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mamamomimomi · 2 years

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ENDLESS PIT (Chapter 5 of 16)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

Pairing: Touken/Kanetou

Ratings: Mature content/NSFW

Genre: Crime, Romance, Mystery

Synopsis: While attempting to apprehend Tokyo’s most dangerous criminal, FBI agent Kaneki Ken keeps running into a certain short-haired enticing woman in sites linked to the case. Human AU.

AO3 FF.net

_________________________________________

"Well, what do you think? Any thoughts?"

The man who was seated in front of her put his chin on top of his hands and began drumming his fingers lazily against the table. His arms were outstretched on the table to support his head as he marveled at the photo in front of him.

He responds mockingly, puckering his lips, "Ahhh, I informed you last time, we don't do that type of stuff here, missy."

She laughs cynically. "You think I'd believe you? I know what goes on behind closed doors, and I'm giving you an offer you can't turn down. I'm even willing to increase the offer from ten to fourteen," she smiles, placing another picture on the table with an additional four women on it.

The man snickers, "I find you hilarious. But with all due res-fucking-pect, you are a deluded woman. As opposed to what you appear to believe, this is a club, not a whorehouse."

She smiles at him before reaching into the folder she had set down on the table and pulling out a photo to lay on top of the others. "Fueguchi Ryouko, I heard that you guys lost her due to...tragic circumstances," she continues, emphasizing the latter words.

The man stares incredulously at the photo, his lips twitching before hurriedly masking his face with his eyes closed and lips extended in a cryptic smile. "In my entire life, I have never seen that woman."

"You sure about that, little boy?" She only smiles more and pulls out another photo from her folder, throwing it against the table. "This is her inside of this very club two days prior to her death, wearing the same uniform."

The man, Furuta, clasps his hands together on top of the table while keeping his weird smile plastered on his face.

She takes another photo and overlays it with the others. "And this is Fueguchi Hinami, her sole child, a few days after she made her escape."

His eyes bore into the picture before his left eye—the one with a beauty mark—twitches, and she cracks a pleasant smile. "I know exactly where she is, and I can get her to you before it's too late, but if you can't make up your mind this instant, then you can bid farewell to your little organization if she decides to go to the authorities,"

He pauses to reflect for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin before speaking up again, scornfully, "Give me a basis first to trust in your words."

She bends over the table, pushing her face closer to Furuta's, and disregarding his words, adds, "After losing two of your lovely ladies, you have a scarcity of young and submissive women. I have fourteen to offer you for the price of ten, ages thirteen to twenty-seven."

He presses his lips firmly together, running a finger over his fake mustache. "You're correct, I can't pass up that offer, but I would need to first meet them in person."

"That can be arranged."

"Would you like to be a part of the goods?" he jokes as his eyes wander over her body, and she has to stop herself from shuddering in distaste.

"Unfortunately not, Mister Clown," she drawls, smirking. "I'm merely their agent. Besides, I don't like being at the bottom. I'm not the kind of wimp and submissive woman who will lick your ass hole."

"With that body of yours, you'd still be a relatively new member of our small group," he grins, staring at her with half-lidded eyes.

"All I have to offer are those women. They are wonderful, gorgeous women who will make you a small fortune," she tells him, lips pursing into a thin line.

The man then shrugs, yawning in boredom. "Then it's settled," he states firmly, extending a hand towards her. "Send them two nights from now. We're holding a small sale with frequent customers and we'll see how they perform."

She takes his gloved hand in hers and shakes it. "That suits me just fine."

She begins gathering the pictures and placing them in her folder. She nods at him firmly and gets up from her seat to exit the suffocating room. The man was drilling a hole in her skull the entire time by gazing into the back of her head.

"Oh, and miss?"

The woman stops walking and turns around to look directly at the unsettling man, who was unnervingly seated in his seat, appearing to have a complete control over everything around him.

"Don't leave us hanging because doing so would end very badly for you," he drawls, picking his teeth with his pinky finger.

She takes note of his slasher smile, and returns it. "I would never consider it."

"You sure about that, little girl?" he chuckles, mocking her words from earlier while watching her as she leaves the room.

_________________________________________

"Oh, my goodness," the hazel-haired woman gasps out, gaping at the photo of the crime scene. "This is terrible and disturbing."

"So you were acquainted with that woman?" asks Hide.

"Yeah—I mean, no, not exactly," responds Yoriko, her eyes still glued to the pictures. " I only knew her daughter, who was formerly my best friend in high school. She'd told me her mother had died, but I never imagined she'd been killed."

Kaneki stands up immediately and sprints over to Yoriko, grabbing her by the shoulders and gazing into her eyes. "Yoriko-chan, please tell us more."

She gives him a startled look. "Why are you looking into her? She wasn't even living here when I met her. Rather, she had been away from Japan, for years."

"Was?"

Yoriko looks down at the photo of the woman on the document's first page. "Is or was, I honestly have no idea. She just vanished one day, and I haven't heard from her since. I'm not even sure if she's still alive or..."

"How did you meet her?" asks Hide.

"I was born here in Tokyo, but when I reached my teenage phase, my family sent me to live for a while in Barcelona so that I could study Spanish and other languages. I met her there when I participated in the exchange program in high school. At that time, Touka-chan was the only student in my class who spoke my language, so we really got along well," explains Yoriko, a sentimental smile on her face.

"For a rich heiress, I thought that she would reside with her father," comments Hide. "And, why Spain? She spoke French, which led me to believe she resided in France."

Yoriko stares at him in surprise. "What? Heiress? Touka-chan wasn't an heiress, not at all!"

The white-haired agent takes the file from her grasp and shows her the woman's name. "Look here, K. Hikari, Kirishima Arata's spouse, was her deceased mother. She also has a younger brother. The Kirishimas was once loaded. Didn't she tell you that?"

Yoriko furrows her eyebrows. "Her last name was Yomo, not Kirishima. And she used to live with her two guardians rather than her father."

The two agents stare at one other in astonishment under the woman's prying gaze.

She had either altered her last name for some reason or the Kirishimas weren't her biological parents. However, the second possibility had to be ruled out due to her eerie similarity to the murdered woman, and the fact that she shares the same hair color as the Kirishima father.

"Anything else you knew about her?" presses Kaneki.

"Well," starts Yoriko, "She and I had only been friends for three years. She told me she was originally from Tokyo, but she left and moved to Spain because she couldn't cope when her mother died. She also mentioned that she disliked talking about her other family and relatives, so I never inquired about them. But she once told me that she had a younger brother who lived in another country with several guardians."

"What happened the day she vanished? What happened that day?" insists the blond man.

Yoriko swallows as her shoulders abruptly slump and her eyes get sad. "Touka-chan... used to dream of being a biology teacher and having her own coffee shop. The best coffee I've ever tasted was even made by her," she laughs miserably. "Then, one time, she asked me to accompany her as she decided to apply at one of the local coffee shops close to our school. And well, she was eventually accepted...You guys are unaware of the fact that despite her gruff and tough demeanor, she is actually a shy, kind, and soft-hearted woman—just in a strange and frigid way. She works diligently by attending school in the morning and working from noon till midnight. And at that moment, I knew she would go far..."

Kaneki stares up at the hazel-haired girl with wonder, puzzled by her explanation. He has a hard time believing that his intriguing short-haired woman has a soft personality. As far as he could tell, she appeared to be more of a woman of action, but she appeared to have several layers that he had yet to peel off.

"When I once told Touka-chan that I could be her business partner, as I also intended to open my own bakery shop once we graduated from college, she was filled with genuine joy," continues Yoriko, staring at Hikari's file and fingering the picture of the smiling woman. "But one day, it was Saturday morning, and we didn't have classes, but she had a work. She was so busy, so we didn't get to spend any more time together, and I missed talking to her, so I texted her that I wanted to spend my rest day at the shop with her while working on our pending homework. She agreed and told me to just wait at the train station so that we could go together. I waited, but she never responded to my text and never showed up. I waited another hour before deciding to go to the shop alone, believing she was there and had simply forgotten to inform me, but I was mistaken. The manager was likewise perplexed as to why she wasn't at work, given she was unlikely to be late."

The woman's eyes have become sad and upset as she shuts the file and places it in one of the boxes before taking a long breath.

"I sat down and waited at the shop in the hopes that she would show up soon, but she didn't return any of my texts or calls. I headed out to find her and rushed all the way to her house to find out what was happening. I reasoned that she might have been late because she may have been having a serious talk with her guardians, but..." she trails off, and starts fidgeting with her fingers.

The two men did nothing but stare at her. They didn't know how to approach or console her, so all they could do was listen. She must have suffered a great deal from the memories, and she must have valued and treasured her friendship with Touka that much.

"The front door was left unlocked and nobody came to answer when I knocked on it. Everything was the same when I went in; nothing had changed other than the fact that she and her guardians had vanished. It seemed as though they simply departed the house without a second thought."

"And that was the last time you'd ever seen her?" asks Kaneki in a quiet voice.

"Yes," Yoriko nods slowly, running her hand through her hair. "I haven't seen her since... Are you going to tell me why you're hunting for her?"

The two men exchange glances before the blond nods to his companion, and Kaneki sighs heavily before turning to face the woman. "We believe that Kaiko is somehow connected to her mother's murder, her father's suicide, as well as her and the guardians' disappearance."

Yoriko raises an eyebrow. "How?"

"Hikari and Kaiko's victims died-well, killed in the same method, then it is possible," answers Hide.

"I don't understand how you came to that conclusion," adds Yoriko, picking up Hikari's document. "In this passage, it is stated that the crime scene had nothing connected to Kaiko, and her husband's death was determined to be a suicide. Secondly, this all happened years ago; why would you dig this out now?"

The white-haired male swallows the lump in his throat as he muses on how he would tell the woman that her friend was still alive and on the run.

"Yoriko-chan..." hesitates Kaneki. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your friend, Touka-chan, is still alive. She has been sighted by us within this city."

Yoriko takes a sharp gasp. "You mean... that she left Spain to come back to live here? But then, how do you know that the woman you are referring to and Touka-chan are the same person?"

"We don't know anything about that," adds Hide, "But all I know about her is that she has short and dark hair. I've only ever seen her once, and Kaneki has seen her a few times in locations where we were looking into Kaiko. We suspect it might have anything to do with her mother's murder because she seems to be monitoring him for some reason."

They could both see the anguish Kosaka was experiencing in her eyes and in the way she was tightening her hands. Her brows were creased, and her jaw was fixed firmly in place. She felt betrayed by her friend since she had believed that they would always be friends and that their commitments to stay close had been broken. Even though she was in the same city, she never went to speak to her or even let her know that she was at least still alive.

"If-if it has something to do with the case," starts Yoriko, her voice quavering, "then I should tell you a little bit about her."

That appears to have piqued their interest, as they sit still and stare at her with threatening intensity.

"After over a year of not hearing from her, I went home one day after school and found something in the mail. You remember how I said she was a shy girl who also detested pictures of her?"

The two nods, and Kosaka takes a deep breath before continuing, "Well, at that point, I knew she was still alive because I received a small package containing a single photo of her and me smiling together taken from her phone. There was a short message written by her at the back of the picture, saying she was very sorry, that she missed me every single day, and that she hoped we'd meet again one day to fulfill our dreams together."

"So, if she had the time to send you a picture, it means that she hadn't been taken by anyone that day," comments Hide. "If you ask me, I believe she was on the run from someone when she abruptly decided to abandon everything behind."

"Despite her frigid demeanor, Touka-chan was the kindest girl I'd ever met," mutters Yoriko more to herself. "I find it hard to believe that she was associated with some criminals, let alone sought out the most dangerous one we know about."

"She's not all that she seems to be," replies Kaneki. "She's certainly not the same girl you knew back then."

He hears Hide's taunting chuckle and gives him a blank stare, resulting in his best friend smirking smugly at him.

"Obviously, very different," drawls Hide, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back on his chair.

Yoriko seems to be saddened by the words, as she bites her bottom lip and looks away. She seemed to care profoundly for her best friend, despite the fact that she hadn't seen her since she was seventeen, and Kaneki thinks that the mysterious woman, Touka, certainly left a long-lasting influence on everyone she met in her life.

"Hey, Yoriko-chan," the white-haired agent calls out, suddenly remembering something. "What about the people she lived with? You mentioned that she had two guardians. Can you tell us anything about them? Maybe it'll help us."

"Sure," she bobs her head. "I didn't see them very often when I visited their house, but she said that they were also working on a coffee shop—a different one than Touka-chan had worked on, and I remember the older woman being quiet and reserved yet friendly, and the older man being courteous and fun. And Touka-chan adored both of them."

"What was their names?" inquires Hide.

"Irimi and Koma...was it? I don't really remember their full names," mutters Yoriko more to herself than to them. "They were close family friends, she told me."

Kaneki furrows his eyebrows; a lot of things are starting to make sense. If the two guardians were family friends, they were undoubtedly notified soon after Hikari died unexpectedly, and they responded quickly to take her children out of Tokyo. On the flip side, the father's willingness to spend such a long time apart from his kids would indicate that the two siblings were in grave danger. It didn't, however, explain why he would take his own life.

"Yoriko-chan, you really are a blessing," Kaneki tells her with a big smile. "You've brought us great enlightenment."

She sighs, obviously exhausted from their conversation. "I only hope you people are right and that the person you saw was her. The Touka-chan I know is not a horrible person. Whatever she is doing right now, there must be a valid justification for that."

Kaneki honestly believed that something was devouring the dark-haired woman's mind and sanity after he felt her cry on his shoulder the other night. That woman had motives close to her heart, and if she was willing to put her life on the line to go after someone as dangerous as Kaiko, that meant that she probably had nothing to lose at this point.

"We'll try our best," replies Kaneki somberly, a determined look on his face.

She smiles widely at him. "Thank-"

"Kosaka, you've been here for ages," interjects Kuroiwa's voice, who was suddenly entering the office. "So, what's the deal with -"

When Takeomi notices Yoriko's teary eyes and her unsteady frame, his eyes widen and he interrupts himself. Under the shocked looks of Kaneki and Hide, he moves in front of her in just two steps, grasping her shoulders and gazing into her eyes.

"Are you okay, Yoriko? What happened?" he asks, slightly panicky, before looking at the other occupants of the room. "What happened?"

Before the two perplexed agents had a chance to respond, Yoriko shakes her head and murmurs, "It was nothing... We were just talking about something that brought back old memories, it's nothing bad."

She smiles up at him reassuringly, and his gaze instantly softens, as they stare into each other's eyes. It was a few seconds before a cough brings them out of their daze, as they had completely forgotten that an uncomfortable Kaneki and a smug Hide were also in the room with them.

"Saiko-chan would have had a field day if she had seen the little exchange we just witnessed," comments the blond man. "If that wasn't unbearably mushy, I don't know what it was."

Kuroiwa was just staring at him with a blank face while the woman blushed to the roots of her hair.

The expressionless man clears his throat and straightens up, letting go of the hazel-haired woman. "You all better go back to work, before Akira-san catches you slacking off." And with that, he walks out.

"You shouldn't tease him so much," reprimands Yoriko. "Leave the poor man alone."

"Come on," whines Hide. "It's all in good fun."

She simply shakes her head, a slight smile on her lips, and the two agents are relieved to see her back to herself. "Good luck with the investigation, and feel free to contact me at any time if you need further information regarding Touka-chan."

"We'll do," replies Hide, smiling at her with gratitude before she makes her way out of the office.

"Oh, and Yoriko-chan?" Kaneki calls back, and she comes to a halt, turning her head around and raising an eyebrow at him. "Do you think I could borrow that picture to verify that it's really her?"

Yoriko nods before her eyes turn serious. "I'll give it to you, but I expect you to take care of it. It's the only memento I have of her."

The white-haired agent gives a sincere smile. "Will do."

She smiles and departs the room, and Kaneki returns to his screen, deep in contemplation. When he thought he had unraveled the mystery of that heiress, Yoriko dropped a series of bombs on them, further complicating matters.

He had managed to figure out that she was running away from something, and that something was probably related to Kaiko. So why would she return to her hometown, where he had a base of operations and where it would be tenfold easier for whoever she appeared to be escaping from to find her? And why exactly, as well as by whom, had her mother been murdered? And that wasn't even taking into account the fact that her father committed suicide as soon as his wife was snatched away from them and his businesses began losing money rather than making a profit.

The whole thing was giving the white-haired agent a headache, but he was determined to learn the crucial information if it would enable him to put the dangerous man in jail, and he was confident that she would somehow aid them in doing that.

"You know," starts the man next to him, "when you finally succeeded in getting involved with a woman, it had to be someone more complex than the cases we handle."

"Trust me, it's a lot for me to process as well," mutters Kaneki. "These files probably won't reveal any additional information, so we should gather everything and take it back to the archive room," he adds.

"Ugh," moans the other man, putting his forehead on his desk. "Can't we just leave them be for the time being? We can pick them up tomorrow since the day is nearly over."

Kaneki pats him on the back before getting up from his seat. "Do you really want Akira-san to find out that we didn't file our reports?"

That seems to persuade his partner, who jumps to life and rushes up from his chair, quickly picking up the few folders around him. "Absolutely not, let's get back to work."

Kaneki chuckles, shaking his head before organizing the files back into their respective boxes.

"We still need to discuss our findings with our squad leader," adds Hide. "We can't just go after that woman without first informing Akira-san; she is, after all, our superior."

"How about we tell her if we see Touka-chan again?" suggests Kaneki. "It's not worth worrying Akira-san about if she drops her involvement in this case."

"Good point," replies the other man. "Now let's finish this before she comes back."

At the end of the day, after the two had only just finished their reports and had landed on her desk, Mado still reprimanded them and delivered her infamous punch.

_________________________________________

A certain woman approaches the shady club with her heels clicking on the pavement, shivering from the cold touching her bare legs. Her uncovered eye gleams slyly, and a broad smile spans her face.

She comes to a halt, leaning against a tree to grab her hair and put it into a lower bun, her bangs still falling on her left eye. She checks her gun at her side to ensure she has enough bullets in case she needs them. She adjusts the realistic silicone skin around her hands and arms so that no evidence is left behind, as she sighs to herself and casts her eyes heavenward. The sun was setting, and darkness would soon descend on Tokyo's streets. That's when the V would start to fill up.

When she heard about the prostitution going on at the nightclub, she became interested. Finding a battered and crying Hinami had been entirely by chance, and seeing the sadness in her eyes had only convinced her to put an end to it once and for all. The brown-haired girl gave her all the information she needed about the prostitution ring and the V nightclub being one of the bases used for the sex-trade where her late mother, Ryouko, used to work behind closed doors.

As the sun is setting and more and more people enter the club, she sits down under the shade of the tree, hidden from anyone who might pass through. She huffs in disgust as she sees numerous people in high positions passing through the entrance. Money could buy you anything, including young, attractive women. The majority of these men were married, older, and bald. They were probably bored and seeking some sort of adventure, even if it meant destroying the lives of numerous defenseless young women.

Or even break their sons' and daughters' trust and hearts.

Her lips extend into a full smirk when she notices that there are more guards outside than usual, evidence of the activities that will take place that night. It was the ideal opportunity to look for what she was looking for.

She eventually grabs a cigarette from a pack she always carried with her, lights it, and puts it between her lips for a long drag out of boredom. She isn't a chain smoker; in fact, she hates the cancer stick, but occasionally it makes her feel less anxious.

When her wrist watch finally strikes eleven o'clock, she pulls out the burner phone from her pocket and quickly dials the number that will assist her in her exploration. She only needs to hold the phone to her ear for a few seconds before someone picks it up.

"Hello, good evening. This is Tokyo's Federal Bureau of Investigation, how can I help you?"

"Hello," she replies in a low and husky tone to cover her natural voice. "I've got an intriguing lead for you regarding Kaiko..."

#touken #kanetou #kirishima touka #touka kirishima #kaneki ken #ken kaneki #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re #endless pit #my writing

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mishasminions · 4 years

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The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15.

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

#THE LAST TIME I'LL CLOWN FOR THIS SHOW #SUPERNATURAL #DESTIEL #15x20 #15x19 #15x18 #UNTAGGED #INSIGHTFUL INSIGHTS

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 2 years

Text

Challenge Accepted

-Part 1

Pairings:Suna x Fem!reader

Warnings:Robbery, Cursing, Punching, Violence, Etc

Summary:Being a spy for an underground organization is a tough nut to crack, let alone being one the best spies, and youre enjoying every second of it. However, things change when you bump into Rintarou Suna, also one of the bests but from your rival organization, during an important mission.

Word Count:1.4K

A/n:English isn't my main language so sorry if theres any mistakes in the following text.

This is just the beginning...

MasterList ⇝ Part 2

"Oikawa! I said point the fucking flash light on my hand, not on my eyes! I cant see shit like this!"

