#but today i wore this particular dress and i got so many compliments from strangers 🥺

[yvmoveon]

.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 25th

Pregnancy, Papa Emeritus I x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.7k.

Warnings: Pregnancy; pregnancy sex; (consensual) groping; cunnilingus (I absolutely did not steal this scene from a previous Primo fic I wrote and change it up slightly, I don’t know what you’re insinuating but it is unappreciated and how very dare you); praise kink (y’all should know me by now); body worship; mild breeding kink; multiple orgasms;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

If Primo had his way, he would have you bed-ridden and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Ministry. He wasn’t ever a possessive man, nor was he territorial, yet all that changed when you fell pregnant with his child. He hated members of the Clergy even so much as breathing in your direction, let alone looking at you or, Satan forbid, trying to hold a conversation with you. When other people made a reach for your pregnancy bump, he found himself slapping their hands away with his cane. That you were grateful for.

Apparently all personal space went out the window when you became pregnant, your baby bump was free real estate for strangers to touch without permission apparently. But you were always the bad guy when you told them to back off. You loved that Primo listened when you complained about it, and you were incredibly grateful that he was willing to take on the persona of the gumpy old man if it meant you could get some space.

However, behind closed doors, Primo was almost as bad as the rest of the world when it came to your personal space. He fussed, he worried, but he also groped. He simply could not keep his hands off you. Some of it was innocent, especially when he would come up behind you and gently lift your bump, giving you some respite from the heavy burden you had been carrying for so long. But most of the time his hands were just downright naughty with the places he gripped onto.

Your breasts were a particular favourite of his hands. Your pregnancy had made you grow everywhere, tits and ass included, and he was certainly a huge fan of this. The way you were now multiple cup sizes bigger, heavy with milk for your unborn baby - all maternal and ready to sustain the life you were creating. Not to mention the way you jiggled when you moved, the way your ass wobbled as you wandered around your chambers. He couldn’t help himself most of the time, he just had to have his hands on you.

The particular maternity dress you wore today was really pretty, and comfortable for you especially in the coolness of the Italian autumn. But it was particularly triggering for you partner given it showcased your breasts in the most perfect of ways, and fell over your hips giving you a tempting shape that he simply could not resist. All you were doing was standing there pouring yourself a glass of water. But that was a crime in Primo’s eyes that couldn’t go unpunished.

You felt his wandering hands over your hips, gloved digits stroking the clothed flesh and meandering upwards to cup your heavy breasts. His lips, hidden beneath his thin paint, caressed the back of your neck, tickling your sweet and sensitive spot. You giggled at the sensation, but couldn’t deny the instant arousal that flooded your cunt the second you felt his hands on your body. His arousal evident by the hardness pressed against your lower back, and transferring into you.

“What’s got into you?” You asked, turning your head to look at your partner over your shoulder.

“You look positively delectable, fiorellina.” He complimented, his voice muffled by your skin.

“You do realise we have meetings and many other things to do today, right?”

“Frankly, my dear,” he swivelled your hips and turned you around so he could see your face, “Non mi importa. Not when I want to ravish the mother of my child as she deserves, no?”

His lips met yours and grew more passionate the longer he was attached to you; his hands became more and more impatient with the clothes that were separating your body from his. Your own hands moved to grip his robes, pulling them upwards to have access to his hard cock. Primo hated wearing undergarments with his robes - they were long enough to cover everything so why would he bother with them? Though, with your pregnant belly, it was particularly difficult for you to play with him in the way you usually would - or even wanted to. “Papa.” You complained through kisses. “I can’t touch you.”

“To the bedroom, fiorellina. Let me touch you instead, sì?”

You nodded and wandered off to the bedroom, removing your panties when you got there and sitting on the bed to help you kick them off completely. When he walked into the bedroom, he helped you out of your dress, gently pulling the fabric off of you and kissing the exposed flesh. He always wanted to make sure you knew how he loved and appreciated you, even if he was rougher with you than he ought to be. Undressing you and giving you tender kisses was his way of doing that. Your bra was the next to go, and Primo groaned at the sight of your nipples, enlarged and erect, just begging to be played with and sucked on. He gave you one final kiss before sitting you back onto the bed.

“Lay back.” Primo ordered you, removing his mitre and placing it on the dresser where it usually sat. You did as he asked, lying back and watching him disrobe - naked in an instant. That thought always made you laugh.

He situated himself between your legs, staring at your glistening folds and taking in the glorious sight of them, wet and ready for him. Your swollen clit, red and aching, screaming at him to wrap his lips around them and provide you with the most pleasure. You were always ready for him at a moment’s notice before the pregnancy, but the hormones had made you ravenous and insatiable. Not that Primo was complaining, of course. You made him feel young again with the amount of times you wanted to mount him and take what you needed from him. He was always more than happy to oblige, enjoying his pregnant wife bouncing on his cock first thing in the morning.

