#ines ivy reads / watches

[ivyines]

Novel illustrations

#tged #the greatest estate designer #the greatest estate developer spoilers #the greatest estate developer #tged spoiler #tged novel #tged official art #javier asrahan #Ppodong #lloyd frontera #arcos frontera #count frontera #count arcos frontera #tged novel illustration #frontera county #ines ivy reads / watches

[ep-10]

Danny Phantom Teacher AU

Full fic posted in AO3: Danny Phantom Teacher AU - Chapter 1 - EP10 - Danny Phantom [Archive of Our Own]

And Fanfiction: Danny Phantom Teacher AU Chapter 1, a danny phantom fanfic | FanFiction

Chapter 4:

"Good morning, Mr. Fenton!" Madam Jones, one of the Math teachers and part-time counselor of Canterville school, greeted Danny with a smile.

"Good morning," replied Danny gleefully as he scanned his badge by the door outside the teachers' room.  "How are you today?"

"As usual. You know how bothersome things are. Some kids aren't performing well this semester because of the change in syllabus and new subjects introduced.  It'll take a while for them to get used to it. Otherwise, I'll have to request the education board to revise the new subjects."

Madam Jones proceeded to scan her badge after Danny. She was a senior teacher in this school for over 20 years. So, she was very familiar with the ins and outs of school happenings.

"And how's it going for you as the new teacher here, Mr. Fenton?" 

"Well, I encountered some troublemakers yesterday and managed to remediate just one problem." Danny opened and held the door to let her walk in, "After you."

"Thank you. Oh, was it about a couple of students fighting yesterday?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"News here spreads fast, dear. It won't be the last time you'll hear the students fighting in this school. It's been happening quite often compared to last year," she chuckled.

"Well, that's delightful to know," Danny remarked sarcastically. 

"It's just a matter of sorting it out peacefully. In any case, if you have any questions, you can always reach out."

"Oh yeah, I got one.  I just recently read an article online about a student here who got violently attacked about a month ago.  Is this true?"

Madam Jones hummed and tried to recall something in her mind. "Yeah, I know about that incident. It was a bizarre case."

"What exactly happened?"

"From what I remember, that student was said to have messed with some witchcraft or something. About a month ago, she was found bleeding and unconscious in the old abandoned school building. She's said to be hospitalized and still recovering. The police weren't able to find the culprit. There's no eyewitness or security footage to prove who attacked her. That poor girl refuses to talk to anyone after that incident. So, the case is unsolved." 

"That's tragic. Do you think the perpetrator could be someone outside the school?"

"Unlikely. There are security cameras outside the school compound. The school security had already reviewed the footage, and nobody was seen trespassing."

"So, it could likely be done by someone inside the school."

"Possibly, but we have no proof if the culprit is someone in the school either."

"Hmm, you mentioned we have an old abandoned school building...?"

"Yes, it's the building behind block C.  All entrances to that building are already blocked to prevent other students from accessing it."

"I see. Well, thanks for the info."

"Anytime. Oops, I need to go to the next class now.  I'll chat with you later," Madam Jones looked at her watch and quickly picked up her books.

"See you later."

He briefly waved as she walked out of the teachers' room. He then rubbed the back of his neck and thought, I should probably check out that place...

***

Recess just started, and Danny had a couple of hours of spare time before his next class started. He walked around to survey the old abandoned school building. The main entrance to the building and the ground-level windows were all boarded up. The walls were stained with mold, and the paint flaked and washed out. Several window panels shattered, and all windows had a layer of thick dust accumulated on the surface. Weeds, tall grasses, and poison ivies surrounding the building were overgrown, making it more difficult for anyone to access. 

Not for Danny. He had explored so many risky places that a simple abandoned building like this wouldn't deter him from entering. He looked around to ensure no one was watching, but he did not notice two pairs of eyes peeking behind the bush from a distance. Two girls from the senior class were watching him and wondering what he was doing.

"What's he doing at a place like this?" whispered one of the girls. "I hope he's not planning on doing something creepy. You know what happened a month ago in this place was messed up."

"Shh, look," The other girl pointed eagerly at him as he walked around the corner of the building until he disappeared from their peripheral vision behind the wall. "Let's get closer!"

As they carefully approached the corner, they were caught off guard by the overgrowth foliage and poison ivies blocking the pathway behind the building.  Danny was nowhere in sight.

"What the...?! Did he just walk right into the thick poison ivy bushes without a flinch?"

"Shit, we can't go around the other side of the building either. It's entirely infested with bugs and poison ivies. Let's leave. We'll catch him later," both girls groaned and decided to walk away.

***

Danny dusted off the cobwebs caught onto his sleeve after he got inside the building without much hassle. He found himself standing inside a dingy old classroom and began looking around the place.

Old desks and chairs were messily piled up in the corner. Some were broken and dented, while others seemed as if they got violently crushed by force. Graffiti was haphazardly written on the stained walls, and debris was scattered on the soiled floor. The board on the ceiling was torn with holes. There were even remains of a dried-up rat stuck in the vines that dangled through the windows. The whole place looked like it could crumble anytime soon if an Earthquake were to hit the area.

He walked out of the room and headed straight into a dark corridor. This area was not in any better state than the classroom that he just stepped out of.  Several broken glasses and moldy rubbish were lying on the floor. He had to be careful walking in this area. The further he walked down, the darker it got. It wasn't long before he felt a chill down his spine, and mist appeared on his breath. He froze in front of a door to another classroom. Something foreboding was inside. He could sense it.

He slowly opened the decaying door, and he had to be very cautious when entering the room. The temperature in the classroom instantly dipped.  His whole body shivered as he looked up at a pair of big glowing eyes staring down at him. It growled at him with a deep guttural sound. Whatever that thing was, it looked huge and inhuman. 

"A girl was attacked in this building last month. Are you the one who did it?" Danny spoke to it sternly.

It hissed momentarily before answering him, "She opened a portal for us using her witchcraft. Many had managed to escape through the portal. And as a token of gratitude, we got to break her so that she won't reveal it to her kind." A row of megalodon-sized glowing fangs, that stretched across its vein-filled face, emerged from the dark. 

Danny gasped. He knew natural ghost portals were a common sight in Amity Park, but this was the first time he heard about someone opening a portal using sorcery. If that portal was still active, he must seal it before any sinister ghosts kept coming through.

"Where is the portal, ghost!" Danny snapped at it.

"It's in my haunt, and I'm guarding it," it stretched its left deformed bulging arm and blocked a wall scribbled with incantation scripts.  Right in the center of the wall was a concentrated pool of swirling green ectoplasmic energy. He recognized that the thing behind the ghost was an active portal.

"You've defied the law of truce between this realm and the Ghost Zone. You've no right to stay in this realm. Now, hand it over before I decide to send you to the Ghost Zone Prison."

"It's mine! No one, not even the likes of you, shall take it away from me!" Its eyes glowed brighter with rage.

The temperature in the entire room plunged to freezing level. A thin layer of icy frost materialized on the wall surface in an instant.

"Not if I take over your haunt, big boy." Danny grinned menacingly at it.

#danny phantom #teacher au #teacher!danny #horror vibe

[charmingwillow]

Two years ago, Lily turned down her boyfriend's public proposal. Her town and family haven't forgiven her for breaking his heart but she's come home and there's a few things from her past she'll have to confront.

This week’s (mini) chapter based on Jilytober’s #16 prompt, “I can never hate you.”

Read Chapter 3 on AO3

Read from the beginning

~oOo~

James watched Lily leave the bar; the low lighting darkened long her red hair, the shadows dancing around her. At the door, she paused and looked back, eyes going straight to him; her lips tilted into a small smile as she offered a little wave, and then was gone into the cold night.

Fifteen minutes, she’d told him, and then she’d be back.

James slumped back against the bar and ran his hands through his hair, knocking the frames of his glasses as he did. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, telling himself to get it together.

Lily Evans was back in town. Naming what she’d been to him was impossible— what did you call an enemy-friend-rival-infatuation-annoyance? Remembering their high school days brought aching nostalgia.

He’d seen her over the years, as they returned during uni breaks, their run ins sporadic and without substance. She’d been with Benjy and for a while, he’d had Betty.

Their paths had been so entwined in high school, of course they’d diverge eventually. But what was it Sirius said once? It was difficult for people to walk in straight lines; they wandered in circles, lost, before finding their way.

Betty eventually found Ivy, an old childhood friend, and James… well, sometimes—many times— he would stop and think about Lily. It was just sort of funny how she wandered in tonight.

James huffed a breath and pushed off from the bar; a few bottles rattled in his wake, but they remained in place. He picked up a damp cloth and went to clear away Lily’s dishes.

Jasmine, faint but enticing, still lingered in the space where she’d sat. She’d always smelled of flowers, but he wondered when she switched to this perfume. It was hard not to breath it in, knowing it was hers, and wondering what it would be like to smell it against her neck or the inside of her wrist.

Swallowing, James turned, dishes in hand, and found Sirius standing on the other side of the bar. A small pencil was tucked behind his ear and his hair was tied up in a messy bun— a classic sign he’d been deep in admin stuff.

Technically, they didn’t have to work thanks to their respective family inheritances but they bought the restaurant together; they liked the town, they was wanted to stay— they didn’t like sitting on their asses, or the lack of good food, however. Remus said they were crazy, but admitted it’d bring them character or something. While he served as their official accountant, Sirius found a new love in managing the restaurant, in getting to order people about and be in control of something that was his. James liked the dance of bartending, of preparing and creating while chatting with customers.

“Heard a rumor,” Sirius said, stretching his arms high above his head. If there wasn’t music ambiently playing, James was certain he’d hear several pops and cracks. “Something about a bitchy red head.”

“Wasn’t bitchy to me,” James said, and brushed past Sirius to bring the dishes into the kitchen.

Sirius followed on his feels, through the din of noises, and dodging their staff. “So it’s true, she’s back?”

James gave a noncommittal grunt as he dumped the dishes. But upon seeing Sirius’ raised brow, he nodded. “For the weekend. Here for the Fenwick funeral.”

Sirius whistled and crossed his arms. “Brave. You couldn’t pay me to go to a Black family funeral.”

“The Fenwicks aren’t batshit like the Blacks, she’ll probably be fine.”

“Not batshit, definitely no cousin marriages at least,” Sirius said, following James back out the kitchen. “But just as prideful. That makes people feel powerful, makes everyone else believe their power.”

James turned, stopping so suddenly that Sirius almost walked into him. “Do we need to worry about that? About someone spreading that kind of rumor?” He glanced around the restaurant, quickly studying staff as he went, wondering who…

Bitchy red head— James scowled. Lily was anything but; he loved her wry humor, her willingness to joke, and how she always stood her ground. The Benjy thing was only that. He didn’t know everything, only what she told him, but he trusted it was right for her.

Sirius frowned, maybe sensing some of James’ thoughts, and leaned against the bar, folding his arms under him. “Nah, it’ll blow over, it always does.” He tossed a cheeky grin at James. “They seemed worried for you, actually. Maybe jealous.”

That broke James out his thoughts and he glanced at Sirius, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Jealous? Of what?”

Before Sirius could elaborate, a waitress came over to bring an order; she glanced between them, a cheerful smile in place, obviously curious about their conversation. Unfortunately for her, she had no reason to stay so she went to her next table, albeit slowly.

As James began assembling the drink order, Sirius took a seat at the bar. They both glanced around to make sure they weren’t heard. “You. Her. You and her. Something going on?”

James’ eyes flickered, moving from his shaker to Sirius, and back. He felt warm, remembering Lily’s coy looks and the challenge in her words. How her eyes lingered over him, how he let her. “No.”

Sirius snorted, then let out a barking laugh that drew several people’s attention. James put down the bottle of gin, and gave Sirius a light shove.

“People are being really shitty to her,” he said, “she just needs a friend.”

Sirius had stopped laughing but still smiled indulgently, knowing that what James said was bullshit. True, yes, but not so selfless. “Right, a friend who doesn’t hate her.”

“Right.” James poured the gin. Added a lime. “And I don’t hate her.”

“Mhmm,” Sirius agreed. “You never have.”

“Right.” James nodded at Sirius, confirming this statement, and put out the drink for the waitress to pick up. As he did, the front door opened with a burst of frigid air and flowing red locks.

Lily frantically smoothed out her hair, a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a coat now, but her cheeks were still flushed from the cold. She was staring at James, a happy anticipation making her bounce on her heels before she made her way over.

Sirius brightened upon seeing Lily, and turned back to James, noting how he stood frozen as watched her, how he took several deep breaths to ground himself. Smirking, Sirius said, “Right.”

#jily #jily fic #jilytober #James Potter #Lily Evans Potter #my writing

[dark-icelandic-academia]

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

— The Secret History, Donna Tartt

It is a theme in Dark, Classic, and Light Academia to learn Latin and Greek, and talk about old Greek gods from poetry.

I want to propose we open up the playing field for other areas to be equally talked about.

Learn a dead language? Make it a dying one instead, or one that is known to be beautifully rare. Save the ones that are usually overlooked.

Read old literature? Also watch classical movies and fall in love with legendary photographers. Mix it up and read old translated literature of French, German, Swedish, or even Icelandic authors that have changed the way we think today.

Fall in love with science, and the diversity of history. Fall in love with all that is beautiful in nature, and utilise your endless curiosity for the unknown to give you the simplest of balance such as learning the ins-and-outs of the English Ivy before placing it amongst your scattered books.

We quiver before the very touch of nature, why should we then hide our admiration beneath the dungeons of a cold castle in the middle of a bricked city?

(All photos taken from online, I own none of them)

#dark academia #witchcraft #spirituality #green witch #dark academia aesthetic #dark #classic academia #academia #light academia #academia aesthetic #cottage academia #dead poets society #poetry #y yo a ti #pagan aesthetic #aesthetic #cottagecore #secret history #donna tartt #bookshelf #book quotes

[gale-dragon-writer]

Chaotic Reboots and Fixes Extensions: Battle-Kiosks & Admins.

Continuing on my Chaotic Reboots and Fixes post. I'll be explaining more on two of the Reboots and Fixes ideas I talked about in that. Onto the AIs! ~}i{~

Starting off, there are 8 Battle-Kiosks with each one corresponding to a specific BattleDrome. These Battle-Kiosks are AIs programmed into their respective BattleDrome (not completely replacing the DromeMasters, but they just add more to what they do). They keep the matches in order so there are no overlapping matches, reminding Players about their scheduled matches for their respective Battledome, keeps track of Players' streaks for a match against their respective BattleDrome Codemaster, keeps an active eye on the Matches for any hints of cheating, keeps track of which Players are currently banned from using their respective Battledome and for how long, and keeps any and all official bets/wagers made on Matches in fair reason as well as makes sure that the losing party(s) pays their wager. While they don't have a solid body, they use a hologram form with generic cybernetic features but each hologram "wears" the same coloured robes as their respective Code Master.

For the Battle-Kiosk for the Crellan Drome, the hologram wears blue robes. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Hotekk Drome, the hologram wears white. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Amzen Drome, the hologram wears yellow. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Oron Drome, the hologram wears green. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Tirasis Drome, the hologram wears orange. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Imthor Drome, the hologram wears gold and white. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Chirrul Drome, the hologram wears purple. For the Battle-Kiosk for the Beta Drome, the hologram wears red, green, and blue.

While the Battle-Kiosks don't have given names; Tom, Kaz, Sarah, and Peyton don't like calling them Battle-Kiosks. So they've been calling them Ceil, Tekken, Zenny, Clover, Tira, Imo, Chir, and Beta (they're listed in the same order as the Battledromes listed above). The Battle-Kiosks don't mind the Main 4 giving them names and calling them by those name, but they will verbally reprimand anyone inside their respective BattleDrom if they hear them making fun of or harassing the Main 4's little quirk.

The 8 Battle-Kiosks do have little quirks that show when interacting with the Players. Ceil can be a little snippy when the players taunt or tease their opponents. Tekken prefers that the Players arrive at their matches a little earlier than scheduled. Zenny likes to try to crack a joke after a battle match (Payton likes that about Zenny). Clover had overridden the code bits to green rather than blue-&-white in the Oron Drome. Tira always tries to motivate the loser of the Match to do better in the next match. Imo has a tendency to play soft music during the matches. Chir has a low tolerance for Tribe-bias in the Chirrul Drome and will reprimand players that belittle players that prefer a particular Tribe, sometimes to the point of disqualifying both players from the match if they continue that behaviour (Strangely, a lot of players seem to forget this and tend to do the Tribe-bias matches in the Chirrul Drome). Beta enjoys helping new players and some of the Challange Matches that players like doing (Beta keeps a record of all the Challenges to keep in case another player wishes to use the challenge [ie, like the Mega Matches}).

Now for the Admins...

Admins are pretty much AIs in cybernetic bodies that wander around Chaotic keeping their eyes and ears open for any players not adhering to the Rules of Chaotic. This is their main priority and will default to doing this when not asked to oversee matches. There are easily close to 500 different Admins functioning at once in Chaotic.

The Admins are also programmed to answer any questions that the players have in regards to Chaotic. While they can't/not allowed to formulate any battle plans for the players, they can recommend certain Mugic, Battlegear, and Locations that can work with certain creatures. The Admins are programmed to be unbiased in regards to the Tribes of Perim, so they can answer any questions regarding the facts of each of the Tribes.

While the Admins are normally found in Chaotic, they can travel to Perim if necessary. They more port-in at populated areas, such as cities or popular landmarks, than more remote locations because they do check-ins with Battlegear Makers. This is more to ensure the safety of the players and the creatures who use the Battlegears. They also assist in enforcing the security for storing Battlegear for each of the Tribes (The Tribes don't mind the Admins that much because they are programmed to not care about the wars and they're surprisingly good at analyzing the security system to improve them). The Admins do encrypt these security details with different coding so the other Tribes don't try to use the Admins to bypass the security for the other Tribes. The Danians do have some respect for the Admins because they somewhat operate like a hive too.

Like the Battle-Kiosks, the Admins have their own little quirks and don't have given names. However, they do have identifying glyphs on the location of their upper left chest in order to tell the Admins apart. Tom, Kaz, Payton, and Sarah have taken to giving the Admins names based on the identifying glyphs on their chests. (I'm just going to list the five that the main Cast interacts with the most)

Admin AVRI: The Main 4 like to call this one Avery. This Admin always seems to run into the four no matter where they are. This Admin is the one that they interact with the most and they consider Avery their friend.

Admin EDWRD: The Main 4 like to call this one Edward or Eddy. This Admin is usually found patroling around the BetaDrome. This one has a tendency to listen to music during their off-time.

Admin C1RT1C: The Main 4 like to call this one Critic. This one seems to enjoy watching movies during their off-time, so the name given to this one is on point.

Admin 1V: The Main 4 like to call this one Ivy. This Admin has a data bank of all plant life in Perim and knows where to find what species of plants.

Admin BL8K: The Main 4 like to call this one Blake. This Admin is always seen with a book in hand and has modified their cybernetic body to have extra eyes so they can read and patrol at the same time.

The Admins collectively keep an extra eye on the more "Troublesome Players" (Take two guesses on who those are) or Players who have accumulated a lot of negative rep or suspicious behaviour.

~}i{~

Until more Ideas develope~.

#let's get chaotic #chaotic cartoon #chaotic

[vanityloves]

Storm and ivy + medic

@septemberlove i have. no excuse for how late these are but uh. thank you for sending these in 💕.

[word count: 1.8k+ with the longest 'authors note' bc im mentally ill]

sfw, mmm comfy cozy, general sick hcs,

storm - what are cozy days in with your f/o like?

Whenever I think of cozy days, my brain immediately goes to rainy/chilly weather where we can cuddle up together and my brain short fuses. I'm gonna assume this is just like a day off or something though!

How I visual them together vs how I write them is odd because they technically don't act or accept they're 'together' until after the comics but I always write them like they're in a Steady Relationship while on base. I'm always writing a slight AU if you will. Or maybe it's after they get their jobs back at Mann co - I should highkey adjust that but No ♥️. No more thinking, just content based off my idealized universe.

There's definitely a point in their relationship where it's like 'I think I have to put in a little more work here'. I'm not saying either party is slacking but they're slacking ♥️. Neither of them really take action. Chef doesn't blame him or really complain about it because that's their nature, plus they don't know how romantic relationships really work or flow, especially with a person like him. Medic doesn't see an issue with anything and continues on with his normal business. 

What I mean by slacking is, there's not a lot of quality time being spent together which would be fine if it wasn't both of their strongest Love Languages, which could help them strengthen their relationship. It's odd because they're 'romantically involved' but they don't spend a lot of time together for either of them to consider it romantic, simply because it's on company time. 

ANYWAYS THATS JUST ME BEING CONVOLUTED. FEEL FREE TO JUST IGNORE ALL OF THIS.

Medic goes to bed pretty late and wakes up at a fairly early hour. Chef is a late sleeper and forced to be an early riser because their Actual Job is to make at least 2 or 3 meals a day (if they want something else, they're on their own but hate when anyone messes up the kitchen and will honestly, stand there and watch said person).

There's minimal time they can spend together if they want to do their own activities - for Medic, it's tinkering around with organs or in Engie's garage, for Chef, they're typically meal prepping or trying to tend to an animal or plant of some sort.

Medic is actually more direct about wanting attention and it's never been a problem because he's cautious about it. Chef is more emotionally inclined and willing to drop hints that they want more attention. 

Chef probably has one day off where it's a complete free for all, for the rest of the team, which would be the perfect time to spend with Medic - If he wanted to stop working, that is. Just don't picture it but, Chef will literally sit in the medbay for hours just to be near the guy, but it isn't bad? The drone of machinery or the scratching of his pen is relaxing, or having his doves nearby is always sweet! Plus, he's prone to talking their ear off when he finds something interesting, so they'll chime in and have some back and forth.