When people hear the word "Spy", many things come to their minds. Going to difficult missions pretending to be someone you're not, knowing how to handle a fight when things get ugly and having professional acting skills. These were the terms that could describe a spy, or a good one at least; but a spy's job is to go undercover and gain important information that nobody else has the balls to get their hands on, not to go rob rich ass bastard's Coffer.

Which was the reason why you and your partner Oikawa, one of the best spies of the Organization, were in this mess.

"Chill out, Girl! Youre not cleaving an atom, you know"

Oikawa was a good spy, even more experienced than you; which explained why he was so popular among the other members, Though his good looking face and cheeky manners werent exactly ineffective in the case. But the boss also trusted him, and that was surely not because of his handsomeness or charm.

Oikawa was good, but he always turned into a fucking moron when he wasn't interested in the job, and unfortunately, the "job" was not exactly killer everytime he got paired up with you.

"Wanna unlock in yourself, then?"

"My sincerest apologies, My lady; where did you want me to lighten up again?"

Oikawa was many things, and "A best partner" was definitely one of them. not because of how helpful he was during the mission, you prefered doing things on your own anyway; but because he could make you laugh at shitty moments, like this one.

"Clown"

You chuckled, stuck your ear to the iron wall of the Coffer while spinning the combination lock, carefully listening to see if you could hear a particular "Tik" and then end this nightmare, but unfortunately, today was definitely not your day.

"You're hurting my feelings, Y/n Chan! That's so cruel!"

"Im sorry. You happy? Now shut your mouth so I can open this damn thing and get this shit over with"

Maybe it really wasn't easy for him to be serious at this moment. Oikawa was in charge of tricky missions, he had even dealed with the president's security gaurd once, so it was natural for him not to give a shit about this mission. You weren't exactly happy either, this was most certainly not the reason why you got up at 4am, wearing tight black sheath. That was why you wanted to end this mission so badly, but Oikawa being a dumbass was clearly not helpful at all.

Though the mood lightened up a bit when you finally heard the Coffer's door getting unlocked.

"Oh, thank god! C'mon! Grab the files and lets get the fuck out of here!"

Oikawa chuckled, bending over to grab the black bag he had brought with himself, until you heard quiet, careful footsteps that surely did not belong to any of you.

"Oiks, someone's coming!"

"Say less"

If you were in any other circumstance you could easily just beat the shit out of the interrupter, but the boss specifically ordered you to do this mission quietly. No fuss, no fights, only clean work.

You and Oikawa were already hiding out somewhere in the corner of the office when a short, weird looking guy stepped inside. But it wasn't his looks that appeared to be weird;

it was the fact that he didn't even bother to turn on the lights. He just carefully looked around, shone the flash light he was holding around the room, and quickly went for the money in the Coffer you suffered to unlock with so much pain.

Weird.

If he was the building's security gaurd or something, then why the hell was he acting like this?

"Are you thinking what i'm thinking?"

"Yup"

Well, the night was finally getting interesting.

"On three. One...Two...Three!"

you both got up at the same time and went behind the man, who was too busy packing the money in Oikawa's bag for himself that he didn't even seem to notice you two.

Oikawa let out a nervy chuckle as he hit the guy in the arm.

"Hey! The hell do you think you're doing?"

Thankfully the room was dark, so the man couldn't see the way you were both dressed; or else he wouldn't have thought of you as the building's owners.

"I-Im sorry! P-Please forgive me! I promise i won't ever go stealing again!"

"You think it's that easy? So a pitiful scumbag like you dares to attempt on stealing my money? MY MONEY?"

you smiled at the sight and snatched the bag from the man. It was obvious that Oikawa was enjoying himself. Anyone could tell that from the smug look on his face.

"I won't ever do it again! Please have mercy on me this time! I dont wanna go to jail!"

The man was shaking in fear. He was on his knees, practically begging him to let him get away. It wasn't exactly a pleasant scene, since you were not really different from him tonight.

"Well, you should have thought about that before getting your hands on my belongings"

"Let him go. It's not worth it"

Oikawa showed you a devilish look before turning his head back to the man, and grabbed his collar.

"How about i teach you a lesson instead of turning you in to the cops, hm?"

"Seriously, leave him alone. We're gonna be late"

"Fine! party pooper"

"Are these the files?"

The boss carefully grabbed the papers and looked through them. They didn't look really interesting, but it seemed like he had a different opinion.

"Yes sir, these were all that were in the Coffer"

"Hm...interseting"

"And which part is exactly "Interesting"? cause I seem to be failing to notice" Oikawa mumbled while looking through his phone. He had the fun he wanted with that man, but he wasn't completely satisfied with the results.

"Well it is interesting, but the rest of the mission doesn't concern you. Only her" The boss put the papers down and smiled at your surprised reaction. You sure did not see this coming, but was really curious now that it seemed like an important job.

Oikawa shared a glance between you two before pouting and whining like a big baby. "What do you mean this doesn't concern me? She and I are together in this!"

"No you're not. You were just nagging in my ear, telling me to give you a real mission next time!"

You giggled and tried to reach the files while observing the bosses action, and when he blinked meaning that it was ok for you to touch the case, you started reading the file out loud.

"The giant atomic bomb...project?"

"Yup. That's what all this is about" The boss was now wearing a serious look, trying to choose his next words carefully.

Well,You sure did not expected this.

"Ok...so,what does it have to do with us? It says here that it's worth millions of Dollars!"

"That is why we need to get our hands on it"

The smirk that appeared on your face was definitely the sign of satisfaction. This was kinda like the robbery you did a while ago, only bigger.

Much bigger, much better, and undeniably much funner.

You didn't particulary cared about the money, but the work was absolutely going to be Challenging.

Who were you to turn down such a big opportunity to have some fun? Maybe you could break some noses, smash a few heads and kick some balls while you were at it.

"But you gotta be careful, cause obviously, we aren't the only people who have their eyes on this treasure. Other organizations are probably going to poke their nose into this mission, that's why i need you to be very careful. Oikawa is a known agent, but since you started working here a few month ago and were able to keep your cover, nobody knows about your identity and your fighting skills and instinct are definitely different from a rookie's; Therefore, you're our best choice. So, can i trust you, Agent Y/n L/n?"

Your lips curled into a wide smile as you turned your head up, just to see the same look on your bosses face. He knew your answer beforehand, but clearly there was something enjoyable about it coming from your own mouth.

"You can count on me, Sir"

To be Continued...

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imatechbummerliketomholland · 3 years

Text

I wish this trip never ends (sstbthw part 2) - h.h

Word count: 3768

Warning: angst, swear, mention of smoking

Pairing : harry holland

Request: no.

N/A: okay, i took me almost a whole month to write this but i'm kinda need to work on school too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really tried my best. I asked you who the reader was supposed to end up with ... I'll let you figure it out but ... don't hate me for the end ... because after all ... it might not be the end. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

taglist : @angeliquekalampoka , @harryhollandsgirlfriend (the one and only harry holland's girlfriend to me)

ღღღ

previously - and you can find part 3

Restoring a relationship of trust and regaining the bond that you both had was particularly difficult. You had to learn to find your place in Harrison's life, but also in his relationship with Grace. You were roommates and friends, but it was complicated to plan meetings with Harrison's busy schedule. Between his job search after the cancellation of his Netflix series, his photo shoots, his dates with Grace, those with his family. It was getting harder and harder to find a moment to reunite with the two of you. It was without counting your schedule.

You were supposed to meet at noon for lunch at that restaurant Harrison told you about where he took his mother earlier this year, for Mother's Day. You felt uncomfortable going to such a place. It was very fancy; you had taken a look at the menu and you knew in advance that you would not be able to afford to split the bill. That was sometimes one of the downsides of being friends with Tom and Harrison. They sometimes forgot that their salary was significantly higher than yours. After all, they were still simple, good-natured guys, never saying no to a quick takeout meal or ordering pizza, drinking a beer at the local pub. And sometimes, they offered to go to prestigious places, not paying attention to money, wanting to please their friends or family.

Currently you were in your room. You were throwing countless of clothes across the room, trying to choose what you could wear to this lunch. Harry stopped dead when one of your dresses flew out of your room, right in front of his nose, blocking his way. You had left your door open and your spontaneity got the better of your best friend.

“Easy, Tiger. I had no idea your clothes had the capacity of Dr. Strange's cape.” He joked before coming into your bedroom.

You turned to find Harry leaning against your doorframe, a smirk encrusted on his face. You gave him an unamused frown and his smile widened. This wasn’t funny at all; you were stressed as hell. It’s not like you still had feelings for Harrison and try to impress him – to be honest, you still had feeling for your friend, but not as intense as before, you had drawn a definitive line on the possibility of a romantic relationship with him, which had helped you a lot. – But you didn’t want to be dressed down and looked like a clown.

“Come on Munchkin, it’s just a lunch. At worst, Harrison can still make it looks like he invited you out for charity, sort of “Make a Wish” event” Harry joked, in his significant humor.

“Go to hell, Robert. Don’t you have a pack bag to make, mister “I’m going to Spain to help my superstar brother to hold his tea while he’s filming”?”

“Rude… I’m a film director, now”

Not for that, you thought to yourself, but don't have the balls to tell your best friend. You didn't want to take this joke too far. You smiled at his cute pretending offended face. You pouted mockingly before biting your lip. You loved the dynamics of your relationship so much. Your humor, sarcasm, your outspokenness, that's what brought you together. Harry pulled you lightly from your closet with a comforting wink. He chose Yves Saint Laurent poppy red wool jersey flared pants that Tom gave you on your birthday. You smiled at his choice. You liked these pair of pants because they were sparkling with vitality, the color was flamboyant. Harry then gave you a satin pearl-colored shirt from Zara and you laughed at the drastic brand difference.

“Oh I see. A classy look but no more than £ 1000 that's pretty smart,” you joked.

The choice of your outfit once again proved the reality of hanging out with wealthy people. You were not poor; you could even be grateful for the life you had had. But it would never occur to you to give your friends clothes that were going over the miles and cents. To be honest, you wanted it. You wanted to live up to the gifts your friends sometimes gave you. But the truth seemed quite different: you had cried over the price of a used Rolex you wanted to give Tom for his birthday. Even having saved for 6 months, you could not afford such a gift.

“Shut up, don’t be so dramatic. Wear that necklace Harrison gave you for Christmas. I’m sure you’ll look fine”

“Thank you,Baz…I guess. ”

You kissed his cheek and then invited him out of your room so you could get ready. It didn't take you more than thirty minutes, time to put on the outfit your best friend had chosen and to put on light makeup. When you were finally ready, you walked to Tom's room. He had offered to take you to the restaurant where you were to join Harrison. But when you got to his ajar door, you could hear the soft sound of a slight snoring. You let out a chuckle before ordering an Uber. You knew he had spent almost a full month in Los Angeles and hadn't returned until early last week. You wanted to leave him as much as possible alone so that he could rest before his trip to Spain for the reshoots of his film Uncharted. Tom was a boy who loved being in touch with those close to him, but you also felt his need to recharge his batteries. That's why you preferred to let him sleep.

You went down to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water before leaving. When your Uber arrived, you left a note on the refrigerator to let the boys know you were safely gone. It was little everyday things that made you look normal that you enjoy. A post-it on the fridge, a table organizing household chores had been drawn up. Note to yourself; It was Harrison's turn to take care of the laundry.

☙♡❧

You had really hoped this was just a grotesque nightmare. That it wasn't real. He was going to arrive; he was just stuck into the traffic. Isn't it?

But you were there, waiting for over an hour and a half, without any news from your friend. Some people watched you with pity eyes, the others didn't give you any attention. You internally thank Harry for choosing your outfit. You didn't look like a lost kitten in this prestigious setting. It didn't prevent you from being ashamed right now. The waiter had urged you to order several times but you had told him that you were expecting someone, that he would arrive any minute. The last time, you didn't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But it never happened. Harrison never came to your dinner. You were alone, sitting at a table, pathetically waiting for your friend to show up. It didn't look like him. He had never stand you up before. And not to improve this embarrassing moment, the waiter came to you again. This time, with a man in a suit. He was elegant, carried himself proud but diplomatic. They stopped at your table, a tight smile on their faces. No doubt the man in the suit was to be the manager.

"Miss, my employee told me that you seemed to have occupied this table for a while now. I am sorry to tell you that if you do not order a few things, you will have to leave the establishment"

You looked at him with misty eyes. You have never been so ashamed in your life. You just nod your head, not trusting your voice just yet. After taking a deep breath, you finally apologize to them before telling them that you are going to leave. The manager of the restaurant, out of politeness awkwardly apologizing for this uncomfortable situation.

You've finished the Dry Martini that you allowed yourself to, paying for it with whatever pride you have left. You pulled your cellphone out of your purse and decided to call one of the boys. After three rings, he picked up.

"Hey ... can you please pick me up?"

Your voice was shaky, you were so ashamed but it was less distressing than having to walk the Walk of Shame to your house or cry in an uber. You hung up and shared your location. You left the lobby, leaving the restaurant, standing in front of the entrance to the establishment. The air refreshed your cheeks burning with shame. Luckily it wasn't raining today. Which was pretty nice compared to that early summer you had had.

When you saw Harry's car pulled up in front of you, you slid into the passenger seat without a word. The curly redhead gave you a heartwarming smile but you definitely could see a spark of annoyance in his eyes. You sigh, resigned while shrugging your shoulders. It was obvious that your friendship with Harrison was still shaky.

"I'm sorry, love. He's a jerk about it."

Coincidentally, like a mitigating circumstance, your phone vibrated, receiving a notification from Harrison. You were chewing your lip with a sort of anguish and irritation, watching the message the blond had sent you.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. My agent called me for a pretty urgent casting briefing. She's detained me until now. Are you still okay for this dinner?"

You were angry. You were mature enough and had known the boys long enough to understand their obligations. The fact that Harrison had a lastminute meeting with his agent and missed your dinner wasn't a problem. The problem was, he made you wait for over an hour and a half before notifying you. You wanted him to call you to let you know, or a simple text just after he knew for the meeting. You typed a short answer, shorter than this was impossible. "No". You rested your head against the headrest, turning your gaze to your best friend.

"Hey, he's a Netflix star now" you replied to his last words.

Your voice cracked on the last syllables and your eyes filled with tears. You weren't usually that emotional but the anguish and shame really took over you. Harry noticed, unsure of how to instantly respond to your distress. He would have liked to stop on an emergency lane to take you in his arms but he already had 2 penalties to pay, respectively for speeding and prohibited parking ... a third fine would not be really welcome. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, drawing circles on your pants to comfort you. He simply moved his hand to shift gears and instantly rested it on your leg whenever he had the chance. This gesture soothed you, enjoying the touch, grateful to have someone as your best friend to mop up your pain.

☙♡❧

Arriving at the apartment, no sign of Harrison. When you walked in the kitchen, you saw Tom sitting at the counter, scrolling his phone. He looked up at you, not directly noticing your annoyed expression.

"Wow..you're ... gorgeous. I love these pants on you"

You smiled, a little amused by the compliment. Of course he loved the pants, it was a gift from him. But your smile didn’t reach your eyes. With a look on your expression then on the clock, the actor understood that something went wrong. Harry was right behind and still no trace of Harrison. It was suspicious. Tom gave you a worried look.

"Do I have to ask…Never mind, I’m still going to ask. How was lunch with Harrison?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him? Oh wait... right, he didn't show up" you said sarcastically although you could hear the hurt in your voice.

Tom frowned, biting the inside of his lower lip in annoyance. Harrison was his best mate since forever and he knew him so well. It seemed strange from Harrison to not show up. The blond has told him he was happy to see you again and walking through this whole awkward “feeling situation” because he didn’t want to lose you. In a quick movement, he rose from his stool to walk around the counter. The next second, he took you in his comforting arms and you finally let yourself go under the sight of the two Holland brothers.

“It seems like you need a break of all this shit” Tom said while he ran his fingers through your hair.

You let a little laugh escape through your tears. He wasn't wrong. You really needed to get away from this whole situation for a moment. But how? Harry watched the scene unsure of what to do. You were his best friend and it seemed like the solace you found was never in his arms. He had tried in the car, however, as best he could. He walked over to the counter to make you both a cup of tea. It seems that as cliché as it sounds, tea comforts you, as the English person you used to be. As the redhead waited patiently for the water to boil, a flash of genius - according to him - crossed the glare of his eyes.

“Why doen't she come with us to Spain?”

His brother's words seemed to suit Tom, who released his hold on you. You opened your eyes wide, not sure of what you had just heard. Go to Spain, with them? Once again, you knew you were going to argue on this proposition. The idea was not bad, Spain seemed a rather pleasant country. But you had just graduated and had a student job to save as much as possible. However, you could not afford to leave for several days in Spain, at the last minute. Plus, what were you going to do while Tom was filming and Harry was assisting him? He was sure the film's production crew wasn't going to give you a pass because Tom had decided.

“Yeah! That’s it, you’re coming with us”

“Tom, I have a student job. I can’t just…decide to go to Spain.”

“You never take a leave, come on. It’s not negotiable”

You were looking at Harry for help but he just shrugged. After all, he was the one who had initiated the idea of including you on the trip. You were trying to find a valid excuse to stay home. You really didn't want to impose yourself.

“I can’t afford that” you said, trying your best to convince him to quit the idea.

“I don’t care, it’s not even a problem. You coming to Spain with us.”

"Omg, does Z dominate you in bed to make you so bossy in life?"

Harry almost spitted his tea and laughed out loud while Tom gave you shocked eyes with pinky cheeks. You had always been sassy but hanging out with the boys had made you even more sassy than ever. How many times haven't you heard Tuwaine or Harry make fun of Harrison or Tom on the sex subject? Being a girl seemed to make you an untouchable character. The boys had never teased you about your relationships or your sexual partners. And while you've always had feelings for Harrison, you've had your own experiences. Anyway, you had just gone with the flow and Tom's brand-new romantic relationship with his co-star gave you the perfect opportunity.

“That's not the point.” stammered the actor.

Your smile widened, proud of your joke and the way Tom reacted. You heard Harry clear his throat. He had his phone in his hand and his own smile didn't bode well for you.

"The production is okay but it's at Tom's expense."

“You got to be kidding me…”

☙♡❧

You ended up in Spain with two of your best friends. You knew you had limited time before Tom had to fly back to Los Angeles for some Spider-man: No Way Home reshoots. So, you enjoyed as much as possible: accompanying the boys to the golf course - even though you weren't very involved in the sport -, spending time to visit touristic places when they were on set, talking with Rachael and other people from the set. You really enjoyed your trip.

On Wednesday evening you went out to a restaurant with Tom, Harry and two other friends/tom’s colleagues. You couldn't deny that it was fun. You had the opportunity to sunbathe a little while walking through the streets of Madrid. Spain was doing you good and not once did you think about your wobbly friendship with Harrison. You've just left the restaurant when a few fans politely show up to take pictures with Tom. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of how kind Tom had always taken in a few snaps when his fans approached him respectfully - and there weren't too many of them -. You sighed with pleasure before stepping away from the group. You leaned against a wall and took out the packet of cigarettes that Tom had asked you to keep in your clutch bag. Being an occasional smoker, he wouldn't blame you if you took one from him. You tilted your head back to admire the dark starry night when you felt a presence by your side. You narrowed your eyes in mischief as you looked sideways: Harry was there, his nose wrinkled from your cigarette. He didn't like it too much Silence filled your bubble despite the hubbub outside. You were in public and it was not surprising to meet travelers and Madrid residents mingling with the crowd to enjoy this pleasant evening.

"I wish this trip never ends." You finally said, breaking the silence.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he was just looking at you. You were a little tanned, the Madrid sun had done wonders on you; your loose hair framed your face and the summer dress you had chosen for the restaurant looked great on you: It was a short red floral summer dress with a shingle collar. Light enough to keep you from suffocating but decent to wear on any casual occasion. You were beautiful, stunning. His heart exploded at the sight of you, so much that it hurt a few times.

"I wish I had been there for you more." he finally confessed

You finally turned your head towards him and shrug your shoulders, smiling shyly but sincerely.

“You were working, Baz”

“I meant…not only here in Spain. I’m sorry to have let you down recently”

You give him a confused look. He hadn't been a bad friend but he kept implying it. You just shook your head negatively to brush his words away. Harry had always been important to you. He had been the first to step towards you. It was him who introduced you to the rest of the gang. He had always been concerned about you.

The night you met, you immediately clicked up with him. And to be honest, for a moment, you thought he liked you that night. But he never took that step towards you and you never did either. You dreaded that if you kissed him, he would think you were interested in his notoriety by proxy. So you just acted like any reasonable person would - accept the status he gave you. And the second time he asked you to join him with his brother and his friends, you met Harrison and your heart exploded.

"I'm glad you brought me here"

“I'm happy you accepted to come.”

“I didn't really have the choice, Baz” you joked.