He first placed kisses to your calves - gentle, soft pecks that were barely there, but sporadically timed so you didn’t know when they’d land. His fingertips delicately caressed any exposed flesh he could reach, adding another layer of sensation to the already soft touches. Though, you knew your thighs would be painted black and white from his paints transferring.

“Always so good for your Papa.” He whispered, his deep voice gravelly with decades of use. “Always so obedient and helpful.” His lips now had moved up to your pubic mound. You could feel his breath flow between your folds before he’d placed a kiss just above them, making you shiver in anticipation for that final touch.

Papa, at times, felt like a walking stereotype given his unmatched patience and languid movements. He liked to blame his age, but you knew he enjoyed torturing you slowly, like he was sustained from your frustrations alone. And so, when you had grown impatient and considered sitting up to tell him to let you please him instead, his tongue finally made contact. But this time it had no softness to it - this time he was brutal in his movements.

The initial lick was broad and rough, causing you to scream out unexpectedly. But this was soon followed by his lips suctioning themselves around your clit and sucking as hard as he could, giving you overwhelming pleasure that bordered on pain. With his mouth still closed around your clit, the tip of his tongue continued to work it in multiple directions, almost erratic with his ministrations. He continued like this for what seemed like eternity; his head even moving in all directions when he sucked on your sensitive bud to keep your pleasure as lively as possible. Usually, such intense pleasure would have your hands flying to his bald head, but your rather large pregnancy belly stopped you from reaching him, and so you had to make do with the sheets below you, gripping onto them as tightly as you could for purchase and to keep yourself from floating away. All the while he remained face-first in your core, unrelenting and unwilling to stop until you reached your peak.

He pulled away briefly so that he could spit on his fingers, placing them inside you and tapping upwards as his mouth worked on your clitoris. He fully intended to be inside you today, and needed to stretch you out to accommodate his size. Though, of course, you appreciated the deep burn that came with his cock filling you up, he couldn’t bear to hurt you, especially while you were hyper-senstive with the hormones your body was pumping through you to create and sustain life. Your walls were extra slippery today, and your g-spot so tender that a single touch had your hips bucking upwards quickly at the shock, despite feeling him stretch you. You called out, much louder than intended at the feel of his fingers perfectly abusing that spot inside you, dragging the utmost pleasure from your body and playing you like a fiddle he’d been playing for years.

“P-Papa!” You breathed, your body feeling like it was on fire. Your hands shifted from the sheets to pinch and play with your nipples. “I’m so close, please - fuck! - Please don’t stop!”

Primo only grunted in response, adding a little extra vibration when he did. He refused to stop what he was doing because he knew you’d lose that feeling. Instead, he upped his movements and heightened the intensity, causing you to finally tip over the edge and climax all over his face. Your back arched and your mouth fell open, with a string of expletives tumbling out of it. And Primo only stopped when you sat up and pushed him away.

He certainly was a sight to see emerging from your wetness; his paint around his mouth had completely dissolved, showing you his swollen pink lips, soiled with your cunt. There was a lazy smile on his face, and a cackle in his throat at the sight of your exhausted face, your eyes half-closed in sleepiness and your mouth wide open as you tried to breathe in as much oxygen as your lungs would hold.

“Are you ready for me, fiorellina?” He asked you, kneeling on the bed and placing your thighs over his.

“Yes, Papa. Please fuck me.”

He groaned at the way your voice moaned the last three words, bottom lip catching between his teeth and eyes roaming lower and lower until he was staring at your cunt again. His cock was placed at your entrance, ready to push his way inside you; and fuck, when he finally did? It felt like magic.

Your sensitive walls welcomed him with proverbial open arms as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into the warm recesses of your cunt. The head of his cock gently kissed your cervix as though it were welcoming him home after being apart for so long. Every inch he fed into you felt delicious as it stretched you out to fit him like a glove; a torturous yet spectacular feeling until his hips were flush to yours and his mouth released a breath of relief followed by a sharp hiss. The noise you made as you felt him breach you went straight to his cock, making it twitch as it was going in, causing you to moan even louder. Had someone been playing with your clit, you were sure you would have cum instantly.

“Papa!” Your voice was a desperate whine, a plead for him to be closer to you, or even start moving inside you. You needed him to do something.

“I know, baby girl. I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You shudderred. “Please move!”

The first thrust was so intense you thought you were about to pass out, but all it was was a gentle movement. Your hands immediately moved back to the bed, clutching onto the sheets so tightly, you were ripping them from their tucked state. The second thrust felt just as good, and the third had your eyes rolling back. Soon enough, Primo had picked up the pace, rhythmic yet gentle movements that had your lungs gasping for air and your brain turn to mush. You, an educated and powerful woman, now lay a puddle of hormones and pleasure on your shared bed by the cock of a man significantly older than you.