But, yknow - sometimes having someone's undivided attention is nice and Chef is pretty dense when it comes to that and wonders why they feel so upset.

They swallow their pride and ask Medic if they sleep in his room one night and Medic's not as dense as Chef, he understands that they'd never ask for something so out of the blue for no reason and he promises to finish up his work early so they could head to bed together. Chef had nothing planned, they literally just needed that affection and closeness - since it was their day off Medic takes the hint and puts his work aside for the time being.

They'd probably sleep in and stay in bed a while longer before getting ready together - no uniform required. Chef isn't so talkative in the mornings, Medic's noticed, but they were happily fiddling with his buttons and tie, humming in thought before answering his questions. Medic's seen them out of uniform of course, but it's always funny seeing them in just a button up and jeans like … mom on the go vibes. Medic leaves his coat behind before making his way to the kitchen with Chef. 

The kitchen usually has a couple people loitering around, grabbing their coffee or honestly, waiting around for Chef because they always make extra and these bitches are lazy. But the kitchen has now become A Medic Supremacy Zone and he has first dibs - the benefits of being w/ Chef I guess. The two would work as if the others weren't there, keeping their conversation between each other even if that means Medic tilting his head down while Chef leans in closer to reply. There's a high possibility the other have left them to their own devices, seeing as the couple was ignoring them / knows they won't be getting anything. Breakfast isn't extraordinary but it feels special since they actually get to sit across each other and share the morning today.

It's possible that they'd go out and run some errands today, but it's a cover to window shop and walk around. I'll be honest, they probably haven't had proper dates so it's refreshing. You could ask Chef what they liked the most and they're just like :] Yes. 

Other times, they like to curl up and catch up with some reading (well, Medic at least) while Chef rests against him and skim over the words. They're not too invested in what he's reading but likes to have some idea of what he's talking about so they don't ask too many questions. (Very 'these words are big and english/german is not my first language + I can't read as fast as you can so I got lost 7 pages ago). Medic likes to watch Chef garden and tries to help them tend to whatever they're able to grow in the goddamn desert. He overwaters a cactus and looks away if it dies. Chef talks ab how they're growing mint and how it really took off while Medic's standing there like :] Oh, lets make tea with that. Because they're Old People (read: Medic is old)

🕊🐁

ivy - how do you take care of each other when you’re sick?

Chef is easier to take care of when they're sick. They continue working until they're pretty beat but once they feel sick and a break doesn't work, they'll try to finish up what they can before turning in early. They see themselves to bed and inform whoever's near that they won't ne there at dinner and if they really cant figure it out, then come get them - other than that, they're barricading themselves in their room.

When they're sick they're REALLY sick but recovery time is usually a few days (depending on how bad it is). They basically hibernate and don't like being disturbed. They're used to not fending for themselves since they've been on their own for a while but really appreciate all the check ins Medic does w/ them, especially when they're all better. 

Medic, being...their Medic, he definitely gives them a check up when they first begin showing symptoms and he can be a stickler when it comes to drinking fluids and eating properly. Chef usually has a  finicky stomach as it is so Medic really urges them to drink soups and easy foods like bread and crackers. He checks in on them A LOT, even if that's just peeking in to see if they're asleep or not. He backs off when Chef gives him a cold stare from under the covers and minimizes his intrusions/tries to be more sneaky about it. He has colder hands and they let out a sigh when he puts his hand to their cheek or forehead to check their temperature. 

Chef doesn't hesitate to take any medication he has for them, mostly bc they aren't fully coherent but they also don't have energy to care, in fact they have the thought that if he accidentally kills them, maybe respawn will cure them. Unfortunately, Medic debunks this before they can even muster up the energy to ask.

Overall 7.5/10, very good patient. Will refuse to get up and accidently falls asleep in the shower which scares the shit out of him.

Medic on the other hand is very stubborn and doesn't like to stop working unless there's something that physically stops him (ex: vomiting, serious injuries [unlikely bc medigun], etc). If he tricked the Devil, surely the man can beat the common cold or flu! Unfortunately he gets those full body shivers and feels terrible. He can be pretty dramatic when he's sick and everyone's subjected to his bad attitude. 

It's Chefs turn to play doctor - they can tell by looks alone that he's under the weather. His face is flushed and he's a bit sloppily put together, which isn't *too uncommon* but his tie isn't tied and his glasses lamely slide down his nose. They tsk a bit while taking his temperature just to keep track of it before ushering him to his room.

He can be dragged to bed if persistent enough. Chef's firm hold on his arm is enough for him to get off his chair and have them tug him along. He doesn't have any room to argue with them as they look up at him, so he relents, stating that a short break would definitely do him good, but he'll be up and at em by tomorrow. 

Chef is doting and becomes a bit of a helicopter parent when checking on him. This mostly consists of peeking their head in but not really stepping in the room. Every so often they'll wake him up to drink water and either hand him an ice pack or offer a cold towel and move to dab at his forehead and neck.

Medic hasn't been too keen on having others taking care of him bc that's HIS job, and he often tries to shoo Chef away by saying he's more than alright now. Sometimes he's caught sitting up in bed doing work or taking notes on something bc he's a bit restless when he's sick and stationary for too long.

But he's right. He's very good at taking care of himself - when Chef offers him food he'll force himself to eat some of it and he's drinks plenty of fluids without needing reminders. He kinda bosses Chef around, telling them to grab certain medications from the Medbay. They trust his judgment on his own health and bring him what he asks for but Chef keeps a mental note of what he takes and when. Don't need the doctor accidentally taking too many pills today!

Overall 6.5/10. It's hard to get him into bed and becomes restless fairly easily. He is persistent that he's ok after one day of rest only to be found sneezing himself away in the Medbay. 

#tf2 oc #self insert #medic #self ship #tf2 headcanons #my headcanons #my writing #i guess #'have you written enough?' idk you tell me. #s: soul food #if anyone reads even a part of this im sorry #💙 2d's spouse 💙 #mars!!! #ahh thank you again.. sorry these are so late ahshhd i get caught up w/ other stuff so this was self care <3 ! #im very passionate ab medic YSHDHD like yeah no shit bitch 🦧

[cakesunflower]

Stuck in the Middle [C.H. & L.H. AU] Part 2

**DISCLAIMER: This is NOT a poly!Cake fic!! Just wanted to clarify that in case of any confusion.

Summary: Calum Hood and Sloane Thorne are engaged to be married--though, not because they were in love. More so that it was a part of the merger their families’ companies were going through, as a way of strengthening the bond and building a foundation for the partnership Calum and Sloane would have as co-CEOs. So when the opportunity arises for them to get away from the pressures of their families and relax for on the beach in Florida with their friends, they’re quick to go. Except Calum falls for their neighbor, River Young, while Sloane discovers pent up feelings she never knew she had for her long time friend, Luke Hemmings. Trying to figure out how to navigate through unexpectedly budding relationships while also getting rid of the strain on their friendship seems to be how Calum and Sloane have to spend their little vacation. Whatever it takes to not be so stuck anymore.

A/N: So this is the second and FINAL part of this fic! As you probably read, I posted this is as one big post but it was crashing the app and not loading, so I figured I’d post the second half here so it opens properly. Thank you for reading, babies!

This is Sloane’s face claim.

This is River’s face claim.

Read Part 1 Here!

“This was really sweet of you, Cal; thanks.”

The smile easily curled at his lips at River’s grateful tone, looking up from his burrito to catch her green eyes and pretty smile. “Nothin’ to thank me for,” he told her as she took a sip of her soda. The sun felt warm against his skin as he added truthfully, uncharacteristically sheepishly, “Like spendin’ time with you.”

Her smile turned into a smirk. “Have you always been this charming?”

Calum laughed, a napkin balled up in his left hand as he shrugged humbly. “It’s a gift.” It kind of had to be; with his career path, charm and skill of business were what would help him succeed.

River puckered her smirking lips, green eyes glinting against the sun as she decided, “It’s dangerous.” She leaned back, smirk widening. “You could get away with a lot with that.” That wasn’t exactly news to Calum. He knew in the working world it would get him far along with the Ivy League education and years of spending his summers alongside his father in the building. “Your family business isn’t ready for you, I’d guess.”

Calum’s smile slightly strained at her words, feeling an uneasy twist in his stomach. For all the days he and River had spent together so far, indulging her in his life back home wasn’t something he thought he’d do much of but did so anyway. In the moments of them laying spent in bed or laying under the sun on the beach, he’d told her about his sister, his dog, and a vague description of being in the family business. Provided precise details about some things to avoid the scrutiny of the working world he was about to enter, a fear of her somehow finding out about details he kept hidden. It wasn’t too hard, though; no one outside of Calum and Sloane’s families knew of the personal arrangement that accompanied the business merger, save for the friends they were on vacation with. Yet merely talking about taking over the business had Calum’s stomach tying in knots. Not because he wasn’t ready for it, but because the reminder of events to come made what he was doing now feel wrong.

And it most certainly didn’t feel like it.

“Speaking of family,” Calum spoke up with a clear of his throat, not entirely comfortable with the attention on him. He picked up his burrito as he asked her, “Have you spoken to your parents lately? Did they call?”

He hoped he hadn’t crossed a line in inquiring about her parents, not entirely sure if that topic was open for discussion. But River never made him feel as though he was pushing boundaries; it seemed as though for her, everything was safe to talk about, like there was no need to walk on eggshells around her. How she let herself be so open and confident about it left Calum in awe; he’d grown up being taught to only keep some people close, to let them in all the way—but even that wasn’t entirely encouraged. In the life he grew up in New York, someone always wanted to be superior to everyone else, using any means of doing so. They’d take a person’s greatest weakness or greatest shame and use it against them. It was something Calum knew he’d have to be more diligent about once he took over.

Opposite of him, the smirk River had been wearing faltered a bit as she dropped her gaze to her food, and Calum hated that he was the cause of that. She still smiled, though, soft and reserved, something he wasn’t used to from her, and just when he was about to tell her she didn’t have to talk about it, River scoffed lightly. “Do they ever?” she rhetorically returned, prompting Calum to press his lips together apologetically. River gave a shake of her head. “I haven’t spoken to my dad since, like, a couple of months after the divorce when I was sixteen. The whole thing was so nasty.” Calum watched as she looked away, squinting in thought against the sunlight from above as he ate his lunch and listened. “They wanted their fair share of the houses and cars and art they collected over the years. I was the last thing they fought about.”

At that, Calum felt the air in his throat lock, eyebrows furrowing together as he failed to keep the incredulous anger from appearing across his face. There was a wave of resentment that washed over Calum over these people he didn’t even know, yet he felt as though his rage was justified, especially when he took the look on River’s face. Her smile was ever present, yet the sadness it carried weighed heavily in his chest, hating that it dulled the brightness of her green eyes. When he looked at the woman in front of him, he couldn’t possibly understand how her parents would much rather argue over the ownership of materialistic things rather than the custody of their only daughter.

“River,” Calum sighed with a gentle shake of his head. His fingers clenched, rings glinting under the sun. “I’m so sorry.” It was a pathetically basic offering, but he had no idea what else to say. He wished she’d never had to go through something as painful as not being wanted enough by her own parents.

“Don’t be,” River returned, her smile kind and appreciative. She sat up, shoulders straightening. “I ended up with Grams and it’s honestly the best thing to happen to me.” Then she let out a breath with a dismayed shake of her head, twisting her lips in disappointment. “It’d just be nice if they called, you know? Especially my mom since Grams is sick.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together worriedly at her revelation, sitting up. The grated metal bench was a bit hard against his ass. “Mags is sick?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

River pulled her soda cup towards her as cars continued to drive behind Calum. They sat on the sidewalk in front of the strip of stores in town, the salon River worked at just a couple of feet down. Surprising her with lunch had been easy; one of her favorite restaurants was right across the street, so he’d bought himself a burrito and her an order of empanadas and now here they were. “She came down with the flu, which is weird given that it’s the middle of summer but, I mean, her immune system isn’t what it used to be, you know?” She sighed, sounding tired. “I wanted to call out and stay with her but she insisted I come to work. Said she can handle taking extra medication along with her diabetes meds.”

“I’m sure she can,” Calum reassured her, wanting to be able to put her at ease even a little bit. But he couldn’t blame her for being concerned over her grandmother. “Mags seems tough.”

River scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “And stubborn.”

She said it was a fond smile tilting at her lips at the thought of her grandmother, but Calum could see the concern swimming in her green eyes. So he tried to change the subject. “So do you have any appointments today?” he asked, nodding over in the direction of the salon.

“No,” River answered with an all too adorable pout of her lips. “Just waiting for the walk-ins. Which is why I should’ve called out.” Calum bit the inside of his lower lip, the change in subject matter not entirely helping. Her green eyes then gave him a once over, her blatant analyzation of Calum making something in his stomach flutter obscenely. How she managed to have that effect on him, he didn’t know. With a bright grin, River added, “You wanna get your hair done?”

At that, Calum let out a startled laugh at her unexpected suggestion, a hand going to rest at the top of his growing hair, making sure not to let his fingers touch the strands given the burrito he’d been holding. With a faux hurt pout of his own, the defense creeped into his raspy and high pitched voice as he asked, “What’s wrong with my hair?”

River laughed, light and airy as she held the edge of the table with her hands. “Nothing, nothing!” she assured, her gold necklace dangling daintily from her neck. Calum narrowed his eyes at her jokingly, which she returned with an innocent smile. “But if you wanna try out a new look, I’m here.”

A smirk curled at his lips, folding his arms on the table as he cocked an eyebrow. “You gettin’ bored of my look already, doll?”

There was a pink glow in her smiling cheeks as she said, “With a smile like that? Never.”

Despite her compliment effortlessly warming Calum’s cheek, he clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Nah, nah, don’t try to dig yourself outta that hole,” he said as he leaned away from the table, his own amused grin lifting his lips.

Her laughter was a welcome sound over the subtle whirring of cars driving behind him. Eyes glinting, River reached her hand across the table and found Calum’s, their elbows on the table as she lifted his hand to lace her fingers around his as she promised, “You know I adore your look.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in a teasingly warning tone, though fighting the smile off his face when her hand held his was close to impossible. For a moment, Calum considered her offer. Then, with a single raise of an eyebrow, he asked, “What’d you have in mind?”

He wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed. It somehow always slipped by without notice whenever he was with River. All he knew was that it had been far too easy for her to get him to sit at one of the salon station chairs, facing the mirror, as a radio station played top hits throughout the semi busy salon and a black protective cape was covering him from the neck down.

And that his short dark brown hair was now a deep blue.

There had been a lot of steps that took a good amount of time, and Calum had sat and watched River perform all of them through the reflection of the mirror with effortless skill. She’d hum along with the songs playing or engage in conversation with him, telling him about the different kinds of customers she’d dealt with and how she preferred tackling new hair styles rather than doing the same basic ones all of the time.

In between she’d talk Calum through each step she performed, feeding more into his desire of being informed. He watched and felt her bleach his hair, perform something called a patch test, chatted with her easily when they had to watch for the bleach in his hair to do its magic, apply the color—all the works. Truthfully, Calum hadn’t really expected for it all to take as long as it did, only noticing the time spent by the time they had finished and he checked the clock, but he wasn’t fazed. Not when he’d spent all of that time with River and had gotten to admire her adorable expressions of concentration in between light chatter. Or watch her take care of a quick haircut in the station over during the time the bleach was on his head.

By the time they were done, he hadn’t expected to love his dark blue hair as much as he did. The change had been spontaneous, but Calum would be lying if he said it wasn’t admired.

“You can let your roots grow out, which would be the easiest, by the time you have to get back home,” River said to him with a proud smile teetering on her lips. They stood side by side in front of the mirror as Calum turned his head this way and that, taking in the new look. With an airy single laugh, she added, “Don’t know how well it’ll go over that one of the new bosses has blue hair.”

Calum joined in her laughter, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze met hers through the reflection. He wondered if she’d felt a tightness in his chest at the reminder of his eventual return up north. At the reminder of their eventual parting. “I think Sloane’s natural look may take the heat off me.” He knew that wasn’t true, but one could dream.

A mischievous glint sparkled in her green eyes. “Tell her to come by. I think she’d look great with purple hair. Everyone’ll definitely take y’all seriously then.”

Calum scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “That’ll go over well.”

She merely grinned before shooing him off, and Calum chuckled as he made his way over to the counter to pay. When River had realized he’d been serious about taking her suggestion, she’d insisted on doing it back at one of their places, telling him that way he wouldn’t have to pay like he would have to if he came into the salon. But Calum gave her a look, an assurance of money not at all being the matter because it wasn’t, and promptly walked to the salon once her break was over, giving her no choice but to follow.

As he paid, he pulled out a piece of gum from the packet in his pocket and chewed, enjoying the burst of orange across his taste buds as he and the receptionist waited for the receipt to be printer. Calum glanced over, watching as River did some last minute tidying up at her station while talking to one of the stylists, that ever present smile still on her face, one that brought a smile to Calum’s own lips as well. It was so easy for her to talk, to get along with people, to be so beautifully natural.

After he signed the receipt, Calum glanced back to see River talking to the stylist and the client sitting at the other woman’s chair, and although he wanted to say goodbye to her, Calum didn’t want to intrude while she was working. So he thanked the receptionist and walked outside, the sun bright on his skin as he instantly put on his sunglasses.

“I give you a new look and I don’t even get a goodbye? Either that’s saying I didn’t do a good job or you’ve already shown it by not leaving a tip.”

Calum stopped in his tracks, the car keys already in his hand as he turned to see that River had followed him out of the salon. The sun caused her to squint, but she was still smiling at him as he walked back to her. With a boyish grin, he said, “Don’t worry—I left a good tip.”

That caused River to laugh, raising her eyebrows. “Which I’ll be returning to you, by the way,” she said as he stopped in front of her, his frame prompting her to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“Was just showin’ you my gratitude, but fine,” Calum shrugged, pretending to be hurt as River giggled, adorable and dainty, as her fingers fiddled with the buttons of his yellow button down. She smelt like citrus; he liked it. “Can I offer you another tip, though?” River grinned, the word play not lost on her as she raised an eyebrow in silent question. His own smile turned into a smirk, ducking his head to brush his lips against her as he rasped, “You should kiss me.”

River was ready to comply, letting go of the buttons to pull him forward by the cotton material of his shirt and press her lips against his. A slow, savoring kiss that easily had both of them deepening it, right there on the sidewalk as his hands gripped her hips, thumbs familiarly looping into the belt loops of her black shorts. Calum leaned into her, needing more, savoring what he could get for now as he felt her tongue against his.

They pulled away moments later, too soon for Calum, his forehead pressed against hers and feeling the gentle stroke of a single hair strand of hers tickle his jaw. “I have to get back to work,” River murmured, sounding almost regretful, before they pulled away. He opened his eyes to look at her from behind his sunglasses, catching her brilliant smile as he dropped his hands from her. “Thanks for the tip,” she said, walking backwards, surprising Calum when she blew a bubble. She winked, pushing open the glass door of the salon. “And the gum!”

His eyebrows furrowed at her parting words, confused for a moment as people walked up and down the sidewalk around him, until the emptiness in his mouth settled and prompted Calum to let out a startled yet amused laugh. She’d stolen his gum. Not that he’d minded. He’d just get his own form of revenge later on that night.

*****

Avoiding someone you shared a house with wasn’t the easiest feat, a lesson Sloane had to learn with difficulty, even where there were four other people in said house. Even when that same avoidance wasn’t something she had wanted to do take part in but did so anyways because she had no idea how else to go about a situation far too awkward, too upsetting, too high in the potential of leading to heartbreak. Still, she felt selfish. Sloane knew the rest of her friends had picked up on the tension between her and Luke, knew there was something going on but were kind enough not to intrude despite their curiosity itching at them.

Honestly, what could Sloane even tell them? That Luke admitted to liking her—for a lot longer than she’d ever thought—that she was battling her own feelings over a hopeless situation, that they’d almost kissed until she ran to hide in the safety of her bedroom? As if she needed safety from Luke, of all people, who’d kind of been her safe haven the longer she thought about it? Who’d been the one to make her smile and laugh and wonder and made her feel seen for a lot longer than she’d given him credit for?

Who Sloane was coming to realize she probably didn’t deserve.  

It was becoming unbearable, this ache that had settled in her chest over the knowledge of hurting Luke. Sloane had wondered if she was being over dramatic, if she was making a big deal out of something that could be quickly resolved. But Luke hadn’t looked her in the eye since that night, refused to be alone in a room with her, and in his silence she knew of the great volume of pain she caused him.

She’d been sitting on the back deck, almost uncomfortably so since this was where she’d all but rejected Luke and his feelings, when the blonde came up the steps from the beach, Calum right beside him. She sat up, lowering the book she’d been reading as her eyes instantly tried to find Luke’s. Except he’d become a bit too good at avoiding her gaze over the last few days—the most he’d done was offer a quiet thanks when she’d wished him a happy birthday earlier—head only a little ducked as he ran his fingers through his blonde curls, biceps flexing, and continued inside the house, the light thud of his sneakers disappearing into the house.

Sloane sank in her chair, feeling her heart do the same as disappointment swelled inside. She heard Calum sigh as he asked, “What’s going on with you two?” He sat down on the chair next to her, facing her as he raised an eyebrow. The blue of his hair complimented the brownness of his inked skin, especially under the sun. “Why’re you getting the silent treatment?”

Sloane let out a dry chuckle, gaze dropping to her dark purple painted nails. “Because he told me something and I answered by literally running away. Because life's complicated enough and it’s even messier because we can’t be together.”

She let out a long breath; that was, Sloane knew, the first time she’d verbally admitted to wanting to be with Luke. It was a heavy thought swirling around in her head, backed up by emotions she hadn’t even been aware she’d been carrying for so long, locked away because of the God forsaken arrangement she was set up in with Calum. But not even admitting it to herself would’ve been stupid because of the absolute truth it carried, and being able to utter them outloud, though they weren’t to the right person, lifted just a small fraction of weight off her shoulders.