He laughed slightly. You weren't wrong, he and Tom had practically dragged you onto the plane, leaving you no choice to be by their side. But you could only thank them, especially Harry who had the idea. You took another hit on your cigarette before leaning back to check out where Tom was with his fans. He seemed to be talking with the girls and didn't seem overwhelmed. So, you didn't want to interrupt him and were just going to wait for him to finish. Harry played with his hands nervously, looking straight ahead and then at you. He seemed to be repeating this game for several seconds before finally asking the question that was in his mind.

“Have you heard from Harrison?” Harry asked quite casually

“He sent me several texts to apologize and wished me to have a good time in Madrid.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

You swallow hard before looking at him. There was an indecipherable glint in his eyes and you weren't sure what to make of it. You drew another puff from your cigarette, maybe that would save you from entering this conversation. But Harry's presence was all around you and you couldn't really escape. So you've decided to be honest.

“It’s complicated. I suppose so...”

“Mhmm”

“But my friendship with Haz is important, I don't want to lose him because of it.”

“Yeah, you can't imagine how well I understand you” he sighed

“What do you mean? Who’s the lucky girl..or guy ?”

Harry turned to you frankly and you did the same, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette. You are well aware that the conversation was taking a more serious turn. He moistened his lips and walked over to you. Harry was full of things: he was full-loving, sarcastic, talented, daring, impertinent. But Harry was mostly awkward when it came to love. Not just an attraction, no, love with real feeling. Delicately, hesitantly, he reached out to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers, cautiously. You were frozen, your eyes fixed on him admiring his audacity.

"She's the most beautiful girl I ever seen." he said with a small smile.

Harry walked over to you and your heart was pounding at breakneck speed. Harry had ... feelings for you? You were really confused. Since when had he developed his feelings? Why didn't he tell you about it? Why hadn't he tried anything so far? So, were you right from the start? Was there a tension between you since the beginning of your friendship, since your met? But above all, did you want him to take that step? Instinctively, your body responded. You parted your lips and closed your eyes. You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your cheek and were waiting for the touch of his lips. But it never happened.

"Hey baz, y/n..we're going back to the hotel" Tom said, taking his eyes off his phone. "I…Mhmm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland fic #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #tom holland

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years

Text

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #x reader #the duke

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ilyalljasonsandnon-jasonsthesame · 2 years

Text

Young Justice season 4

Ep 1

HARPER!!! <333

WHO TF IS THAT GIRL???

Idk if I like her sister

Probably evil

Shit. That ring again

BAHAHAHA just imagine her going to Luthor for his blessing

Ok, I think she's good

Ok, these guys are really starting to get on my nerves

Shit

I actually don't know what to say to all this

YOU TELL HIM GAR!!!

This is a mess

MOTHERFUCKING SHIT

NO WAY

NO FUCKING WAY

Ep 2

Shit

Ok, I see his point

Yeah, they definitely aren't parents of the year

I guess he's just one of those sympathetic villians

Like, he has a good point, but that's just not how you do it

But I guess it depends on whether you believe the end justifies the means or not

And plus, he's relatable. It's really easy to see where he's coming from and ig in his mind he thinks he's doing the right thing

In my opinion, terrorism is not the way

But hey, he's a victim of the circumstances, if the whole world turns against you, I can't blame you for hating it

He's the result of intolerance. Society's fault. That wouldn't have happened if they weren't a bunch of scumbags

Tbh, I'm not sure I can blame him for doing what he's doing

I don't trust them

Ok, well, now THAT'S crossing a big ass line my dude

Killing everyone DEFINITELY isn't it

I get you, but you're wrong. Horribly wrong

Ep 3

Is he dreaming?

Oh, a flashback

Look, idk what her sister's deal is but I'm not sure I like it

Oh dear

It's so sad that the siblings are blaming each other when the ones that should've protected them were their parents

Oh god. There's a lot to unpack here

Ok, I think they're good

Ep 4

LOOK DARLING, IT'S GREAT THAT YOU'RE SORRY YOU WEREN'T THERE FOR YOUR SIS BUT THE ONES TO BLAME THERE ARE YOUR PARENTS, THEY WERE THE ADULTS

I was not expecting that

I hate that fucking guy

LORD NO

It's fake

He'll come back

Ep 5

The title sounds promising

Shit

Damn

:(((((

Ok, crying again

Ahhh shit

WAIT

JASON MAY BE THERE!!!!!!

Who's that guy? I def not like him

Oh, it's a girl

I don't trust any of them

DAMIAN <3333333

AND JASON!!!!! <3333333333333

JASON

I NEED BIGGER CAPS

Exactly, I say out with them both

Let him have some property damage, as a treat

This is staged, tho

I LOVE YOU STEPH

EXACTLY!!!! CASS YOU'RE SO SMART

Look, as much as we all hate to admit it, we NEED the bats. They're a blessing and a curse

WTF, ARTEMIS???

This is gonna end bad, I just know it

I hate sportsmaster so damn much

Great episode 10000000/10

Ep 6

:(((

Hmmmmm which cassandra? I wonder

At this point, I trust CS more than Onyx

There's just something off about her

But I still don't trust CS

Fucking shit

Shade is so fucking hot

Ep 7

Man....

Shit

Jay

You don't deserve anyone's respect, you sorry excuse for a clown

BAHAHAHAGAUQBAUA YOU WERE PLAYEDDDD

SHUT THE FUCK UP

🤡🤡🤡

I KNEW IT

I TOLD YOU IT WAS ONYX

Shit

OH MY GOD

Dear lord

Ok, well, that's a change

Wow

This is so damn good

Ep 8

:((((

He's super hot lurking in the shadows like that

Dude... :(((((

Believe me, explaining a loved one passed away to a child is just awful

YOU GO SHADE!!! <333

OMFG

OH DEAR

OH LORD

Shit

OMFG, THEY ARE GOING TO INFINITY ISLAND

JASON IS THERE

BARBARA IS WATCHING

PLEASE

I don't trust him

Ep 9

I love Klarion <3333

Tawny <3333

Dude.... they should really send Gar to Dinah

Ep 10

I don't like that girlie

YOU GO KLARION <33333

He said yikes 😭😭😭

Ep 11

Klarion is just neat

GOD

YOU LITTLE B*

SHE DID NOT

BRING HIM BACK

BRING HIM BACK IMMEDIATELY

Ep 13

Someone should really help Gar

Look, how bad can he be if he loves cats???

I'm telling you, he gives me gender envy

OMG

Well, I told you he'd be back

Ep 14

Ohhhh shit, I think I know where he is

Omg, poly?

??????

Ep 15

Isn't she the girl with the ring????

They're bad, I can tell

Oh, they're those dubious guys

That fight was staged and the guy who "helped" them is actually helping Orm

Shit

Fucking shit

I have a bad feeling about this

Ep 16

YES, SOMEONE PLEASE GO SEE GAR

He better not die :(((((

This is bad

Ep 17

Finally some healing for Kaldur

JASON IS NOT DEAD

SOMEONE GO GET HIM

Ep 18

Lightboy is cute

Dude... what the shit??? That literally goes against your morals???

Shit

Ep 19

Omg Razer's hot

Omg, he's hotter when his mad

Holy shit, when I thought he couldn't be hotter

Ep 20

I think he's lying????

:(((((

Wtf

Ep 21

OMG HE'S GETTING OUT

FUCKING FINALLY

I just love oaths

Look, I'm glad the bad guy didn't get out but at what cost?????

Batman?

Probably one of his kids

Ep 22

Shiiiiiit, they'll find out

You just gotta love the bats

I love Klarion <333

Ep 23

I'm a little confused

KON NO

BAHAHAHAHA PLEASE, HE'S NOT THAT BUFF

Poor Dick 😭

WTF

Ep 24

WTF

Man, this is going to be a mess

Shit

Fucking shit

Ep 25

OMFG

OH SHIT

Fuck

Ep 26

Nah, she made it, I just know she did

Yoink 😭😭😭

WHAT IN THE SHIT

Oh good

Could you all please???? Stop faking your deaths?????

Told ya

Shit

OHOHOHO Metron, you sneaky bastard

SHIT DO NOT MESS WITH THAT DUDE

Respect

I HATE IT HEEEREEEEEEE

This time traveling shit is awful

IT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE

HOW?????

I TOLD YOU ICYBOY WAS GOOD

Oh god

OMG

#dc comics #young justice #young justice season 4 #yj season 4

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spockandawe · 3 years

Text

OH RIGHT, I also have to follow up on The Healer Demands Payment!

Because oh my god, you guys

This is the most fun I’ve had with a cnovel in EONS (by eons, I mean like. a week. I'm an impatient binch). I was just poking idly around on novelupdates, and I tripped across an absolute GEM, and I need to scream about it. Which I already did once before, so I’ll try not to rehash things too-too badly, but I hit the end of the translation and blew through into MTL, because how was I supposed to stop? I’m still not caught up with MTL (not that it matters, since the story is ongoing), but I trust this author to take me good places, and I’m about 99% positive the author is deliberately playing with genre-based storytelling conventions, if a little more subtly than svsss.

I’m going to get into more spoilers as I go along than I did last time, all things revealed fairly early, but if you’d rather read it cold (a++, do recommend, but not critical for reading pleasure), hit up that post instead of this one. But these first couple paragraphs aren’t super revealing.

The premise!! Meng Qi is a healer. Her first time living her life, she tried to charitably do good and heal the people around her in need. However, like every time she tried to treat a guy, circumstances were such that everyone thought she looked suspicious, credit was given to her shijie, Lu Qingran, and then all the guys went off to moon over Lu Qingran. Meng Qi does her own thing for a while, and even picks up a shizun who she adores, and who is her research partner developing all kinds of revolutionary new medical techniques. When she eventually died (I still don’t know how, but it definitely looks like Lu Qingran was swooning into the arms of the man who did it), Meng Qi was told that Lu Qingran was beloved by the heavens. Then... Meng Qi woke up, age 17 or 18, just as she entered her sect, but with all the theoretical knowledge that she accumulated in her past life.

When our story begins, the first of Lu Qingran’s love interests has just entered the scene. He staggers back to the sect, carrying Lu Qingran, badly poisoned after encountering a magic beast in the woods. Meng Qi knows how to treat him. But she’s also aware that yeah, after she did this last time, she slaved away from a week, and passed out in exhaustion, just in time for Lu Qingran to wake up and say she saw ~someone~ in their sect’s uniform in the forest just before the beast attacked. Meng Qi is all set to be locked in jail for three months until someone gets around, finally, to clearing her name. Meanwhile, clown prime, Chu Fengtian, is busy mooning over Lu Qingran and ignoring all the work she did to save him.

Yeah! She’s not super interested!!!!!!!!!

So she thinks about this for a little while, and decides that the best way to extract herself from any kind of karmic entanglements is to make sure any work she does is just a pure, simple exchange of goods. So... she says she can treat him, and she charges him money. A lot of money.

He’s angry and embarrassed and has to sign an official IOU, her sect is upset with her, but her sect also knows that treating this poison is beyond their capabilities, so they’re like ‘yeah, whatever, humiliate yourself, i guess!’ She doesn’t, because she is a good and clever girl, and as Chu Fengtian’s humiliation fades, he seems to.... gradually realize that Lu Qingran shouldn’t be the object he orbits. Meng Qi charges him money for everything she does for him, all the different pills and such, and he’s, uh. He’s starting to get into it, and I am living.

I won’t lie, whenever I talk about this book I’ve been framing it as accidental findom harem acquisition, and I’m not wrong.

Now, at this point, Meng Qi kind of has a grasp on what Events ought to be transpiring, and is managing along. That gradually fades as the plot progresses, but it’s an early element. She acquires an injured baby tiger she wants to heal, who, uh, is definitely actually a member of a royal demon clan trapped in beast mode (and baby mode). To treat this tiger, she needs expensive-ass medicine. And now, our girl has additional motivation to extort the men around her (mostly) for everything they have. She also accidentally runs into another of Lu Qingran’s eventual love interests, Qin Xiumo, recovering from the aftermath of a failed heavenly tribulation, and in a really bad way. She... can treat him. If he pays :3c

(Lu Qingran almost steals credit for Meng Qi’s work, again, and this is the point where I start to wonder if there’s some kind of.... legit gravitational field around her that’s altering people’s perceptions, because this is a terribly consistent pattern. The Dreamer In The Spring Boudoir had a toxic white lotus of its own, but what she was able to do isn’t the same as Lu Qingran, and the way people eventually break free of orbit around Lu Qingran and realize that things are Strange is fascinating)

And now here is where I was like OHHHHHHH.

Because the moment Chu Fengtian gets Qin Xiumo alone, he’s like ‘right, you and me, we both remember our last lives, right? we remember how lu qingran got us killed? and how meng qi got caught up in that all trying to help us and died too? let’s NOT do that again’

MULTIPLE REINCARNATORS WITH MEMORIES OF THEIR LIVES

And here, I have to copy over this one bit again, because it made me go yeeeee out loud

“Meng Qi.” Qin Xiumo smiled. “You should always remember one thing.” He turned to look at Meng Qi. “If someone betrays and wrongs you in the future, don’t try to talk reason, just kill them.” He paused for a moment, then slowly said, “I know you can do it. As long as you don’t feel soft-hearted.

Qin Xiumo took a step towards Meng Qi. The mountain wind stirred his black robe, but he kept staring at her eyes. With a low whisper, he softly spoke every word. “Including me…if one day I betray you, bring you harm, just kill me without hesitation.”

Okay now

Here’s the funny thing

Because Meng Qi was not treated well by any of these love interests before, she’s totally willing to be pleasant with them, but like........... respect? what respect? the two boys out themselves to each other immediately, but they have no clue that meng qi remembers anything, and it’s hilarious. Also they start immediately getting into baby slapfights over who she’s charging more for certain services. Is it that she doesn’t care about you and only wants to talk money with you, or is it that hey, why did she charge you ten times as much for the same service??? The answer is yes. Also, Qin Xiumo offers to repay her with his body almost right away and she’s like No Thank You, and the moment their financial obligations are repaid, she’s like OKAY BYE, and it’s great.

Virtually every major character who’s been added to the party or exists on the outskirts of the party has won me over. Xue Junwen? A treasure. Su Junmo? A++++ gossipy fox bastard, would die for him. Sikong Xing? WONDERFUL fox lesbian, also a treasure, deserves the best girlfriend in the world. Pei Mufeng? BEST BOY, needs to tell me ALL his secrets!!!! Ji Wujiong? Absolute Bastard, my favorite lad, absolute treasure of a terrible man. I love him. And Meng Qi’s mysterious once-shizun is also floating around now, and is WILDLY jealous of who this ““shizun”” that she respects from her past could be.

The story has this balance I really, really like, where all of the major women who have shown up have either been absolutely delightful creatures or fascinating I-can’t-tell-if-they-know-they’re-toxic antagonists, and all the men have been SOME variety of clown. It’s so good.

And I’m speculating so hard about everything that’s happening!!! Why do three human lads appear to remember a past with Meng Qi, while at least two demons who were very involved with her definitely don’t? Meng Qi is getting SUPER good at arrays, but the narrative makes a point about how a ton of knowledge about arrays was lost in both the human and demon realms. So........ tell me more about the devil realm? Why have you told me so little about the devil realm, I’m getting suspicious! What the FUCK did all that internal damage to both Ji Wujiong and Yun Qingyan?? Are those wounds on Ji Wujiong’s face perhaps........... tiger claws? Do they have anything to do with a baby tiger’s injured paw that wouldn’t close until Meng Qi saved up for a ton of medicines? HOW MUCH DOES PEI MUFENG REMEMBER, and did he promise to go to the starfallen sea because of his PAST LIFE remembrances of meng qi? Why is he immune to propaganda lu qingran?

And also, last time I posted, I mentioned the strict stages of cultivation as my biggest downside in the novel. That’s still probably the case, but now, I’m invested. The conceit that Meng Qi’s theoretical knowledge far outstrips her cultivation is a fascinating one, and the story leans into it real, real good. Especially once Ji Wujiong got involved and started teaching her about arrays, and she wasn’t just leaning on rote lessons from the past to get by, it got so interesting. And some of the cultivation trappings that never really clicked for me are much more interesting in the context of a medical cultivation novel, like, I have never once cared what a spiritual sea is, but once it turns out that Ji Wujiong’s internal damage involves damage to his spiritual sea? Yes?? Tell me more?????

I’m genuinely shocked and delighted that I’m so invested in this book, because I only expected it to be a light, casual read from the start. I was looking for something to kill the time, not something to distract me while I’m supposed to be working, but I love it so much. I’m in the middle of wrapping up a story arc and pausing for air before I press on through the mtl, but I’m already planning to loop back to the beginning and read again and look for hints as soon as I finish. This is so GOOD. It was such a surprise how fun it was, but I love it so much!!

#the healer demands payment #cnovel rec #should be a tag i start using #let's see if i remember to go back and apply it #long post/

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dreaming-of-assclass · 4 years

Note

CURSED MINDS THINK ALIKE BAHDJSNSKS

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before!” Feat Okajima suddenly Discovering he likes Hayami because of her personality and not bcz of her appearance or whatever

While accepting she won’t like him back and... angst lmao? Or no angst you decide haha :eyes:

If anyone is confused, this came from both me and Nao thinking of a Valentine’s prompt for Hayami/Okajima 😂 aka the ship we love in a serious way and a crack way lmao.

This turned out be more of an introspective character study lol, but I hope I did it justice, bestie <3

Word Count: 1,694 words

In all fairness, Okajima mused to himself, it’s not like any part of this year went like planned.

Getting sent to Class E was a punch in the gut, for sure. There was no denying that, not after the laughter from his former classmates or the yelling he had to hear from his mom once he broke the news to her.

He’d been expecting a year of slacking, if he was going to be truly honest. He’d already reached rock bottom, no use in wasting his time and energy trying to get back into the main campus. Not when he was an average student, at best.

Fooling around during lessons, being labelled the class clown, hanging out with his friends, admiring his female classmates, overall having a good time. That was what he believed would await him in the dingy old building of 3-E.

Instead, their teacher was replaced by a giant yellow octopus who moved at Mach 20 and was gonna destroy the world, and it was up to him and his 25 classmates to save it.

Yeah. Big change of plans.

Okajima found himself actually being motivated to work, more and more everyday. He felt...excited to go to school everyday and feel better about himself, and his academic capabilities. He loved contributing to assassinations and proving himself a valuable member of the class.

But there was one part of him that didn’t quite go away for a while.

He sighed. His inexplicable love of female anatomy. That was the...polite way to put it. His classmates would phrase it as “his insufferable pervertedness.” Which was totally fair.

It was really shameful how he’d acted for a long time. His defining trait had been born from a life of being raised by his father, as well as the tiny voice in himself screaming for attention. To get noticed in some way, even if it earned him ire and scorn.

For a while, Okajima wasn’t sure how to interact with others beyond showing his perverted nature.

And looking back now, that was such a cowardly excuse he used. It had taken him way too long to realize that.

Okajima hated how he used to be, and his eyes were awakened after the girls in his class explained to him what was wrong. How his actions made them feel insulted and uncomfortable.

He painfully recalled the sharp sensation in his chest that formed to a lump in his throat at hearing their words.

It was never his intention to hurt them.

Okajima vowed to change that part of himself, and it was much easier than he thought it’d be. Looking back, it seemed like most of his problems in general came from overthinking.

The year was almost to an end now, and it was early February. Okajima had made a lot of progress, and he was happy to know how much he’s changed. How he had better, more honest relationships with his classmates now.

Well...there was still a bit of an issue...

Hayami.

The issue was Hayami.

Of course, not in a literal sense. Okajima could never think of her as that...not with the way she pushed back her bangs while reading, when he’d catch her watching cat videos in class, or the occasional times she’d laugh at his jokes...

He groaned to himself. I really do have it bad, don’t I?

As shocking as it sounded, he’d never had a crush before. Not on a girl, at least. Since there was that one boy in sixth grade who he-

Back to the topic, lusting after girls didn’t count as crushes, he realized belatedly. All of the objects of his admiration were solely for their looks, really.

But...somehow Hayami was different.

Like yeah, she had a banger body in his opinion, the perfect dancer build. But even before he’d had a change of character, that didn’t quite catch his attention as much as it usually would.

His favorite part of Hayami would always be the core of who she was. How she didn’t take bullshit from anyone. How she worked so hard, more diligent than anyone he’d ever known. How she kept a cool head all the time and was so reliable.

He just loved that she was tough and unapologetic for it.

The first time she’d responded to one of his stupid comments with a sharp, fierce glare, Okajima felt a thrill run through him. Partly out of fear, of course, but mostly out of...curiosity.

She was so different, so mysterious. He wanted to know more about her. And since they were seatmates for the year, that gave him some opportunities.