The more he thrust, the more unbearable the feeling became. Your screams as an outlet to the sheer pleasure were not working anymore, and you’d now resorted to wrapping your teeth around the silk pillowcase that kept your head comfortable below you. Your back arched off the bed as much as it comfortably could, losing your mind even more now that his hips had picked up the pace. You were blissfully unaware of the way you looked, or how much you were making him suffer.

You were divine; a Goddess sent as a reward by Lucifer for all his hard work. Your body, carrying life that he’d helped create jiggling beneath him with the gentle force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy, round and full, nice and plump and begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. You always looked absolutely delicious, but right now you looked so tempting he almost wished you weren’t pregnant so he could fuck another baby into you this very moment. He released a deep, gutteral groan from your walls tightening around him after he’d told you that.

“Gonna keep pumping you full of kids, keep you knocked up as much as I can.” He continued. “You want that, fiorellina? You want me to keep fucking babies into you? Keep showing these fucks around the Ministry who you belong to?”

“Yes, Papa!” You screamed when you were finally able to release the pillow from your mouth.

His thumb came down to your clitoris and began rubbing circles in the tender bundle of nerves there, causing another scream to come out of you. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” He asked, his voice gentle and soothing.

You were almost sobbing. “No, Papa. I can’t.”

“Yes you can, fiorellina. Give me one more. Papa’s almost finished. One more.” He felt you tighten around him one more time as both his hand and his words tipped you over the edge. Your ears rang, your vision went white, your body tensed as he worked you through your second and final orgasm of the night. It felt as though you were exploding from the inside out, the feeling so powerful and incredible you could hardly breathe. All the while, despite the ringing, you could hear Primo in the distance somewhere talking you through it. “È tutto qui. That’s it, fiorellina. Breathe for me. Such a good girl for Papa. Cazzo! I’m gonna -”

Primo could barely finish his sentence before he stilled inside you, one final thrust that had him burying himself as deep as he could and emptying himself completely. Your sensitivity had you twitching each time he did, tightening involuntarily around him at each movement causing his orgasm to occur stronger than it usually did.

He pulled out and collapsed next to you, the room filled with nothing but your exhausted grunts and gasps for air at such an intense session. Eventually, when you were both strong enough, you made eye contact and laughed at each other despite nothing being funny. You wanted to move towards him and cuddle into him, but your body wasn’t responding the way you wanted it to today, so you settled for reaching for his hand.

Once you’d both calmed down, you began a conversation, filling the silence with more intimacy and sweetness as you still lay there recovering.

“Oh,” he said, remembering something important, “I will be home late tonight, fiorellina. My fratellini want an Uno night so I promised them I’d be there.”

“Good, it’s about time you got to spend some time with them. I know Papa Terzo has been down recently since they deposed him.”

“Sì. Thank you for understanding, amore mio.” He turned onto his side and cupped your opposite cheek, kissing the one closest to him. “Ti amo.”

“I love you, too.” You told him. “Now go tend to your garden. I need a nap. You’ve broken me.”

“Mi dispiace, fiorellina. Sleep well.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 4

Worlds Collide

Summary: Reader and Levi finally meet but in an unexpected way.

Chapters: Three | Four | Five

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to Anxiety, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.1k

Inspiration: Every Second - Baekhyun

TW: The chapter contains descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack. I'm sure everyone has different experiences, but this one in particular is based on how my lovely boyfriend helps me navigate the ones I get. :)

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

____

Levi’s POV

Levi felt like a fish out of water. The bright lights, attendants too chirpy for his liking, multiple strangers running their grubby hands over the same clothes were all making him nauseous. He wanted to turn around and flee at the very moment entered the store.

He remembered being here before, when he was with you at this exact place buying a tuxedo for your own wedding five years ago. You had forced him try on way too many of them, finding faults in each one and leaving him riled up. Many hours later when he finally walked out of the trial room wearing the perfect black suit, he was greeted by a teary eyed you. Honestly, he couldn’t tell the difference between the one currently on him, and the various others he had worn right before. But he couldn’t complain upon seeing the glee on your face.

Flashback: Five years ago

“I’m really not liking this shitty bridezilla side of you.”, Levi protested as you pushed him towards the changing rooms with the nine tuxedos you wished for him to try on – nine more than the number he was comfortable with.

“Can we just pick one and be on our way? No one is going to give a shit about what I look like when you’ll be standing beside me in all your glory.”

“Stop trying to butter me up. We're not leaving till we have the perfect tux. So, stop whining and put these on.”, you declared.

He yelped when you shoved him into a stall. ‘God, this man is infuriating sometimes!’ You smiled to yourself, listening to the constant muttering coming from inside. It was so adorable to imagine his knitted brows, scrunched up nose and his pouty lips while he complained incessantly. How you loved to annoy him! And why wouldn’t you? He looked terribly cute when he was pissed.

A few minutes passed and he emerged wearing one of the ensembles you chose.

“As much as that scowl paired up with the suit makes you look like a sexy spy, something isn't right. Can you please try the next one?”, you bat your lashes at him.