Sloane chanced a glance at Calum, taking in the raise of his eyebrows at her confession as he blinked his gaze away, wondering what he was thinking. What his opinion was on one of his best friends and his fianceé—even if it weren’t by choice—wanting to be together but obviously being unable to act on their feelings.

Calum took in a breath, deep voice thoughtful as he said, “If you ask me, I think keeping your distance from each other is the right idea.” His dark eyes met Sloane’s startling blue, shrugging with a sympathetic tilt of his lips as he added, “What’s the point in starting something you know won’t end well?”

The white hot irritation that shot through Sloane wasn’t something she had been expecting, her grip on the hardcover book tightening as all she could ask through controlled surprise was, “What?”

Calum parted his lips and she knew his observant gaze was taking in the frown she could feel crease her forehead and the downward tilt of her own lips. He’d obviously said something she hadn’t expected nor wanted to hear, but Calum wasn’t about to back track. “It’s messy, like you said. It’s one thing to just fuck around but from what you’re saying, there’s feelings involved and that’s just—it’s a bad idea, Sloane.”

“Oh, it’s a bad idea?” she repeated, the edge and anger creeping into her voice before she could help it. But Calum’s words had touched a nerve and the resentment she’d kept at bay since they’d arrived to Florida was brimming over. Or, more specifically, resentment she’d kept at bay since Calum met River. She noted the furrow in his eyebrows, not deaf to her tone. “That’s kind of hypocritical of you, isn’t it, Cal? When you’re the one who started a whole-ass relationship with the neighbor?”

Her words seemed to unsettle him just as much as Calum leaned back, a tightness in his features as his dark eyes hardened. “That’s different,” he defended, voice as tight as his face. When Sloane scoffed, he continued, “River and I aren’t dating, we’re just—”

“Just what? Delusional?” Sloane let out a cynical, dry laugh as the annoyance on Calum’s face intensified. But she was just as bothered as him, the roar of the waves drowned by the anger rushing through her blood. With a quick roll of her eyes, Sloane continued, “Come on, are you really that blind? Everyone can fucking tell you and River aren’t just screwing around.” With an accusatory point of her finger, she added, “You got attached and you didn’t even fight it. Don’t give me advice on not pursuing anything with Luke when you’re the one who fucked up first.”

Instead of defending himself and whatever he was doing with River, Calum’s lips curled in annoyance as he said heatedly, “Your situation is a lot more complicated. Luke’s my friend and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

The anger burning Sloane’s blood instantly cooled into an icy, numbing hurt. Her features fell before she could help it, gaze immediately averting from Calum’s as she looked at the floorboards of the deck. She needed to toughen the hell up because the stinging in her nose and eyes, a tell of the tears beginning to gather, would not be ideal when they got back home, when they were in the middle of conference calls and meetings with investors. But Calum’s words had hurt and, God, did he even realize what he’d said?

Sloane’s lips parted, tongue running across the inside of her lower lip, gaze still on the ground as she gave a slow nod. “Luke’s your friend, huh?” She finally looked at him, saw that he’d realized what he’d said a little too late, his own lips parting to scramble out his apology. Her voice had quietened because Sloane knew if she spoke up even a little bit, she wouldn’t be able to trust her voice to stay steady. “I know things between us have been weird but I didn’t think we weren’t friends.”

“Fuck, Sloane, no, that’s not what I meant—”

“But it’s what you said,” she cut him off, wondering if the desperation in his voice was genuine. At the moment, she didn’t really care, nor did she want this conversation to continue. So Sloane stood up, feeling Calum’s pleading and apologetic gaze on her as she forced her tone to harden when she looked down at him and said, “You worry about what you’re gonna do about River, and just stay out of mine and Luke’s business.”

The day had seemed to drag on slowly, terribly so, with time only being at its normal pace when she and Crystal had gone to get their nails done. Now, though, it was like time hadn’t made it past the doors of the club, and Sloane was left sitting on the red couch in the VIP section of the club with a drink in hand and music deafening her ears as she tried to have a good time despite the flashing lights threatening to give her a headache.

A couple of feet ahead of her were Ashton and Calum, facing each other as they leaned against the railing, looking down at the main part of the club where everyone was dancing as they chatted animatedly, their voices drowned by the music. They looked to be in the middle of an intense discussion, the kind where Ashton talked with his hands and Calum listened with eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Sloane leaned back on the couch, sighing. River hadn’t come out, Sloane remembered Calum mentioning that her grandmother was sick, and Sloane wasn’t sure where Michael, Crystal, and Luke were. Probably getting some drinks.

She scrolled through her Twitter and Instagram, purposefully avoiding checking her emails, hating that she was more or less miserable at one of her favorite people’s birthday celebration. Mostly because the one being celebrated more or less wanted nothing to do with her. Sloane took a sip of her vodka cranberry as she stood up, face scrunching as the leather of the couch stuck to her thighs before making her way to the railing. She made sure to keep her distance from Ashton and Calum, her small bag hitting the glass of the bannister as she leaned forward on it, the chain of her purse cool against the skin of her shoulder as she absently peered down.

All she could see were the tops of people’s heads as they danced to the music the DJ was spinning, white and green colored lights flashing to the beat. Sloane licked her lips, trying to see if she could spot her friends through narrowed eyes, twisting her lips when she didn’t see them in the midst of the bustling crowd. Right when she was about to turn her gaze towards the bar, someone stepped up to her left and Sloane’s grip on her glass tightened when she looked to see Calum mirroring her pose, arms folded on top of the railing as he, too, looked down at the crowd.

She tensed in the silence between them, not bothering to look his way. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation on the deck this morning. Sloane wanted to laugh. Two people she was on either side of the silent treatment with. Surprisingly, Calum was the one to break it. “I’m an unfair, hypocritical asshole. I’m sorry.”

Sloane pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth before saying, “You won’t hear any arguments from me.”

Calum let out a breath and from her peripheral Sloane could see him duck his head, a small yet embarrassed smile quirking at his lips before he lifted his head. “I was talking to Ashton and we ended up, uh, talking about the same stuff you and I were and he, uh, basically agreed with what you said.”

Releasing the thin black straw of her drink, Sloane raised an eyebrow at the blue haired man next to her. She knew exactly how his parents would react to the new style and kind of admired him all the more for going through with it. “He also said you’re a hypocrite whose fucking things up?”

Smirking in amusement, Calum gave a tilt of his head. “He was a bit nicer about it but essentially, yeah.” He then turned to face her, resting his elbow on top of the railing. “Sloane, I really am sorry for making it sound like I care about Luke’s feelings and not yours. That’s not true and I’m an ass for saying what I said.” Her jaw tightened, gaze dropping to her drink once more. “You’re not just my friend, alright, you’re about to be my partner too and of course I care about your feelings. I said some stupid shit because you called me out on things that were true and I guess I just lashed out—which isn’t an excuse.” She looked at him, feeling the tight grip on her heart loosen just a bit as she took in the sincerity in Calum’s dark eyes, which glinted against the flashing lights. She knew him, knew that he was genuinely apologetic and upset over what he’d said to her. His hand reached out, grasping her free one and his warm touch, not anywhere near as exciting as Luke’s, still managed to ease some of the tension in her muscles. “I’m sorry, Sloane, really. I’m trying to figure things out with River, and I think you and Luke should at least talk.” With a subtle smirk, he added, “You look miserable and so does the birthday boy.”

Calum then nodded down below, and Sloane followed his gaze to the long bar, her eyes almost instantly finding Luke. He was sitting at the bar, back against it and elbows propped up as he sipped his drink. The sight of him sank Sloane’s heart; it was his birthday and, like Calum had said, Luke looked miserable. He was watching the bustling crowd in front of him, watching people get drunk and enjoy themselves when he should actually be among them. Sloane’s eyebrows drew together, knowing she was why Luke had isolated himself to the bar, wanting nothing more than to see him smile again.

She glanced at Calum, who raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Sloane downed the rest of her drink before putting the glass on the table and making her way towards the steps. She moved with quick purpose, pushing past the dancing and drunk bodies to make her way towards the bar, hoping he’d still be there by the time she reached. And he was.

Luke hadn’t seen her yet, and Sloane licked her lips, tasting the vodka that had warmed her skin, and continued towards him. His gaze just happened to wander over to her, and as soon as Luke saw Sloane, he took a breath and stood up, prompting her to hastily quicken her pace as much as she could in her heels and grab his arm. “I thought running away was my thing,” she said, knowing Luke heard her over the music when he pursed his lips. Even in the tensity of their situation, Sloane admired the sharpness of his tightened jaw, decorated with facial hair that worked too well on him. When his blue eyes didn’t meet hers, Sloane’s throat worked. “I’m sorry, Luke. I—I didn’t want to hurt you but that’s exactly what I ended up doing and you have no idea how much I hate myself for it. You—you’re the best person I know and I’d be crazy not to want to be with you and being scared is a shitty excuse on my part so I kept telling myself it was a bad idea to make it eas—”

She had been ranting, she knew, as the words tumbled out of her mouth one by one without her being able to stop it. Had Luke even heard her over the blaring music?

Who cared? Not Sloane; not when he was kissing her like this.

Luke had effectively cut her ranting off—thank God—with a quick turn of his body and free hand finding the back of Sloane’s neck before he ducked to capture her lips with his. Sloane’s reaction was instant, feeling the electricity crackle in her veins as she melted into him, felt the softness of his lips and delicious scratch of his growing beard as he kissed her vehemently. Sloane parted her lips for him, hands gripping his sides and feeling the cool material of his silky button down that looked too damn good on him. This kiss, their first kiss, had Sloane’s toes curling and heart racing, lips tingling for more despite the fact that they hadn’t pulled away from one another. The ends of his curls brushed against her temple as the kiss deepened and nothing else in the world mattered other than the fact that she was finally kissing Luke.

They reluctantly pulled away, and Sloane kept her eyes closed, grip still on him, forehead against his as she tried to even out her breathing. She felt dizzy, in the best way, lips tingling and body incredibly warm because of their closeness. Trying to fully grasp what just happened was fruitless; no way was Sloane going to properly comprehend it until later. She’d much rather enjoy the moment of blissed out ignorance.

Luke’s nose brushed against hers, his breath invitingly warm as he murmured, “Still a bad idea?”

She swallowed, eyes opening just enough to gaze at his lips. She desperately wanted to kiss him again. “Probably.”

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. The music around them was too fucking loud. “Wanna get out of here?”

Sloane exhaled softly, still holding onto his shirt. “It’s your birthday.”

“I don’t care.”

Yeah, fuck it. They’d all been here for hours anyway. “Let’s go.”

Luke’s hand was holding hers and leading her out of the club before she knew it, and Sloane admired the way his tall, broad body easily made a path for them through the dancing bodies, admired the firm yet comforting hold he had on her hand. She admired the blonde curls at the back of his head and admired the fluttery feeling he enticed in the pit of her stomach as they got into the Uber that arrived just minutes after Luke ordered it.

The ride was quick, though the two of them had to keep their hands to themselves given that their driver was a chatty one. He’d ask questions that Sloane and Luke would answer, secret smiles exchanged between the two of them as his fingers danced with hers, lips aching to be kissed again.

And then they got to the house, where inhibitions seemed to disappear as they stumbled into the dimly lit foyer, the door slamming shut with a kick of Luke’s foot before he swiftly locked Sloane’s legs around his hips and connected their lips once more, grinning against her mouth when her surprised giggle got lost in their kiss. Her dress had ridden up, as expected, the sensation of Luke’s hands on her bare thighs to hold her up burning her skin deliciously. She buried her fingers in Luke’s curls as he began moving towards the stairs, expertly going up as Sloane moved her hands to undo as many buttons of Luke’s shirt as she could before looping a finger around the silver necklace he wore.

They entered a room, Sloane faintly hearing another door shut over the drumming of her heart as Luke’s tongue worked against hers, until Sloane was being dropped on the bed. She bounced slightly against the mattress, realizing they were in her room, biting her lower lip as Luke got rid of his shirt and worked on undoing his pants, his eyes never leaving hers. Fuck, he looked like a God, standing above her with curls messed up by her fingers, and Sloane let out a breath as she took off her heels before pulling off her dress, watching him in take in the sight of her waiting for him on the bed in nothing but a pretty white and laced lingerie set.

“Fuck,” Luke breathed out, voice throaty as he ran his fingers through his hair, climbing onto the bed. Sloane’s heart thundered at the sight of him, biting her lip once more as she admired his necklace resting against his bare chest, the tent pitched in his boxers, fingers itching to get into his hair once more. She felt the grin tug at her lips as he crawled towards her, body hovering over hers as he braced himself with hands on either side of her head. He lowered himself and Sloane felt a chill run down her spine when the cool pendant of his necklace dragged across her sternum. Luke brushed his nose against hers, catching Sloane’s lower lip with his teeth as he murmured, “Happy birthday to me.”

Sloane laughed, hand reached to the back of his head to close the gap, lips finding his in a heated kiss as she felt his body lean into hers. He warmed her, a comforting contrast against the mild chill in the room due to the window Sloane had left slightly open, the distant sound of the ocean an accompaniment to the thundering of her heart.

The two of them moved together, fluidly and easily, as Sloane arched her back into Luke to allow him to unclasp her bra, ridding the material somewhere on the floor as her breasts pressed against his chest. They were eager, desperate to get lost in each other, and Sloane tilted her head back to revel in the sensation of Luke’s lips working against her neck, the cheeky bite of his teeth thrilling along with the burn of his facial hair. One of his hands slid down her front, fingers dipping beneath her underwear and Sloane let out a soft moan at the feel of his finger teasing her entrance.

Her own fingers fisted in his hair, blonde curls soft, inhaling sharply while biting her lower lip when Luke expertly worked her open, using his teeth to free her lower lip from her own grasp and sounding his own approval as he added another finger into her folds. Sloane could already feel like she was losing herself in what Luke was doing to her, but she needed more—she needed more closeness. She already had Luke but, fuck, she needed more.

“Luke, please,” Sloane breathed out, their noses slanted together and lips brushing against one anothers as she spoke. She tried to voice her thoughts, body too busy reacting to the sensation of Luke’s fingers pushing through her folds, thumb flicking against her clit and sending shockwaves through her body. Sloane tightened her grip in his hair, drawing an appreciative groan from him as she begged, “I need you.”

God, she knew she should be treating him instead of it being the other way around. And she would, she couldn’t wait to, but both of them needed this right now. She would do whatever the hell he wanted her to but first, fuck, her fingers needed to work faster in pulling down his boxers. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” Luke told her once both his boxers and her panties were somewhere on the floor, his hand holding a condom packet Sloane figured he’d gotten from his pants. He was once again hovering over her, the scent of his familiar cologne mixing in with the faint scent of salt from the air outside, a combination that was dizzying Sloane in the best way.

She let out a breath, nails trailing up his bicep as her blue eyes met his. She wondered if hers had been darkened in the flurry of lust and yearning like Luke’s had. “I should be saying that to you, birthday boy.”

Luke’s lips curled into a grin, showing off those dimples Sloane was crazy for, adoring the way his blonde curls framed his perfect face. “Trust me,” Luke murmured, brushing his lips against hers as he lined himself up to her entrance. His voice was throaty, sending shivers down Sloane’s spine as he promised, “I’m getting everything I wished for.”

Stars burst behind Sloane’s eyes with every thrust of Luke’s hips, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his bicep as he kept a steady, toe curling rhythm that had Sloane digging her nails into his skin. His name fell like a chant from her lips in between breathless gasps and blissed out moans, a symphony with the beach beyond the window, but all Sloane could focus on was Luke. The softness of his lips, scratch of his beard, the fire his hands elicited across her skin, the chills from his necklace, and the wonderful, delicious, overwhelming stretch of him as he filled her up perfectly.

She felt as though she was on fire, one that she was in no hurry to put out, as she lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips, the slightly different angle allowing for Luke to push in deeper, the sensation prompting Sloane to tilt her head back into the pillows, an appreciative moan being drawn out. Feeling every bit of Luke against her, in her, was as blissful as Sloane could’ve imagined and more. With his lips against her skin, she cursed herself for depriving herself of this, wanted to mourn over the fact that all of this could’ve happened much sooner if only she’d been more intuned with her own heart earlier.

But, God, no time for regrets right now. All she wanted to do, all she could do really, was focus on Luke and the way he made her come alive, awakened a fire in her she hadn’t ever thought would be lit. It was as though Sloane was discovering herself in him, and he in her, and neither were ready for it to ever end.

“I still have to give you your birthday present,” Sloane murmured, finger trailing nonsensical patterns on Luke’s chest.

They lay under the covers of her bed, spent from getting to know and figuring out each other’s bodies, a calm silence between them disturbed only by the ocean outside and the steady drum of Luke’s heart Sloane could hear with her head against his chest. She was enveloped in him; in his scent, his arms, his warmth, and this was a kind of closeness, intimacy, that Sloane wanted to hold onto for however long she could.

She felt Luke’s head tilt towards her as her cheek remained pressed against his chest. Sloane heard the lazy smirk in his voice as he said, “I thought that was my present.”

Sloane laughed, lightly back handing his chest before pushing herself up. Luke groaned in protest at the loss of her warmth, arm that had been around her shoulders dropping to the mattress as Sloane got up, swiping up Luke’s silk shirt and shrugging it on. She buttoned only a couple of the middle ones before wandering over to the closet, feeling the burn of Luke’s gaze on her as she bent down to pick up the colorful gift bag she’d hidden away.

She couldn’t help the grin on her face as she walked back towards the bed as Luke sat up, the blankets pooling at his hips as he ran both hands through his hair to push the curly locks away from his face. His own eyebrows raised in anticipation, the smile present on his lips as he hummed, “What’s this?”

Sloane settled in front of him, legs folded under her as she handed him the bag and chuckled, “See for yourself.”

Luke took the bag, curious gaze on Sloane as his hand pushed past the decorative tissue inside before grabbing onto the gift, eyebrows furrowing as he pulled it out. Sloane rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as she watched Luke’s reaction, going from confusion to realization to complete joy as delighted laughter tumbled out of his mouth. “No fucking way,” he laughed, holding onto the gift with both hands. Sloane adored the glint in his bright eyes, the dimples that appeared under his facial hair. “You actually got it!”

Her own laughter joined in, feeling the relief flood through her at the knowledge of Luke liking her gift. She watched as he admired the gnome they’d seen at the flea market almost a week ago, the one holding a Go Away sign and sticking up its middle finger that Luke had loved. “Of course I did,” she giggled, running her fingers through her hair. With a satisfied grin, she added, “I think it makes for the perfect gift, hmm?”

Luke shook his head in incredulity, laughing as his eyes met hers and he told her sincerely, “Not as perfect as the girl who gave it to me.” Sloane’s smile softened instantly, her heart warm as Luke leaned forward, and she met him halfway to readily accept the kiss he pressed to her lips. “I love it, Sloane. Thank you.”

Her eyes were still closed, reveling in his kiss, nose brushing against his as she murmured, “You’re welcome,” before leaning forward to close the gap once more. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses. How had she gone so long without them?

But just as the kiss became deeper, needier, anticipating for another round, the distant sound of the front door slamming open hadn’t been enough to break them apart until Michael’s loud voice rang throughout the house. “Sloane! Luke! Get down here before we eat the rest of the cake without you!”

“Mm, we’ll finish this later,” Luke mumbled against her lips, the promise in his voice accompanied by the smile he wore.

Sloane gave him one last grin, unable to keep herself from mirroring his grin, adoring the happy flush in his cheeks as she agreed, “Absolutely.”

*****

The day had started out normal enough; after his morning coffee, Calum was dragged out by Ashton to a local yoga studio he’d managed to find, so spending the morning doing yoga with his best friend and other best friend’s fianceé wasn’t the worst thing in the world. At the house, he took a shower and joined Michael and Luke on the couch where the Xbox was set up, grabbing a controller and falling in the routine of yelling at each other as they played. It had been a normal day, fun in the presence of his friends.

Until he was sitting in an uncomfortable chair of a hospital room, chin resting on his right hand as his arm remained propped on the arm rest, watching the oxygen mask on Maggie’s face fog up every time she let out a slow, heavy exhale in her sleep, the machine clicking every time she did so. The room was enveloped in an eerie silence, interrupted only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor Maggie was connected to, echoing in Calum’s ears hauntingly. The sight of her, looking a bit too frail even with the wrinkles on her face smoothed out by what he hoped was a peaceful sleep for her.

Running his right hand down his face, Calum trailed his gaze over to his left where River was sitting. He felt his heart sink at the worried expression that he’d seen painted on her face the second he’d arrived to the hospital. Her knee was bouncing, teeth gnawing at her nails and eyebrows drawn together in concern. Green eyes never seemed to stray from her grandmother, but her hand had a strong grip on Calum’s and he knew it was because of the concern rushing through her veins. All he wanted to do was hold her, unable to do so because of the damned seats.

He took in the tiredness of her eyes, seeing past the loose blonde tendrils of her haphazardly tied hair, but he knew she wasn’t about to fall asleep. He’d tried to get her to a couple of times since he’d arrived over an hour ago, but she understandably wouldn’t budge. So he gave a squeeze of her hand and leaned towards her, voice low as he asked, “D’you want some coffee? Crappy hospital coffee, but—”

“Yes, yeah,” River nodded, her voice a bit hoarse from lack of speaking. She turned her head to look at him, and the air locked in his throat at her red rimmed and glassy eyes. Somehow, though, she still managed to offer him an appreciative smile, flushed cheeks pushing up briefly. He didn’t want her smiling at him, not if she didn’t mean it. Calum lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of hers as he got up. River looked up at him, licking her lips and asking, “Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s dead and I, uh, wanna try my mom again.”