He was the first to know of her love for cats. He’d caught her looking wistfully at pictures of them on her phone, and he wisely kept that observation to himself. And a few days later, he gifted her with a cute cat-themed stationary set, claiming that his mom mistakenly bought it.

The way Hayami’s eyes lit up as her lips curved up in a small smile, a whisper of “thank you” falling off them was extraordinary and made Okajima’s heart leap.

Hayami’s other quirks soon added to his feelings towards her. He loved seeing her fidget with her pigtails absentmindedly. How she doodled pictures of cats on the side of her notebook. The way her feet created a small rhythm against the wooden floor, counting to a beat. How she looked like a complete badass during P.E class, loading her gun and shooting with it effortlessly.

Okajima sighed, his arms falling atop his face as he lay in bed. These new...romantic feelings were overwhelming, to say the least. He felt like voicing his thoughts, just so someone- anyone could give him advice. His dad and brother were absolutely out of the picture, though. So the most trusted people were...

He reached over and grabbed his phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Alright, dude. You said you were going through a crisis.” Mimura leaned back into his beanbag seat, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “What’s up?”

Okajima leaned down slightly, his forearms resting onto his knees. “Well...it’s not really a crisis. It’s just...something new that I’m not used to.”

Sugaya raised an eyebrow from his spot on his bed, glancing up from his pencil in his hand he’d been observing. “I swear, if this is puberty-related-”

“It’s not! It’s more like, my feelings towards something has changed and I’m not sure why.”

“Shoot.”

Okajima took a breath then released everything in one go.

“I have a crush on Hayami and it’s not just for her appearance. I really like her personality. I think she’s a total badass who can step on me and I’d love it. But I also think she’s adorable and I wish I could get closer to her. But I know there’s no way in hell she’d ever like me back, so I’m just accepting that and...yeah.”

His friends’ eyes widened simultaneously, as Sugaya dropped his pencil and Mimura paused, holding his candy mid-air. The look they exchanged was almost comical, so Okajima let out a shaky laugh. “Uh...guys?”

Mimura snapped back to reality. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just...surprised.”

The artist hummed. “Yeah...I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you’d fall in love or whatever someday. But your crush is what surprises me...”

“Yeah, why Hayami?” Mimura chimed in.

Okajima frowned slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean...she’s pretty scary,” Sugaya replied.

“And emotionally unavailable,” Mimura added.

“She’s super reserved.”

“Kind of...bitchy on her worst days-”

“Okay!” Okajima raised his voice, irritably. “Are you two done? Did you even hear what I said earlier?”

“No because you said it all really fast in one breath.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, smartass, there’s so much more to her that I really adore. And I don’t think it’s right to...when you like someone, you accept every part of who they are. You shouldn’t pick and choose what you like about them.”

His friends glanced at each other again. “I guess you have a point,” Sugaya admitted.

Okajima sat back with a sigh. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like...all I wanna do is see her smile and be happy. I wanna make her laugh. Seeing her every morning is enough to make my day. I know it sounds dramatic but...”

Mimura frowned at him. “Would you ever confess? Maybe there’s a chance that she-”

The photographer cut him off. “There isn’t.”

“Dude, you don’t-”

“Even if she did, I wouldn’t want us to be together,” Okajima replied. He gave his friends a thin smile.

“She deserves so much better than someone like me.”

Okajima stopped in front of the door, his hand hovering above the knob. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the thundering sound of his own heartbeat.

It was just another typical day. Or, as typical as a day could be given the circumstances of their class.

And yet, voicing his ambivalent feelings last night gave way to a heaviness that settled deep into his chest. It weighed him down and brought a crushing sensation to his throat as well, like it was hard to breath.

“It’s just in my head,” he muttered to himself, finally turning the doorknob.

Stepping into the classroom almost felt like a dream. He stood briefly as if in a daze, holding his bag. A second passed and he moved mechanically towards his seat.

All around him, his classmates were getting ready for the day. Setting up their desks, gathering around to chat, some were eating a quick breakfast. It didn’t matter: everything just blurred around him anyways.

He set his bag down and began pulling out his supplies. The words fell from his lips in an excited greeting, a grin automatically forming on his lips.

“Good morning, Hayami!”

She turned in his direction, her hand resting elegantly under her chin. Her lips quirked up into a small smile as she returned his greeting. Her tone was casual yet genuine and it sent electricity through him.

“Morning, Okajima.”

Yeah. She deserved only the best.

And it wasn’t him.

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blouisparadise · 5 years

Photo

We recently received a request for enemies and lovers recs. We already have an enemies to lovers fic rec list here, but after looking at that list, we realized we had much more to add to it and therefore decided to make a part two.

Happy reading!

1) I Couldn’t Get Away From You | Mature | 5185 words

Suddenly in the heat of the moment, Harry’s eyes turned darker as he pushed Louis’ back more and more towards the wall. “Fine.” He plants his lips on Louis’ and begins to roughly kiss him, soon enough turning it into a make-out session.

“Fuck you, Styles,” Louis moans and grips onto Harry’s shoulders, hands trailing up to the taller’s hair and gripping that as well.

“We’ll see about that.”

2) There's More Than One Place To Call Home | Explicit | 8416 words

Harry never asked for much from his neighbors - he didn't care about barking animals during the day or loud talking during the night.

The only thing he needed was silence when he was writing. And that was the only thing his new neighbor wouldn't give him.

Deciding to confront the loud guy who lived next door, Harry found himself ringing his doorbell one night. And that decision just may be the best thing that's ever happened to Harry.

3) Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion | Explicit | 8824 words

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps.

He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.

With the exception of Liam’s stupid, broad shouldered, entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him.

4) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

5) Where Do We Go Now | Explicit | 10617 words

Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack. The odds aren't in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha. Louis hates alphas.

6) Enjoy The Ride | Not Rated | 11103 words

The one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

7) I Didn’t Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) | Explicit | 20681 words

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

6) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23516 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) When It’s Late At Night | Mature | 25597 words

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

11) Supposed To Be | Explicit | 26100 words

The Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

12) Magical Soup | Explicit | 28850 words

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown. Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea. As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

13) Building Me Up (But Buttercup, You Lied) | Explicit | 31007 words

Harry’s mouth felt dry just saying those words. What he had with Louis was so much more than a simple ‘fuck buddies’ situation. It was slow kisses in the morning between soft sheets and shy smiles, it was holding hands in the afternoon while walking and eating ice cream. It was breakfast for dinner, laughing and licking honey from each other’s lips as they shared goals and even some secrets, it was happiness, it was glow.

To Harry, what he had with Louis meant everything. Until Louis decided it meant nothing.

14) You’ve Set On Me | Explicit | 31100 words

Louis' in an obscure band. Harry's an international popstar. Their paths aren't meant to cross, not like this, but when Louis' band signs on as Harry's opening act, both Harry and Louis are forced to confront the open wounds of their shared past.

15) Nicotine | Explicit | 32245 words | Sequel

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

16) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

17) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

18) Make This Feel Like Home | Explicit | 42032 words

The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.

19) Strangers in Love | Explicit | 42207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

10) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

21) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

22) For Reasons Wretched and Divine | Explicit | 94655 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

23) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Explicit | 102306 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

24) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126056 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #enemies to lovers #hate to love #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs

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malarkay · 3 years

Text

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness: Chapter One

Summary: The year: 1982. The place: Brixton, London, England. Piper is a normal 11-year-old kid trying to enjoy the summer holiday with her foster brothers, Aaron and Finn. But when a stranger shows up bearing an acceptance letter to a place called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she’s swept away to a magical world, one that is just beginning to heal from a brutal, decade-long war. There she will make new friends and new enemies. And she just might find herself a part of something bigger than she ever imagined.

Chapter 1:

Minerva studied him with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. "I trust you aren't planning on delivering this letter dressed like that."

Arygyn made a show of looking down at his outfit, a deep aqua robe trimmed in red, with billowy sleeves and metallic gold feathers embroidered around the cuffs and high collar, "Not colourful enough?"

Minerva's stern façade didn't crack. "I see that your time away from us has not granted you any more maturity. Or humility."

"I know how terribly disappointed you'd be if it had," he said, grinning at her.

She went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Given the circumstances of your resignation, I had foolishly assumed you'd be on your best behaviour to prove to the Headmaster that he made the right decision in inviting you back."

"Oh? And what do you know of the 'circumstances of my resignation'?" he asked airily.

"Need I remind you that I am Deputy Headmistress of this school? There aren't many secrets the Headmaster keeps from me. Do you think I don't know what prompted your departure?"

That sobered him up. "Minerva," he began, but she held up a hand.

"What's done is done. We cannot change the past. We can only strive to do better moving forward."

He felt his face flush. He wasn't easily embarrassed, but Minerva McGonagall had always possessed the rare ability to discomfit him, even as children.

"Back to the matter at hand, I took the liberty of choosing a Muggle outfit for you to wear on this assignment." She nodded to the folding screen that blocked off a small corner of her office.

He walked behind the screen to discover a brown tweed suit with a white button-down shirt and matching brown tie.

"Minerva, no!"

His protestation was met with a soft noise of amused satisfaction from her.

Grudgingly, he changed into the suit. Emerging from the privacy of the screen, he frowned at her as she smiled in open amusement now. "I think you forget something," she pointed out, her gaze flicking up to his hair.

He sighed, retrieving his wand from the inner pocket of his jacket and pointing it at his head. "Colovaria!" He looked at the mirror she had hanging on the wall, watching as his hair and beard faded from their glorious green and purple to his natural dirty blond.

"Well, I hope you're happy," he said, carding his fingers through his hair self-consciously.

"Oh, you have no idea," she responded, holding out an envelope sealed with the Hogwarts crest in red wax. "I won't keep you any longer. This letter is already late."

~*~*~

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Aww, c'mon, Piper! They're bullies! They deserve this!"

Piper frowned. Finn, one of her foster brothers, had a point. The gang of older kids had caused them nothing but grief since they'd known them, constantly picking on them for no other reason than the fact that they were younger and smaller than them. And now here they were, clowning around in the corner shop while their bikes laid unlocked and unattended outside. Still….

"I know they're bullies, but we're not thieves."

She looked over to her other foster brother, confident that he would back her up. But he was staring at the bikes with a mischievous gleam in his green eyes. She nudged him with her elbow to get his attention. "Right, Aaron?"

"Let's do this!" Aaron said with finality, and Finn pumped his fist in the air, certain that the matter was settled with Aaron on board with his plan.

"I can't believe you two!" she hissed.

"What's the matter? Do you not know how to ride a bike or something?" Finn challenged.

"Of course I know how to ride a bike! Probably better than you! I…" she stopped abruptly when she noticed his triumphant grin. "Finnegan Fletcher! I will not be goaded into going along with your stupid plan!"

"God, Piper, why do you always have to be such a goody-goody?"

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd stop being such a screw-up!"

He mouthed her words mockingly back at her, and she was about to really lay into him when he suddenly grinned. "Hey Piper, guess what?"

"What?" she spat at him.

"Too late," he said, punctuating his words with a pair of finger guns. She looked to where he was pointing. While they were busy bickering, Aaron had gone and nicked one of the bikes, mounting it. Finn laughed and ran over to do the same, and she had no choice but to follow or be left behind to deal with the consequences.

She glanced through the glass door of the shop as she took a bike, making sure no one had noticed them. Luckily, the two leaders of the gang seemed to be embroiled in an argument of their own, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence. They were a brother-sister duo, a pair of upper-middle-class kids in their late teens who tried to cultivate a working-class punk image but couldn't quite pull it off. Nonetheless, they had managed to amass a following of half a dozen townies who followed them wherever they went. It was their bikes that she and Aaron had been sure to pick. She wasn't sure who Finn's belonged to.

"Let's get out of here before they figure out what's going on," she said.

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

With that, they pedalled like mad all the way home. Between their front garden and their neighbour's was a tall privacy hedge with a large hollow spot in the centre. It had made for a great little secret hideout when they were younger, and it was the perfect place to stash their contraband bicycles now. With the bikes hidden, she began walking up to their house when she spotted the white sedan parked out front and froze in her tracks. "Um, guys, was Ms Davies supposed to visit today?"

"No, she's not supposed to come until Monday," Aaron answered.

"They know about the bikes!" she yelped. She wheeled on Finn and poked him hard in the chest with a finger. "This is all your fault! What if she's here to take us away from the Wrights because of this? We'll be separated and never see each other again!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Aaron cut in, putting a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Piper, calm down! There's no way they know about the bikes. It's only been twenty minutes."

"Well, she's here early for some reason, and that can't be good," Piper said, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

"What if she is here to take one of us away?" Finn asked, sounding worried now. "Not 'cause of the bikes, but just because."

"There's no reason to think that," Aaron said confidently.

"No reason to think that? Mate, when was the last time she ever came for an unscheduled visit?" Finn pointed out.

Aaron opened his mouth to answer, but he must have realized he didn't have a good response because he closed it again.

"Listen, standing here and worrying isn't going to do us any good," Piper decided. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the walkway to the front door before she lost her nerve. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the sight of her foster mother, social worker, and a tall, suited man she had never seen before sitting in the parlour sharing a pot of tea.

"And that," the man said with a dramatic flourish of one hand. "Is how I narrowly avoided getting expelled from H-ah, Saint Cyprian's, myself!" He had a flamboyant, lilting way of speaking that didn't fit his stuffy appearance. She and her brothers stood gaping in the doorway as Agatha Wright and Florence Davies burst into scandalized laughter at his tale.

"Oh my," Agatha said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "Well, I don't expect our Piper will be getting into such mischief. She's never been any trouble."

"Speak of the dickens!" the mysterious man said, eyes falling upon the trio. Putting his teacup down, he stood and swept over to them. "Piper Cochran, I presume?"

She nodded hesitantly, and he gave a bow that was every bit as dramatic as his earlier flourish had been. "I am Professor Skeelur, and I represent Saint Cyprian's School for Gifted Children."

Beside her, Finn giggled and nudged Aaron. "Is it just me, or does that sound like something straight out of the X-Men?"

"You two strapping lads must be Aaron and Finnegan!"

Aaron grinned, and Finn puffed out his chest. No one had ever called them strapping before, certainly not skinny little Finn. "Yes, sir," Aaron answered for them. "If you don't mind my asking, why are you here?"

"I don't mind at all. I am here to offer Ms Cochran here a spot at our school. You see, her excellent marks make her just the kind of pupil we look for."

Piper's eyes lit up. "Really? I've never heard of this school. Is it here in London?"

"Scotland, actually. It's a boarding school."

"Oh," Piper said, her face falling. "Sounds expensive."

Ms Davies spoke up from her spot on the sofa. "The school covers tuition, room, and board. Money's no issue. And should you choose to attend, you'll receive the stipend the Wrights receive for your care during the time school is in session, for school supplies, and anything else you might need while you're away."

Piper looked hopeful, "And I'll get to come back here when school isn't in session?"

"Of course," Agatha said, beckoning her over and pulling her into a hug. "You will always have a place here. You know that."

Professor Skeelur clapped his hands together, bringing their attention back to him. "Now, there are a few details that need to be discussed before Piper makes her decision. Is there somewhere that Ms Davies and I can speak to Piper privately?"

Agatha nodded. "She has her own room; you can speak in there."

Piper led them to her room. The professor shut the door and then, much to her confusion, he pulled a pale, slightly gnarled stick from the inside pocket of his jacket and pointed it at the door. "Sanctum impervius!"

"Now then, we can speak freely," he said, turning to her. "I must confess that I wasn't entirely honest with you back there. There is no Saint Cyprian's. I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Smile, kid! Your life just got a whole lot more interesting! You're a witch."

She frowned.

"Is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not funny." She had actually been stupid enough to believe that she had gotten accepted into a good school. She should have known better.

"Piper," Ms Davies said gently. "It's not a joke."

She scoffed, and the professor – if that's what he really was – added, "And I can prove it."

"What are you going to do? Pull a rabbit out of a hat? Saw Ms Davies in half?" Piper asked sarcastically.

If anything, her mockery just made his grin widen. "You misunderstand. You're not going to be learning parlour tricks. You're going to be learning real magic. Like this! Well, not exactly like this. There aren't many witches and wizards who can do this. But it'll give you an idea."

He stepped back, giving himself room, and then…well, then she couldn't quite believe her eyes. He began to warp and shift until suddenly the man was gone, and in his place was a bird. It had iridescent blue-green feathers, a red underbelly, and a tail over twice its body length. It launched itself into the air and flew around the room.

Ms Davies gasped. Piper could only stare wide-eyed as the bird landed and transformed back into the professor.

"Close your mouth, kid. You'll catch flies," he told her. "Do you believe me now?"

"I'm dreaming," she decided.

Professor Skeelur stepped forward and delivered a sharp pinch to her arm.

"Ow! Why'd you do that?"

"To help you decide if you're dreaming or not. And what d'you know, it looks like you aren't!"

"So, you're really a wizard?"

"Yes."

"And I'm a witch?"

"Yes."

"And is Ms Davies a witch?" She looked curiously at the woman she thought she had known for half her life.

"No," Ms Davies said.

"She's a Muggle."

"Oh no, what's that?" Piper asked, wondering if her social worker would transform into some strange creature now, too.

"I don't have any magic," Ms Davies explained. "But you aren't the first case I've had who ended up being magical, so this didn't come as a complete shock to me. At least, not until he turned into a bird. I haven't seen that before!"

"Does Agatha know?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The fewer Muggles who know about us, the better," Professor Skeelur explained. "We have pretty strict laws against revealing ourselves unnecessarily."

"But what about other people like me? Don't their families know?"

"Well, yes. Most Muggle-born children's immediate families are told."

"Then why can't Agatha, and Robert, and Aaron and Finn know? They're my family."

Professor Skeelur took a moment to consider her words, then shrugged. "Well, if you consider them family, then I suppose you can tell them if you want and if you think they can keep it to themselves. I leave that decision up to you. Oh! I almost forgot."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to her. She looked at the front, finding her name and address written in green ink. Flipping it over, she saw that it was closed with a wax seal. Snapping the seal, she pulled out the letter within. The first sheet of paper was an acceptance letter that rehashed what the professor had already told her. The second page was a list of school supplies she would need.

"Work robes, dragonhide gloves, pewter cauldron, a wand," she read aloud before skimming over the rest of the list, eyebrows raising. "Where am I supposed to get all this?"

"Diagon Alley."

"I don't know where that is."

"Well, of course you don't. That's part of the reason I'm here."

"You'll take me?"

"Yes. This very afternoon if Ms Davies doesn't mind driving us. I'd Apparate us there, but you're new to magic. I don't know how you'd respond, and frankly, I'd rather not have you getting sick on me."

Piper nodded. She didn't want to get sick on him, either.

When Ms Davies agreed, they told Agatha that she had accepted her spot at the school and that they were off to purchase school supplies, and then the three of them piled into Ms Davies' car. She drove them to Charing Cross Road, and the professor led them into and through a dilapidated pub and out into a back alley.

Taking out his wand, he tapped a series of bricks and, to Piper's amazement, the wall rearranged itself into an archway, revealing a whole new world beyond.

"Wow," she breathed.

Their first stop was to Gringotts Wizarding Bank, where Professor Skeelur and Ms Davies helped her set up an account and get her stipend money exchanged into wizarding currency. She tried not to stare too hard at the bankers, who the professor told her were goblins, during the transaction. She didn't want to be rude.

"Where to next?" the professor asked once they left the bank.

"Back near the entrance was a shop with a stack of cauldrons outside. I need one of those."

The professor nodded and led the way to the shop. He ended up negotiating a reasonable price for a display model that had no flaws other than a darker patina that suggested that it had been sitting there for some time.

Next door, they purchased a set of brass scales and a telescope before heading to the apothecary across the street to pick up a set of glass phials.

They passed a shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies that had a large window display showing off brooms, an odd assortment of balls, and protective gear. "What are the brooms for?" she asked.

"Flying, of course."

She stopped walking and stared at him before bursting into laughter. "You're telling me that witches actually do fly around on broomsticks?"

"All the time."

"Why haven't we ever seen any, then?"

"I told you, we're cautious about not revealing magic to Muggles."

They stopped off at the stationary store, where she purchased some quills, ink, and a pack of parchment rolls, along with some notebooks. Next came Flourish & Blotts. Stepping into the store, Piper felt her pulse jump. It was the most glorious bookshop she had ever seen in her life. The store was two stories tall, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves ran along the perimeter of each floor. Smaller bookcases and tables stacked precariously high with books dotted the first floor, and even more books surrounded the checkout counter. The shop was large but was so cluttered that it felt cosy, warm, and inviting.

She slowly worked her way around the shop, perusing the books. There were hardcover and paperback books that were no different from those you'd find in a regular bookshop. But there were also ones bound in what Professor Skeelur claimed was dragon hide, as well as books bound in silk. There were giant books she could barely lift and tiny books with print so small she couldn't read it without a magnifying glass.