He shook his head at the melodrama and turned on his heel with a loud sigh. The next one wasn’t right either. Neither were the many others he wore after that. Oh, he was so livid! He threatened to leave every few minutes, but one pleading look from you would melt him, and he’d return to try on the next outfit.  You knew that your puppy eyes made him completely malleable. And he knew that you knew.

Finally, he dressed into the last piece you chose. Your eyes went wide when they fell on him. He looked celestial! The contrast of the velvety black suit against his porcelain skin, his grey eyes sparkling against the dark fabric, his chiseled body being accentuated by its impeccable fit – you were about to marry perfection. With glistened eyes, you engulfed him into a sudden embrace that made him tense up because of the many heads that turned towards you.

“Oh, just stop overthinking it and hug me back! Levi, you look perfect. I can’t believe I get to marry you!”, you squealed as you squeezed him tighter.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with putting me through this. Might as well call Zacharius and tell him you’re missing work tomorrow.”, he said as he finally wrapped his arms around you.

“Why?”

He leaned in slowly and breathed into your ear causing goosebumps to sprout all over your body -“Because you’re not going to be able to get any work done after I’m finished getting my payback.”

.

Present day

Levi didn’t realize how long he had been day dreaming for, following Furlan around the store until a handful of suits were shoved in his face.

“Try these on, will you?”, he requested.

“Tch! Let's just pick one and get the fuck out of this shithole. I’m not wearing these filthy clothes.” Levi comically flinched thinking about the amount of germs that just made their way on to his body by this uninvited contact, earning Furlan a quick smack on his shoulder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop being dramatic and try them on!”, he pushed him towards the trial room giving him no opportunity to respond.

Levi entered one of the stalls with hopes to end this misery as soon as possible while Furlan waited outside. He emerged in a few minutes wearing the first one, a jet-black suit. Furlan rejected it saying it was too similar to what he was planning to wear himself. Then he wore the second one, a deep navy-blue. Furlan shot that one down too. Levi was starting to get worked up, complaining relentlessly under his breath, plotting the murder of his younger brother . When he put on the next set, a sharp charcoal grey three-piece, he decided it was the one he liked the least. He got out of the stall ready to rebuff this one himself before Furlan could.

“What the fuck were you even thinking while choosing this shitty -” He was interrupted by a loud gasp behind and turned to look at the source.

His breath hitched when that peachy fragrance that he had adored for years hit him like a truck. There you stood, just a few feet from him; your face ridden with shock. You were wearing a gorgeous floor length emerald gown that hugged your body at all the right places, your wavy hair cascading down your shoulders.

Levi’s heart began pounding against his chest at the stunning sight before him. He wondered if you could hear it from where you were. Your eyes were blown to twice their size, cheeks flushed, breath shaky. You looked like a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to say something when...

You bolted.

He turned to Furlan in bewilderment as if to confirm if this had all really just happened or if it was his mind playing games.

“Are you going to just stare at me, or go after her?”

Before the future groom could even finish his sentence, Levi took off.

.

Reader’s POV

After finding Suki by the store entrance, she and you headed back to the couch you were seated earlier. You started browsing through the dresses again, only to find her constantly checking her phone.

“Will you please just choose something so we can both leave soon? What is wrong with you today?”, You were starting to get annoyed at her sudden withdrawn behavior.

She quickly apologized and grabbed a couple of gowns for you to try on before dragging you towards the trial rooms. You could hear muffled mumbling coming from the neighboring stall while you were changing into the gown Suki chose for you but you didn’t give it much thought. You were pleased with how the gown looked on you wondering when you last felt this attractive. Upon walking outside the stall to compliment her on her choice, you were greeted by her and Furlan chatting in the waiting area. Surprised, you were about to say hello just before someone emerged from the stall beside yours.

Levi? You let out an involuntary gasp causing him to turn to you. Grey eyes met yours. Did he just gasp too? The perpetual scowl on his face vanished and was replaced by raised brows, wide eyes and a mouth slightly agape. He looked like he was about to say something.

It felt like you lost control over your body. You were suddenly in motion, rushing towards the nearest escape you could find; Suki trailing behind. Right as you reached the store’s exit, a hand harshly grabbed your shoulder.

“You can’t leave in that dress! We’ll get in trouble for shoplifting!”, Suki panted, finally catching up with you.

She was right. But you were incapable of thinking straight at the moment. So, when you spotted a restroom, you barged inside pulling her in with you and locking the door shut.

It felt like the air was devoid of oxygen. Your breathing began to get laborious. Seconds later you were sitting on the toilet with its lid down, gasping for breath. Your right hand failed to find the comfort of your absent wedding band, that was back in the drawer of your nightstand, by blindly clutching your left ring finger.

“Are you okay? What is happening to you?”, a terrified Suki looked like she was about to cry.

“Panic...attack...”, you managed to blurt out between breaths.