Calum nodded with a reassuring furrow of his eyebrows. “Yeah, ’course,” he said, digging it out of his pocket and unlocking the device before handing it to her. River took it and Calum leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring a soft, “Be right back.”

He opened the door, about to step out only to pause and look back at Maggie. Calum sighed heavily, heart sinking as he did. He desperately hoped for her to get better.

Making his way down the hospital hallways, Calum ran a hand over the top of his slowly growing hair, offering a brief smile to a doctor and nurse that made their way past him. The smell of disinfectant was powerful, prompting Calum to wrinkle his nose as he absently followed the signs to where the cafeteria was, thoughts too focused on River and Maggie. His chest had tightened when River had told him how quickly Maggie had gotten worse, how her flu seemed to become so much more, and Calum had dropped everything to grab his keys and rush to the hospital as soon as he’d heard her shaky, breathless voice asking if he’d come. He didn’t even have to think twice about it.

And, fuck, he hadn’t expected his heart to utterly shatter when he’d caught sight of her distraught face, looking totally out of her element when she’d met him at the nurse’s reception to bring him up to Maggie’s room. River had walked right into Calum’s arms, holding him tightly and soaking in his warmth as Calum pressed his cheek on top of her head. He hated seeing her this way. He hoped Maggie would be okay.

After acquiring two cups of questionable coffee, Calum headed back to the floor Maggie’s room was on, his steps quick as he wanted to get back to them. He entered the room, gently nudging the door shut with his hip as he quietly murmured, “One crappy cup of coffee, at your ser—what’s wrong?”

His tone turned concerned when he took in River’s expression. She stood at the end of Maggie’s bed, the expression on her face frighteningly hollow, and for a heart stopping second Calum thought Maggie had taken a turn for the worse. His gaze snapped over to the sleeping woman, feeling his heart calm down when he took note of the machine steadily beeping to sound hers. But then his eyebrows drew together, setting down the two cups at the table as he looked back at River.

“River, hey, what’s going on?”

He saw the way her throat worked, gaze finally meeting his, hers looking just as distraught as it had before, only this time the confusion was what was throwing Calum off. He took a few steps towards her, stopping when she held his phone out to him, hand trembling slightly as she finally said, “Your mom texted you.” Calum’s eyebrows drew together at the low, hollow tone she spoke in. When her green eyes met his brown, he felt his heart thud at the look in her eyes; absent, distant, nothing he was used to. She licked her lips before she added slowly, her own tone turning confused, as if she was trying to understand her own words, “Said something about checking your e-mail for potential suits you could wear. . . For your wedding?”

She spoke the last bit like a question, like she was giving him the chance to correct her, to tell her she’d been mistaken, had read the text wrong or something. Shit, he wished he could tell her just that. He wished he could tell her it was some joke, a mistake, that she didn’t, in fact, read it right. But Calum, at the wrong fucking moment, was at a complete loss for words.

He felt as though the air had been sucker punched out of his lungs, like the blood was frozen in his veins and his heart had dropped to the pit of his stomach all at the same time. The ground threatened to give out under him, he could feel it, and Calum had no idea what the fuck to do except gape at River like a fucking idiot. He wasn’t numb to the tension that was quickly distancing them, something he wasn’t used to at all when it came to River, and Calum desperately wanted to get rid of it. But he didn’t know how to. Not when River was looking at him as though she had no idea who she was staring at. Like he was a complete stranger.

Calum felt his lower lip quiver as he tried to find the words to say something. Anything. “River, I can explain—”

“Oh, my God,” she cut him off, her voice a trembling whisper. She looked like he’d just slapped her and Calum hated himself for it. “It’s true?” She gave a bewildered shake of her head, taking a step away from him. Another punch to his gut. “You’re engaged?”

He pressed his lips together, breath locking once more before he expelled it forcefully through his nose. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. He didn’t want to tell her the truth but it’s beyond what she deserved. “I—” Calum’s heart was in his throat. “Yes.”

River’s chest fell with a sharp exhale, her eyes glassy under the fluorescent lights of the room, and Calum wanted to rid her of her tears before they fell. He loathed that it was his fault she looked so heartbroken. So defeated. Betrayed. And he knew he had, knew that she had every right to feel all of those things. Because he had tried to fool himself into thinking that whatever it was between them was just a summer fling, just a way of having fun.

He was an idiot to think he wouldn’t fall in love with River.

She took the few steps separating them and Calum felt the sting in his eyes when she slapped his phone against his chest, forcing him to grab onto the device as she let go. His throat was suddenly dry at the sight of her glare, angry, devastated, like she’d been deceived. All because of him, by him. The heat in her gaze was heart shattering, completely something Calum deserved, definitely something he’d never wanted to be on the receiving end of. It looked completely out of character for her, to look so fiercely agitated, brimming with anger that flushed her cheeks. His fault.

“Get out.” Her voice was a controlled whisper, the emptiness contradicting the rage in her sharp green eyes. Calum’s jaw tightened, a feeble attempt of keeping his own emotions at bay, knowing that everything was slipping out of his hands and all he could do was watch it leave him. “I don’t want you here. Or anywhere near us. Leave, Calum.”

He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, his grip on his phone had tightened and he really fucking wished the ground would open up beneath him. Wished he could go back in time and change everything so they wouldn’t be standing here. Calum wished that Maggie wasn’t sick, that he wasn’t fucking engaged, and that he wasn’t keeping such a significant detail from the girl he’d unexpectedly, unknowingly, utterly fallen in love with.

And he’d lost her.

He’d heard the crack in his voice as he began pleading, “River—”

Her gaze hardened, a tear falling that Calum wanted to brush away but he’d lost that right in the blink of an eye. Behind the loose tendrils of her hair, River’s eyes had a fire lighting within them that begged to burn him. “Leave.”

Calum Hood rarely cried. He wasn’t a crier. But as soon as he got in his car parked in the hospital lot, the burning in his eyes had won out and he allowed himself to completely give into the reality of losing River. How stupid of him to think he wouldn’t fall in love with her and escape the harsh reality of the truth.

*****

“Has anyone talked to him?”

Sloane puckered her lips to the side, gaze on her mug of tea as she circled the rim with her finger. She shook her head as everyone else mumbled their dissent to Crystal’s question, and she let out a sigh. He’d been locked in his room since yesterday, and if he happened to come out, he wasn’t himself. A shell of a man too heartbreaking to look at and the worry gnawed at Sloane, wanting to do nothing more than go talk to him. She had no idea what had happened, none of them did, and she cast a glance towards the staircase. Calum was upstairs, hadn’t joined them for breakfast, and the concern for their blue haired friend was heavy in the room.

Ashton sighed. “Do you think something happened with River?”

Sloane felt her breath catch, and the mention of the other girl had Sloane putting her mug down on the coffee table and getting up to her feet. Luke’s arm dropped from her shoulders as all eyes went to her, and she licked her lips and announced, “I’m gonna try to talk to him.”

“Good luck,” Michael mumbled as she walked past him. Sloane would probably need it.

She let out a deep breath as she reached his closed door, stupidly feeling kind of intimidated to even knock. But she pushed past it, her concern for Calum winning out as she rapped her knuckles against it and called out gently, “Calum?” She waited for a response, not getting one, and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling as she sighed once more. “Come on, Cal, I know you’re in there.”

Chewing on her lower lip, Sloane grabbed the door knob before she could change her mind, and opened the door slowly while peering inside. The bed was unmade but Calum wasn’t on it. Instead, he was sitting on the floor, leaning against it, knees brought up, arms folded on top while his gaze was turned towards the window, looking out at the bright sky that didn’t at all match the mood he obviously was in. Biting the inside of her cheek, Sloane felt as though she was intruding into his space, into a dark corner of his mind he was shutting everyone out of, but she couldn’t turn back now.

“Hey,” she spoke up, her voice soft as she padded further into the room after shutting the door behind her. “Everyone’s asking for you.”

She was met with silence, but Sloane didn’t let that deter her from approaching Calum’s seated figure. Quietly, Sloane sat down next to him, running her palms over the soft material of the rug the bed was placed on top of as she turned her gaze to him. He was still looking out the window, only allowing her to see the blue of his head.

“Please talk to me,” Sloane said, unable to bring her voice any louder, too afraid of breaking the quiet of the room—no matter how uneasy and heavy it felt. “What’s going on?”

He was silent, the quiet deafening as Sloane’s throat worked, waiting for an answer. She kept her gaze on him, on the tightness of his jaw, and the way he was absently twisting one of the rings he wore. She wondered if he was gonna say anything, if he was gonna let her in, and she probably shouldn’t push him, but after a few minutes of silence, she spoke up once more. “We’re not gonna be very good partners if you don’t let me in.”

More silence. Until—

“She knows.” Calum’s voice was hoarse, deep and slow and nearly catching Sloane off guard. He finally turned to look at her, and she felt her heart stop momentarily at the emptiness she saw in the brown of his usually lively eyes. It was. . . harrowing. . . seeing him like that. “I fucked up.”

Sloane pressed her teeth together as she expelled a slow breath through her nose, knowing exactly who and what he was referring to. Oh, no. She squeezed her eyes shut, giving a shake of her head as she started, “Calum—”

“I should’ve listened to you,” he cut her off, shaking his head to return his gaze to his fingers. She heard the guilt and defeat weigh heavily in his tone as he clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve either told her the truth or just never have fallen for her—”

“You don’t mean that,” Sloane said, her tone knowing and firm as Calum rolled his lips into his mouth. “As complicated and fucked up as this is, you’re not gonna sit here and lie to me or yourself by saying you regret falling in love with her.”

Calum looked at her then, and Sloane offered a sympathetic smile at the surprised look in his eyes. She would have to be blind to not see that Calum learned to love River in the short amount of time he’d known her. But, then again, time had no correlation to the way someone could feel about another person. She was beginning to understand that, too, given her own situation.

Her expression fell when she noted the quiver in Calum’s lower lip, and her heart ached for this man whom she’d always seen as so solid and firm. The state he was in was one she was unfamiliar with, unprepared to handle, but she would try. Calum was her friend and soon-to-be partner, and working out through things together and supporting one another would be the basis of their developing relationship. Except she didn’t care much for any of that right now; all that mattered was her friend and the heartbreak he was going through.

“She hates me, Sloane,” Calum whispered, voice catching in his throat. “I fucking—I broke her heart and I don’t think she’s willing to give me a chance to fix this.” He looked at her once again, brown eyes glassy and twisting Sloane’s chest. “Falling in love with her wasn’t the mistake; everything else was.”

She didn’t have to guess what he was referring to.

Sloane twisted her lips to the side, gaze dropping momentarily before she mused dryly, “We’re both fucked, aren’t we?” When Calum sniffed and looked at her, she shook her head, turning her gaze towards the ceiling. “Whatever Luke and I are doing. . . It’s got its own expiration date. Every time I think about us only getting to be us while we’re here and it all ending when we get back to New York. . . I can’t breathe.”

God, she didn’t even want to think about what would happen when they returned home; the mere thought of going back to being just friends with Luke was nauseating. Especially because Sloane wasn’t sure if they’d be able to do that. Luke was both her and Calum’s best friend; how was she supposed to return to being friends with the man who made her feel so fucking alive, so unafraid of being herself, while being married to one of his best friends? It didn’t fucking seem possible. The closer they got to when they had to return home, the more ominous the dark cloud looming over their heads seemed to get.

“It’s freeing. . . Being with them.”

Sloane nodded at Calum’s statement, the truth in his words too obvious. She watched herself pick at her nails, the words bubbling past her lips before she could stop. “That’s exactly how I feel with Luke,” she said, her voice a thoughtful murmur. “It’s. . . He’s the only one who’s made me feel this way since Jacob’s death.”

Calum’s throat worked at the mention of her late brother while Sloane bit on her lower lip briefly. But he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “My parents. . . Everything’s on me, now, with the company and this merger. It’s not like they can be mad at Jacob for dying so they compensate for it by marrying me off in the name of saving the business.” She let out a wry laugh at that, empty of humor as she gave a disbelieving shake of her head. Her parents’ mindset continued to surprise her. “I don’t know how Jacob’s death gave them permission for controlling my life the way they are, but Luke—” She cut off, this time to let out a content sigh that seemed inappropriate for this situation, yet she couldn’t help as she thought of the blonde haired, blue eyed man sitting downstairs. “Being with him gave me some control back to feel free, y’know?”

Sloane looked at Calum again, and saw that of course he knew. He was the only one who could understand what she was talking about, who could feel exactly what she was feeling. And she was the only one who could understand the pain he was in; the pain of losing someone they found a sense of freedom in, the pain of their circumstances swooping in and fucking things up. The state Calum was in right now was one Sloane would inevitably be in, she knew, except Luke knew of everything, what he was getting himself into.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less.

“Sloane.” Her heart jumped at the sound of Calum’s voice; unsteady and defeated as his tear filled eyes met hers. Seeing Calum cry, she’d decided, was a sight she never wanted to witness again, with his flushed nose and cheeks and devastated eyes. “I really fucked up.”

There was nothing she could say, she knew, that would make Calum feel better. So she merely linked her left arm with his right and scooted closer to him, allowing him to tilt his head down until it was resting on her shoulder. Sloane rested her head on top of his, the shortness of his blue hair tickling her cheek, rolling her lips into her mouth when Calum let out a shuddering breath that seemed to tremble through his entire body. This was devastating for him, knowing that he hurt someone he’d come to care about so much in such a short amount of time. And Sloane sat there silently comforting him, being a shoulder for him to cry on, wishing that there was something she could do to make this better. No one was really prepared to see Calum like this, so lost and heartbroken, a stranger from his usual confident, carefree self. But the unfamiliarity of this wasn’t going to stop Sloane from finding a way to help him.

Hours later, in Luke’s car, Sloane chewed on her lower lip as they drove back to the house. They’d just made a grocery run, a task that they’d assigned themselves, and Sloane’s thoughts were drowning out the music playing through the speakers. She managed to get lost in her own head until Luke’s voice broke through, “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

Sloane pursed her lips as she looked at Luke, who kept his eyes on the road after shooting her a curious glance. “I wanna. . .” She paused for a thoughtful moment. “I think I should talk to River. Just so she knows what’s going on. She won’t talk to Calum and I just—I feel like I need to do this. For her and Calum.”

As he made a right turn into the driveway of the beach house, Luke asked, “Do you think she’ll listen to you?”

Sloane blew air through her mouth before shrugging. “I don’t know, but I at least have to try, you know?” she mused, clicking off her seatbelt and picking her bag up from by her feet.

Unbuckling his own seatbelt, Luke nodded, gaze out the window of his door before he jutted his chin towards it. “You can try right now. There she is.”

She followed his gaze out the window, eyebrows raising when she caught sight of River stepping out of the front door of her house, locking it, and Sloane instinctively threw the car door open. Quickly, she made her way around the car, down the driveway and onto the sidewalk to cross over to River’s house, making her way up the path as she called out, “River!”

The blonde stopped on the second step of her porch, squinting against the sun as she watched Sloane approach. Sloane noted the way her features hardened, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice as she demanded, “What do you want?”

“I—” Sloane stopped herself from jumping right in, taking note of River’s obvious hostility. Instead, she asked, “How’s your grandmother?”

“Still in the hospital,” River responded, the flatness of her tone showing her disinterest in this conversation and in Sloane. It kind of threw her off, the absence of gentleness in which River normally spoke in. River made her way down the steps. “Where I need to be going so, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call an Uber.”

Sloane furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at the Prius that was parked in the driveway before her confused expression turned to River. “Isn’t that your car? Something wrong with it?”

River let out an impatient sigh as she pulled out her phone from her purse. “My license expired and I haven’t had time to get it renewed.” Then, with a shake of her head, she continued almost tiredly, “Listen, Sloane, I don’t have time for this. I need to go see my grand—”

“I’ll drive you,” Sloane cut in quickly, offering a friendly and hopeful grin. Maybe then River would talk to her. “No need to waste money on an Uber, right?”

River’s eyebrows drew together, clearly not expecting that offer as she pushed some blonde hair behind her ear. “I—”

“Come on, we can take Luke’s car,” Sloane said, not wanting to give her the chance to refuse. She really needed to talk to her.

Much to her delight, River followed her with a sigh to the house over, right as Luke had shut the trunk with the last few grocery bags in hand. Sloane noted the curious look he was giving her after catching sight of River, a tilt of his head and quirk of his eyebrow directed at Sloane in silent question. She answered it by asking, “Can I borrow your car? I’m gonna give River a ride to the hospital.”

“Uh,” Luke sounded, obviously bewildered as his blue eyes met Sloane’s. She silently raised her eyebrows with a subtle widening of her eyes, and realization flashed across Luke’s face as he transferred the bags in his left hand to his right before pulling the keys out of his shorts. He handed them to her with a quiet, “Good luck,” before going back into the house. That was the second good luck she received today. She was beginning to sense a pattern.

In the car, the tension was thick enough to be felt but not enough to be suffocating. Which was kind of a good thing, Sloane would guess, as she sat quietly and reveled in the lingering smell of Luke and his cologne. She chewed on her tongue while trying to figure out how to approach the topic of conversation, but River beat her by breaking the silence with her quiet voice inquiring, “Did you know? That he was engaged?”

Sloane’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, throat working at River’s question. Oh, God. The blonde next to her knew Calum was engaged—but she didn’t know it was to the woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Sloane felt her chest tighten as the truth twisted around, feeling the heat of River’s gaze on her profile as she answered slowly, “Yes. Because. . .” Sloane let out a slow breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. “He’s engaged to me.”

The silence that followed Sloane’s confession was deafening, heavier than the low hum of the engine as she drove, using her position as an excuse to keep her eyes on the road rather than chancing a glance to the woman next to her. Sloane could hear the drumming of her heart in her ears, feel it in her chest, everything else shattering when River humorlessly laughed out a bewildered, “I’m sorry—what?”

Sloane parked the car in an empty spot in the hospital lot, killing the engine as she finally looked at River. The blonde stared at her as if she’d misheard Sloane’s words, green eyes sharp and confused under furrowed eyebrows, waiting for Sloane to give an explanation. “I—It’s not what you think, River,” Sloane started, picking up the pace when River let out a loud disbelieving scoff, looking away from her as she unbuckled the seatbelt. “Calum and I—we’re just friends. We’re not, like, together that way. It’s an arrangement.”

“And that makes it any better?” River demanded, the outrage and incredulity thick in her tone as she threw open the car door and stepped out, slamming it shut as Sloane hastily followed her. River’s sandals slapped against the pavement as she stormed across the lot, Sloane right on her heels. “He’s still engaged to someone, and he fucked around with me and made me the other fucking woman!”

Sloane’s heart was pounding as she reached River, the two of them just a few steps away from the hospital entrance, ignorant of the few other people lingering about. Right now, she was too focused on trying to explain herself and Calum to the girl they’d inadvertently hurt. “River, don’t you get it?” Sloane tried, the pleading clear in her voice as she grabbed River’s arm, stopping the blonde in her tracks to get her to face her. Sloane’s throat worked at the anger firing up in River’s green eyes, as well as the hurt she was trying to bury under it. God, this was what Sloane had been afraid of. And while she couldn’t fault Calum for falling in love with River, it didn’t mean she didn’t wish things hadn’t come to this. With a sigh, Sloane hoped River would see the true genuinity in her words as she told her, “For Calum, you’re the only woman.”

River stopped, Sloane’s words hitting the mark she meant for as she dropped her hand from River’s arm, who looked away as her throat worked. The anger was still present, but the hurt was beginning to bleed through the surface. “He should’ve told me. Do you not understand how fucked up this is?”

“Of course I do,” Sloane reassured with a shake of her head, the warmth of the sun above burning her skin. “I’m in the same boat, you know? I mean, yeah, Luke knew more details than you but you have to understand—this engagement? Not my or Calum’s idea. We don’t want to be married. We just—we wanted to spend our time here not worrying about all that bullshit. Neither one of us expected this to get so far.”

“This?” River repeated with a raise of her eyebrow, scoffing slightly. “Calum and I had a relationship. I—fuck, I fell in love with him! But now I’m realizing whatever we had was meant to fall apart this whole time and instead of backing off, Calum just let it happen.”

Sloane rolled her lips into her mouth, feeling her heart ache for the woman in front of her and Calum. And a little bit for herself and Luke, too. Things were starting to get out of control. Sloane’s voice dropped, a sadness creeping in as she reasoned, “He fell in love with you, too, River. How was he supposed to just back off?”

River blinked quickly a couple of times, and Sloane realized it was because she was fighting off any tears from escaping. The poor girl already had so much going on, Sloane hated adding more to her plate. River’s jaw tightened as she looked away, the tendons in her neck working tensely, voice a bit too defeated as she spoke up. “There’s a fine line in your love for someone being selfish and selfless.” Her betrayed green eyes met Sloane’s pleading blue. “And he was selfish.”

*****

“You know, when you first told us about your engagement to Sloane, I kind of hated you a little bit.”

Calum would’ve choked on his water had he been surprised by Luke’s statement. But given the recent turn of events, he wasn’t. Instead, he lowered the water bottle and met his friend’s gaze sitting across from him, a pile of UNO cards in between them as they played. The two of them sat on the deck, sharing one of the long beach chairs to play easily, the sun burning against their backs welcomingly.

Lowering the water bottle, Calum cleared his throat and flatly responded, “Just a little bit?”

Luke met his dry humor with an empty smirk of his own as he looked through the cards in his hand. He put down one to do his turn. “It’s fucked up.” Calum knew he didn’t have to voice his agreement for Luke to know that he thought the same. “This is gonna sound fucking dramatic but I don’t know how I’m supposed to watch my best friend marry the girl I love, man.”