Eventually, she came across a section of second-hand textbooks. She carefully selected the best cared for ones she could find. In line at the checkout counter, she picked up a copy of a book called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She flipped through the pages and asked, "Is this a book of fables?"

Professor Skeelur nodded, and Piper added it to her pile. "Aren't you a little old for children's stories?" he joked.

"Well, in the Muggle world, you can actually learn a lot about a culture by reading their fables. I imagine it's the same with the wizarding world. And I want to learn about you. About us."

The professor smiled a genuine smile and excused himself. After a moment, he came back with another book, this one titled Hogwarts: A History. "I think you'll like this one, too. I'll buy it for you."

"You don't have to do that," she told him.

"Of course I don't, kid. I want to. You're welcome."

She grinned as they paid for her books and reluctantly left the shop.

Next, they stopped at the professor's behest at Cranville Quincey's Magical Junk Shop shop. "All this stuff of yours is getting heavy," he complained. "Even split between the three of us. And by the three of us, I mean mostly me. Don't think I haven't noticed that I'm the one doing all the heavy lifting here."

He set down the bags he had been carrying, the ones with her books and cauldron, before searching through the small, cluttered shop. "Luck is on our side today!" he said, as he yanked a battered leather steamer trunk free from where it was wedged between an old wardrobe and an armchair that had seen better days. He checked the price tag and, satisfied with it, paid the shopkeeper and ushered them back outside.

Once out in the light of the sun, the trunk looked even less impressive. It was beyond beat up, with tears in the leather, a sagging lid, and a broken latch.

"Thanks," she said with as much politeness as she could muster.

Professor Skeelur smirked. "Nothing a little spit-shine won't fix."

"Please don't spit on it. It's been through enough."

"Piper!" Ms Davies said reproachfully.

But Professor Skeelur just laughed it off. "Watch and learn, Little Miss Sassy Pants!" He pointed his wand at the trunk and said, "Reparo!"

The trunk began to mend. The tears in the leather closed, the latch realigned itself and firmly reattached to the trunk, and the structural integrity of the lid was restored.

"Wow!"

"Oh, I'm not done." He pointed his wand again. "Installare rotae!"

The trunk rose a few centimetres off the ground. She looked closer and discovered that it was because locking wheels had been added to each corner of the trunk.

"Capacious extremis!" Piper watched but didn't notice anything different about the trunk. She looked at him quizzically. "Extension Charm," he explained. "It gives you more room on the inside. Now then, what's your favourite colour?"

"Blue."

"Colovaria!"

The dull brown leather of the chest transformed into a deep, royal blue that really made the brass fixtures pop.

"Wow…." She was getting a lot of use out of that word today.

"How do you like it now?" he asked smugly.

"I love it!"

"Good. Now pack your things away, and let's continue. We still need your robes and your wand."

They went to a second-hand robe shop next, where she found three sets of school uniforms and work robes in good shape for half the price the professor said Madam Malkin's would cost.

All that was left was her wand. The professor led them to a little shop toward the end of the street. "Ollivander," the professor told her, "is the best wandmaker in all of Britain. If there's one area you don't want to skimp on, it's your wand." Ms Davies elected to stay outside with her trunk so that things wouldn't get too cramped inside.

Ollivander's was a small, dimly lit shop. The air was stuffy and smelt faintly of dust. Shelves lined the wall behind the counter, each one stacked high with long, narrow boxes.

Behind the counter was a man with unruly white hair. Piper assumed he must be Mr Ollivander. He had his back turned as he searched the shelves, running his finger along a row of boxes before choosing one.

Setting it on the counter, he opened the lid, taking out a wand and offering it to the only other customer in the shop, a dark-haired girl her age.

"This one is blackthorn and unicorn hair, 11 inches, fairly flexible. A very loyal combination. Once the wand bonds with its owner, it's very unlikely to be won by another. Good for duelists."

The girl gave the wand a wave. When nothing happened, Mr Ollivander took the wand back, setting it aside with others that formed a small discard pile on the counter.

The man resumed his search of the shelves, choosing another. "Birch and phoenix feather, 12 inches, unyielding. Phoenix feather wands favour your family. Your father and grandmother were both chosen by them. Give it a try."

Piper looked up at Professor Skeelur. She wanted to ask him what the man meant by the wand choosing people, but he had his attention focused elsewhere. She followed his gaze to where a woman stood silently off to the side. She was an older, aristocratic woman dressed in black, Victorian-era clothing. Her long, sleek hair was either pure white or platinum blonde; Piper couldn't tell which. Her eyes were an icy blue and just as cold as she stared back at the professor with a level of antipathy that he matched.

"No?" Ollivander's voice drew her attention back to him and the girl. "Let's try this one. Elm and phoenix feather, 10 inches, pliable."

Again, nothing seemed to happen when the girl waved the wand, and the man added it to the pile of rejected wands.

Ollivander scanned the shelves, stroking his chin. A full minute of silence stretched out before he chose another box.

"Yew and dragon heartstring, 12 inches, rigid."

The girl perked up the moment the wand touched her hand. She raised the wand, and Piper jumped as a shower of silver sparks shot into the air, bathing the room in a ghostly glow before fading.

"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed. "I'll box this up for you."

The woman stepped up to the counter to pay for the wand, and the girl turned, finally noticing that they weren't alone. Casting a surreptitious glance toward the woman, making sure her attention was elsewhere, she walked over to them.

Face to face, Piper was able to get a better look at her. She was of a similar height to Piper with a pale, heart-shaped face and, unusually, deep violet eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked the professor without preamble.

"Hogwarts business."

"Oh," the girl said, disappointment apparent in her tone. "I thought perhaps..." her eyes cut to Piper, and she elected not to finish her sentence. Instead, she studied Piper, eyeing her from head to toe and back again. "You're Muggle-born." It wasn't a question.

Piper nodded. "And you're," she hesitated for just a moment, realizing she wasn't sure of the proper terminology, but took a deep breath and ploughed on ahead anyway. "Witch-born."

Beside her, Professor Skeelur coughed, pressing a fist to his mouth. By the way his eyes sparkled, she could tell his cough was covering laughter.

The girl laughed outright, not bothering to hide her amusement. She stuck out a hand, "I'm Lark Cyclonis."

Before Piper could introduce herself, the woman was at Lark's side, slapping down her offered hand.

"Merlin's beard, Anarchis," Professor Skeelur said heatedly. “Is she not allowed to make new friends?”

"Don't be absurd, Arygyn. Befriend a Muggle-born? Out of the question.”

Piper's jaw tightened. Unlike when Lark had said it, Anarchis' use of the word 'Muggle-born' was filled with disdain. She was no stranger to that tone. She had heard it often enough from people who couldn't keep their opinions to themselves when it came to her living situation or heritage.

Professor Skeelur narrowed his eyes at the woman, and when he spoke, his voice was as cool as hers. "Why don't you just use the word we all know you really want to use?"

Anarchis sneered. "Watch your tongue with me, boy. This is precisely why you are to have nothing to do with this family. I don't need you teaching Larkspur how to be a disrespectful blood traitor."

"Grandmother, please," Lark's voice was tight, her face carefully blank.

"Not another word," Anarchis snapped at her. She handed Lark the bag with her wand before gripping the back of her neck. "Now come along. We still need your books." Without another glance at either Professor Skeelur or herself, the woman marched the girl out of the shop.

Piper crossed her arms as she watched them go. "Good to know I'm not good enough for some people in this world, either," she said, aiming for a light tone, but the lump in her throat got in the way.

"Kid," Professor Skeelur said, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "Anyone here who thinks you're not good enough isn't worth knowing. Now let's get you your wand."

She nodded, giving him a weak smile.

He walked her up to the counter. "Mr Ollivander, this is Piper Cochran. She'll be starting her first year at Hogwarts this fall."

"It's nice to meet you, sir," she greeted him as he peered at her with luminous, silvery eyes. If it weren't for Professor Skeelur and that awful Anarchis woman both having blue eyes, she'd seriously be starting to wonder if odd-coloured eyes were the norm in this strange world.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied. He walked around the counter with a tape measure in hand. "Now, let's see what we're working with."

He released the tape measure, and it went to work on its own. It measured her height, the length of her arms, wrist circumference, palm width, the distance between her eyes, and a dozen other nonsensical measurements. A quill jotted down the information for Ollivander as he asked her about her dominant hand and when, where, and at what time she was born.

By the end of it, she wasn't quite sure if he meant to sell her a wand, tailor her school uniform, or write up her astrological chart.

He walked back around to the other side of the counter and searched the shelves, speaking to her as he went. "Each wand has its own unique personality," he explained. "The different wood types and wand cores have certain characteristics they bring to the table, with each individual tree and creature adding their own flair. Length and flexibility each play their parts. And, of course, the personality of the wizard the wand bonds with is the final ingredient. When you put all those pieces together, you get a wand that is unlike any that has ever existed or will exist again. The choosing of a wand is one of the most important moments in a young witch or wizard's life."

Plucking a box from the shelf, he turned and smiled at her. Opening the box, he offered her the wand within. "Grapevine and dragon heartstring, 11", swishy."

She took the wand and, having watched this process play out with Lark before her, gave it a little wave. Nothing happened, and Ollivander took the wand back, placing it back into the box before setting it aside. "You see, the wand chooses the wizard. If the wand decides you're not a good fit for it, it will refuse to perform for you or will perform poorly. You can use another's wand in a pinch, but neither you nor the wand will reach your full potential that way. Here, my goal is to match you with the perfect wand. I hate wasted potential."

"How will I know if a wand is a perfect match?"

"Oh, it will let you know. Now then, try this one on for size. Alder and unicorn hair, 13 inches, supple."

Again, she tried waving the wand, and again nothing happened. Nothing happened with cedar and unicorn hair or aspen and dragon heartstring, either.

As the pile of discarded wands grew, Piper began to wonder if Professor Skeelur had made a mistake. Maybe there was another Piper Cochran out there somewhere who was the real witch, waiting on a Hogwarts letter that would never come because it had been handed to her imposter, instead.

"Maple and phoenix feather, 12 and a half inches, reasonably supple."

Piper took the wand, and a feeling of warmth spread through her. She waved the wand, and a glowing ball of blue light shot from it, flew around the perimeter of the shop, and right out the window.

Ollivander smiled, "An excellent wand! And an auspicious start to your new life as a witch. Both maple and phoenix feather are highly prized. For a wand of such calibre to choose you tells me that you can achieve greatness. But never rest on your laurels. Maple demands an adventurous and innovative spirit in its owner, or it will languish."

"Really?" Piper breathed. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel better about myself?"

"Why would I do that? I take my craft very seriously. If I believed you to be a mediocre witch in the making, I'd simply say nothing at all," Ollivander said matter-of-factly.

"What about that last wand you sold?"

"Yew and dragon heartstring? Why do you want to know? Taking a shine to wand lore already?"

"Just curious."

"Well, it's a powerful combination."

"More powerful than maple and phoenix feather?"

Ollivander hummed as he mulled the question over. "I would say so, yes. Phoenix feather will excel at any task you put it toward. But it's also stubborn. It makes you earn its excellence. But I find that those who are chosen by it are up to the challenge. Dragon heartstring possesses more brute strength and is easier to work with, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. You're more likely to accidentally blow yourself up with a dragon heartstring wand."

She laughed but stopped when she realized neither Ollivander nor the professor was laughing with her. "You're serious?"

"Quite. There's a reason magic requires so many years of schooling and why underage wizards aren't allowed to use magic outside of school. As for the wood, yew is rare and powerful. Some would say..."

"Dark," Professor Skeelur cut in, and Ollivander frowned.

"Yes, some would say that. Yew's reputation has been unfairly maligned over the centuries. I was going to say that yew is bold. It's attracted to the strong, the resolute. It appreciates a certain level of audacity in its owner. None of those qualities are inherently evil. Does that answer your question?"

"I think so, thank you."

Ollivander smiled again. "If you're still interested in wand lore after your fifth year, come see me. I might be persuaded to offer you a summer apprenticeship."

Grinning, she thanked him again. He packaged up the wand as she counted out the money she owed him. "Your wand registration number is printed on a card inside the wand box. Don't lose it. You may need it someday, especially if you ever plan to travel to the states. They have strict permitting laws over there."

She thanked him for a third time, and Professor Skeelur smirked at her as they left the shop. "Look at you. Your first day in the wizarding world, and you're already getting job offers."

Her smile didn't fade for the rest of the day. This was going to be fun.

~*~*~

A/N: Okay, who made it this far? Really? Great! Scale of 1-10, how interested are you in continuing to read this?

#storm hawks #storm hawks fanfic #storm hawks piper #arygyn the skeelur #cyclonis

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years

Text

Miraculous Ladybug/DC - Adoption AU

There seems to be a lot of Miraculous/DC crossover ideas, often with Adrien and/or Marinette getting adopted into the Batfamily.

Here is my take:

So it turns out that apparently Gabriel had family he tries to avoid and altogether pretends don’t exist.

And it turns out the family in question he’s particularly wanting to keep out of his life and away from his family is Harley Quinn.

To be fair, they weren’t close to begin with. Then there was the whole thing with Joker and her stint as a villain. After that, Gabriel cut off all contact and moved to Paris.

Harley gets why. She doesn’t like it, but she gets it. She’s made mistakes and is trying to do better. She understands if Gabriel isn’t feeling all that forgiving or willing to reconnect. And she is fine with that, really.

What she is NOT fine with is discovering Mr. No-fun lost his wife in mysterious circumstances and has responded by not only isolating himself, but his son as well. His son who is a genuinely sweet and wonderful kid, and deserves so much better than being kept trapped in a quiet and lonely old mansion every day.

So she does what any good aunt would do if they’re a psychologist who used to be an underling and abuse victim for a psychotic clown whom she’s recently escaped from, found herself a girlfriend, and is past the point of having kids of her own.

She steals Adrien.

Well, from the mansion at least. Only from there. Not wanting to take him away from what little social life he’s managed to make so far despite Gabriel’s best efforts, Harley has them all stay in Paris. She even buys a nice house in a good district with money that was totally not stolen from Gabriel on her way out *coughcough*. Once set up in the new home, she proceeds to take Adrien there where she can dote on him like proper family and give him some of that affection he’s been so desperate for.

The wax figure of Adrien has been left in his place in the mansion.

Gabriel has yet to notice.

As has anyone else. (They’ve had at least 3 photoshoots so far with just the wax figure.)

Ivy finds the whole thing questionable but comes to see that Adrien is a sweet boy with a desire to do good even if he doesn’t necessarily know how or the best way to do so. She decides she can “raise him right” and mold him into a proper young man who uses his resources to help the environment. So she starts having him do gardening with her.

Adrien is...actually okay with this whole setup. Plus he went from no mom to TWO moms! Who spend time with him! And are involved in his life! And let him see his friends! And he actually gets to leave the house without a bodyguard tailing his every move—which turns out to be because Ivy is able to use her plants to keep an eye on him in a much less obtrusive manner, but eh...details. He’s essentially not-so-reluctantly kidnapped. He COULD escape at any point. He’s Chat Noir after all. But even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like Ivy and Harley were going out of their way to keep him locked up or anything. The worst they did was give him a curfew—which when comparing a few hours of free time with an expectation to return by a set time vs a set schedule with only one hour of free time maybe worked in somewhere, was hardly something he was going to fight.

The fact is that he’s doing well under their care. Harley shares his sense of humor. Pamela nurtures his creativity. He gets support and encouragement to be more assertive. They actually WANT to talk to him and hear about his day. They WANT to be affectionate with him and have dinners together. And he just soaks up their attention and affection like a sponge and responds in kind.

Under their care, Adrien changes a bit. He speaks out more and makes it known when he’s unhappy or uncomfortable with something. He does not let people just touch him when he’s uncomfortable. If anything, he’s doing more touching and initiating conversations without fear of appearances. Nino gets bro hugs. Kim gets bro hugs. All the guys in class get bro hugs. Marinette also gets bro hugs—though he doesn’t hug her for too long since she seems to overheat easily.

Adrien is really enjoying this.

Even better, his moms somehow get jobs in the area.

Pamela either becomes a biology teacher at the school or opens a nursery. If she does open a nursery, Marinette becomes a regular customer on principle. She and Ivy bond. They trade gardening tips. Marinette is surprisingly helpful in keeping pests away from her plants for reasons Ivy doesn’t quite know. All around, Paris suddenly starts becoming a bit more green…and without the eco-terrorism. It helps that Adrien’s social media starts featuring him planting trees and taking care of plants, which is encouraging other people to follow suit.

Harleen becomes a school counselor. At Adrien’s school. Where she takes full advantage of the opportunity to embarrass him in full “overly affectionate mom” mode. Adrien is too happy to be embarrassed. Anyone who actually ends up laughing at him comes to regret it when Harley picks apart their psychological issues.

The new moms evaluate his friends.

Nino passes. Flat out. He got akumatized trying to throw their boy a birthday party? He also arranged an impromptu house party for Adrien the one chance he got? YES. THIS is someone he needs in his life!

Alya gives them concern given her Lois Lane levels of getting into trouble mixed with sheer lack of self preservation. Her tendency to jump into matters and reveal things or trust things without thinking also has them concerned.

Chloe has potential, but needs a good few months of therapy as far as they’re concerned.

Lila is banned from coming within ten feet of Adrien. It would have been fifty, but Adrien refused to take a killer plant that big and risk anyone thinking it’s an akuma.

Marinette passes after they have a sit down talk with her to get to know her better. Harley notes her anxiety issues and helps her to be able to avoid panicking. Ivy likes Marinette’s energy, and her garden is impressive. She gives her approval of Marinette courting their son.

Marinette: Wait—what?

And because they’re actually good moms, they figure out fairly quickly that their new son is the leather-suited catboy running around protecting Paris.

Harley: HOW DO PEOPLE NOT KNOW THIS?!

Adrien: Magic?

They have a bit of difficulty for the next few fights with the rather overprotective mothers trying to interfere in akuma fights, causing more confusion than anything until Adrien asks them to stop. They don’t, of course, but they at least let him try to handle things.

All in all, they make for a nice little family.

But there’s only so much two moms can do. And with Gabriel pretty much not involved, they’re limited in options. So after a while, they decide that Adrien needs a good father figure.

Adrien: But I have a father...

Harley: I said a GOOD father figure.

But who to choose?

Bats? “Oh god, no! Why would you inflict that level of broodiness in our child?”

Joker? “Sure! The best way to teach him important life skills is to have someone to test them on as an example. Like the best weak points! And the effects of blood loss! And how to hide a body!” “We could just use Gabriel for that and save on travel time!”

Superman? “The world isn’t ready.”

They finally come to a decision.

Which is how Nightwing finds himself tied up and dragged off to Paris to be made part of this weird little makeshift family.

Pamela: Why him?

Harley: He got the killer Robin from ‘murdery’ to some semblance of being an actual semi-healthy child with only some violent tendencies. He’d make a good father figure!

Pamela: But wasn’t that an alternate timeline—

Harley: A GOOD father figure.

Pamela: ...fine.

Nightwing: Wait—what?

Naturally, he’s confused. He tries to contact Batman to let him know what’s going on and what Ivy and Harley are up to because they’re in Paris for some odd reason and they have a kid he’s pretty sure isn’t theirs. Batman, on the other hand, is more concerned with all the crazy magic shenanigans in Paris that the League somehow doesn't know about and can’t get any accurate information on. So he pretty much tells Nightwing to stay with them since he’s already there and they have room for him anyway so it’ll be easier.

Nightwing: I'm telling you, they've captured me, dragged me off to Paris, and they have this little house with a kid—

Batman: Good, then you have a place to stay while you investigate the anomalies in Paris.

Nightwing: Bruce, I don't think you're hearing me...

Adrien: (Just pats him on the arm sympathetically)

Harley: (Hugs Nightwing) Looks like we've got Batdaddy's approval! You're part of the family now!

Nightwing: I will do whatever you want. Just don't call him that again.

To be fair, it is Batman, so he probably knows Harley and Ivy aren’t an issue at this point, but still!

…At least he gets his own room…

Nightwing isn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he knows he shouldn’t be encouraging this. On the other hand, Harley and Ivy aren’t actually doing anything bad. And if anything, taking care of the kid has been good for them. Plus the kid seems happy with them, at least. It’s...weird, certainly, but he goes along with it. (Read: He folds to the kitten eyes.)

Then he finds out said kid is a superhero in a city regularly attacked by a supervillain who transforms and controls people by manipulating their emotions—which the League somehow has not been aware of despite it happening in PARIS.

Needless to say, he isn’t pleased.

I'm just imaging Dick Grayson interacting with other adult figures in Paris. And really, just Dick's response to everything in Paris and how things are being handled.

"So...you're telling me no one has tried to track down where the magic butterflies are coming from?"

