, acting as if you were together, or at least that you had been talking.

Biting your lip, you answered, “I enjoyed your set.”

When the tension between you two was able to be cut with a knife, Jimin nudged you into Yoongi’s arms. Instead of being bashful about it, your brain allowed to to simply put your arms around his waist and embrace the contact.

He didn’t hesitate to hug you back before moving his mask under his chin and whispering, “I’m really happy that you came.” Quickly putting his mask back on, you didn’t realize that you’d be so affected by everything that he said and did.

Yoongi’s breath on your ear tickled and sent shivers through your body. His sweat smelled sweet, and you only want to run your fingers through his damp hair. There were many other people around, so obviously that would have to be saved for another time.

******

Hoseok and Jade were sitting on the other side of the table, observing their two friends, relishing in the unrequited love of it all. They were happy for the two of you, they really were, but taking it from their perspective. It would fucking suck.

“Ugh, I hate love,” Hoseok grumbled, pushing away from the table. Jungkook, Jimin and Tae had left, going to watch the second performer on stage, so it was only the four of them at the table.

Jade looked at him like she’d never seen him before. “Why do you hate love? I hate love.”

“I’ll get us some drinks and we can talk it out.”

When Hoseok made his way back with two bottle of soju in hand, he started, “I’ve been in love with Y/N since the moment I met her. She was 14 and I was 12. It was all too much for me, especially because her brother is my best friend. She’s liked him since she first met with him at the coffee shop. I’m sure of it.”

“Similar story, bro. Agust D and I have been best friends since birth and I’ve always had a crush on him. He’s been thirsting after her since he received her first message. JK and Chim didn’t help because they clearly think she’s hot.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in love with each other now.”

“Honestly same. Did you see that performance? I’ve seen him perform many times, and that was something else”

“…It really be like that sometimes.” It was a thought that they both shared; a thought that shaped the generation.

******

Neither you nor Yoongi realize what exactly was happening between Jade and Hobi when you asked, “Are you going to let me go at all?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” But he loosened his grip and simply let his arms drape around your shoulders comfortably. You liked being there. You’d never been this close to him for such a long period of time.

Looking at him, you still couldn’t get Jimin’s comment from earlier out of your mind. So when Yoongi pulled back to walk towards his friends in the crowd, you stopped him by grabbing his arm. The action surprised him, and what you about to do was something that you’d never have done with anyone before you’d met him.

He looked at your concentrated face in question. There were people everywhere, but you didn’t care when you pulled his mask back down under his chin and asked, “Why haven’t you tried to kiss me since the first time? Why did you not talk to me about it? You seemed so sure that you wanted it to happen then, and now I’m just confused if you act-”

Yoongi grabbed your hand and started dragging you away from all the people and into a corner of the bar that you weren’t sure that you’d ever seen before. It was a deserted corner that looked like it was never visited. Actually, when you stopped talking, Yoongi wasted no time in connecting your lips once again. The kiss this time was urgent and hotter than it had been int he hallway of your place.

He tasted sober this time, still vaguely damp from his performance when you took off his cap and placed it lightly on your head. You ran your fingers through his hair like you wanted to earlier, and he took that opportunity to get you good. With a groan that literally turned your insides into mush, his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

Yoongi’s skin was soft under yours. With every movement of his lips, you realized that he wouldn’t want to talk about anything, so asking him about that rap was out of the question…for now. Soft movement paired with everything else that was Yoongi —his sweat, his smell, his taste— had you wanting more, needing more. After this, you knew that you’d never be able to be friends with the man. Being friends would simply be too painful. You’d never be able to see him again without wanting a kiss or a touch. It almost scared you how much your desire for him had increased in the days that you hadn’t spoken.

You gently pushed him back until he hit the wall, and absently, you found yourself grinding down onto one of his legs, straddling it. Your kisses became sloppier, open mouthed, and needy with every grinding movement into his leg. Whatever it was that you were doing, it felt good. No matter what it was, you knew that Yoongi was able to make you feel good.

You weren’t even sure that he was fine with what was happening until his hands gripped your waist and aided the movement, crouching lower to give you more access. You could even feel his quad muscles flex between your thighs. He pulled back, looking into your eyes, watching your facial expression as he helped you grind down. It felt better than good because it was infinitely better than touching yourself. Even though you were fully clothed, you’d get off in minutes if he kept it up.

Yoongi’s lower lip was taken between his teeth as he watched you more. His eyes did flicker behind you to see if someone was a coming or watching, but the coast must have been clear because his eyes then travelled down the length of your torso to where you were grinding against him.

Your breathing wasn’t even, trying to focus on the feeling, but you decided that this was neither the time, nor the place that you two should have been doing this. You didn’t want to have to clean yourself up in the bathroom, and you didn’t want Yoongi to have to deal with a boner in the middle of the bar (although you were sure that it was too late).

When he noticed your movements slowing down, his eyes went back to your face. “Let me take you home later,” he whispered, lips brushing yours and hands moving from your hips to feeling down your body and around your butt. He squeezed gently, pulling you closer to him.

The brushing of his lips on yours was enough to drive you crazy. There was no way that you would ever be able to deny this man what he wanted that night. “Mhm. All right.”

“Well, then let’s go join our friends for a little longer. I’ll buy you a drink, and then I’m taking you home. Don’t even think about not finishing what you started,” his tone was clear and low. He was definitely turned on and wanting.

His words excited you. A smile grew on your face, and then you suggested, “How about one dance, too?”

It took him a moment to answer. He didn’t seem like the type to want to dance in a bar, but you knew his answer was solely for you. “Fine.”

Hand in hand, you lead Yoongi away from the dark corner and back into the visible bar, unaware that there had been people that noticed.

• • • • • •

LET’S GET IT, FAM...in case you didn’t get it, they are having sex tonight. But I didn’t write it. I can write the smut if you want me to. I won’t say it’ll be the best, but I would try.

Hope you enjoyed ✊🏻🤓