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, intent gaze on his cards yet thoroughly unfocused. “’S not dramatic,” he mumbled quietly, a subtle furrow in his brows. “I can be partners with Sloane for business but marriage. . . I don’t see how we’re not gonna end up resenting each other down the road. We’re friends, we get along, but loyalty in friendship and loyalty in marriage are two completely different things.” Calum recognized the guilt that was beginning to form a lump in his throat, the emptiness he felt since the other day at the hospital when River found out everything ever present in making him feel completely hollow. He lifted his gaze, brown eyes meeting Luke’s blue, the sincerity deepening Calum’s voice as he said, “I’m sorry this is affecting you, too, Luke. Sloane and I. . . We never meant to hurt you.” He swallowed thickly. “Or River.”

His grip on the cards tightened, threatening to fold them in his fist at the mention of the woman with the prettiest green eyes, whose house he’d be able to see if he just glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, except the thoughts of her in his head were haunting. They consisted of her teary eyes, of the hurt and anger painted across her face, of the fierce betrayal heavy in her voice when she told him to leave. And as much as Calum tried to think of the happier times he’d had with her since his arrival to Florida, he couldn’t, because he knew he didn’t deserve to. Why should he be allowed to revere in the good memories of them when he caused her so much pain?

And he hated that his best friend was hurting, too, and that Sloane would eventually have to say goodbye to a relationship that everyone knew was right. Calum could tell, just by looking at them, how much Sloane and Luke meant to each other, how years of friendship had finally blossomed into a mutual love that was a long time coming. And it would all come to an end because of a stupid fucking arrangement. Fuck, Calum was desperate to figure a way out of this mess that would be beneficial for everyone involved. Maybe he could.

“I know,” Luke responded to Calum’s apology, a small and appreciative smile hinting at his dimples. Luke sighed, broad shoulders sinking as he breathed out, “It’s just. . .”

“A shit situation.”

“Completely.”

Their mutual understanding made for an easy silence as they continued the game, interrupted only when Calum’s phone notified him of a text message. His heart dropped when he read Sloane’s text.

Come to the hospital. I’m with River. It’s not good.

He was pretty sure he’d broken some traffic laws on his way to the hospital, but Calum didn’t give a fuck.

The smell of disinfectant burned Calum’s nose as he burst into the hospital like a madman, but that was the least of his worries. He immediately turned to walk down the familiar path that led to the elevators that would take him to Maggie’s floor, only to be stopped by Sloane’s voice calling out his name. His heart was pounding as he looked to his left, eyes landing on Sloane sitting in the waiting room, River right next to her. Throat locked, Calum made his way over, feeling his fingers trembling and not entirely trusting his knees to keep him supported as he took in the sight of River.

She sat next to Sloane, whose arms were wrapped around her, while River’s head leaned against her shoulder. The air rushed out of Calum’s lungs as he took in her face; tear streaked and flushed, but completely void of any emotions. She stared blankly ahead at the floor in front of her, oblivious and uncaring to the world around her, and the nausea twisted Calum’s stomach as he neared her. Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no. His gaze met Sloane’s, who was trying her best to comfort River during an inconsolable time, and Calum knew just how terribly River’s world had blown up.

Calum crouched down in front of River, ignoring the trembling of his legs and the weight of the chains around his neck seemed to have on him as he peered up at her. She hadn’t looked at him, staring out into space. She looked so haunted, so empty, and Calum wanted nothing more than to turn back time and make it all better for her. To bring that smile he’d fallen so deeply in love with return to its rightful place.

“She had a stroke.” River’s voice was a broken whisper, just barely heard in the noise of the hospital, but enough to tighten Calum’s stomach and send his heart flying into his throat. “The flu and her diabetes it just—it was too much. Sh-she had a stroke.” Her watery, red rimmed green eyes met Calum’s glassy brown, her lower lip trembling. “Grams is gone.”

He wanted to cry. Over the loss of the loving woman, over the scalding pain River was experiencing, over all of the fucking bullshit she’s had to face, and over his own part in some of it. And despite feeling his own body tremble, he refused to be anything but strong and sturdy for her.

He reached for her hands. “River, I’m so—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, a frown on her face as she pulled her hands from him. Calum and Sloane watched, his throat tightening as a sob ripped through River, and he could feel every bit of his heart breaking as fresh tears escaped her and she cried, “No, you lied to me. You’re a liar.” She tried to move away, pushing herself further into the chair as the movements forced Sloane’s arms from around her, but River was too busy looking at Calum like he’d ripped her heart out, and he fucking hated himself for it. “You’re just gonna leave me. You’re gonna leave just like my mom and dad and Grams. You’re just gonna—”

“Hey, hey, baby, please.” Calum kicked himself into action, his voice smooth and hoping to comfort her as he pushed himself up and into the seat next to River. He gently grasped her arms, heart thudding as she tried to half heartedly struggle against him, her sobs growing louder and louder. He was aware of people looking their way, had half a mind to tell them to fuck off as his gaze met Sloane’s worried one. She looked almost as distraught as Calum felt as he pulled a crying, struggling River into him. “Shh, River, I got you.”

His voice was smooth despite his own emotions threatening to lock his throat, but Calum was efficient in pulling River into his lap, hugging her to him as her face buried in the crook of his neck and her body wracked with the sobs escaping her. He barely noticed Sloane lean back into her chair, palms pressed together as she brought her hands to her lips, watching as Calum did his best to keep himself together in order to comfort the woman falling apart in his arms.

Every cry that fell from River’s mouth sunk deeply into his bones, his eyes squeezing shut as he pressed his cheek against her head, holding her tightly and rubbing her back as he cradled her to him. It was the most devastating sound, hearing her cry so deeply, so brokenly. Nothing he could do would ease her pain, Calum knew. But being with River, holding her and letting her cry, was the only way he knew, for now, to let her know he wasn’t going to leave her. Fuck the arrangement. Fuck the drama. Fuck all of this pain that no one had expected. He was going to figure out a way to stop this from controlling—ruining—their lives. He wasn’t going to leave River. Not now, not ever.

*****

We’ve narrowed it down to these three spots. If we’re aiming for an October wedding, I think an indoor venue would be best. Look these over with Calum and let us know what you decide. Quickly.

It was that short and precise e-mail from her mother that had Sloane’s heart dropping into the very pit of her stomach where it continued to sink lower, her heart beginning to pick up its pace at an uncontrollable rate that made it increasingly difficult to breathe. It was one fucking e-mail that sent reality crashing down around Sloane, reminding her of the quickly approaching end of this trip and, more importantly, her relationship with Luke.

But nothing about this was easy because, fuck, she couldn’t just switch off her feelings. She couldn’t just pretend that being with Luke for these past few weeks and taking their years of friendship to a completely different level hadn’t been the best thing to happen to her. Like this wasn’t the happiest she’d ever been in so long. No. No, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to let go of the tranquility of this beach, of the easy going and blissful happiness she’s felt since being with Luke and trade it in for the suffocation that was waiting for her back in New York.

Sloane shot to her feet, the sand sinking between her toes thanks to the flip flops she was wearing, ignoring the confused calls of her friends as she quickly walked away, directionless, too lost in her thoughts and panic to actually decide where to go. Rather, she just walked under the glare of the sun and away from the bewildered voices of her friends. The sand was hot beneath her feet as she kept going, the thundering of her heart louder than the waves of the ocean and the chatter of other beach goers, and Sloane was too busy drowning in her thoughts to notice that someone had been running after her.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Luke’s quick voice had her stopping, especially when he came in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. His sunglasses were missing, allowing for her to see the concern in his baby blues, the pendant of his necklace dangling at his swift movements as he took in the sight of her alarmed eyes. “Sloane, what’s going on?”

“I can’t get married,” she rushed out breathlessly, unable to keep her feelings inside, needing to get rid of the thoughts dizzying her head. One look at Luke and she couldn’t keep it in. Sloane’s breathing was heavy as she ran her fingers through her dark hair and continued on, “I can’t go back to New York and get married. Not when I don’t love Calum the way I love you. It’s not fucking fair.”

Luke’s lips parted as he stared at her, and through her panic Sloane wasn’t oblivious to the confession she’d just uttered. Except it didn’t really feel like a confession; it was just a statement of truth, of something that had been true for a lot longer than Sloane ever realized. And telling Luke like this, in the middle of what was about to be a panic attack, wasn’t the most romantic situation. But it was the truth. And he deserved as much.

But however obvious Sloane’s words were to herself, they weren’t as much to Luke as his back straightened, eyes widened despite the heat of the sun as he stammered out, “You love me?”

Briefly, Sloane got a sense of deja vu from that night on the deck when feelings were first being confessed—by him, not by her. And for a moment, she felt a sense of calm as her lips quirked up, features softening as she took in the relieved, joyous, and mildly shocked look on Luke’s face. He was too fucking adorable. “Is it really that much of a surprise?” Luke let out a breath, the surprise in it evident, and Sloane took a step towards him and reached up to cup his cheeks, adoring the tickle of his facial hair in his palms as her blue eyes met his. “Of course I love you,” she reassured, laughing gently. “I wanna be with you, not Calum.”

“Ouch.”

Luke looked over Sloane’s head just as she turned around, letting out a breath at the sight of Calum squinting at them against the sun, brown skin glistening from the water he’d just emerged from. Getting him to enjoy a day at the beach with all of them had been difficult, given that all he wanted to do was be with River. But her mom, according to Calum, had finally shown up for the reading of River’s grandmother’s will, and they were currently with the lawyer, something River had wanted to do by herself, apparently.

Calum was wearing a subtle smirk of his own, obviously not hurt by Sloane’s statement as her shoulders dropped with a shake of her head. “You know I love you, Cal, but I just—we can’t do this.” Her words began picking up their pace again, her panic making her talk a bit too fast. “With all these e-mails about you needing to pick a suit and me having to decide on the flowers and then us having to decide on the venue and give a final headcount to send out the invites, I just—it’s making me realize how real all of this shit is and it’s getting really hard to breathe. I mean—” She stopped, glancing back at Luke and then at Calum, letting out a heavy breath as her heart continued to pound, shaking her head as she asked, “I can’t get married to someone I don’t love. You can’t either.”

Licking his lips, Calum nodded, the dimples on the upper parts of his cheeks appearing as he continued to squint his eyes. “You’re right,” he agreed, hands on his hips as his brown eyed gaze swept over the two of them. Then, with a tilt of his chin and a far too casual tone, he declared, “You two should get married.”

Behind her, Sloane heard Luke choke on nothing but air. She, however, stared at Calum with an almost comical level of dumbfoundment as she tried to figure out if she had heard him right over the water and chatter of the beach. But he just looked at the two of them, expression terrifyingly serious, and Sloane’s expression fell with a drop of her jaw and widening of her eyes despite the sun threatening to burn her corneas. “Are you—” she stammered, throat dry. “Did you drink too many beers or something? What the fuck, Calum?”

He had to be joking. He couldn’t possibly think they would take him seriously with an idea that fucking far fetched.

“I’m perfectly sober, thank you.” Well, there went that idea. Sloane’s throat worked, gaping at him, knowing Luke was probably mirroring the same expression behind her. When Calum took in their reactions, he let out an impatient huff. “Come on, it’s not that crazy of an idea if you think about it.”

“Yes, the fuck it is!” Luke finally sounded, stepping up next to Sloane as she nodded along vigorously. Okay. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought Calum had lost his mind. “We—we’ve only been together for a couple of weeks, and—”

“And you’ve been friends for years,” Calum interrupted calmly. Sloane had a feeling he found their incredulity a bit too amusing. “And, come on, guys, the way you two act around each other? You might as well have been married for years.”

Sloane’s face flushed, but her disbelief over Calum’s seemingly grand plan was still raging. “So let me get this straight,” she spoke up with a furrow of her brows, holding a hand out as a way of wanting them both to keep quiet. She pointed at Calum as she spoke with a raise of her eyebrows, “You want Luke and I to get married just so we can avoid the arrangement our parents set up?”

“Yes.” Sloane scoffed with a shake of her head, needing to take a step away as she met Luke’s disbelieving expression with one of her own. “Look, Sloane.” Her gaze met Calum’s once more. “The merger for the companies is already underway. There’s no chance of our parents stopping the process, or of them revoking our right to lead the companies since they’ve already began the paperwork of handing it all to us. The only reason they wanted us to get married was so that each half of the businesses stay within the respective families while having overall control of the conglomerate. But I know us. I know how well we’d work together—as partners, not husband and wife.” He said the last few words with a dismissive scoff that Sloane wholeheartedly agreed with. “Our folks—they think merging both business and family would make for a stronger deal, but I know it’s only gonna end up messing things up in the long run. If you and Luke get married, they can’t force marriage on us. We’d still get to be partners, and you’ll be married to the guy you actually love. It’s a win-win.”

When he said it like that, it made everything sound so simple. And, maybe in a way, it was. Sloane knew the marriage part of the deal was built out of their parents’ fear of losing control over the companies. The pretense of being one big happy family provided them with a safety net of still being a part of everything they had worked for without fear of losing it. The only reason Sloane had agreed to the deal in the first place was because she felt as though she owed it to her parents. But the longer she thought about it, the more she realized it was because her parents feared she wouldn’t live up to what her brother could’ve possibly done with the company. Marrying her off to the business partner’s son granted her a high status within the company and maybe, according to the darker and resentful part of Sloane’s mind, give them more leeway in controlling what went on. Which is something she doubted they’d do had it been Jacob who was taking over.

Control, control, control. That’s what it came down to. And she refused to let her parents have any over her.

Sloane let out a slow breath, crossing her arms over her chest as her blue eyes locked with Calum’s brown. “You’ve thought this through, huh?”

“I had to,” Calum shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not just your freedom that’s at stake here.”

Sloane laughed lightly before the reality of the situation set in, expression dropping as she shook her head and looked at Luke, who was still trying to process whatever the fuck was going on. She didn’t blame him. This was. . .  A big fucking deal, to say the least. She swallowed and turned her gaze to Calum as she began, “I don’t think—”

“We could do it.”

Sloane cut off at the sound of Luke’s voice, his words seeming to choke her out of speaking as her widened eyes turned to him. She saw him nodding to himself, thoughtful gaze on the sand as his golden curls danced against the breeze. Sloane let out a startled breath. “I—what? Luke, what’re you—”

“It’s crazy.” Luke turned to face her, shaking his head to tell her the insanity of this idea wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t seem to care. “Like, completely mental. And this wasn’t how I expected for any of this to go but, fuck, Sloane, I don’t care how we end up getting married—as long as I’m married to you, I’ll be the luckiest man in the world.”

Her eyes widened, staring at him in utter incredulity, not at all expecting him to say any of the cheesy, sweet, wonderful things he’d just said. For the past few months the only thought of marriage Sloane had was her impending one to Calum, one that kind of made her want to run away just to escape feeling like both her and her friend were being locked down against their will. But now, thinking of marriage in terms of doing so with Luke—he was right. It was fucking insane, and yet, it sounded perfect.

The sincerity in his eyes was obvious; he took her hands in his, squeezing them, and Sloane felt the sting in her eyes as she realized just how on board with this idea Luke was. This crazy, possibly stupid, definitely brilliant idea. “Are—are you serious?” Her voice was a whisper, unable to speak up out of fear of shattering what she was hoping was reality. With a dazed laugh, she asked the man in front of her, “You wanna get married?”

Luke squeezed her hands, the grin on his face bringing forth his dimples that she loved. “Yes.”

Sloane pressed her lips together, giving a shake of her head. She wanted him to be sure. Totally, completely sure. Because this was crazy and kind of exactly what she wanted. “Are you sure, Lu? This—it’s a huge fucking step. Like. We’ve only just started and we’re jumping all the way to the end.”

“Sweetheart,” Luke began with a breath, letting go of her hands to cup her cheeks. He ducked his head slightly to lock their gazes. “I’ve wanted to be with you for years. I’ve loved you for roughly just as long. Trust me—I wanted to do this right, but I’m pretty sure this is it. This is our right. And I’m down if you’re down.”

Despite him successfully bringing forth a new wave of tears, Sloane let out a breathy laugh, leaning into his touch as she mused playfully, “You’re down to marry me?”      

Luke’s grin widened, briefly biting his lower lip as he pressed his forehead to hers. “So down.”

Her chest fell with a sharp exhale of her breath, not even realizing that the tightness of her chest was replaced by this light, airy flutter that brought forth a smile on her face too wide to control. And right when she went to kiss Luke, to melt into him with all the insanity of this idea, the voice of their forgotten friend spoke up, smug in all his glory as he stated, “You’re welcome.”

*****

Giving his ex-fianceé away to marry one of his best friends should’ve been strange, in most cases—though, were there ever cases such as this?—but not for Calum. No, he happily, contently, walked Sloane down the steps of the back deck of the beach house and down the beach, just a little ways away from the shore that served as a natural altar where Luke stood waiting for his favorite girl’s arrival. It was a sight Calum felt lucky to witness.

It had taken Luke and Sloane a day and a half to acquire a marriage license from the city hall, the same amount of time it took Ashton, Michael and Crystal to adjust to this life changing decision their friends had made. But they had reacted like Calum; although they hadn’t suggested the idea like their blue haired friend, it was one that they knew, down the road, was a good idea. Because if any two people were to spontaneously get married, it was fitting that it was Luke and Sloane.

And the look on his face when he saw her approach in the knee length, white lace dress she’d gone out to buy with Crystal, a meadowy bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums in her hand—Calum knew he’d made the right choice in suggesting the idea, and that they’d made the perfect choice in agreeing to it.

Ashton stood up there with Luke—they’d all put on the only somewhat formal clothes they had of button downs and pants—hands clasped in front of him and a grin on his face. Calum could tell he was excited to marry his two friends, especially given that he’d damn near cried when Luke asked him if he’d be willing to get ordained online to do so. It was a whole thing. Everyone had been emotional the past day or so.

“Oh, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sloane breathed out through her smile as her and Calum neared where everyone stood.

He glanced at her, his own smile tilting his lips when he saw the brightness of her blue eyes, accentuated by long eyelashes. “You nervous?”

“A little,” Sloane admitted, her grin suddenly widening, and Calum glanced forward to see Luke’s gaze directly on her. His dimpled grin would give the sun a run for its money had it not already been setting in the horizon, coloring the sky in a breathtaking painting of pinks and purples and oranges. A perfect wedding backdrop for his two friends. Sloane let out a breath. “But mostly so ready.”

Calum chuckled deeply, pressing a gentle kiss to Sloane’s cheek once they reached their stop, giving her hands a squeeze as she whispered her heartfelt thanks and giving a clap to Luke’s shoulder before moving to stand with Michael and Crystal to bear witness to this moment. Calum clasped his own hands in front of him, unable to fight the smile from his face as he watched Luke and Sloane face each other. Their happiness was infectious, joyous, and he was so glad they were going through with it.

“Friends,” Ashton spoke up, making sure he was loud enough over the distant sound of waves along the shore. “We are gathered here today. . .”

Ashton’s voice seemed to trail off as someone stepped up to Calum’s left, and it was when he glanced over, feeling his breath catch in his throat when he saw River standing right next to him in a pretty pale pink dress and blonde hair tied back in a braid, wisps of her hair dancing along her jawline in the breeze. He stared at her, feeling the shock take over his body as she quietly murmured, “Guess I’m right on time.”

He didn’t think she’d come. He was at a loss for words in this moment, especially when River glanced at him to offer a brief smile before looking straight ahead once more. Calum could smell her perfume over the scent of the salty ocean, and it was hilarious how easily his muscles seemed to relax in her presence.

The urge to reach out and grab her hand in his was strong, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he pressed his lips together and looked ahead, focusing on Ashton doing what he did best and speak from his heart about his two friends he was lucky enough to marry. Calum’s throat worked, heart jumping excitedly as Ashton spoke, “Do you, Sloane Irene Thorne, take this man to be your husband?”

The excitement and joy in Sloane’s two word response was tangible as she slid the newly purchased ring onto Luke’s finger and grinned, “I do.”

Of course, Ashton couldn’t stop grinning as well as he shifted his hazel eyes to Luke. “And do you, Luke Robert Hemmings, take this woman to be your wife?”

His dimples hadn’t ever been so deep, Calum thought, as he watched the blonde slide the ring easily onto Sloane’s ring finger. “I do.”

“Then what’re you waiting for? Kiss her!”

They were silent as they walked along the shore, with River holding her sandals by the straps in one hand as Freddie ran along in front of them. She’d brought him out after the ceremony, allowing for the dog to run around and get some fresh air after providing Calum with kisses he didn’t think he deserved. The sun had long since set, the only lights coming from the moon above and the few still open concession stands a few aways away. The sleeves of the button down Calum had decided to wear were folded up to his elbows, hands buried in the pockets of his pants a bit nervously.

The silence was getting a bit too heavy, drying Calum’s throat as he cleared it and said, “I’m glad you came to the ceremony.”

“Why?” River responded lightly, thoughtfully. “So I could see you had no intention of marrying Sloane?”

His jaw tightened in shame. “River—”

“No, what was supposed to happen, Calum?” she demanded, stopping and facing him. Freddie stopped as well, pawing at the sand. Calum took in the frown on her eyebrows and lips, looking up at him questioningly. “You thought, what, we would just screw around and then you’d go back home and get married and whatever happened between us was just your way of temporarily distancing yourself from reality? You never stopped to think how it’d make me feel?”

“Of course I did,” Calum defended, his own eyebrows coming together at the accusation of him not caring about her in any sense. “You know all the details now, River. You know how complicated and messy things were. Falling in love with you was the last thing I expected to happen but it did and I don’t regret it for a single second.” He let out a sharp breath through his nose, feeling as though the deep rasp of his voice was interrupting the quiet of the night. His brown eyes remained on her green as he added, “The only thing I regret is hurting you. It was selfish of me and I’m so sorry.”