"Um..."

"The governmental body hasn't initiated any policies to try to prevent akumas?"

"Well..."

"Set up an alert and evacuation system so people know where to go or not go?"

“…”

“Do I want to know what you people actually do in case of an emergency?”

“Probably not.”

Much like Ivy and Harley, he gets a day job to help out. There are two potential options for him.

He becomes a teacher at the school and takes over running gym class, which he uses to keep the kids in shape, teach them self defense, and help them work out some of their tension and emotions through physical activities and a good listening ear. His interactions with the kids would be something to see. Even better for his interactions with Damocles and Bustier. Because no, the events of the Ladybug episode would NOT have happened if he was there.

Lila: (Sobs) Ow! Ow! The pain! How could Marinette do this to me?

Dick: I’m not seeing any injuries.

Lila: I don’t bruise easily. They just haven’t appeared yet.

Dick: Even so, there are no abrasions. No swelling. No indications of a broken bone or sprain. Not even any marks to show where you fell.

Lila: It’s internal!

Dick: Then you need to go to a hospital to be checked out and have the extent of your injuries noted.

Lila: I wouldn’t go that far—

Dick: And your mother will be contacted and told to meet us there.

Lila: Well—

Dick: And of course we’ll be holding off on any punishment until we have a list of your injuries and a thorough investigation is completed.

Lila: But—

Dick: And just to keep you safe, I’ll be staying with you the whole time. We wouldn’t want anymore “accidents”.

Lila: ….Dammit.

He joins the police force. Just for shenanigans in his interactions with Roger. Maybe helping the force to be more effective so they can actually HELP during akuma fights instead of simply serving as a temporary distraction.

Either way, he’s a positive role model for Adrien. The three of them working together help Adrien to maintain a positive and altogether healthier state. They give him more jokes and puns to work with—because that has long since been Nightwing’s area of expertise. They give him advice in wooing his lady love. They address the “just a friend” issue. They teach him self defense and helpful fighting techniques. They curb the “self-sacrificing” tendency he’s developed. They encourage him in his goals and self discovery now that he has the freedom to actually try.

Despite the weirdness of the situation, Adrien is actually happier than he has been in a long while.

Which is made ever more clear at a particular moment when he’s leaving for school one morning.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!”

Harley sniffles and wipes a tear with a tissue she pulled out of her sleeve. “It feels like just yesterday that I stole him away from the mansion.”

“Then what does that make your kidnapping me?” Dick asked, sardonically. “This morning?”

“Don’t act like you’re not proud.” Ivy snarked.

Oh, he was. Immensely so. But of course he wasn’t going to admit it and give them the satisfaction.

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onelungmcclung · 3 years

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im sorry if you've answered this before im relatively new to the ship hehe but-- how'd mcclung fall for toye? was it in bastogne? before bastogne? in holland? in aldbourne? after the war? what were the circumstances? when did he realize it? and after he'd overcome that high of finding out he's in love, how did he deal with the aftermath once it started to settle in? hehe, i hope this week isnt as rough on you as you're anticipating. sending you much love and strength and calm vibes.

💜💜💜

ok, firstly, I have not been asked this before; secondly, even if I had no earthly power would stop me from answering it again; and thirdly, obviously no pressure but pls consider coming off anon and being my tumblr friend

probably everyone is new to this ship lmao

so, I started writing a (probably long) mctoye fic starting in fort bragg or aldbourne and continuing to postwar (enablers always welcome). but for the purposes of this ask, I’m mostly going off character insights revealed to me developed over the course of writing the ask him to dance universe.

(counterpart to this ask: toye noticing/falling for mcclung)

essentially: mcclung is/would be kind of theoretically ok with the idea of falling for a guy, if it had occurred to him he might fall for anyone right now, but falling for anyone is — for the time being — a concept he has strategically compartmentalised out of his entire thought process. (please clap.)

maybe he’s relatively ok with the possibility falling for a guy because he did not really grow up with white conservatism the way most of the easy co guys did; he’s always been aware of it, and his worldview is not informed by it in the same way. his family is arrow lakes/settler and he has friends & acquaintances among the other confederated tribes. and though he doesn’t take a strong interest in domestic/international politics, he has a more critical attitude towards the us govt and its laws (he’s still quietly angry about the grand coulee dam, constructed during his childhood). he’s never really considered that he might be into men; he likes women and he’s always assumed, without thinking much about it, that he’ll get married at some point; but he’s not particularly homophobic, outwardly or inwardly.

he’s not thinking much about these things when the war comes. he gets drafted into the army, thinks “not with these fucking clowns” and besides the airborne pay is better, and volunteers as a paratrooper. he joins up with easy after he’s completed his jump training.

he is excellent at training, naturally; he’s spent days at a time alone, fishing and hunting, since he was a child. he’s an exceptional sniper and scout. he’s confident in his own abilities. some of the toccoa guys initially assume he won’t be as skilled as them because he didn’t have their training, but in fact he has a headstart on most of them; and he knows it. (if he knew it any better it would probably come off as arrogance, but he’s just very clear on what he’s good at. and if he wasn’t beforehand, the airborne has proved it, to him & everyone else.)

he recognises, of course, that toye is an excellent soldier too (not as good a shot as himself or shifty, but overall one of the best paratroopers in the company), and they’re in the same platoon, so that helps. he never really gets afraid, not while training and not in combat; he just keeps his focus and gets on with it. for the most part, he doesn’t form close friendships until they get into combat.

he has some instinct towards helping and protecting others, but once they’re in a combat zone he realises that’s going to hurt him a lot. while they’re training, he helps some of the guys make their shots by shooting the targets for them; but after they jump into normandy, he avoids befriending the replacements because so many of them are killed early on. it’s — a little — easier that way.

he and toye don’t become close friends before bastogne, but they get familiar with each other’s combat style, and they’re comfortable working together. they trust each other; they’re both good soldiers, and toye is a good nco.

and then of course in bastogne they share a foxhole, and that is (I think for all the other characters as well) an incredibly vital, pivotal relationship. he and toye rely on each other entirely; without that, they’d probably die. they learn each other backwards; there’s no possibility of pretence. he knows what toye’s flaws are (stubbornness, prickliness, a reluctance to accept help), but there’s a lot more about him that mcclung likes, trusts and admires (not that he’d say so), and he knows those things are genuine.

he does his level best to stop toye from developing trench foot when he loses his boots. sure, he pretty much calls toye an idiot for getting into this situation and for refusing to tell the medics, but he does everything he can think of. it hasn’t occurred to him that he cares deeply about toye; it just seems inevitable.

(and he tells smokey to let the medics know. he doesn’t tell toye he’s told smokey, because it’s funnier this way. like everyone else, he’s starved for entertainment.)

but toye gets hit, and they’ve spent months beside each other — sleeping in shifts, keeping each other safe, trying to keep each other warm, kvetching, arguing with each other; he’s put up with toye’s singing and toye’s put up with mcclung talking to himself. a synchronicity and interdependence has developed between them, throughout the war but particularly in bastogne, to the point where it’s almost telepathic. he doesn’t consider what a powerful kind of intimacy this is, both physical and psychological, until it’s gone.

toye gets hit, and mcclung loses him. toye gets hit, and mcclung is blindsided by the enormity of it. you can’t take anyone’s survival for granted, he’s always tried to be careful of that, but losing toye is like losing part of himself.

he’s pretty determinedly unsentimental about everything: he’s not going to fall in love with anyone while he’s fighting a war, and he’s not going to dwell on situations beyond his control, and he’s not going to let himself be distracted by worrying about someone who isn’t here anymore. or at least that’s the attitude he’s internalised, and he takes it so much for granted that he never even considers that he could have fallen for anyone: right here, right now.

but he can’t forget anything that’s happened, even if he’d like to, and there’s no other friendship that can quite replace what had developed between toye and himself. bastogne was when things were at their worst, and toye is the one with whom he survived the worst. without toye, he feels an inescapable sense of wrongness, unevenness.

he’s half aware that he misses joe. he tries not to acknowledge that to himself, because that would mean acknowledging that he may not have any chance to see joe again, that one or both of them may not survive. that’s a line of thought he keeps away from altogether; it’s there, but he won’t look at it.

he knows it’s not his fault toye was injured. sometimes it has nothing to do with being a good soldier; sometimes it’s just luck and timing; he’s nearly been hit himself. he knows that, but deep down inside he wonders if he could have saved joe, by making sure he was in their foxhole before the shelling started. he heard toye and second-guessed himself. he stayed where he was. he thinks he probably did the sensible thing. he still feels guilty about it.

(sidenote: the glaring exception to his “don’t befriend the replacements” rule ends up being babe. after toye, guarnere & compton are taken off the line, he and babe start sharing a foxhole. possibly he could have found someone else, but his protective instinct resurfaces and maybe it helps to take his mind off missing toye. it’s a friendship that comes out of grief and loss.)

he gets through foy, and haguenau, and he focuses on the situation at hand and he doesn’t think about toye.

when they reach austria, mcclung is ordered to hunt animals to feed landsberg’s prisoners, and so he sets up camp alone in the woods. it’s beautiful; it’s peaceful; it’s the first time he’s been truly alone in two years. it’s the first time his mind is able to relax, and the memories come back — prewar life, everything he’s been through since, bastogne, toye — and the thoughts of the future, what he might do after the war.

he’d like to see toye again.

he still hasn’t thought that maybe he has feelings for joe.

and then the war ends, and he has the freedom to decide what to do next. he returns to england, and then ships back to the us. the memory/loss of toye is still a weight on him, and so he tracks toye down and goes to see him. that’s the obvious, logical course of action.

it’s also making him much more nervous than it has any right to.

(for the past year and a half, he’s been compartmentalising very hard because he intuitively understood that as the best way to survive the war. he learnt it early on, and it’s hard to let go of it. he’s convinced he’s handling everything great, very matter of fact and pragmatic, getting the job done, no emotional baggage here, etc etc. this is... not 100% true, but a coping mechanism is a coping mechanism is a coping mechanism. he is doing pretty well; nobody thinks he’s not; so obviously that counts as a roaring success.

but once the war is over, the psychological walls he’s maintained throughout combat — between survival and emotion — begin gradually to disintegrate. he has to let himself become whole again, learn to navigate who he is now, accept that the war has scarred him. he still feels himself to be one of the lucky ones. some of the things he’s been avoiding hit harder than others, and he can’t control that anymore.

insofar as he’s aware of these developments, he considers it extremely unfair.)

but, ensuing stupid panic or no ensuing stupid panic, he commits to meeting up with toye. he figures they’ll catch up, maybe keep in contact, that now he’ll be able to stop wondering how toye’s doing, stop this strange off-balance feeling he’s had since toye got hit.

seeing toye again is actually a lot more than he’d ever anticipated, and he’s forced to acknowledge that maybe there’s more going on here than he’d figured.

he realises he’s attracted to this guy, and he doesn’t know when that started: probably in bastogne, but maybe earlier. it feels new but not new; if he hadn’t pointedly avoided thinking about joe after foy, maybe he’d have figured it out sooner. if they’d made it through the war together, maybe something would have happened between them in europe, but they lost each other too soon for him to know. he’s a little discomfited by these feelings suddenly creeping up on him, but he’s trying hard not to let any of it show: not the attraction, not the unease.

he reasons that his feelings are only a problem if toye doesn’t share them. he thinks he could deal with that, but he is afraid they may not have a friendship anymore, that it was left behind in wartime.

he tells himself he’s not afraid of rejection. but he is. he doesn’t like feeling vulnerable, and suddenly he is.

when he thinks there’s a chance the attraction is mutual, he takes it. it works out for him. they stay together. he accepts that he’s falling in love and he lets it happen.

he falls in love with joe’s courage and honesty and selflessness, and he finds it incredibly hard to actually say that. (this is someone who considers “hanging out with you voluntarily” to be a love language.) he’s moved just by the fact joe wants to be with him, that he’s able to acknowledge that attraction and act on it despite his provincial catholic upbringing lol. he knows that joe’s recovery has been difficult, and he sees how joe is dealing with it, and, like in bastogne, he tries to support him as quietly and simply as possible.

he finds it hard to tell joe he loves him, but he pays attention to what joe does and says, and does whatever he can to make his life better. he never thinks joe needs him there, and he wouldn’t want it that way. he helps joe to adapt their old calisthenics training; they take roadtrips together. they’re still deeply protective of each other, and they still express it via touch, practical acts, and snark. they don’t struggle with physical affection as much as either of them might have worried; they’re a little hesitant at first, but it falls into place.

they’re fumbling their way a little, but they respect each other completely and unconditionally, and they’re kind and careful, and their relationship gets stronger as it goes on.

and they dance together.

#thank you for the good wishes <33 #toye x mcclung #mctoye #earl mcclung #joe toye #replies #'charactering'#long post under the cut bc I love going All Out and uh. also this ship #fine to reblog btw #writing manifesto: all characters are idiots in their own way

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featherymalignancy · 5 years

Photo

CHAPTER THREE—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants.

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now.

Check out the masterlist for In Vino Veritas here!

Chapter Three: Bollinger

This time, Nesta didn’t bother lying to herself; she’d made the trip to Merchant because she wanted to see Cash.

It was perfectly innocent, though. She’d had a good day was all, and the truth was she didn’t have an over-abundance of friends in San Francisco. It would just be nice to see a familiar face. Besides, Tomás was out of town, which made this...easier than it might have ordinarily been.

The old bell chimed as she strode in, and Cash—who’d be pouring over what looked like an inventory report behind the bar—grinned when he saw her, eyes glittering. His hair was tied up in its usual style at its crown, but today he also wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that made him look more distinguished, if no less roguish. She found it vaguely irritating that he seemed to get more handsome every time she saw him.

“Let me guess,” he said in greeting. “Another dinner party.”

“No,” she said primly, setting her bag down and perching on a stool. “Today we’re celebrating.”

He grinned, teeth bright against his bronze skin.

“Are we?”

“We are,” she said. “I just won a huge case.”

“Congratulations. Unless—” he narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t defending a murderer, were you? Tell me he didn’t do it.”

“It was a civil case. Police brutality.”

Cash’s eyes softened.

“Not just a supermodel, then. A superhero, too.”

Nesta let the comment glance off of her, unsure the sort of damage it could do her if she let it sink in. Instead she pursed her lips.

“The officer broke my client’s back during a rough ride. A man who’d done so little wrong that he was never even charged for the supposed crime he was arrested for. He was only in police custody so long because he ended up in surgery.” She shook her head. “Fifteen hours on the table, and he’ll still never walk again. I pushed for criminal charges but couldn’t get the government to prosecute, so I took the case to civil court instead.”

She flashed a dour smile.

“I made sure there wasn’t a cent left on the table.”

Cash let out a low whistle.

“You sort of scare me, you know?”

Nesta shrugged, feeling oddly pleased by this observation.

“Normally I only take on criminal defense cases pro-bono, but this wasn’t one I was going to let slide.”

“You fascinate me,” Cash admitted, and Nesta huffed, not wanting to let that sink in, either.

Unfortunately, it was harder to ignore, and Nesta felt her cheeks warming.

“Maybe you just need to get out more.”

Cash laughed, eyes glittering from behind his frames.

“I’ve been out plenty, trust me.”

“Gross,” she sniped, and he laughed again.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just determined to make me a philanderer, aren’t you?”

She glanced at her watch to give herself something to do.

“You’ve yet to prove you aren’t one.”

“I can’t prove a lack of something. As for proving the opposite—“ he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“I don’t care for surprises,” she said, needing to change the subject.

It felt too much like they were flirting again, and it was a line she knew she couldn’t cross. Tomás would be beside himself if he ever found out.

“Alright,” Cash said, seeming to read her body language. “Enough witty banter. What kind of champagne do you like?”

“Bollinger,” she said. “If you have it.”

Cash grinned, the gold in his ears winking at her as he propped his chin on a fist.

“Are you sure you’re not a international super spy? That’s James Bond’s favorite, too.”

She couldn’t stifle a short laugh.

“How do you even know that?”

“When are you going to accept that when it comes to wine, there’s nothing I don’t know?”

“Never,” she said in challenge. “Because someday you’re going to make a mistake, and I vow to be there to roast you for it when you do.”

Cash raised his eyebrows, leaning in slightly.

“Then I’ll be sure to make said mistake in the shower.”

“Cash,” she warned, even as she fended off another laugh.

“You’re the one making threats!” He said, holding up his hands. “I can’t help it if you occasionally fall victim to your own hubris.”

“I—“ she began, still trying to avoid imagining what Cash looked like in the shower. His thick hair slicked back, skin glistening as water ran down the arched grooves of his Adonis belt towards his thick—

She cleared her throat.

“Fine. You win this round.”

“Part of me is afraid that you’re only giving ground as some sort of tactic, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.”

“Then I have you just where I want you,” she said, glad to have made her way back to more familiar terrority.

He laughed, going to get the champagne.

“You can have me wherever you want, Archeron,” he called, but before she could censure him for it, he’d disappeared into the back.

He came back carrying the Bollinger and two antique glasses that reminded her of Downton Abbey.

“Nice touch,” she said, gesturing to them.

Cash flashed a self-satisfied smirk.

“Thought you’d like these. Be gentle with them, these are Dev’s babies.”

He popped the bottle with a expert kiss of sound before pouring a measure for each of them and pushing one of the glasses to her.

He held his up to her.

“To the justice we can get.”

She raised hers in answer.

“Even if it isn’t the justice that’s deserved.”

Their glasses sang as they touched, and Nesta paused before taking a sip so she could watch him take his. As always, his reaction didn’t disappoint.

His brows drew together as he gave a hum of appreciation, biting his lip as he let the flavor linger. She hurriedly took a sip herself, not wanting to get caught admiring him. She could feel him studying her in return as she did.

She let her eyes flutter shut as the satiny bubbles caressed her tongue.

“What do you taste?”

Her eyes snapped open to find he was still watching her, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You’re the expert,” she said archly. “You tell me.”

He laughed.

“I already know the profile. I want to hear what you think.”

“Is this your way of putting me in my place after all my dress-downs?”

His grin faded, something she couldn’t quite name softening his hazel eyes.

“Never. I just—“ some of the tension melted from his shoulder as he gave a laugh that didn’t feel entirely genuine. “You obviously have a great palette. I just want to know what it is you like about this vintage in particular. Think of it as—market research, if you want.”

She considered this, and him, because taking another sip.

“I’d know it was champagnois even if I’d never had it before. It’s nuttier than a Prosecco or a Cava. Not as finely-edged. And the fruit in it is lightly spiced. Apple, definitely. And...pear, maybe? It reminds me of Christmas.”

She glanced up to find him looking at her.

“Well?” she said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “How did I do?”

“Spot on,” he said. “Though no surprises there. You would have made a great sommelier. A big part of the job is painting a picture that makes people fall in love with the wine. That description was painfully charming.”

“Don’t be obsequious,” she warned, even as she felt herself preening a little from the compliment.

“No idea what that means,” he said with a grin. “But I will do my best. How did things turn out with your sister and the Riesling?”

Nesta flashed a feline smirk, one she knew sent most men running for the hills.

“Better than I could have hoped,” she said “Graysen’s mother wouldn’t stop raving about it. Her new favorite, she said. Even better than the bottle Graysen got here for her birthday last year.”

Her smirk widened as he shook his head, laughing.

“You’re gonna put this poor kid in therapy.”

Nesta sniffed, taking another sip.

“He’s made Ellie cry more than once; he can burn in Hell for all I care. Besides, he couldn’t be less worthy of her if he were were a clown car mechanic. I’m going to throw a gala they day they break up for good.”

“If you could invent a perfect man for Elain, what would he be like?”

“Quiet,” Nesta said immediately, and when Cash laughed, she added, “I’m serious! Graysen is constantly talking, and she can never get a word in when they’re together. She has so many interesting things to say; she deserves a guy who wants nothing more than to listen to her all day.”

“A wallflower, roger that. What else?”

Nesta considered.

“Someone who does sweet things for her. Elain’s love language is acts of service. Men always want to buy her expensive things or spouts odes to her beauty. What she really wants is someone who will pack her a sack lunch or get her car washed. Also dark-haired. Grown men shouldn’t be blonde.”

Cash grinned, eyes slight.

“He sounds like a dreamboat. Maybe I should let you find me someone, too.”

Nesta was surprised at how much the comment ached. Not that she begrudged Cash meeting a woman; he certainly deserved it. She just—didn’t want to have to imagine it.

“I don’t know you well enough to make an accurate assessment,” she sniffed, trying not to seem too desperate as she poured herself more champagne.

Cash opened his arms in invitation.

“What would you like to know?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes as she considered.

“How do you feel about Beyoncé?”

Cash laughed.

“Is this a trick?”

“Answer the question, please.”

“The Lemonade album deserves a permanent exhibit at the Smithsonian as a pillar of human achievement.”