She paced around the room not knowing how to help you. You were starting to feel dizzy; tears running down your face, sweat building up on your forehead, the lack of air starting to get to your brain. There was a soft knock on the door.

“Oi! Suki, let me in.”, Levi demanded from the other side.

You begged hey with your eyes not to open the door, but she did it anyway. He walked in and silently motioned her to wait outside, locking the door behind him when she left. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, rolled it, and ran it under cold tap water keeping his eyes on you the whole time. He quickly moved to kneel in front of you, as you sat wheezing. Bringing the cold cloth to your face and pressing it against your forehead and neck, he held one of your hands with his free one.

“It's okay. I’m here.”, his soothing voice was already starting to calm you down. But you were in no mood to let him bask in the satisfaction of still having that effect on you.

“You being here... has caused this.”, you glowered while choking on practically nothing.

“Still the same old brat!”, he smirked.

Before your pathetic mess could puff out another ridiculous remark Levi angled your face towards his by cupping your cheeks with both his hands.

“I’m kneeling on this fucking filthy floor for you. So, just shut your mouth, focus on me and let me regulate your breathing.” You accepted defeat and nodded.

“Inhale.

Exhale.”

You did as he said, taking slow and deep breaths of air as he guided you. A few minutes later, your breathing was almost back to normal.

“I thought I showed you how to deal with these episodes. Did you forget?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with one without you.”

Well, you didn’t.

.

His hands were still around your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as you tightly gripped the fabric of his blazer with your fists and looked into his eyes. It was like time had frozen and the whole world had come to a halt.

Suddenly, reality struck. You were seeing Levi for the first time since your divorce. Your eyes welled up and you couldn’t prevent the tears from escaping. His sinuses were stinging too. Before you could snap out of it, his hands on your face snaked around you and pulled you into an embrace, one hand caressing your hair, and the other steady around your back. You felt overwhelmed, almost wanting to push him away.

“Just stop overthinking it and hug me back.”, he mirrored your words from five years ago.

And he didn’t need to ask twice. You held onto him for dear life as while sobbing on to his shoulder.

“I miss you.”, your voice quivered.

“I miss you too.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea.”

.

Time passed as you silently sat there taking in the precious moments. You were paying attention to all his features one by one, as if trying to memorize them. His smooth black hair, bright grey eyes; did they always have a tinge of blue in them? His sharp nose, delicate lips, strong shoulders... wait, what is that?

“Fuck! Levi, I ruined your suit!” It was stained with your tears.

“That’s fine I was going to toss it anyway”, he replied, with a wave his hand.

“What? Why? It looks wonderful on you! The blue really brings out your eyes.”, You were sure you sounded like a shy school girl.

“Oh. You think so? Um... Th-Thanks.”, he tried to hide his blush behind a fake cough, causing you to chuckle. He still stuttered awkwardly every time you complimented him, even after all these years.

Levi turned to you again, in all your huffing and puffing glory following your episode - eyes swollen, nose clogged, face probably redder than a tomato.

“We need to talk.”

________

Chapters: Three | Four | Five

[featherymalignancy]

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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[ponderinqs]