The silence fell over them once more like a blanket as Calum felt River’s eyes inspect every inch of his face, scrutinizing and analyzing him to the full degree. He never looked away, hoping that she’d see just how honest and genuine he was, how regretful. Fuck, he’d understood if she never forgave him, but the mere thought of it wrapped around his heart like an unrelenting iron fist.

“You’re not selfish.” Calum swallowed at River’s words, her tone turning soft as one corner of her lip quirked up briefly. “I know selfish people. You aren’t one of them. Just. . .” She shrugged a shoulder, her smile gentle and empathetic. “A little misguided. But totally selfless. And. . .” She let out a breath, taking a step towards him, head tilting back just a bit to maintain eye contact. “And a really good guy.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “River—”

“I think a lot of my anger came from me, like, projecting whatever I felt towards my parents.” She laughed softly with a regretful shake of her head. “They’re the most selfish people I know. When they left me I just—I saw it as a betrayal, y’know?” she asked, squinting up at him against the gentle breeze as Calum offered a single nod. “And then when I found out about your engagement to Sloane, it was like all of these feelings just came out and you got the brunt of them.”

Calum’s lips quirked into a small, ashamed smile. “I deserved it.”

“Maybe,” River hummed before letting out a sigh. “But the situation was complicated, to say the least. Life’s fucked up enough as it is and there’s no rule book to go by. I can go on and on about what I would’ve done if I was in your shoes but I can’t really know unless I actually was, y’know? No one knows what they’d do in a situation unless they were in it. I was hurt and I was angry and I’m not completely over it but. . . I do forgive you, Calum.”

The relief was flooding him before he could even stop it, inhaling sharply as he felt a warmth swell in his chest as he asked, “You do?”

She rolled her lips into her mouth and nodded, a lightness in her green eyes that he’d missed desperately. “I do,” she said before letting out a gentle laugh. Calum figured it was because that two word phrase was being thrown a lot around here. Then River shrugged, her smile reappearing as she breezily said, “Love makes you do crazy things, doesn’t it? It’s something Grams always lived by.”

Calum didn’t think he’d dealt with his emotions this much in a long time. But River seemed to bring out a different side in him. His heart thudded at the entirety of River’s statement, licking his lips as he let out a quiet chuckle. “Mags would probably have kicked my ass for hurting you.”

River clicked her tongue, her smile turning fond at the mention of her grandmother. “Nah. She’s big on second chances,” she assured him before letting out a breath. “She gave my mom plenty of second chances but after reading her will, I guess she decided Mom didn’t deserve anymore.” With a sheepish poke to Calum’s stomach, River added, “Don’t worry; you’re still a good egg in Maggie Fischer’s book.”

Her words brought a smile to Calum’s lips, feeling a warmth spread through him at the mention of Maggie before furrowing his eyebrows at River. “Wait, what do you mean about the will?”

Licking her lips, River let out an almost nervous chuckle as she looked out to the dark of the ocean, rubbing her hands down her sides as she told him, “She left everything to me. The house, the car, her trust—it’s all mine.”

As disbelieving as River looked by this information, Calum wasn’t the least bit shocked as he raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re surprised? Of course she left it all to you.”

River pressed her hands to her cheeks, and it was like whatever shock she must’ve felt when the will was first read to her was flooding back as her widened eyes met Calum’s somewhat amused ones. In a dazed, awe-filled whisper, she said, “It’s a lot of money, Calum.”

Calum shrugged, grinning down at her as his brown eyes glinted under the moonlight. “Use some of it to visit me in New York.” Fuck, he didn’t want to even think of the moment where he’d have to leave her.

He took in the smile that grew on River’s face, and his heart jumped into his throat at the knowing look gleaming in her eyes. Calum let out a slow breath as her fingers intertwined with his. Okay. So maybe leaving each other wasn’t going to be in the cards, after all.

*****

“Do you have any idea how—how ridiculous this is? How the hell did you decide this was a good idea without consulting us? What gave you the right to even go through with this?!”

Sloane’s jaw tightened at her mother’s words, matching her glare with her own as she remained seated on the couch in the living room of their home. Calum was right next to her, his presence a comfort as his parents, too, hovered over them in their own outrage. Eyes locked with her mother’s Sloane said, “Nobody needed to give me the right—it’s my life and it was about time I decided to live like it.”

Mrs. Thorne bristled, the fire still alight in her eyes. “Watch your tone with me, Sloane.”

“No, screw that,” she retorted, getting up to her feet. All eyes were on her, trying to weigh her down, but she pushed forward. This was a long time coming, and she wasn’t going to be treated like some fucking toddler. She looked between the two sets of parents, staring at them in disgusted incredulity. “Don’t you guys get it? You’re so desperate to save your businesses that you don’t even care that you’re ruining your childrens’ lives!”

Her father, the calmer of her parents, sighed. “Honey, that’s not what we’re doi—”

“Yes, it is,” Calum spoke up, getting to his feet as well to stand beside Sloane. She glanced up at him, appreciated his stone set features as he came to her aid and both of their defense. “Sloane and I have been friends for years, just like you all have. If you trust us to run the companies, you should trust us to be able to do it as partners, and not force a damn marriage on us that, frankly, makes no sense.” His gaze shifted to Mr. and Mrs. Thorne, an insulted scoff escaping him as he said to them, “You know if it was Jacob instead of Sloane, you never would even propose such a ridiculous idea.”

Sloane saw the way her dad’s features fell, and the haggard look that washed over her mother’s face. While Calum’s parents called his name warningly, Mrs. Thorne ground out through gritted teeth, “How dare you—”

“He’s right, Mom,” Sloane said with a frown, feeling a familiar tug in her chest at the mention of her brother. “I know it had always been part of the plan for Jacob to take over, but you need to trust that I know what I’m doing in terms of the company and not have a marriage clause to tie up loose ends that don’t even exist. It’s not fair to me and Calum. We’ll work as partners, but never in a marriage.

She saw the looks Mr. and Mrs. Hood exchanged with one another, and Sloane had a feeling they were getting through to them. And maybe even her father. Her mother, on the other hand, just shook her head. “So, what, you married Luke to void this arrangement? That’s so childish, Sl—”

“I married Luke because I love him,” she cut in sharply, not allowing to give her mother the opportunity to say anything against the man she loved. Her husband. She fought the ill-timed smile threatening to quirk at her lips. God calling Luke her husband was still something to get used to. “It wasn’t out of spite. We got married because wanted to. Because it felt right and he makes me happy. I don’t expect you to understand—” Her eyes locked with her mother’s as she gave a subtle yet sad shake of her head. “—Not that you’d try to, anyway.”

Her mother frowned, and Sloane wondered if she’d imagined the hurt she’d saw flash across her eyes. Next to her, Calum firmly stated, “The merger can proceed exactly as planned—just without the marriage part of it all. You guys have trusted us with these businesses; try to trust us with our own lives, yeah?”

Mrs. Hood let out a soft snort. “So you can continue to make questionable decisions like dying your hair blue?” she questioned, unimpressed gaze going to his head. His roots were starting to grow out, the blue blending in with the natural dark brown.

Before Calum could respond, Sloane’s father spoke up again. “They’re right.” Sloane looked at him, feeling the hope swell her chest as he nodded. “They’re adults—who are we to try and control every aspect of their lives?” He walked past her mother to stand in front of Sloane, cupping his daughter’s cheeks as he said, “I’ve already lost one kid. I’m not losing another over what I thought was a good decision. Sloane and Calum are smart and capable enough to make overall comprehensive choices in their lives and for the sake of the business.” He sighed, giving a shake of his head as he dropped his hands from Sloane’s cheek and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Sloane instantly leaned into her dad’s side as he added, “I just wish I’d been there for the wedding.”

Sloane couldn’t fight the grin from her face as she glanced at Calum, who was smiling over their obvious victory. He had been right, which didn’t surprise Sloane. She knew she had made the right decision in trusting him. This was, she felt, only a small show of how their partnership was going to go. And she couldn’t wait to be his partner, complete with overbearing responsibilities of running a company and being in charge of thousands of employees. All the while being partners. Not husband and wife.

Sloane twisted the silver ring on her finger, feeling her grin widened as she told her dad, “That could be arranged.”

*****

The couple of hundred dollars worth whiskey he drank was far more different than the White Claws he’d indulged in after Luke and Sloane’s first wedding, though it allowed him to enjoy his surroundings just the same. The wedding that had been planned for Sloane and Calum had been completely scrapped, and Calum knew Sloane and Luke’s wedding was far better, lovelier, and purer than his and Sloane’s could’ve ever hoped to be. Because here, Calum could literally feel the happiness and love in the air between his two friends, his gaze sweeping over to where they were in the middle of the dance floor.

Sloane was in a proper wedding dress, still white obviously, still lacey, fitted firmly to her as she managed to easily move as she danced with Luke, the two of them stealing kisses as often as possible and Luke’s dimples never disappearing from view because of the constant smile lighting up his face. Family and friends joined them on the dance floor while others indulged in still eating from the buffet or enjoying the bar as Calum made his way to one side of the room. The venue was a glass enclosed terrace up high in a hotel, the ceiling teeming with greenery hanging from the beams that made up the ceiling, and the large floor to ceiling windows provided a stunning view of the city Calum knew so well on three sides while the entrance way was made up of old fashioned red bricks. Purple and white lights provided an elegant hue to the venue, the flower centerpieces, live band, and gold accents showing Calum that this was, in fact, Sloane and Luke’s wedding. Completely gorgeous.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get asked to dance around here?”

Her smooth, gentle voice had Calum freezing in place, wide eyed gaze staring ahead at the window in front of him. But through the reflection of the glass he caught the hazy figure of the woman standing behind him, and Calum kept a tight grip on his glass as he turned around for his brown eyes to meet a pair of forest green he’d missed so much.

River stood in front of him in a long, flowing red and white flowery dress, some locks of blonde hair tied back into a braid as the rest of it fell to reach her upper arms—it had grown since the last time he’d seen her—while that dainty gold necklace remained a permanent fixture. She looked stunning, her smile glowing against her face as she watched him drink in the sight of her.

“Holy shit,” Calum breathed out, taking the few steps towards her. “You’re here.”

Her grin widened as she confirmed with a giggly, “I’m here!” just as Calum discarded his half empty glass on a nearby table to sweep her up in a hug as tight as he wanted to.

He felt him laugh against her, her own arms around his neck as his wrapped around her waist, her citrus scent far more intoxicating than the expensive whiskey he’d drank. Calum’s heart was thundering against his chest, sure that River could feel it too, as he found himself squeezing his eyes shut, briefly praying that he wasn’t imagining this. But River’s hand went to the back of his head, nails gently scraping against his scalp and he felt himself relaxing in their embrace. This was real. She was real.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” Calum said as they pulled away, but his arms were still around her, fronts still pressed together.

River laughed gently. “As soon as another flight became available, I booked a seat.” She bit her lower lip briefly, gaze going to her own hands as she pressed them against the lapels of his suit, smiling as her gaze met his once more. “I couldn’t wait to be with you.”

He didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy. Just a little while after he and his friends had gone back to New York, he and River continued talking and she’d told him about her thoughts of moving out of Florida. Late night conversations consisting of her telling him about always wanting to go to New York, and she finally had the means to do so, and Calum had earnestly told her he’d be waiting. Just a few days after that, River had put her grandmother’s house for sale after and began the process of finally moving out of Florida. There was nothing keeping her there and River knew, as she had told Calum, that her grandmother wouldn’t want her to be so alone. New York was the perfect fresh start.

So while Calum oversaw the shipment of River’s things to a loft downtown that she’d fallen in love with—especially after sending Calum who confirmed the beauty of the place—he also impatiently waited for her arrival. If he had it his way, then she’d be moving right into his place. But River wanted to do things the right way—or, well, whatever the right way was given the origin of their relationship—and so Calum waited for her to finally land. Except hurricane season in Florida continued to throw multiple wrenches in that plan, and she’d missed Luke and Sloane’s second, more lavish and populated, wedding.

Until now.

Calum pressed his forehead to hers, arms around her tight as he mumbled, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” River returned earnestly before closing the gap between them, and Calum instantly melted into her the second their lips met. Kissing her felt like coming home; it felt real and right and perfect, and he couldn’t imagine anything else feeling as good as this.

They broke away and Calum pulled her towards the dance floor, where their friends instantly let out cheers at the sight of River, with Sloane pulling her in for a hug and River returning it just as eagerly while also making sure not to step on Sloane’s dress. They danced to a couple of songs, Calum unable to let go of River, wanting her to be close to him as much as possible—not that she had any arguments. The contentment he felt only in her presence had once again returned with her arrival, pulling her in for kisses whenever he wanted to because he could.

After a few songs, he brought River over to where his family was, introducing the woman he loved to his parents and sister, getting the approved pat on the back from his dad as his mom and Mali happily engaged with River. And Calum admired, as the music played around him and people enjoyed the party, how perfect River seemed to fit in with his family. It’s where she belonged, that much he knew to be true.

“Can you believe we’re not stuck anymore?” Calum turned around from where he’d just ordered another drink from the bar to smile at Sloane standing next to him. She looked absolutely stunning, glowing in her happiness, as the two rings on her finger glinted brightly as she held a flute of champagne. The diamond of her engagement ring from Luke looked better on her finger than the one assigned by their parents ever did. Her blue eyes met Calum’s brown, a smile on her face as she said, “We made it out. We got back control.”

Calum let out a long breath, watching the dance floor in front of him. He could make out River and his friends right in the center. The smile on his face widened. “Remember when we thought we wouldn’t?” Shooting Sloane a wink, he added, “I think our wedding would’ve been a bit duller than this.”

She laughed and Calum joined in. It felt good to be able to laugh about something that, at one point, had twisted up both of their insides and, to some extent, strained their friendship for a brief period. Calum was beyond glad that was over. “I’ll drink to that,” Sloane agreed, and Calum snorted as he clinked his glass with hers and took a sip of his vodka. When she lowered her glass, Sloane added in a hum, “I’m glad River’s finally here. Now you can stop moping.”

Calum stammered out a protesting sound as Sloane merely smirked, and he huffed as he denied, “I didn’t mope.”

“Please,” Sloane scoffed with a roll of her eyes, throwing Calum an unconvinced look. “People at the office think you’re some broody dude when in reality you’re just pouty because you missed your girlfriend.” She gestured towards the dance floor with her glass, smiling. “Not anymore.”

Calum made a face, though he couldn’t argue with her. With a tilt of his head, he turned to the bride and asked, “If I’m the broody one, what’re you?”

Sloane’s expression fell, huffing as she admitted, “The happy-go-lucky married one.”

That prompted Calum to laugh. Not at her title, but the dejected way in which she said it. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing—they just need to take me seriously,” Sloane decided, finishing the rest of her glass before putting it on the bar behind them. Pointing at Luke, she said, “When I’m back from the honeymoon, you and I are redoing how we present ourselves to everyone, okay? We gotta be badass CEOs in that building. Not blissed out dummies in love.”

Calum smirked as his gaze swept over to the dance floor once more, watching as River tried to teach Luke how to dance to the Spanish song that was currently playing. He was struggling, of course, but that didn’t stop his loud laughter from ringing out above the music and River to shake her head in utter amusement, though she didn’t give up. Calum’s smirk turned into a grin, the sight warming his heart more than he expected it to.

With a short laugh, he said, “We are blissed out dummies in love.”

He looked at Sloane, who’d been watching Luke and River just as he had, and the grin on her face told him she was just as content as he was. It wasn’t a bad idea after all. “Yeah, we are.” Sloane then linked her arm with Calum’s, grinning up at him as she giggled, “Come on—the only toes Luke should be stepping on are mine.”

His drink was forgotten at the bar, but Calum didn’t care as he and Sloane pushed themselves to the middle of the dance floor, joining their friends as River made her way to Calum and Sloane went back to Luke. Sloane was right: they were no longer stuck in the middle of a situation that had seemed too impossible to work through. Now, they were just stuck in the middle of a dance floor surrounded by their loved ones, celebrating Luke and Sloane’s love. And as Calum danced with River, pressing a kiss to her lips, he kind of couldn’t wait until they were celebrating the two of them, too.

--

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[libraford]

Gonna say it first- you are never going to see nearly as many men in a flower shop as you are on Valentine’s Day. Close runner up is Administrative Assistant Appreciation Day, but given that this is our busiest day of the year and we don’t even hire temps for Admin Day, there really isn’t much of a contest. 

On an average day, our shop maybe sees between ten and twenty people walking in, with thirty to fifty deliveries. 

On V-Day, the walk-ins start at 7:30am and do not stop until past 7pm, with upwards 500 deliveries and we have to be there for all of it. 

But our V-Day week doesn’t start on V-Day. 

It starts an entire week before the actual holiday, and why? 

Because someone who should have honestly known better booked her $5000 wedding for February 9th. 

Now, when I say that she should have known better, I really do mean it. This woman works in the floral industry. She manages and operates a greenhouse. Her wedding was actually at the greenhouse. 

For context of what a $5000 wedding looks like, our average wedding account is around $1000. This bride got a discount on all her flowers. 

All of hers was greens and tropicals. Anthurium, orchids, succulents, ivy, African Mask. These were all live plants that we had to cut, and some that were being saved whole for a succulent wall. 

Setup had five locations. The church, the cottage, a corridor, the greenhouse, and the foyer. The average is two. 

Monday, February 4, a man calls and informs us that he has the shipment of flowers. 

“How big is the shipment,” Grandpa asks.

“86 boxes.” 

“...ah.” 

Live plants need to be taken out of their boxes to keep them alive- they need light, they need to breathe, and the wedding is at the end of the week. They began unboxing succulents and miniature orchids at 10:30 and finished with the english ivy and African Mask plants around 3:45. 

These take up a grand total of 5 carts. These are large carts- hardly fitting in a doorway and each holding between fifty and one-hundred plants. 

And the only place we can keep them... is in the front of the store. 

For an entire week- and this is the week leading up to our busiest week of the year, we can neither see nor hear any person coming into our shop. 

My desk is positioned in the back of the room, facing the wall. But when I’m working on casket sprays, I pull out a table and have myself facing the door. 

I became the sentry of customers. And unfortunately this meant that I had to deal with them. Just about all of them wanted to buy some of the miniature orchids and I briefly considered moving my desk to the front of the store so that I could hide among the carts like some kind of orchid goblin- smacking the hands of people who get too close to the plants before retreating back into the foliage. 

The number of people wanting to buy the stock from the wedding only increased when we put a big sign on it reading ‘WEDDING, NOT FOR SALE.’

We began working on them Wednesday. And for the next three days we had people asking ‘how much is this centerpiece?’

Too much. 

The answer is ‘too much.’ 

The Phantom of Phaleanopsis asks for nothing less than your soul. 

Friday-

We put the last of the centerpieces together- which includes fifteen very tall mercury glass vases (a shape henceforth known as a ‘pilsner’)  where the arrangements are designed in a dish and set on top of the vase. 

Because theses vases are so tall, they are set on the floor to be worked on. 

This puts them at about waist-height. 

You know where this is going. 

“Red, can you put this centerpiece away?” 

“Sure thing!”

Red stoops down and begins to carry the vase from the bottom, and just as Grandpa begins to say ‘no, the top- they’re not attached,’ his weight is thrown off and the entire thing topples over and a loud and high-pitched crash resonates through the room. 

If you know mercury glass, you know that when it breaks- it shatters into a million pieces. If you don’t know mercury glass, imagine the last time you’ve seen a busted lightbulb. 

Silence fell over the workshop, and for the first time since we’d opened that day, it was quiet enough to hear the radio. 

I-Iiiiii’m Speechless...., sang Dan + Shay on Central Ohio’s Best Country Station 92.3 WCOL

“Red,” says Grandpa. “Please tell me you know where another one of those might be.” 

Blue speaks up instead. “There’s still one at the front of the shop,” she says, coming to the rescue. Red is very sorry, apologizes profusely and spends the rest of the day outside a five-foot perimeter of Grandpa’s workspace. 

There are at least four more near-misses of the very last pilsner vase being brushed by someone’s leg someone barely grazing the draping ruscus as they walk by. We learn to stay away. Grandpa glares at anyone who comes too near. 

She has just finished the last one and allows Coach to squeeze through to get to the computer. We are cleaning up. We are done. Just one more day and the largest wedding we’ve ever done will be wrapped up and we can move on to Valentine’s Day. 

As Coach turns to go back to his desk, his knee just barely hits a single frond of asparagus fern and we all watch, in slow-motion, as Grandpa catches the centerpiece in one hand, but fails to steady the pilsner. And into a thousand shiny pieces, it shatters- to the tune of Cole Swindell singing ‘...even though we break up in the end.’

“That... was the last one,” she says. “I gotta stop making these things on the fucking floor.” 

That was the last one. There are no more. The only option is to order more pilsners to be delivered at night and hope to every god that they actually bring them. 

It is now Saturday and everything looks amazing: 

And we are due in at 10:30. 

There are no pilsners. 

And add insult to injury, the night driver came in under cover of darkness and stole all of our pegboards. 

Pegboards are thick, interlocking plastic panels with a grid on them intended to hold pegs of PVC pipe securely. Setting arrangements on them and then surrounding those arrangements with those pegs helps transport them safely. 

We can’t move these without pegboards. All of the vases are mercury glass. They will break. 

Grandpa, summoning the rage of every short person in her family tree, screamed into the phone until someone finally agreed to send back our damn pegboards and the fucking pilsners. 

“Do you not understand that this is a $5000 wedding and that the person getting married is one of our vendors?”  I can only imagine the reason they finally sent someone because the three-headed monster that runs this place felt a swift kick in the wallet.

As soon as a person arrives with our pilsners and pegboards, all four persons required to set up the wedding in four separate vans are out the door, and the bride... is on the phone. 

“Um... I’m due to get married in the next hour and none of your people are here.” 