She nodded in approval.

“Good. At least I know I can trust you now.”

“That’s your litmus rest?” He laughed. “What were you going to say if I say no?”

“Leave and never come back, obviously,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Cash allowed. “What else?”

“Best Hogwarts house?”

“Alright, this one is too easy. Gryffindor.”

Nesta feigned a gag.

“That is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Daring and chivalrous! Those aren’t favorable traits to you?”

Nesta sniffed imperiously.

“Self-important and braggadocious, you mean. Besides, there’s nothing more dangerous that a person who’s convinced they’re right.”

He shook his head, chuckling.

“I feel so foolish. Everything about you screams Slytherin; I should have seen that question for the trap is was.”

“You know why I’ve been so successful in the courtroom?”

“Because you’re brilliant?”

She dismissed the compliment with a flick, even as it warmed her from the inside out.

“Because most of the time I’m going up against self-righteous prosecutors who’d rather waste their time beating their chest and waxing dramatically to the jury about my client’s character, instead of arguing the facts. It makes mounting a defense and tearing them to ribbons almost comically easy.”

“Like I said,” Cash offered, studying her with unchecked appreciation. “Fascinating.”

“I’ll change your mind before this is all over,” she said. “Mark my words.”

He leaned in slightly, enough that she could smell his clean scent again.

“Looking forward to it.”

They studied each other for a moment, and this time it was Cash who looked away, chuckling quietly to himself.

“What else?”

“Tell me secret. Something no one else knows about you.”

He considered this before turning over his forearms to show her his tattoos.

“I cried like a baby when I got these.”

She put her chin in her hand, if only to resist the urge to trace the slightly-ridged ribbons of ink. The designs were exquisitely tendered; whoever the artist was, they’d known what they were doing.

“Why?” she asked finally.

He laughed.

“Because they fucking hurt!”

She pursed her lips to indicate she wasn’t buying it, and he laughed again, glancing down at his forearms.

“Growing up, I just always felt like—I don’t know—a mongrel. When you’re a kid all you want to do is fit in, and being mixed, I never really felt like I did. I was—weirdly resentful I couldn’t just be like everyone else. I had my gran in my ear always spouting all this Māori stuff, but I just wanted to be Hawaiian. It wasn’t until she took me back to Waitomo when I was in high school that I got to see my culture for what it was—mine. I wanted to wear that pride on my skin.”

“So when you got the tattoos...”

He nodded.

“When I got the tattoos, I felt like I was reclaiming something I’d lost. Not just a sense of belonging, but a connection to my dad, who I never got to meet. It was—really emotional.”

“Did you take anyone with you?”

“My friend Ro. He was the only other Māori kid in my neighborhood growing up, so our families were always close.”

Cash laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“You should see him. His tats cover almost the whole left side of his damn body. If he hadn’t wanted to be a cop, I’m pretty sure he’d have gotten them on his face. We had to convince him to stop mid-neck.”

Cash glanced down at his own again, and Nesta couldn’t resist. Gingerly she reached out to follow the band on diamonds that studded along his wrist. She watched his skin pebble under her touch, and she pulled her hand back, knowing she was being unfair.

“That sounds—intimidating,” she said instead, trying to shift the conversation back.

Cash shrugged.

“He’s a sweet dude underneath all the gruffness, but yeah, he’s pretty terrifying with all that ink. I suppose it doesn’t help that he’s also 6’6 and looks like a jacked Anderson Cooper.”

She had to laugh.

“What does that even mean?”

“He started going grey when we were still in high school, and now he’s completely silver. It’s annoyingly dashing.“

Nesta snorted.

“The silver fox trope is such a double standard. If I was completely gray, no one would be gushing over it.”

Cash considered.

“I feel like you would be very striking as a silver vixen. Besides, I thought women dying their hair gray was a thing now?”

“How do you even know that?”

Cash laughed.

“My friend Rhys is a...great lover of females.He loves to opine on all the various trends.”

“Is that your polite way of saying he’s a playboy?”

Cash shrugged.

“His dad’s a billionaire. Az and I think he didn’t hear the word ‘no’ enough as a kid, and it’s made him restless and hedonistic. When he meets the right girl, though, it’s going to be game-set-match. I know it.”

“Thats...charming, I suppose.”

“You’d like him,” Cash said before pausing to laugh. “...I think. His cousin I think you’d definitely like. In fact, I’m having a friend from Paris in next week to host a tasting, and Mor will be there. You should come and meet her.”

Nesta’s heart leapt at the opportunity. She loved getting dressed and going out, and she was in rather desperate need of female friends. Still, there was Tomás to consider.

“I know that look,” Cash said. “So let me beat you to the punch: you can bring your boyfriend, and whoever else you want.”

“Elain would love it,” Nesta said, not wanting to admit that Tomás wouldn’t, especially when he saw Cash.

Still, she was reasonably confident she could convince him.

“Maybe I’ll tell her to bring Graysen, and your friend can embarrass him in front of everyone.”

Cash shook his head, giving a resigned chuckle.

“You are terrible.”

Nesta admired her long nails self-importantly.

“Please, you love it.”

She immediately regretted saying it. She wasn’t oblivious to the way Cash sometimes looked at her, and she didn’t want to blur any lines by being over-flirtatious. It wasn’t fair to him, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Tomás. And if he ever found out she’d been saying things like that to another guy behind his back, he’d never let her step foot in the Merchant again.

“I admit I’m morbidly curious about this guy,” Cash admitted. “Though I don’t want your sister to hate me for humiliating her boyfriend.”

“She’ll love you,” Nesta blurted, and realizing her misstep, forced herself to add, “maybe I’ll set you two up once she gives Graysen the boot.”

The idea made her stomach roil, especially when Cash smirked.

“First you accuse me of philandering, and now you want to set me up with your precious baby sitter? Pick a lane, Archeron.”

Nesta shrugged mechanically.

“At least I’d know she was being treated the way she deserves.”

Cash laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the bar.

“I don’t want to date your sister, Nes.”

Nesta ignored the way something in her black heart fluttered at the declaration, pursing her lips in feigned annoyance instead.

“Why not? Gorgeous and brilliant aren’t your type?”

Cash laughed.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that gorgeous and brilliant are every guy’s type.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Nesta had no idea why she was pushing the issue. She had less than zero desire to see Cash pursue Elain.

Cash only laughed again, an edge of exasperation souring the otherwise rich sound.

“Maybe I’m too afraid of you. I can only imagine what kind of cruel and unusual torture you’d cook up for me if things didn’t work out.”

“I’d flay and barbecue you at a low heat,” Nesta affirmed, and Cash grinned, his expression easing slightly.

“Exactly. Besides,” he paused, eyes glittering from behind his frames as he studied her again. “I wouldn’t want to risking messing up our friendship.”

She sniffed to disguise the way that touched her.

“Bold of you to assume we’re friends. We hardly know each other.”

“I know you better than you think, my thorny Slytherin queen. And we are friends, so don’t be like that.”

“Fine,” she said. “I admit I find your company enjoyable in an...annoying sort of way.”

“Please,” Cash said, grinning. “You love it.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, and he only grinned wider.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So about next weekend: are you in? I’m trying to firm up the guest list for my friend Hélion.”

Nesta felt her cheeks warming as she admitted, “I...have to discuss it with Tomás. He’s been out of town.”

Cash looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he said, “Well if you do decide to come, I have only one request—“

“That I don’t bring my friend Claire,” Nesta finished for him, and he laughed.

“She was in again last week and left me her number on a receipt. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Call her?” Nesta made herself suggest.

Cash frowned.

“I told you: not my type. Everything I said, she agreed with. I don’t want a woman who only ever tells me what she thinks I want to hear.”

Nesta couldn’t help herself.

“What do you want, then?”

Cash sank his teeth into his plush lower lip as if he were trying to suppress a smile before finally glancing at her.

“Someone who’s quick on the draw, and who isn’t afraid to dish it back. I don’t want a admirer; I want an equal. Besides,” he paused, biting his lip again. “I prefer brunettes.”

Nesta felt her heart beating in her throat as he studied her—her dark hair—before meeting her gaze again.

“If you know anyone like that, then...”

“I don’t,” Nesta said automatically before adding, “sorry.”

Cash continued watching her for a second before shrugging.

“Being single isn’t all bad.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Nesta admitted in a soft voice. “It’s been a while.”

Cash nodded, adjusting his frames as he looked down into his glass.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Six years.”

“That’s—a long time.”

“It is,” she agreed, wishing they could change the subject.

“No ring yet?”

Her eyes snapped up, he shook his head.

“Sorry. None of my business.”

She thought about biting out that no, it most certainly wasn’t, before realizing she didn’t want to sour things with an unduly harsh retort. Instead she shrugged.

“If he had his way, we’d be married already. I’m the one who’s insisted on waiting.”

“Why?”

She didn’t know why she answered. She knew she really shouldn’t, but somehow she couldn’t help herself. Cash was so easy to talk to, and the fact he didn’t know Tomás personally somehow made it feel like less of a violation of their privacy.

“We’ve been through a lot together, but I don’t know—I’m not ready. I guess I’m just waiting for a sign to show me that I am.”

“Didn’t have you down as a person who believed in signs,” Cash admitted.

Nesta fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her bare left hand.

“I’m not usually. But this is...too important not to be completely sure.”

Cash nodded but didn’t push for clarification, even though she could tell he wanted to.

“I’m happy, though,” Nesta added, needing to hear herself say it out loud. “He makes me very happy.”

Cash gave her a smile that was warm, even if it didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“You deserve that,” he said.

“How would you know?”

At this Cash’s smile widened to show pearly teeth.

“Because I’m an excellent judge of character. Besides, doesn’t everyone deserve that? Someone who makes them happy?”

“You do,” she blurted, and her cheeks caught fire as she realized she’d said it out loud.

She’d clearly drank more champagne than she’d thought; she was being embarrassingly loosed-lipped. Cash only smiled again, politely ignoring her insidious blush.

“You think?”

“Per your logic, everyone does,” she pointed out, drumming her nails on the oak bar top. When he dimmed a bit, she softened.

“But yes, I think you deserve it more than most.”

Cash gave a sheepish laugh as he looked down at the scuffed chukka boots her wore, and Nesta found herself adding, “She’s a lucky girl, Cash. The woman you end up with.”

It was truer than he even knew, and harder to bear than she’d expected. She had a sudden image of Cash in the arms of some unknown brunette beauty, and she felt her hands curling to fists.

She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it. She couldn’t figure out for the life of her why she hadn’t retreated to safer territory yet.

“I should get home,” she said, draining her glass. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”

He grinned.

“Thank you for an excuse to drink champagne on a Tuesday. And before you embarrass us both by trying to pay for this bottle, let me make a proposition instead.”

Nesta huffed and made to protest, but he cut her off.

“You know it’s nothing like that, so don’t get shirty with me. Just—come next Saturday. Tastings go much easier when there are people there who know what they’re looking for in a good wine, and I promised Leo I would give him something to work with. He’s French, so he gets fussy like that. And if you come, I can just put the bottle on his company’s tab. He works for one of the biggest distributors in France, so they won’t mind.”

“How long have you been cooking this scheme up?” She asked, and he grinned.

“Since about the word ‘celebrating’. Do we have a deal?”

He even extended a hand, and she bit her lip as she considered.

“I still have to talk it over with Tomás. But yes, I will—tentatively be there.”

She slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed gently as his smile returned.

“But you have to let me pay for the bottle if I don’t end up making it.”

Cash rolled his eyes.

“I’ll add it to your tab, I promise.”

“Fair enough,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll will let you know on Tuesday when Tomás gets back into town.”

Cash laughed, though the sound was a bit hollow.

“How? You don’t have my number.”

Nesta bit her lip, resisting the urge to shift on her feet. She and Tomás had given each other permission into their respective phones, and though it wasn’t a privilege he often exercised, she knew that if he did and saw Cash’s number, he’d freak. It would certainly be the end to their coming to the tasting.

“I’ll—call the shop.”

All the playfulness melted from Cash’s expression as his mouth tightened.

“Are you serious, Nes?”

“What does it matter?” She shot back, needing to go on the defensive. “You’re always here anyways.”

“That’s not what concerns me.”

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

He crossed his bruising arms across his chest, his tone brittle in a way that belied he usual ease.

“Oh really? Then look me in the eye and tell me that—as your friend—I have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Goodbye, Cassian,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”

She turned to the door and heard him swear under his breath.

“Nesta.“

She tightened her grip on the leather strap of her handbag, fighting the urge to turn back to him as she left the shop.

————————————————-

“What’s going on with you?” Hélion asked from where he lounged on the sofa, watching as Cash straightened the collar of a fresh button-down in the mirror.

They were currently in in the apartment above the shop, which Devlon had bought when such things were still possible to afford in North Beach. He’d agreed to let Cash stay there while he was in Hawaii, provided Cash didn’t change anything.

So far, he’d had the place painted, replaced the dated backsplash in the kitchen, and bought a new couch. A contractor was coming the following week to talk about taking down a wall in the living room and gutting the master bath.

“What do you mean?” Cash said, shrugging into the burgundy blazer slung over a nearby armchair.

Hélion eyed him critically for another moment.

“That’s the third time you’ve changed your shirt.”

Hélion continued his brazen assessment before snapping his fingers in realization.

“There’s someone coming you want to impress. Who is it? Investor for your mythical vineyard?”

Cash cleared his throat.

“No, I’m—still working on that.”

Hélion smirked.

“Ah, okay. Who is she, then?”

Cash fought not to tense. This wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to have right now. Despite the voicemail he’d gotten from Nesta on Thursday at the shop informing him she’d be coming with two guests, he was terrified to get his hopes up knowing it was still entirely possible she wouldn’t show.

“Who is who?”

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“The woman you’re clearly trying to impress. And if you don’t tell me, know that I can get it out of Mor when she arrives.”

Cash felt his palms beginning to sweat.

“It’s—not like that.”

Hélion smirked.

“No? Certainly seems like ‘that’ to me.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend isn’t a husband, Cashish,” Hélion said in a coo. “Besides, who could resist all this devilish charm?”

“Don’t make it weird,” Cash warned.

“Me?” Hélion said in mock offront. “Never! Come on, tell me more about her. She must be something if she’s caught your picky eye.”

“I’m not—“ Cash shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “You like her. You’re smitten, I can tell. What’s her name?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“What? Why not? I only want to know who I need to charm tonight. I will help make her yours.”

“For fuck’s sake, Leo,” Cash said, unsure whether to be exasperated or warmed by his friend’s meddling. “She’s bringing her boyfriend.”

Hélion bubbled his lips and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist.

“I hate him already. He’s a swine! A wretch! Totally unworthy of her!”

“I actually think he might be,” Cash admitted, and at his tone Hélion straightened, setting down his glass.

“What do you mean?”

Cash blew out a breath, trying to keep his anger in check as he remembered the look on Nesta’s face when he’d suggested she take his number. Normally he might have taken it as a sign that she was more interested in him than she let on, but it hadn’t been guilt he’d seen in her eyes; it’d been fear.

“Allô!” Hélion said, snapping his fingers to get Cash’s attention again. “What does that mean?”

“He’s totally controlling; demanding to know where she is all the time, I think going through her phone—I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Have you met him?”

“No,” Cash admitted. “But Dev has, and he said the same. He said that he’s very territorial over Nesta, and that I should keep my distance.”

“Nesta,” Hélion said with a satisfied smirk. “That’s very pretty.”

Cash flipped him a foul hand gesture before turning back to the mirror. He sighed before continuing.

“I don’t know what it is about her, but I can’t get her out of my head. And it would be bad enough knowing she’s got a boyfriend, but this prick—“ Cash shook his head. “I hate thinking of her in a bad relationship.”

“Maybe she just needs someone to show her there’s a better way,” Hélion said, and Cash huffed.

“Don’t tease me. This sucks enough as-is.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “No teasing. She clearly likes you, Cash, or else she wouldn’t be coming tonight.”

“She’s coming with him.”

“Then she must like you very much, to risk upsetting him just to see you.”

“I don’t want to put her in a bad spot.”

“But...?” Hélion prompted.

“But what?”

“But you do want her.”

Cash groaned, slumping down on the arm of the sofa.

“How could I not? She’s brilliant, and thoughtful, and witty. And God—so fucking gorgeous. She might honestly be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Hélion gave an amused snort.

“The man’s in love.”

“I’m not in love,” Cash protested before pausing. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s got her sod of a boyfriend, and I just got her to admit we’re friends; I can’t mess things up.”

“Okay,” Hélion said, holding up his hands in submission. “I won’t say anything to her.”

Cash let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thank you.”

“But say the word, and I will seduce the boyfriend and clear the path for you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cash muttered, and Hélion smirked.

“So far as I know, you’re the only man who’s been able to successfully to resist me, straight or otherwise.”

“Az,” Cash pointed out, turning to the mirror to pull his hair back.

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“He’s just being obstinate to spite me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re onto him.”

Hélion smirked and settled back into his seat.

“Can you imagine what he must look like naked?”

“As his friend, I try not to. Shall we?”

Hélion rose, straightening his immaculate heather gray slacks as he did. Cash shook his head.

“I don’t know how you’re wearing that sweater. It’s bloody August.”

Hélion straightened the collar of the turtleneck self-importantly.

“I’m French,” Hélion sniffed. “The laws of nature don’t apply to me.”

“That’s not at all how that works,” Cash pointed out. “But suit yourself.”

They descended the stairs to find the servers Cash had hired readying the place at Mor’s direction. The dining table had been set with the appropriate glasses, and flutes were arranged neatly on trays, waiting for champagne.

“Looks good,” Cash told her in greeting, coming over to kiss her cheek. “Almost good enough to justify flying you all the way out here from London.”

“Please,” Mor said, batting his cheek. “I flew myself out here, you ungrateful plant pot.” She spotted Hélion and shoved Cash back. “Leo, there you are! Come give me a kiss.”

Cash only barely managed to get out of the way as Hélion slid a hand around Mor’s waist and pulled her to him. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pecked him on the lips. Cash only barely managed to fend off a groan of disgust, and Mor only flashed him a quick hand gesture before her eyes settled back into Hélion, who still had a possessive hand pressed to her low back.

“How are you, mon cœur?” She purred, and Hélion gave her an appreciative up-down.

“Better, now you’re here. Oh, and Cash has a woman coming tonight.”

Cash snarled.

“What part of ‘be cool’ did you not understand?”

“You are?” Mor demanded, turning to punch him in the arm. “Who?”

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Cash said, feeling sour for having to repeat it out loud.

“So? Never seen a defender you couldn’t score on. What’s her name?”

“None of your—“

“Nesta.”

Cash screwed his eyes up, rubbing his temple.

“Leo, for fuck’s sake.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mor asked. “This is so exciting! I haven’t seen you interested in someone in—“ she paused to think. “I honestly can’t remember the last time.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend,” Cash said, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “And she’s my friend, so please don’t scare her off with your meddling.”

Mor toss her blonde waves off her shoulder.

“I don’t meddle.”

Cash pursed his lips.

“Tell that to Az’s love life.”

“That’s different. Without my help, poor lamb’s going to die alone.”

“I can think of someone I know who could make him feel properly loved up,” Hélion said with a smirk, and Cash rolled his eyes.

“Leave him alone, both of you. Leo, if you want someone to flirt with, go back to London and bother Rhys. He’ll be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Tempting,” Hélion admitted. “But he’ll flirt with anyone. Besides, there’s just something about that pouty mouth of Azriel’s that drives me crazy.”

“Let’s just get the champagne opened,” Cash said, not wanting to discuss his friends’ love lives anymore.

He gestured to the servers, and Hélion glanced at the label of the nearest bottle and frowned.

“Bollinger? I thought we’d agreed on Moët.”

Cash shrugged.

“I changed my mind.”

Hélion narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” Hélion sniffed. “But no more changes. I made these selections for a reason.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re afraid I’ll pull something something you don’t know, you mean.”

Hélion gave him a dirty look, and Cash laughed.

“I haven’t changed anything else,” he promised.

At this the door chimed, and Cash’s heart rate picked up. Forcing himself not the react in a way his friends might notice, he nodded towards the door.

“Go, minions. Be charming, make people feel welcome.” He grabbed Hélion by the elbow as he made to strut off.

“Not too friendly. This is an elegant tasting, not a live sex show.”

Helion grinned, teeth bright against his dark skin.

“Afraid I’ll meet your Nesta and win her away from you?”

“No, because you lay even one line on her and she’s probably punch your lights out. Get out of here.”

Hélion laughed, clapping Cash in the shoulder even as his eye snagged on fetching red head who was already smiling at him.

Cash found as people trickled in that he was too wound up to mingle, so he busied himself in the back instead, helping pull bottles and making sure the hor d’euorvers looked the way he wanted.

When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out to find a text from Hélion.