Talking to the Moon. -L. Ackerman

author’s note: this is a levi x reader as childhood friends! warnings: mentions of death but that’s all :) genre: childhood friends, fluff, some angst?? word count: 2,383 --------------------------------------------------- From the memories of being a child that you can remember, he was always in the picture. Every single memory that you can possibly recall, there he was. It wasn’t a bad thing per say. Your families grew up next to each other after all. You moved in a year or two after he had moved in with his mom. Kutchel was her name. You remember her bringing over a fresh batch of homemade brownies with a little sidekick next to her. “Oh, hello! I saw that you are our new neighbors, so I couldn’t help but make you all feel welcomed. I’m Kutchel, and this is my son Levi.” Kutchel ruffled up Levi’s hair, making him groan in response. “Moooommm.” He immediately caught your attention. He was unusual looking for a kid. But, maybe it was a good thing. After being introduced to your brand new neighbors, everything took off from there. The two mothers were often found at the town’s park with their two kids. You and Levi grew closer and closer each and every year. When Levi was twelve, and you were eleven, devastating news fell upon the hands of the small children. Kutchel, the sweet lady who always gave you such a warm smile, died. She was silently fighting cancer, but told not one person about the fatal disease. Levi took the news pretty heavily, and ran away. It took you and your mother exactly a week and three days to find him. He was absolutely filthy, considering he was hiding in an abandoned shopping center. Your mother took him home and gave him a bath and of course, food to eat. He lived with you both for four years in the extra bedroom across from yours. He became a brother to you. Kids at school made up rumors, saying that his mother left him with you because she didn’t love him anymore, or that you both were actually siblings. They were different every day. After the four years, Levi was sixteen and you were fifteen. Things were definitely different. There was a weird tension between you two. You couldn’t put your tongue on it, but something felt weird in your stomach every time you looked at Levi. You for sure thought it was just guilt from his mother passing away, but then you came to the conclusion that they were in fact butterflies. It was no doubt that you two had feelings for each other. I mean, growing up and going through everything together? There was going to be some type of love there. You meant to tell Levi how you felt, and so did Levi. He was planning on telling you he loved you the day his uncle took him away from you. It was a Sunday evening when the doorbell rang. Your mother thought it was her friend, but it ended up being some weird man with a hat and a beard. He barged through the house and stood by the door. “Where is he?” The man spoke loudly, startling you and your mother. “W-Who are you sir? And who are you referring to?” Your mother stared at the man with terror in her eyes. “Levi, you shit! Where is he!” As soon as Levi heard his name from his room, he came downstairs and stared at the man with widened eyes. “Kenny..?” He approached him slowly. “Ah, there’s the bastard. Come on, we’re leaving.” He grabbed Levi by the arm and started dragging him out the door. “Levi! No!!!” You screamed out to him, only to have him look back at you. “I’m sorry, (name).” Was the last thing you ever heard come out of his mouth. He had a phone, and you always tried to call him. Everyday after school, you called him about ten times. But, you gave up after three months of trying. Where could he have gone? Is he okay? Who was that man who took him away? Those questions never stopped running through your head. Countless breakdowns and panic attacks at night never seemed to stop. It was all his fault. One night, you went onto your roof. You stared up at the sky and talked to Levi. “Levi.. I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing right now, but I miss you. It’s been a course of six months since I last saw you. When will you come home to me? I- I never got to tell you, but I like you.. Do you like me back?” You spoke to the stars as if they would somehow turn to Levi and he would give you the response you so desperately craved. Levi did the same exact thing that night. He went onto the roof of his worn down apartment complex and looked up into the starry night. “(name), I wish I could change the past. I knew that someday we would be separated, but I never knew it would happen this soon. Tch.. I never told you my feelings either. I hope that you’re okay.” A total of nine years had passed since that day. Levi was long forgotten by now. You had graduated and moved to New York City for your career in painting. You started to paint when you were seventeen and realized that you were incredible at the hobby. You were given a job opportunity here and you decided to take it. Some of your work would be plastered onto a wall in an art museum. It felt so surreal to you. You picked a couple pieces of art that were special to you to put up in the museum. One in particular was a starry night with a girl, no less than fifteen years old, sitting upon a roof and looking up into the sky. It always reminded you of that night. After the workers mounted the few art pieces to the wall, you were able to take a glimpse at your magnificent artwork. Tears pricked at your eyes when you finally realize your dream of being an artist came true. The art show was tomorrow, so you had to take a cab home and get some good rest. You stopped at a small corner store before heading home, being in the mood for chocolate milk. Your mom always made it for you and… him. But you still loved it nonetheless. After paying for your drink, you exited the store and began to walk along the sidewalk to find a cab. It wasn’t until a sudden force almost knocked you off your feet. You turned around and watched a woman with brown hair and glasses struggle to stand up. “Oh my, I am so sorry!! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” She apologized several times and you just smiled. “It’s alright, I appreciate your apolog-” You were cut off by a man catching up to the woman. “Oi, four eyes, let’s go. Stop talking to strangers.” His raven hair and steel eyes reminded you of someone from your past, but you brushed it off. This isn’t some cheesy fanfic, (name). This is your life for crying out loud.   “Okay, shorty. Let’s go. Sorry again ma’am!” She waved and jogged to catch up to the man, who’s eyes were glued onto yours. He looked shocked for a split second, before returning to his cold expression. You shook it off and found a cab before heading home. The next day was filled with anxiety. You were a nervous wreck on your way to the art show. You were bouncing your leg up and down while fidgeting with your fingers. Once you arrived at the museum you paid the cab driver and headed up to your exhibit. You were offered plenty of drinks and free food, but your appetite was long gone. You were wearing a simple red dress, fitted to your body, and some red heels. Not too much heel, or else you would fall flat on your face. The art show was three hours in, and many people stopped to look at your exhibit. They gave you plenty of warming compliments about each piece on the wall. When nobody was around your paintings, you walked over to the food and grabbed a few items to keep yourself in check. Three Hours Before Levi had planned to stay inside today, but when Hanji came bursting through the doors of his apartment, he had guessed she had other plans for him. “Leeevvvviiii!!” She came jogging into the living room, causing Levi to give her a glare. “What is it, shitty-glasses?” He picked up his tea cup and took a sip before placing it back down onto the coffee table. “So you know that art museum in Times Square? Well…. There’s finally going to be an art exhibit there! There hasn’t been one in over six months!! We need to go Levi, you’ll love it!” She tugged on Levi’s arm, causing him to click his tongue. “Fine. But only because you won’t leave me the hell alone.” He stood up and got dressed before the two of them took a cab to the art museum. It wasn’t too packed, but the place was nice and welcoming. While walking around, he lost Hanji and just sighed. “That dumbass..” He said under his breath while walking through the various paintings that were plastered up onto the walls. He approached a few that caught his eye. It looked like more of a beginning who had painted it, but overall was really good. While looking at each painting, one made his heart skip a beat. It was of a small child, perhaps around the age twelve, sitting on a swing with a girl. The boy wore mostly black, and his hair was raven colored just like his own. Their backs covered up their facial features, which gave the painting some sort of mystery to it. Another painting caught his eye. A young teen girl, sitting on a roof, while looking up into the starry sky. It felt oddly familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite tell as to why. The painting was labeled ‘Talking to the Moon’ and the artists’ name was nowhere to be seen, which gave him yet another mystery. These paintings seemed as though they came from the painter’s memories. You were heading back to your exhibit after eating a few sushi rolls when you spotted a man at your paintings. You rushed over to him, when you realized you had seen him before. From last night! That lady that ran into you, he was there too! You walked up to him and smiled. “H-Hi sir. Sorry.. I usually greet people that come over here but.. I was finding food.” You blushed shyly. “Tch. What’s the meaning with all of these anyway?” He asked, not looking at you yet. The voice sounded so close to home that it was almost scary. “Oh, hah, they were just some random memories I came up with in my head.” You laughed nervously. That was when he took a look at you, and his eyes widened. You caught the expression, and suddenly all of your childhood flashed before your eyes. “(name)!! Put that nasty thing down!” Levi laughed while running away from you. You were holding a worm while chasing Levi around your backyard with it. “Sometimes I still think, what if my mom was still alive?” Levi said while you two sat in his room one night. “Hey, she still lives on!” You pointed to his heart. “(name), we might get separated one day. I just want you to know that if or when we do, we will cross paths again. I am sure of it, okay?” Levi engulfed you into a hug while you cried. “You think so?” You sniffled after pulling away from the hug. “Oh yeah, I’m sure of it. Now let’s go eat some ice cream!” You both laughed on your way to the kitchen. Tears filled your eyes, a few escaping and falling down your cheeks. “L-Levi..?” You said quietly. “(name).. It’s really you, isn’t it?” He let his lips turn into a small smile. You wiped your tears and wrapped your arms around him tightly. “Oi, you’re suffocating me.” He said, muffled. You pulled away and laughed. “Sorry.” “You said we would cross paths again, and we did. Levi..” You found yourself crying yet again. “Hey, brat, stop it.” He wiped the fallen tears on your cheek with his thumb. You blushed and hugged him again. “I never gave up on you. I called you every single day after school for-” “For three months. I know. My uncle wouldn’t let me answer the phone. It was torture to me, trust me.” He interrupted you suddenly. You pulled away from the hug yet again. “Levi.. these pictures.. they aren’t just random memories. They are the memories that I remember of us.. The starry night one, I remember I was on the roof and I was trying to talk to you after you left.” You sniffled as you took a minute to recall your past. “I did the same. I thought that one day I would wake up and this would all be a dream but unfortunately it wasn’t.” He looked into your eyes. “I never forgot you. When I saw you last night, I brushed it off because there's no way in hell that would be you, right? But I guess it was.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “That night.. I uh.. I was going to confess before my uncle took me away,” He continued. “But I never got a chance.” He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed gently. “(name), I love you. I always have loved you. From the moment you moved into that fancy ass house of yours, I always loved you.” Your eyes widened. “Levi..” You stared at him before he crashed his lips onto yours. Everything moved in slow motion. It felt like you two were the only ones in the museum. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. After all these years of talking to the moon and waiting for him to reappear in your life finally paid off. You pulled away from the kiss slowly. “Levi, I love you too.”