“They just left a few moments ago,” I said to Kris Stapelton’s ‘Broken Halos.’ The fact that I can hear the country music is a sign that everyone... everyone... is listening. “They’ll be there in just a few moments.” 

“They better be.” 

This is the only time I have heard this woman mad. 

Hours pass and we have no word on anything. No word is good word. Phone calls are bad. We don’t like them here. 

The setup crew returns with good news- everything is fine. Red occupied himself with a standee cut-out of the Pope and took a number of photos with him posing next to him. I’m told this is a Catholic thing. No one could confirm it. 

It is 5:00 and we have made it through another day. 

Sunday morning. 9am. 

The phone rings.

No. 

Just... stop. 

“Hello, uh... this is the greenhouse. See the problem is that when we were taking your uh... what are these tall vases?”

“Pilsners?”

“Yeah, when we took them down we lined them all up. But one of the movers didn’t know that the flowers weren’t attached so... they all kinda tumbled down domino-style. And we kinda broke... all of them.” 

Grandpa did that thing where she kind of laughs and weeps at the same time, to the sound of Brothers Osbourne singing ‘Shoot Me Straight.’ 

#flowerdrama

[bigprincess-energy]

This is a random question, but how did you know you wanted to be a lawyer? I'm considering becoming one, but I'm not sure. Help...?

Okay so my story with the law is actually really dorky and stupid. I’ve always loved mysteries, like ALWAYS. I was reading Nancy Drew as a kid, I loved crime shows, I love solving puzzles, and I love true crime. There was something about looking at all of the evidence in front of me and putting things together. I love having that ahah! moment when the pieces finally come together and you can see how all things connect. Now this may sound like I wanted to be a member of the police force or a detective but that never really interested me.

So in college I took a library science class and we learned about classification systems and citations and I weirdly loved it. (I still write all my citations by hand.) Then I followed that class up with a class focused on the 13th amendment and the prison industrial system, and I had a mentor who worked as a public defender for 26 years, argued in front of the Supreme Court (and won), and was a former law school professor. Taking his courses helped me develop a familiarity with the law both as a theoretical concept and as a practice that made the law accessible. Part of the class was doing legal research and becoming familiar with the legal citation system, The Bluebook. Everyone in the class HATED our Bluebook workshops but I loved them, and the development of my confidence with understanding the legal citation system made me feel like okay maybe the law isn’t as scary as I first thought.

I want to add a point that I NEVER thought someone like me could be a lawyer. I thought I would never be “smart” enough to be an attorney, it seemed like something smart, well off, Ivy League kids did, not screw ups like me who attended drop out school and hippie college. I had only seen court on TV, lawyers in expensive three piece suits arguing with such grace, poise, and articulation and it imposed a stereotype that If youre not that polished, you’ll never make it. THIS ISNT TRUE. Real court is boring as hell as an observer, there are pauses, there are ums and uhhhs, there are moments of backtracking, someone dramatically shouting OBJECTION doesn’t really happen. The drama is not there, and like of course film court needs to be dramatic to be interesting, but if you listen to any recording of court, even Supreme Court, it isn’t that intense.

I also did two legal internships that helped me solidify my choice to pursue this career because my learning wasn’t just in the classroom. Of course I couldn’t practice the law, but watching the law being practiced, seeing how much of the law is filing through paperwork, experiencing the daily ins and outs and still wanting to be an attorney was really the thing that made me feel confident in my choice.

Law school is a gruelling and super expensive endeavour, and I don’t think people should go just because they: a) want to make money b) don’t know what else to do c) don’t have a passion for the work. I think the best way to make the choice if a career in law is right for you is to gain some exposure. Lots of public defenders and district attorneys take on undergrad, and sometimes high school interns as well as law students, take a legal studies class, also if you love civics that’s probably a good sign, and honestly? Go watch court. Galleries are open for a reason, go, take a notebook, take notes on what you see, and see how it feels.

#good luck! #this is so rambly

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 24: Better the Devil You Don’t (Epilogue)

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Someone does right by Cadence.

note: And with that Bound by Circumstance is ended! I’ll start posting book 3, Bound by Choice, in a day or so! Book 3 is the only book in the series not based off of an existing Choices book, and follows the story of the Trinity in a series of flashback vignettes. Taylor and the Nightbound gang will return in book 4!

Also, Bound by Choice is currently in-progress, as opposed to books 1 & 2 which were completed at the time of posting. Once I catch up on the last chapters posted, my updating schedule will go to the weekly update my AO3 is on.

[READ IT ON AO3]

A few weeks later…

[TEXT]: hurry up [TEXT]: where r u??? [TEXT]: ur loss I’m not waiting [TEXT]: BUZZKILL!!! [TEXT]: pic.jpg

The picture does it — finally draws his attention away from his computer to where his phone screen changes from 01:07 to 01:08 as if to taunt him.

It takes Cadence a moment to realize the woman next to Kathy in her (blurry) self-taken photo is supposed to be Ivy. So used to seeing her true form in person — but glamours don’t fade on digital recording.

And who else do they know dresses like she’s always ready to attend a Victorian funeral?

In his friend’s defense Cade was supposed to be at the Shift over an hour ago.

She’ll hear his excuses and his apologies, pretend as though he’s committed the greatest sin in history — but come sunrise and sobriety he’ll be forgiven. The Nighthunter likes to make everyone think she’s the picture of cool nonchalance; the human equivalent of a cat.

But anyone who feeds strays knows just how affectionate cats can be when they so choose.

He shuts down his work, fighting the instinctual habit to leave most of it out and make his space look clean by pushing it to the sides of his desk — actually putting things back in their folders and boxes.

Tap-tap.

His head jerks up quick enough for his glasses to threaten flight. Working in this particular space for over a decade now, there isn’t anyone who doesn’t know about Odd Cadence and his odd hours; how he refuses to work in the daylight due to a debilitating allergy.

Even Gary from night maintenance wouldn’t bother.

Tap-tap.

He listens for a heartbeat. Can hear everything from the rush of water through old plumbing to the coo of pigeons scavenging on the outside Square.

Tap—

Isadora de la Rosa doesn’t get to finish her genteel knocking; pale hand hovering just shy of the taller vampire’s collarbone as he holds the door open.

She looks a little dumbfounded for him to have answered. That’s silly, though, since she was in his territory now.

The air is thick with a tension not felt since Mardi Gras those weeks ago. She looks ready to turn and leave without a word between them. He almost lets her.

“Izzy,” by way of greeting, and even though she now runs the dynasty her father built he struggles to call her anything but the petulant youthful human woman he first met her as, “I was just heading out.”

He gives her a chance; sees the opportunity for escape that flickers in her weathered eyes no longer young but no less defiant by nature.

Some people were just born ready to stand their ground. He always admired that about her.

“This won’t take long.”

One step forward, one step back. A familiar dance neither acknowledges as Isadora invites herself into his space. She’s not the oldest thing in the room by far, nor the most expensive. Still she commands the air around her to whisper softer, for the floorboards under her heels to wait until she passes to creak.

“Sure, come on in…”

She makes a point of trying to keep an arms’ length between her body and any clutter. He won’t apologize for it, not to her. She was half the reason he’s like this.

“I’m glad to see the Museum is treating you well.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s never met a de la Rosa good at small talk. He still hasn’t.

But she keeps trying. It’s hard not to cringe at every forced word, how she purposefully finds something to look at and mention; “New project, I see.”

Cadence doesn’t answer. She switches a black leather briefcase from one hand to the other; a poised woman’s version of shuffling her feet.

“You always were best kept —”

“I have somewhere to be.”

Her quirked brow says it all; how she definitely doesn’t believe him but calling him out on it is somehow counterproductive to why she’s here.

Why is she here?

Because the only reason he can conjure up has to do with the Coven, and the Council, and that’s why they’re enjoying nights like these at the Shift. To forget about everything that happened — to move on.

“Look, Izzy — if this is something that can wait, can it? I’ve got office hours tomorrow night—or hell, I’ll even come ‘round to the family house. But I do have somewhere to be, and I’m already late.”

When she takes stock of the room again he understands. It’s a tactic — and not a very good one — to allow her to think.

They’ve never been like this before. So why now?

It’s a brief flicker; blink-and-you-miss-it type. But Cadence doesn’t miss it — how Izzy stares at the chair claimed by Katherine in permanent marker.

“You’re going to meet her, the Nighthunter.”

“My friend Katherine, yes. Among others.”

“She treads dangerous waters in this town.”

It sounds a little too much like a threat for Cade’s comfort. Makes it a real effort to keep from letting it get to him.

“I think the same could be said for any hunter.” For Katherine, for Ryder.

“Yes, you would know,” she clasps the case handle with both hands over her front; a shield between them, “though this one — she’s different, isn’t she? She’s well-connected.”

Like he’s been fumbling around in the dark of his head — he finally finds the lamp chain and tugs. Lets the light flood through with an “Ah” of understanding.

So that’s what this is about.

“Contrary to what you may believe this isn’t the same world Carlo built his dynasty in. Humans — even Nighthunters and especially out-of-towners — they don’t whisper the rules to one another anymore.” Then, with firm conviction; “Katherine didn’t know she needed to ask your father for permission to bring Adrian Raines into town.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did.”

If she’s here to enact some sort of delayed punishment, Cadence can’t promise he’ll stay civil. “I weighed the risks carefully,” he continues, “and decided it was best for everyone that no one knew who didn’t need to know.” Not that it had been a good choice. Maybe it could have saved Raines at his trial.

Sometimes he wonders why the two of them didn’t work out — especially when she was Turned. It wasn’t because of her perceived age, and obviously being his boss’ daughter hadn’t stopped them from getting involved in the first place.

He always remembers not a moment later. There’s a reason the term is ‘opposites attract.’ They were too similar — too hot in the head and both prone to speaking and acting without thinking ahead. Without considering the consequences.

So when she isn’t sneering an insult at him on the heels of Cade actually admitting to his wrongdoing… he knows something is very wrong.

“Izzy…?”

And the smile she offers is too forced, too fake. Sends shivers down his spine. “I’m glad you see things that way.”

“What way?”

She unclasps the briefcase with a flick of her little fingers. “That sometimes, in rare cases I think, withholding knowledge from someone is for the best; for all parties involved.

“I had prepared to give you this the night of the Minotaur’s championship fight…” The leather bound folder she pulls free is familiar only in that he’s seen the de la Rosa lawyers carry them like extensions of their hands. “And I have spent many hours since debating whether or not I made the right choice in keeping it close. Watching you in the cage — that made it easier.”

“Something’s happening, Kath—”

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

Let it swallow you whole.

Katherine couldn’t possibly have known just how accurate she had been.

How it felt to stand at the edge of a yawning abyss no one else could see… and how it felt to have the ground fall out from under his feet the moment he decided to jump.

Memories of what happened after his meeting with Isadora still only came to him in clusters. It was less the act of remembering than feeling the same way — sensory triggers like the smell of blood or the tinny grate of a chain link fence.

Of course she had seen the fight. There were members of the underground community still who approached him on the street with praise for his ‘performance,’ or thanking him for standing up to the illegal deals Persephone covered with velvet and glitter.

But there’s a difference between knowing something and knowing it. Knowing the same hand he used to caress her cheek had also torn off the Minotaur’s horn. Knowing she was witness to it…

Isadora’s touch is solid, without the heat humans bring or the chill they feel. It simply is as she gives him the folder with no other choice. Whatever secrets rest inside they are his burden now.

“What you see here… I ask that you please not think less of me for keeping it from you. I was…” she doesn’t give an excuse — not a single one, “I was doing what I thought was right. But I cannot be the one to make that choice anymore. It’s too much Cadence; it’s far too much.”

He means to find comfort or some understanding in their hands. But there’s none to be found.

They pull away as intimate strangers. The space between them cavernous and echoing — and it only grows wider as he realizes she isn’t the one creating it.

He doesn’t need to ask what mystery he now holds.

What other mystery is there but the thing that has plagued him from their first “hello” to this their last “goodbye?”

Cadence’s voice is calm, even to his own ears. “Is this everything?”

“All that my daughter could find among his possessions.”

“And if I have any questions…”

“No,” she interrupts, “no you may not bring them to me. I would rather meet the sun than invite the conflict this will bring into my city, to my family’s doorstep.”

He wants to call her selfish but can’t say he wouldn’t be the same way were their roles reversed.

It’s a nice fantasy—altruism, kindness, doing the right thing so as not to hurt someone close—but it is a fantasy.

So what if he carried the ring she returned to him for a decade in mourning?

And intuition is a very separate thing from mind-reading; that he knows. In Isadora, though, the lines between them have always been a little smudged.

“In case you have any ideas of this meaning…” she breathes and tries again, “just know this has nothing to do with our past, Cadence. Consider this to be an act of release. Beyond what the Council will ask of us, I wash my hands of you.”

Isadora’s decision is as clear now as it was then. She will always choose her family over him. He can’t begrudge her that in the least.

“If only it were that simple.” But it’s probably for the best.

She leaves as abruptly as she arrived. Somehow with the ability to disrupt everything in his space without touching a single thing. As he looks around the office now it feels tainted with secrets and lies; all the things he still doesn’t know that now rest in his hand.

He need only look.

The chair is less than five steps away but he can’t muster the energy to move both his legs and arms; chooses the latter because what comparison is comfort to answers?

Cadence opens the folder and begins to read.

#nightbound #bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices nb #oc: cadence smith #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[ivyines]

AiB main cast Fun Facts

Ryouhei Arisu

was compared to his gifted younger brother a lot

His father was so ashamed by him that he didn't even want him to meet their relatives

Due to this, Karube said he has an inferiority complex because of his brother

He also shows strong dislike for his father, even saying that he "never wants to become an adult like him"

During his freshmen year he described his "father's oppressive criticism as on its height"

His first impression of Chōta was "Idiotic, Hopeless" and somebody he had no intentions of befriending

his advisor taught him to play guitar and he was actually passionate about it for a while

his dad pressured the university to transfer the advisor and got rid of his guitar after which he threw a brick at his own house

He was implied to have been (mildly) suicidal and considered his friends as his only reason to live even before borderland.

Wanted to be a reportage writer; travel the world, gather materials and write articles for newspaper and magazine.

Arisu wished for an earthquake or biohazard outbreak to happen believing he would get more responsible this way, he also wanted time to stop and to visit Australia or a foreign country (forshadowing to his trip to borderland)

Karube

Karube's mother worked as a prostitute and his dad was not in the picture

He had his own bar at 18 where Chōta and arisu would come over to drink and eat for free often

Dreamt of buying a ranch in Australia and raising sheeps with money he saved from his bar

He choose Australia because Arisu told him about his dream to visit the country

He wanted to have a son

Chōta

Both Chōta and Arisu spent their first night in Borderland crying

He was described as nicest person Arisu ever met after their second meeting

Was willing to throw a brick at Arisu's house for a piece of bread

His family was poor

His mother is religious fanatic (I belive I remember it being mentioned she was part of a cult but not 100% sure on that one)

In live action, his dream was stated to be making a drone that can be controlled with just an app.

Shibuki

She worked in dentist waiting room

She would bathe in Tokyo river since bathroom weren't functioning

Her parents argued about money and loans a lot while she was younger.

Her dad was implied to be alcoholic.

Has impulsive suicidal tendencies but also strong will to live that sometimes is shown

Has Survivor's guilt.

Craves to be understood, accepted and loved

Wishes to go back to "naive" way she was before borderland

Unlike in the drama, in the manga she was nearby Arisu during "hide and seek" but couldn't handle the thought of carrying the last wishes of both Chōta and Karube and choose her own death just like the other two sacrificed themselves for Arisu

In live adaptation she was shown sleeping with her boss to get a promotion

#AiB #alice in borderland #Alice in the Borderland #alice in borderland spoilers #imawa no kuni no alice #aib #aib karube #karube daikichi #arisu ryohei #Saori shibuki #chōta segewa #alice in borderland manga #alice in borderland character info #alice in borderland fun facts #ines ivy reads / watches

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 3

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

Crowley spent the two days drinking, thinking, and wallowing, in that order. First, he got rip-roaring drunk, then kept going past that into a maudlin type of drunkenness. That led to the thinking, which had been much harder than normal, but also much more honest.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and he watched as all of London was bathed in warm light. He was scared. He could admit that to himself easily, especially when he was so drunk. What he was scared of was a little more complicated, and Crowley had been thinking on it for the better part of three hours. Because on the one hand, he was worried about Heaven and Hell and the safety of any hypothetical little ones. He really was. But on the other hand, he’d said something during their fight that he hadn’t realized he’d been worried about.

Demon spawn were A Thing, and they were generally terrible. Sometimes a demon decided to have some fun on the mortal level and demons weren’t known for being the most careful of beings. Best case scenario was something that was essentially a demon, but mortal. Worst case whatever came out was some sort of writhing mass of demonic energy and hatred. Would that happen to any of his offspring too? Or would the angelic influences cancel it out? But the Nephilim had been somewhat monstrous too, so was it a lost cause from both ends?

And that was where the thinking transitioned into wallowing. Because he was also drunk enough to admit that he really, really wanted to give in to Aziraphale’s badgering, hang the consequences. They’d at least have some time before having to face what they’d done. Who knew how long demon-angel hybrid babies took to form, or gestate or whatever (Crowley only knew as much as he did from his time working on a London pediatrics ward. He was supposed to have been sowing the seeds of evil in the new generation, but he ended up delivering and caring for more newborns than anything else). 

But the guilt would be too much. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it was doomed to be some sort of horror that never fit in. He’d love them, of course, whatever they were or would become but to imagine the difficulty of growing up in a world that would detest them... Well, at least Crowley had been fully formed and matured when it had happened to him. 

He ran out of scotch on the balcony by noon of the first day. But he wasn’t done sulking so he moved back inside and on to the brandy. Brandy was the perfect spirit to drink while tormenting his plants, though there were only a few left in the flat. They were his favourite, and he kept them here to avoid the angel over-indulging and spoiling them. 

“Yooooou lot,” he slurred, brandishing his spray bottle in one hand and the brandy in the other. “You don’t argue with me! Y-y-you’re all jus’ plants!”

A hydrangea, who had long exceeded it’s expected lifespan by several years and was one of the most verdant plants in Crowley’s collection, leaned towards him sympathetically. Most of these plants had been with him for years and had grown a kind of fondness for their tyrannical, but caring master. Crowley spared the hydrangea a glance over, inspecting it for blemishes. He found none. 

“Yoooou’re not compli--complicated, you’re not good or-or-or-or evil. You’re jus’ plants!” The while lily near the door shuddered, knowing things were really bad if the demon was repeating himself. Crowley never liked to repeat himself. 

“If you wanna have b-b-babies you can jus’ drop seeds!” His voice cracked at the end so he wet his parched mouth with some more brandy. “I like sssseeds, such ma-marv-maver--nice little thingss.” Four letter words, good Lord he was sloshed. Dropping the spray bottle and picking up the watering can Crowley deftly overwatered a nearby ivy. Luckily the ivy knew better than to wilt. 

“Like little things, like babiesss, an’ kids. Not sooooo much t-teenagerss but they’ve got ssspirit!” All the plants were leaning in now. Some of them opened up a few extra blooms, offering comfort in the way only plants knew how. “Alwaysss thought I’d make a shit p-parent though, an’ look how Warlock turned out…”

“Could be different, though, raisin’ one and not t-trying to make it, you know, not the Antichrissst.” Indeed he hadn’t been so much raising Warlock as he had been coaching him. And if he and Aziraphale were to do it together properly this time who knows what could happen? “Still can’t though. Angel n’a demon, probably be smited for even trying. Smote? Sssmitten?”

He pondered that for a while, letting the last few glugs of water drip out of his watering can and onto the floor. It was a lost cause though because all he could think about was tiny angel babies with their soft, fluffy hair and little grabby hands. “D’you think they’d look like him? I hope they do.” Crowley was idly swaying back and forth, lost in his daydream. “Hope they have his nose an’ eyess at least, mine are terrible. But m’wings are nicer so…” 

“I don’t wanna be sscared,” he said quietly to his favourite rose bush. “I want to--I want to give Azirahale what he wants. I want what he wantsss, and if I gave in we could both have it but I’m ssscared!”

The argument last night had left Crowley unable to sleep, but he was getting tired now. Maybe he should use his last day and a half--he checked his fancy watch; day and a quarter--to sleep this off. Tossing the spray bottle somewhere towards the wall--it would be back in its place the next time he went to use it--and heading towards his bedroom, Crowley realized he hadn’t yet texted Aziraphale like he’d promised. No matter, his phone was on the bedside table anyway. He could let the angel know he’d be back tomorrow, and they could make up. Nevermind how that was going to happen, since they both still had opposing views on the matter.

The first time he had come to stay at the flat after he and Aziraphale had a tiff, the angel had blown up his phone with calls and texts. Crowley had done the same the first time Aziraphale locked himself away in his study and refused to come out. They had since come to an understanding and formed a system of brief check-ins and hard time limits to ease each other's anxiety. They stuck to the rules, and it seemed to be a good way of letting off some steam and ending arguments, as long as they talked about it afterward. 

This time, Crowley had been a little lax in his following of their rules. It had already been nearly an entire day of no-contact and Aziraphale had been sending worried messages for at least six hours. To his credit there were only a few voicemails, which Crowley would listen to later, and not the deluge there had been that first time. They were all standard fare, Aziraphale calling in the morning after Crowley left, then calling back around lunch. The angel was doing a good job of keeping the worry out of his voice, but Crowley could tell it was there. 

Immediately Crowley sent off a text assuring Aziraphale he was fine and had lost track of time, complete with heart emojis, then fell into bed. As drunk as he was it didn’t take very long for him to drift off, even though he forgot to change into anything comfortable or get under the covers. 