Come to the front.

Swearing under his breath, Cash did as a instructed to find Hélion waiting for him at the bar.

“What is it?”

Hélion shrugged.

“Nothing. But you need to be out here. It’s strange for your to lurk in the back like the hunchback in his tower. Have a glass of champagne and relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“That’s exactly what a tense person would say,” Hélion said. “Go talk to people.”

“I will as soon as—“

He broke off as he watched Hélion eyes skate over his shoulder and light up.

“What?” he demanded.

Helion smiled, eyes flicking back to Cash.

“I think your Nesta just walked in.”

Cash’s throat went dry. His first instinct was to whip around, and he forced himself to relax his posture.

“Merde, you weren’t joking,” Hélion said, gaze going over Cash’s shoulder. “She’s—fetching. Who’s the woman with her?”

“Her younger sister, I think.”

Hélion’s grin grew sleepy and slightly wicked, and Cash shook his head.

“Nesta will flay you alive.”

Hélion only shrugged before looking back and cocking his head slightly.

“C'est intéressant...” he mused, tapping his fingers against his lips in mock bemusement.

Cash grit his teeth.

“What’s interesting?”

Hélion’s smile was a feral thing, one that reminded Cash of a fox.

“I don’t see a gentleman with her,” Hélion finished.

Unable to resist any longer, Cash turned, his pulse drumming a lulling beat in his belly as he drank Nesta in.

She was dressed more provocatively then he’d ever seen her, and it made his mouth dry as he took her in. The slinky navy cocktail dress she wore hung off her body as if it had been made for her, highlighting her gorgeous small breasts and lean legs.

She’s yet to see him, but his heart sped up as the woman next to her, who was undoubtedly Elain, turned her head in his direction. Elain gave him a delightfully unsubtle up-down before she leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.

Something warm began to pool in Cash stomach as Nesta’s gaze snapped to him and she flushed.

He smiled in greeting, feeling pleased when she took Elain’s hand and started towards him.

“Go away,” Cash hissed to Hélion.

“But—“

“I’ll introduce you later. Buzz off.”

Hélion huffed before retreating, and Cash fought not to fidget or look too eager as Nesta approached. She dark hair fell in a satiny curtain down her back, and he imagined bunching it is hands as he kissed her neck, peeling off that dress so he could...

“Cash, hi.”

He flashed what he hoped as an easy smile. He wanted to kiss her cheek the way he might have with someone like Mor, but given everything, he doubted she’d appreciate it.

“Nesta,” he said, taking in the hint of her cool, sharp perfume as she came closer. “Glad you could make it.”

She smiled, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. He admired the elegant line of her wrist as she did, marveling that wrists could even be attractive. Hers were, though. They were gorgeous.

“Thank you for inviting us.”

At this she put a hand on her sister’s back.

“This is my sister, Elain. Ellie, this is my friend Cassian.”

Hearing her said the word “friend” had giddy delight crashing through him, and he forced himself to look at Elain instead.

She gave him a bright, easy smile, and he immediately liked her.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Cassian,” she said as they shook hands

“Cash, please. Honestly, I feel like I know you already. Nesta’s always bragging about you.”

Elain gave a sheepish laugh, doe brown eyes sparkling. Like her sister, Elain was beautiful, though hers was a much softer, more angelic thing: the fresh-faced Disney heroine to Nesta sultry villainess. She was of a curvier build as well, her figure voluptuous where Nesta’s was willowy.

If Az was here, he’d be drooling all over the floor. He was a sucker for big tits and brown eyes, even if he was too much of a gentleman to ever admit as much out loud.

“Well that’s embarrassing,” Elain said. “It’s not like I’m going to cure cancer or something.”

“No it’s not,” Nesta said. “You deserve it. You’re brilliant, El.”

Elain blushed before turning back to Cash.

“I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you, too.” Elain continued. “It’s good to put a name to the face.”

Cash grinned at Nesta, whose mouth has pinched into a pert frown.

“You been bragging about me too, Archeron?”

Nesta sniffed in a way Cash now knew signified she’d been caught off balance.

“Hardly. It’s Claire who can’t shut up about you.”

Elain gave a delicate laugh.

“It’s true,” she admitted. “I think she’s got a crush on you. She still hasn’t stopped talking about that red Nesta served at her dinner party. No one could; did Nes tell you?”

Cash laughed when Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Your sister isn’t in the habit of giving me compliments, unfortunately. But thank you, it’s nice to know you liked it.”

“I loved it,”Elain corrected. “You should come to the next party and listen to everyone fawn yourself.”

Cash glanced to Nesta to gauge her reaction, afraid to find her expression disapproving. She wore a sardonic smile instead.

“Before you say yes, please keep in mind that Claire will be there, and there won’t be a bar or a stock room to shield you from her attentions.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re not going to protect my virtue?”

Nesta pursed her lips to hide a smirk.

“As if there’s any left to protect.”

“I will,” Elain assured him, grinning as she touched his arm. “We’ve known Claire for ages, but she can get a little—predatory.”

“Yes, a scrawny thing like you, who knows what she might do if she caught you alone,” Nesta added dryly.

Cash laughed, and unable to resist showing off a little, he crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Archeron, I’m pretty sure I could bench your weight about five times over.”

“Doubtful,” Nesta shot back, eyes glittering with the challenge. “I weigh over 300 pounds.”

“What a coincidence; I bench 1,500.”

“Well congratulations on setting a world record, then. The last I heard, it was 1,075.”

Elain watched them, a grin on her face before she cut in, “Will you excuse me? I have to use the restroom.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nesta said immediately, and Elain gave her a hard look.

“Don’t need any help, thanks.” She brushed a friendly hand down Cash’s arm. “Nice to meet you again.”

With that she slipped away, leaving them alone.

“She’s cute,” Cash said when she’d gone.

Nesta smiled, eyes softening in a way they only ever did for her sisters.

“Isn’t she?”

They watched in silence as Elain sauntered off before Nesta turned to give him a thorough once-over.

“You look—nice.”

Cash laughed, basking under her careful attention as her eyes swept from his blazer to his caramel dress shoes.

“Do I not usually?”

She flushed before pursing her lips.

“The joggers certainly gave me pause.”

He grinned, wanting to see if he could make her blush again.

“I try to avoid them in mixed company. It’s unfair to the women present. Too distracting.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I managed them just fine.”

“Or so you claim. But you easily could have been checking me out when my back was turned.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Get over yourself. Your ass is not as cute as you clearly think it is.”

He flashed her a smirk, seeing the opportunity her comment presented and finding himself unable to resist.

“And how would you know?”

She flushed, and he felt his belly tighten, even as he grinned.

“Gotcha.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t offer a retort, and the realization she had been checking him left him feeling giddy. That was, until he remembered who’d she was supposed to have with her that evening.

“So,” he said. “No Tomás?”

He tried to keep the hopefulness from his tone, unsure if he’d succeeded as Nesta straightened.

“He’s running late. But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Cash felt his heart sink.

“I can’t say that I was,” he admitted quietly.

“Was what?” She said, tone flatter than before.

“Worried he’d be here.”

He hated the way her face pinched at that, the light in hey eyes dimming.

“Don’t start, Cash.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Her expression darkened.

“You didn’t have to. Please, promise me you’ll play nice. I think you two might really hit it off.”

Cash knew he would never like this prick and that the feeling was certain to be mutual, but afraid of pushing her away, he only smiled.

“I’m sure we will. You look lovely, by the way.”

Nesta looked down under the guise of smoothing her skirt, but he suspected it was really to hide another blush. God, she was killing him tonight. He wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “It’s new. I don’t usually like this color, but—“

“It suits you,” he said, and though he wanted to push the issue, he knew he’d gone as far as he’d dared.

Reaching behind her, he grabbed a forgotten tray of champagne, passing her a flute and taking one for himself.

They were silent a moment as they both took a sip, and Nesta nodded in approval.

“Bollinger,” she said. “Should I be flattered?”

He shrugged, sure she was seeing through him.

“I’d forgotten just how good it was until you reminded me. I figured I’d help remind everyone else, too.”

“Good,” she said with a small smile. “I would hate to think you were just trying to impress me again; you know I’m immune to your charm.”

“But you do admit I’m charming,” he said with a grin. “I’ll take it.”

She considered this, eyes sparkling.

“I admit nothing,” she sniffed, taking another sip.

He laughed.

“Of course you don’t. It’s fine, my ego can take it.”

She snorted.

“That I don’t doubt.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as Nesta turned to survey the room. Cash watched her in profile, admiring the narrow bridge of her nose and the dusting of freckles she’d clearly tried to conceal under her makeup. She was so lovely it made his chest ache.

Knowing he had to stop staring before she caught him, Cash turned to watch the crowd milling around instead.

“So no Graysen either, huh? I’m oddly disappointed.”

Nesta huffed.

“Elain was going to bring him, but they got in a tiff earlier and now they aren’t speaking.”

“Why don’t you seem happier about that?”

“Because this happens all the time. I can’t emotionally invest in the hope they’re actually break up; the disappointment is too bitter. Please just tell me there’s someone here to distract her. What about your friend Azriel? Vanity Fair seems to think he’s single.”

Cash laughed.

“Az is still in LA; he generally avoids mingling with strangers, even for my sake. And my friend Leo was practically foaming at the mouth when she walked in, but I don’t think he’s the kind of guy you want dating your baby sister. He’s something of a...philanderer.”

“I’m not concerned,” Nesta said. “One thing I will say for Elain: she’s not easily wooed. I think she honestly gets hit on so much it doesn’t phase her anymore. Besides, she’s annoyingly loyal to Graysen. Tell your friend to do his worst; he’s not going to win her over.”

“Why do I get the sense that pleases you?”

She flashed him her Disney Villainess smirk again, and he felt his skin prickle in arousal.

“Because it makes me feel like I raised her right; weird blind spot for Graysen aside, Elain knows who she is, and doesn’t let others try and tell her different—especially men.”

“What about Feyre?”

Nesta expression grew more devilish.

“Fey’s more like me. She didn’t need to be taught how to shred men to ribbons. It’s instinct for her, and she’s damn good at it.” Nesta pursed her lips. “I just wish she’d use it a bit more often.”

“She’ll get tired of kissing frogs eventually,” Cash offered. ��You remember what it was like at 19.”

“I didn’t date until I was 19.”

Cash smiled.

“What was your first boyfriend like? I’m imagining either a geeky engineering major or an uptight Shakespeare nerd.”

“Neither,” she said, taking another sip of champagne. “He was a gorgeous Portuguese exchange student.”

He chuckled, even if some of his amusement had soured.

“You really have a type, don’t you?”

When she gave him a pointed look, he felt his heart sink.

“Tomás was your first boyfriend?”

It explained a lot. The blind loyalty, the way she seemed to capitulate to him when she didn’t for others.

“Some people are just lucky, I guess.”

“In what way?”

She shrugged.

“To get it right on the first try.”

It hurt—physically hurt—to hear her say it, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting something petulant. Instead he forced himself to shrug.

“I guess I wouldn’t know. My first girlfriend’s name was Becky, and she was the actual worst.”

“The fact she chose to go by Becky didn’t tip you off?”

“Looking back, it was the first of many warning signs.”

Nesta laughed, and Cash felt some of his bitterness fading. They were friends, he reminded himself. She’d claimed him as her friend, and as far as he was concerned, that made him the luckiest guy in the world. Her relationship with Tomás wasn’t any of his business. If she was happy, he’d be happy for her.

Over Nesta’s shoulder, Cash spotted Hélion trying to get his attention by tapping his watch.

“I should probably start getting people settled,” he said. “Do you want us to wait for Tomás?”

Nesta bit her lip. He knew she hated when people did her favors, and he suspected she was embarrassed that it was her boyfriend holding things up.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sure he’ll be here soo—“

The doorbell chimed, and Cash didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He fought down a searing stab of annoyance as Nesta raised her hand in greeting, choosing to glance at his own watch instead.

“Querida,” a smooth voice called. “There you are.”

Cash thought about trying to use the opportunity to make his escape, but he knew Nesta would see that for the cowardice it was and be annoyed he wasn’t playing nice like he’d promised.

Instead he turned, watching the well-dressed man making his way towards them. He was of rather average height and build, Cash noticed with satisfaction, though his face was classically handsome. Between the way his dark hair was pomaded away from his face and the fact he wore no socks in his Armani loafers—despite being dressed in slacks and a blazer—Cash thought he probably worked at a hedge fund.

Of course he did, the little prick.

The minute he was close enough, Tomás caught Nesta by the elbow and hugged her into him for a wanton kiss.

Cash bristled at seeing Nesta stiffen, clearly embarrassed. She should be, he thought sourly. It was like the beginning of a bad porno.

After a second Nesta pulled away, flushing a little as she dabbed at her lips. Tomás kept a proprietary hand on her low back.

“Where’s your phone?” Tomás said in Portuguese, ignoring Cash entirely. “I called you twice.”

“It’s on silent,” Nesta said. “I’m sorry.”

Tomás pursed his lips in unveiled irritation before finally seeming to take note they weren’t alone. Cash felt a grim satisfaction when Tomás had to tilt his chin up to meet Cash’s eye.

“Tomás, this is Cassian. He owns the shop.”

Not friends anymore, Cash noted with disappointment. Acquaintances, if best. The fact she wasn’t willing to admit to any degree of familiarity in front of Tomás was monstrously telling, and it made him hate the asshole even more.

Tomás tossed a casual glance in Cash’s direction, and though his smile was placid, his gaze was cold.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shifting Nesta in his arms so he could extend a hand.

Cash could tell she was uncomfortable that he hadn’t released her, and he fought the urge to break Tomás’s fingers as they shook hands.

“I suppose I have you to thank for all the exquisite wine I’ve been drinking lately,” Tomás said, smiling down at Nesta before letting his eyes drift back to Cash.

Cash shrugged. If Nesta wanted or needed to downplay their interaction for the sake of her relationship then he’d oblige her.

“I guess. Though Nesta’s got great taste on her own. She doesn’t need my help.”

“She doesn’t need anyone’s help. Right, querida?”

Nesta’s laugh was tinny and hollow as she finally extricated herself from Tomas’s grip until the pretense of looking around.

“I’m going to go find Elain,” she said, leaning over to peck Tomás again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tomás said, and Cash wanted to punch him for the tone he used, as if he were granting her permission. “Come right back.”

Nesta nodded her agreement and headed off, and though Cash expected Tomás to follow, he stayed, flashing a much cooler look as he took Nesta’s abandoned glass from the bar.

He raised it, and when Cash raised his, Tomás said in Portuguese, his tone light as if he were making an actual toast, “I don’t like you.”

Fucking coward.

Cash only flashed a grim smile, clinking his glass to Tomás’s and replying in English, “I don’t really give a shit.”

Tomás’s oily, self-satisfied smirk curled into a sneer, and Cash found himself bracing his feet a little farther apart on the floor. He guessed they were really doing this, then.

“Stay away from Nesta,” Tomás spit out. “She’s none of your concern.”

“And she’s not your property,” Cash shot back. “So why don’t you try treating her with a little respect?”

“Fuck you.”

Cash let out a bitter laugh.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“Stay out of our business, bugre.”

Cash took a step in Tomás’s direction, teeth bared.

“What did you just call me?”

It was a slur Cash hadn’t heard since he’d left Brazil, but it wasn’t one he could ever forget. It had gotten him into more than one fight growing up, and even now, it still made some part of him burn.

Tomás had the good sense to take a step back, even as he bared his own teeth.

“Stay away from Nesta,” he said again. “Or I will make you very sorry.”

Cash snarled.

“First you insult me, and now you’re threatening me? Tread lightly, caralho. You don’t want to fuck with me.”

“What’s going on?”

Both men looked up to see Nesta approaching, brows drawn.

“We’re leaving,” Tomás said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Leave? You just got here.”

Nesta spared Cash the briefest glance as Tomás tried to pull her along behind him.

“I have a headache,” Tomás said curtly. “Get your things.”

“I have Elain with me—“

“Give her your keys; she can bring your car home.”

People had begun looking now, and Nesta tugged her hand from Tomás’s, flushing.

“You’re embarrassing me,” she said quietly.

“I have a headache,” he said more forcefully. “Are you expecting me sit here and suffer?”

“No, but—“

“Good, then let’s go.”

Unable to stand by any longer, Cash intervened.

“Nesta—“

“Stay out of this,” Tomás snarled. He turned to Nesta. “Let’s go. Now, please.”

Nesta looked rather helplessly towards Elain, who was trying to make her way over to them.

“I need to—“ she gestured to her sister, and Tomás mouth tightened.

“Do what you need to and let’s go. I’ll be waiting in the car. Two minutes, querida.”

With a final sour look he stormed off, slamming the door as he left.

“Prick,” Cash muttered, and Nesta whirled on him.

He expected her to snap at him, but instead she pursed her lips, looking down at her feet for a moment before glancing back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said tightly, and he realized what he’d been interpreting as annoyance was actually her attempting not to cry. “I have to go.”

“No,” Cash said, touching her chin gently to win her gaze back from the floor. “You don’t.”

She brushed him off immediately.

“Yes, I do. Have a nice evening, and please make sure my sister gets home safe.”

“Nesta—“

By now Elain has arrived beside them, and Nesta pulled out her keys and stuffed them into her sister’s hand.

“Don’t drive if you feel like you’ve had to much to drink. I can come get the car tomorrow if need be.”

“I’ll come with you,” Elain offered, but Nesta was already shaking her head.

“No, you stay. Tomás just isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to take him home.”

“For fuck’s said, Nes. You don’t have to do this!”

Nesta flashed Cash a searing look.

“Please don’t make this worse. Ellie, I’ll see you back at the house. Have a good time.”

She brushed a hurried kiss to Elain’s cheek, and before Cash could protest again, she was striding for the door.

“I’m sorry,” he called, and she only raised a hand in salutation before disappearing.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said from his side. Her voice was quiet but bitter. “It’s always like this. I’m going to try and smooth things over. He’s—less harsh when I’m there.”

Cash could hear his heart beating in his ears, every instinct roaring at him to go to the parking lot and beat Tomás bloody. Nesta might hate him for it, but at least then he’d know she’d be safe.

“Is she going to be alright with him?” He asked Elain, and she pursed her lips.

She knew what he was asking, and she nodded.

“I’ll make sure she is.”

“Will you call me?” He asked, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring. “And let me know everything’s—okay?”

She nodded, handing her his phone so he could enter his number. When he handed it back, she gave her another soft smile, this one edged in a sadness and regret and broke his heart.

“It really was nice meeting you, Cassian. I hope I—see you again sometime. ”

She patted his arm before she too was leaving.

He swore until his breath when they’d both gone, furious and terrified in equal measure. Furious at Tomás for the slur, and for dragging Nesta out like a rag doll, and terrified that despite Elain’s reassurance, something bad might happen to her because of him.

More selfishly than that, he was terrified that he’d never see her again. She’d been lying to Tomás about coming to the Merchant before he even knew Cash existed. Now he’d be watching her even more closely. The thought made him sick, as did his powerlessness to help her.

“What the hell was that?”

Cash turned to find Mor behind him, brows drawn. Hélion, he noted gratefully, had corralled the other attendees and was beginning a speech about the history of the Bollinger and it’s flavor profile.

“Her boyfriend is an abusive prick,” Cash grit out. “And I just lost my cool.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?”

“And make things worse? I’m sure sure she hates me enough already.”

“Are you worried about her? Maybe you should call Ro, have him send over some unis for a wellness check?”

“I thought about it, but her sister said she’d call me. If I don’t hear from her in the next fifteen minutes, I will.”

His and Nesta’s friendship, he feared, was already destroyed. The least he could do now was make sure she’s alright.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mor breathed, lacing her fingers through his and resting her head on his shoulder. “I can tell you really like her. If it helps, she likes you, too. That’s why her boyfriend hated you so much.”

“It doesn’t. And I don’t think it matters, anyway. I doubt she’ll be back after that.”

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out.

Hi, it’s Elain Archeron. I just got to Nesta’s, and Tomás is gone already. Guess his “headache” worse than we thought.

Cash let out a breath.

I’m glad. Please tell her—

He paused. Tell her what? That despite the fact he hardly knew her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her? That hearing her laugh was like hearing the voice of God, and seeing her with Tomás had been like a knife to the gut?

He backspaced before trying again.

Thanks for letting me know. xx

Elain’s response came at once.

Thank you for caring about her. She deserves that. ❤️

Cash blew out a breath as he read it, something tightening in his chest.

“How can I help?” Mor asked.

Cash straightened his blazer, forcing a broad smile as Hélion introduced him and he waved.

“Scout the talent,” he said, scanning the bevy of beautiful, eligible women who were now smiling in his direction. “I need someone to make me forget, at least for tonight.”

“Forget what? Her, or the fight?”

Cash sighed.

“All of it.”

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