[eldritchsurveys]

251.

Do make sure you dot your I`s when you write? >> I usually write in block lettering, so no lowercase I’s. I don’t really bother dotting them when I write in cursive.

Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? >> No.

What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) >> I kind of root for the New Orleans Saints by default, but otherwise I really don’t give a damn.

Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Ever have the cookie break so you have a giant chunk in your glass? D: >> I don’t eat cookies with milk.

What is today but yesterday's tomorrow? >> Hmm.

What is one thing you wish you were better at? >> Being a person, in general.

What is something you are confident about? >> My resourcefulness.

Is it hard for you to speak positively of yourself? >> Sometimes.

Use this space to give yourself a compliment: >> Nah.

What did you wear today? >> Black thermal and Guinness lounge pants. Can’t wait until the temperature goes back up...

Do you have the hots for a celebrity? If so, who? >> I fancy a few. Idris Elba, Javier Bardem, Matthew McConaughey, Aisha Hinds, Gillian Anderson... there’s five.

Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? >> No.

How do you feel about needles? >> I have no feelings about them.

What is your favorite accent to listen to? >> *shrug*

What did you buy the last time you went shopping for clothing? >> I don’t remember.

What was the reason you last got dressed up? >> ---

Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? What were they? >> I mean, maybe in school, but I don’t remember.

Tell me about someone who makes you laugh. >> Dylan Moran is really funny and one day I’ll rewatch Black Books.

Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? What about on your prefered gender?  >> I prefer some clothing to be loose and some to be snug. I don’t have a preference regarding what other people wear.

What do you do when you are really, really mad? >> Nothing healthy, probably.

Would you rather go naked than wear fur? >> No.

Pick one: Exsanguinate or Eviscerate ? >> To whom? Myself? Neither, thanks. 

Do medical terms make you uncomfortable? >> No.

What is something that always makes you uncomfortable? >> I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.

What does your umbrella look like? >> I usually use a big black and red one.

Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? >> I mean, I used to live in NYC, I have forgotten more unpleasant pub-trans experiences than most people have had at all.

Are you good at teaching someone something new? >> I don’t know, I haven’t done it enough to know.

Do you put a line through your 7`s? What about your Z`s? >> No and no.

Have you ever gotten a 'paper cut' from a cardboard box? (I have, it sucks!) >> Yeah. 

What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgiveable? >> Whatever it is, it hasn’t happened to me yet, so I don’t know.

Are you able to forgive and forget? >> Something of that nature. Usually the incident or whatever just loses its relevance to my life after a while.

Do you like cold pizza? >> No.

What is your favorite fruit? >> I don’t have one.

What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit?  >> Orange is pretty good.

Do you like broccoli and cheese? :3 >> No, I like broccoli without cheese.

What about potatoes and cheese? >> No, I like potatoes without cheese. Unless it’s a sprinkling of parmesan on herb-roasted potatoes, that’s pretty damn good.

..Everything tastes better with cheese. ...Or bacon. Fact or fiction? >> The obsession with putting cheese or bacon or both on damn-near everything annoys the hell out of me.

Have you had the banana creme oreos? <3 They're godly. >> Doesn’t sound like something I’d ever want to eat.

^ What about the mint ones? Yum. >> I like mint cookies, but I’ll pass on mint Oreos.

Is life REALLY like a box of chocolates? >> It’s not the strangest metaphor, I suppose.

Quick! Look behind you! What do you see? >> A wall.

What is one physical trait you are thankful to NOT possess? >> *shrug*

Go ahead, tell me a secret: >> ---

Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? >> Nope.

Toaster or toaster oven? >> We don’t have a toaster oven, so I don’t have an opinion on them.

Roasted, fried or grilled? >> Depends on the food item...

Do you set high expectations for yourself? >> Yeah.

Are you afraid of failure? >> Not necessarily, I just get discouraged easily.

What are you most known for? >> I don’t know.

Do you have any reputations? What are they? >> I don’t know.

Do you wear band shirts? What band was on the last one you wore? >> I do. I think the last one I wore was Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

Do you own any hats? Describe them. >> I have a Hozier beanie but I hate the way it fits on my head so I don’t wear it.

What about masks, you got any? Describe those. >> I have a feathered one from Halloween.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless? >> I don’t know.

Do your parents like your friends? If they don't, why not? >> ---

Have you been called a bad influence? >> If so, I don’t remember.

How do you feel about the Chinese practice of foot-binding? >> I don’t have any feelings about it, it’s nothing to do with me.

What about Chinese food? Love it or hate it? >> I like some of it.

Ever feel like you know someone but can't figure out how? >> I mean, maybe? Not any time I can recall, though.

Describe your favorite pair of socks. >> I don’t have a favourite.

Have you experienced any life changing news, events, etc, lately? >> Not particularly.

Do you ever spell your name wrong? >> No.

Do you like when people make you signs? I do. [; >> I’m not sure what this is referencing, unless it’s that thing that people used to do on MySpace and VF like 10 years ago where you’d write something like “I <3 [friend’s username]” or whatever on a piece of paper and take a picture of yourself with it. But like I said, that’s outdated now.

What do you daydream about most often? >> I don’t know.

Have any self-done piercings? >> I used to. 

Ever pierced someone else? >> No.

Do you get distracted easily? >> Something like that.

Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? >> It depends on the day, man. Every situation is different.

How do you feel about getting new neighbors? >> I think we’re the most recent tenants here (and this is our third year). Not a very high turnover rate.

Are you territorial? >> A bit.

How many ceiling fans are in your home? >> Zero.

How do you feel about shameless self promoting? >> I don’t really care, it doesn’t affect me one way or the other.

What are your opinions on SPAM? The canned meat, not unsolicited mail. >> I don’t even remember the last time I had it.

Does anyone ever wonder if you're drunk based on your bahavior? >> Not to my knowledge.

When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? >> Not that I’ve noticed, unless the periods are being used in an exaggerated way to show emphasis, similar to what you just did.

What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? >> That I do, which is why I don’t like when people type in all caps a lot.

Are you currently looking forward to something? >> Nothing in particular.