Crowley walked into their cottage in time for tea the next day carrying a selection of cake slices. He didn’t really have anything to apologize for, but coming back empty-handed felt wrong. Plus the cakes might distract from the hangover Crowley had. He’d meant to fix himself up before bed, but hadn’t and now his head ached too bad to focus on any demonic miracles.

“I’m home!” he called out into the foyer, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly out of the doorway. The house smelled like old books and tea, which was better than burning food. The second time Crowley had taken some time to himself Aziraphale had decided to take up baking to soothe his nerves. It hadn’t gone well. “I brought cake!”

Aziraphale came around from his study and stood in the doorway, hovering. “Welcome home dear. Did I hear you say cake?”

This was the routine when Crowley returned. Whether in the right or wrong he’d come back bearing treats and Aziraphale would flitter about like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. Eventually, they’d both sit down and talk about what happened, which had twice led to Crowley storming back out and more often led to lovely make-up sex. He wasn’t sure what to expect this time, given the thing they were arguing about. There wasn’t much to talk about, either Aziraphale dropped it, or he didn’t. Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen if Aziraphale didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, picked some up on my way over from that little bakery where they mill their own flour. Figured it was pretentious enough that you’d like it,” Crowley teased, none too eager to get to the heart of their issues. What if he and Aziraphale couldn’t move past this? What if this was the thing that ended them, not their former sides, or the Apocolypse, or their opposing natures? Crowley wasn’t sure he could survive without the angel in his life, but he also wasn’t sure he could concede on this particular issue. He also wasn’t sure if he could stick to his guns for too much longer, given what he’d realized last night. 

“Oh hush you. Take it into the kitchen I’ll be there in just a tick.” Crowley nodded and went through, surreptitiously glancing around their home. Aziraphale was prone to fussing with the layout of things when he was left to his own devices, just like he had at the bookshop. There he’d been able to justify it as a tactic to confuse customers and discourage book purchases. In the cottage, however, it was obvious he did it from anxiety. Everything looked to be in order though, so Crowley continued on and set the cakes down on the table. With a snap of his fingers, the slices were laid out on plates and the kettle was boiling for tea. 

“Early Grey or Twinings?” he called over his shoulder towards where Aziraphale’s office was. He could hear the angel moving about back there and assumed he was cleaning up whatever he had been using to preoccupy himself with while Crowley was away. 

“Twinings please, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled. Must be messing with his book storage, Crowley thought, pouring each of them a cup with shakey hands. He really wished he’d spent less time drinking and sleeping yesterday, and more time actually thinking about what he was going to say to Aziraphale. All he’d figured out was that they had to worry about a lot more than just Heaven and Hell’s reaction and that if Aziraphale kept asking, he might not be strong enough to refuse. 

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, taking his own and perching on the edge of a dining chair. Of course, Aziraphale still heard him and walked quickly into the room looking more than a little flustered. With an excited wiggle he took a seat and began to fawn over the cakes. “Take whichever you want, I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure dear? That dark chocolate mouse cake looks right up your ally,” Aziraphale pointed out, digging into his strawberry shortcake. He was right, Crowley had bought that slice of cake specifically for himself. It would have been not too sweet and everything he liked in a desert, but the worry about what needed to be said had ruined his appetite. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Aziraphale glanced down to his slice, then set his silverware down regretfully. “I said go ahead angel, I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a little, his hands disappearing under the table. Crowley knew from experience they would find their way under his thighs, crushed tight against the chair’s wood in an effort to keep them from flitting all over. Another habit from Aziraphale’s time with Heaven, where any stimming had been harshly discouraged. “No, I think we have a lot to talk about. And I want to apologize. Again.”

Crowley remained silent, knowing that Aziraphale had probably prepared what he wanted to say. As usual he was correct. 

“I was wrong to keep asking you about… it when you told me not to. I was being selfish, and not thinking about how you felt and terribly rude. And then you came back after I was so horrible and you came back with cake!” Aziraphale’s voice was getting louder and more high pitched as he went. It was obvious he was getting upset with himself but Crowley knew that interrupting him right now would only make things worse. “I got excited, and then I was pushy and I hurt you, dearest. I’m so sorry. I-I know I can be a little, well, tone-deaf but you said I was making you upset so explicitly and I just ignored you! How could I do that to you? Oh Crowley I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Aziraphale had begun rocking back and forth a tiny amount, quick little movements that he probably didn’t even notice he was making. “You’re right, of course. It’s so very dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking about it when you obviously had. I want to make it up to you, Crowley, if I even can.”

It hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting, given how persistent Aziraphale could be, and it was honestly a little disappointing. He may have been secretly hoping that the angel would be able to convince him, or had maybe thought of something Crowley had missed that would give them the go-ahead. But this was OK too, this meant they wouldn’t have to fight anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it and they could move on. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Apology accepted angel. I’m sorry I stormed out.” Crowley was always quick to forgive Aziraphale, it was like it was impossible for him to stay angry at the angel. Though the way Aziraphale’s disrespect of his boundaries still stung, Crowley didn’t want to hold a grudge and make things worse, so he wouldn’t. 

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale stopped rocking but kept his hands firmly under his legs. Usually, this was the point where they hugged and made up, but his angel was still sitting, slightly tense. “Was your time away helpful?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally. Aziraphale didn’t ask what he did when he was he spent time away after a fight, and he was immediately suspicious. “Sure, checked on the plants, slept for a while. The usual.” He left out the drinking. Over the last 5 years or so Aziraphale had grown concerned with the amount Crowley drank, even if he was an immortal being incapable of experiencing withdrawal. He had cut back, but times like the other night were another story. 

“Good, good.” The silence was back, and heavier. “And I assume that, from this point on, you do not wish to discuss that issue again?” The tentative nature of Aziraphale’s vice made it hard to hear if he was disappointed, or just being himself. Crowley cleared his throat. 

“That's probably for the best yeah.” But oh he wanted, wanted, wanted. It was killing him to deny them this thing that any old human could have easily. They could have anything else in the world, with their powers, but not this. 

“Alright, you won’t hear me speak another word about it. If you ever want to--well I’ll follow you lead dearest.” And Now Aziraphale was leaning over, one of his hands taking Crowley’s and squeezing. It was extremely warm from being tucked under his legs, but the demon still felt cold. “Now, if you’d like, I think you should try that ca--”

They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the front door. It was very rare for them to have guests and even rarer that they should drop by unexpectedly. The only other time anyone arrived was for deliveries, and even those were few and far between. 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Aziraphale seemed all too eager to have something else to focus on, and to be honest Crowley was as well. He rose from the table, cakes and tea forgotten, and bustled to the door. Crowley stayed in the kitchen, trying to collect the unspooled pieces of himself. It was over, they had Talked, and now they could move on and everything would be just fine! Crowley repeated that over and over in his head, trying to drown out the wanting; just fine. He was so focused on not wanting that he almost missed Aziraphale’s sharp “oh dear!”. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything alright angel?” He was on his feet and sauntering into the foyer. Sometimes a particularly brave canvasser for some local church or scam organization would show up and Crowley had to scare them off. Often Aziraphale was too polite to do so himself, especially if they didn’t take to his subtle hints. Only once had the angel gotten stern with someone, and that had been when they tried to good old ‘foot in the door’ technique. In that instance, Crowley had had to save the canvasser form Aziraphale. 

That wasn’t what he found when he waltzed through the doorway. Standing there was Gabriel and Beezelbub in all their Heavenly and Hellish glory. They wore the same expression, of annoyance mixed with a large dash of disgust. “Oh shit.”

#fanfic #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #azirapahel #tw mpreg #mpreg #fbafs

[goddessofgamma]

Extreme Lengths to Prove Loki Wrong, part 2, written for a prompt from @ragnarokwrites​

Summary: Bruce and Thor make their way to Asgard for Christmas, and Bruce tries his best not to be too intimidated by Thor’s eccentric family.

Thor scanned the crowd at the Airport entrance.  There was a little excitement on most of the faces there, although it was almost always tempered by a fair amount of stress.  Raising his head as high as he could, Thor searched for the dark grey mop of curls that was so familiar to him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand pat his arm and heard Bruce’s voice.

“Hey, Thor.”

“Bruce!” Thor had tried to hide the surprise in his voice but failed.  “You’re here, good, I was beginning to worry.”

“Worried that I was gonna decide that committing treason wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Christmas?”  Bruce asked, shaking his head.  “Apparently all my good sense left when you came into my life.”

Thor couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Thank you, for everything, Bruce, I know this would not be your first choice for a festive activity.  I hope you get some enjoyment from these few days.  Asgard is beautiful, and you are very good company.”  Gaze lingering on Bruce for a little while, gauging his mood, Thor’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an announcement, making him remember what they really should be doing.  “Our flight’s luggage check-in is over there, we should get going.”

“Mjoln-Air?” Bruce read the airline name from the sign above the counter.

“Asgard’s largest commercial airline.  My father offered to fly his jet here, but –“ Bruce looked queasy and intimidated at that “- I thought you’d find it all a little ridiculous.”

“I guess it’s gonna be a bit hard to forget that you’re royalty for the next few days,” Bruce sighed.

“You usually forget that I am royalty?” Thor chuckled.  “Do I not appear regal enough to you, Banner?  Please do not tell me I am not a charming prince.”

“Erm, yeah, you do look regal.”  Bruce seemed flustered, as they made their way to the queue.  “And charming.  But maybe it’s just because I’ve known you for a while now. I think you’ve started saying things like ‘need’ instead of ‘require’, you’ve got a little less prince-like.”

That queue, and the next, and the one after that, went very smoothly for the two of them, which Thor suspected was something to do with the Mjoln-air staff recognising him as a prince.  In all the time they had waiting, they were able to discuss the ins and outs of their so-called ‘relationship’.

The story they were going with was simple, sticking as closely to the truth so that neither of them would stumble when asked questions.  They had known each other through work.  Thor had been spearheading the charitable organisation funded by the wealth of his father, looking for projects that were worthy of their funding, and one of the projects he had looked into was Bruce’s work on regenerating people’s immune systems.  The results, so far, were promising, and Thor had been so enthralled by Bruce’s work that they had gone for dinner afterwards so that he could continue their conversation.  New to the States, Thor had found his first set of close friends through Bruce.

All of that they would describe as it had really happened.  What they would change was what followed.

According to their story, each visit that Thor had made to Bruce’s labs after that was not only to make sure his money was being spent well, but to work up the courage to ask Bruce out.  After half a year of friendship and coffee dates, Thor had taken him to dinner and told him how he felt.  Since then they had been going out for just under a year, and were thinking of finding a place to move in together.

When they made their way onto the plane, Thor could feel Bruce tense-up.

“Is everything okay?”

“What?”

“Everything’s okay? Are you okay with flying?”

“Oh, yeah.  Well –“ Bruce fidgeted, brushing his hair back with his hands. “- I’m okay with heights, it’s just the whole ‘confined in a small space without being able to get up’ thing that doesn’t bode well for me.  I should have brought a book, something to distract myself.”

“I can distract you,” Thor offered.

“You, er, you can?”  Bruce looked a bit uncertainly at him.

“Of course.”  The plane was making its way forward now, the wheels spinning, accelerating.  “I’ll keep you occupied.”

“Thanks.  You’re a good boyfriend,” Bruce joked.

“I am.”  The plane had just left the ground.  “Tell me, Banner, what other things make me a good partner?”

“You, err…”  Thor could tell that Bruce was a little off-put by the plane taking off mid conversation.  “You always take an interest in my work.  You look out for me.”

“Mmm,” Thor hummed his approval.  “Am I a romantic?”  Bruce almost smiled at that.

“Yeah.  You took me stargazing on my birthday.  Surprise me by looping your arms around me when I’m cooking us dinner.”

“You mean when you’re putting our ready meals in the microwave,” Thor corrected.

“You make sure I’m never in a situation that makes me too uncomfortable.  Always turning up to the labs with a sandwich to make sure I’ve eaten something.”  That last one was true.  “Yeah, you’re a good partner.  What about me?”

Thor considered for a moment.

“You’re also romantic, but not in the usual way.  You humour me, when I want to try something new or get a stupid inclination in my head.”  Bruce raised an eyebrow.  “You’re the one that microwaves our meals.”  He was met by Bruce shaking his head.  “What? I thought that preparing meals was romantic.  Anyway, you always look out for me, sometimes more that you even look out for yourself, much to my distress.  And in the bedroom…”  Thor trailed off, teasing.

A packet of peanuts hit Thor’s cheek, and he laughed.  Bruce’s face was stark.

“Don’t…” He warned.

“What? I was just going to say that in the bedroom, sparks fly.  You are quite a genius in every area of life, Bruce, even after the lights are out.”  Thor used the best, deepest flirting voice he had.  Bruce put his head in his hands, but he was smiling underneath it all.  “Have I distracted you yet?”

Throughout the flight, Thor continued to try to distract Bruce, talking about everything from Asgardian mythology to going through all the elements of the periodic table (with Thor insisting that Bruce would one day have an element named after him).

They walked straight out of the airport once the landed, none of the customs staff wanting to delay the son of the king.

“How are we getting to the palace?  Castle? Whatever it is?”

“My father has sent a car to pick us up, just look for the sign that says ‘Mr Odinson’”

Bruce’s eyes scanned across the cab drivers.

“Is it that bald guy over there, with the tattoos?”

“What? No, it should be…” Thor stopped talking as he saw the man Bruce was indicating, with a hand-drawn sign saying ‘Prince Thor’.  “Maybe it is.”

Approaching the man, Thor looked apprehensive.

“You here to pick us up?  Who are you, where’s Volstagg?”

“Don’t you remember me?  I’m Skurge, your sister’s right-hand man.  Volstagg had a little too much to drink last night so they sent me instead.”

Thor groaned.

“My sister’s here?”

Skurge nodded and turned to Bruce.

“Let me help you with your luggage, Mister…?”

“Doctor Banner,” Thor corrected on Bruce’s behalf.  “There’s no need, I’ll do it.”

Thor hefted the suitcases into the boot.  He smiled a little when he noticed how Bruce was watching him carrying multiple bags at once and took it as an opportunity.

“Like what you see, Bruce?”

He didn’t respond immediately, and Thor thought it likely that Bruce had for a moment forgotten their ruse.

“Yeah,” Bruce humoured him.  “You make a very gallant prince.”

“Gallant, is that what I am?  I thought you said I was charming?”

“Synonyms,” Bruce explained.

“Mmm,” Thor agreed.  “But generally people don’t dream of one day meeting their ‘Prince Gallant’.”

It was pitch black as they drove to the palace, with only the moon and the occasional, outdated ornate street lamp to guide them.  Skurge seemed to know the way well enough, even without the light.  It was already past ten o’clock on Christmas eve, and after the flight, Thor could tell that what Bruce really wanted was somewhere to sit, or sleep, and ground himself.

As they approached the grounds of the palace, Bruce finally got his first proper view of Asgard.  The car drove through a pathway (or was it a bridge? Bruce found it difficult to tell in the contrasting light), almost half a mile long, that was lit up, illuminating the multi-coloured flora and fauna that bordered it.  Every colour Bruce could think of was on display; greens, purples, electric winter-bluebells and fiery golden ivy.

“You like it?”  Thor asked.

“Yeah.”  Bruce was at a loss for words.

“They call it the Bifrost, it’s the envy of every gardener the world over, or so I’m told.”

On arrival at the palace, two men and a women were standing at the gates to meet them.  Thor smiled as they approached, and stayed by Bruce’s side as they left the car and made their way up the palace’s stairs to meet them, not wanting him to feel like he was alone in this.

“Thor, my son.”  The woman embraced him, and Thor felt a kind of warm safety he only associated with the happier parts of his childhood.  “It’s good to see you so happy.  How was your journey?”

“It went smoothly, the weather has been good.  Mother, I’d like you to meet Doctor Bruce Banner.  Bruce, this is my mum, Queen Frigga.”

Bruce awkwardly bowed.  Frigga laughed, but it was a kind laugh, not mocking.  She took Bruce’s hand in hers.

“It is good to meet you, Doctor, I hear you make my son very happy.  May I call you Bruce?”  He nodded his response. “You can call me Frigga, if you like.  This is one of our best advisers and friends, Heimdall, and beside him is my other son, Prince Loki.”

Heimdall looked deep at Bruce with his golden eyes, and Thor prayed his friend wouldn’t say something that would intimidate Banner.

“It is an honour to have a Nobel Winner in our presence, Doctor Banner,” Heimdall said.  Bruce fiddled with his tie.

“You, er, know about that?”

Heimdall nodded.

“I’ve seen it.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“You mean you’ve googled him,” Loki corrected.  “Like my mother says, I’m Loki.  I expect you’ve heard quite a few horror stories about me.” Thor nodded on Bruce’s behalf knowing he’d be too polite to answer.  “They’re all true.”

They made their way into the palace, and Thor made excuses for them both, citing their long journey as a reason to go to bed so early.  He thought that Bruce might be a little overwhelmed if he had to meet Hela and Odin on top of everyone new today.

“Don’t worry about Loki,” Thor said as he led the way to their room.  “He may threaten you put I can always put a stop to anything before it gets out of hand.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Get why you wanted to annoy Loki so much that you did -“ he gestured between them “- All of this.”

Thor nodded in agreement, but in truth he’d forgotten that Loki had been the reason for this in the first place.  He opened the door to their room, holding it open for Bruce.

“Wow,” Bruce said as he took in all the ornate decoration and furniture.  “You weren’t kidding when your said that Asgard was covered in gold.”

“I hope it’s not too much for you.  I’ve never gotten the impression that it was one of your favourite colours.”

“No, I like gold, it’s like your hair.”

Plonking himself down on the bed, Thor grinned back at Banner.

“And does my lovely partner spend much time thinking about the colour of my hair?”

“Don’t go there.”  Bruce sat on the other side of the bed.  “I need to lie down.”

“Bruce Banner, going to bed at a reasonable hour?” Thor said in half-feigned shock.  “I really must be a positive influence.”

It didn’t take long for either of them to get to sleep, the day’s travels catching up with them.

#Hope you like! Merry Christmas!! #Thorbruce #thor #bruce banner #thunderscience #gammahammer #christmas fluff #long post #loki #heimdall #my fic #sorry for all the tags

[aion-rsa]

Major Batman Character Dies in New DC Comic

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A major change to the Batman status quo may change Bruce Wayne's life forever.

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This Batman article contains MAJOR SPOILERS.

The release of Batman #77, the third part of the climactic "City of Bane" arc, has some...very big changes for Batman’s friends and family. In fact, this may be the big status quo change writer Tom King teased a few months back, a change he was surprised DC was even allowing him to make.

Naturally, we're about to head into heavy spoiler territory. Seriously, if you haven't read the issue yet, it's best you leave now. Okay, ready?

Alfred’s dead. Or at least, so it seems.

“City of Bane” is the arc where Bane’s big plan stretching back over three-plus years of King's Batman stories comes to fruition. He hasn’t broken Batman’s body this time. Instead, he broke his will, taking Batman’s city from him and ruling it (with an outside Year of the Villain assist from Lex Luthor) alongside most of Batman’s rogues. The Riddler and the Joker are his police force, and his enforcers are Flashpoint Batman and Gotham Girl. And his insurance policy against any heroes trying to dethrone him? Alfred Pennyworth, held captive and under threat of death if any heroes attempt to even enter Gotham.

One of them does in this issue - Damian, the arrogant son of the Bat, bursts into Gotham, takes down Gotham Girl, Scarecrow, and Mr. Zzasz before falling at the hands of his Flashpoint grandfather. Damian is then forced to watch as Bane snaps Alfred’s neck, all while the villain declares Gotham his city. (With Bruce's father figure now dead, Damian becomes the next hostage whose life is at stake.)

This is a shock, to say the least, but it’s also comics. King’s Mister Miracle was a masterpiece, but it was also packed with plot and perspective ambiguity, and we still don’t have a definitive answer about what precisely happened to Scott Free (this is, of course, the point of the book and part of why it’s a masterpiece, but that’s neither here nor there). The point here is there are a thousand ways this could be undone in issue 78 alone.

But...it feels pretty real.

Further Reading: Batman Celebrates 80 Years - Why the Dark Knight Still Matters

It feels real not only because of how it’s presented. Clayface might have been able to mimic the sound effect, or it could have been a really brittle android or Flashpoint Alfred, but it’s too graphic to not be true. It would lose some of its punch.

And the punch is the point. King is one of the most successful (and strictest) formalists in comics today. The form of a story is often as important to understanding it as the plot is. So it’s worth looking back at the three and a half years that brought us to this point.

The first year was spent putting the pieces on the board, a prologue to introduce the main characters of the story with a hint at the main plot. “I am Gotham” introduced this version of Batman and a new character for him to project his own sense of tragedy on. “I Am Suicide” brought Catwoman and Bane in to kick off the main conflict. “I Am Bane” defined the terms of the relationship, and “The Button” started to present the central thesis of the run: Can Bruce Wayne be happy as Batman?

“The Button” transitioned into the War of Jokes and Riddles, where Batman laid himself bare before Catwoman in an attempt to find a way for both sides of his life to be happy and maintain an equilibrium. When she said yes to his proposal, “Rules of Engagement” started socializing their relationship around the DC universe, establishing this Batman’s place with the other heroes and building social ties for them as a couple (that could later be ripped away). Year two ends with a glimpse of the trouble to come - the Poison Ivy and Booster Gold stories worked as lead-ins to Heroes in Crisis, but also as reminders of the trauma lurking everywhere in the superhero life.

Year three is all about tearing hunks off of Batman. First, he loses Catwoman to Bane at the wedding. Then the Twelve Angry Batmen story (the INCREDIBLE Lee Weeks/Mister Freeze courtroom drama) takes Batman’s infallibility. Then KGBeast takes Dick Grayson from him. The Penguin shows him that he lost these things to Bane. The Scarecrow strips away his pretense in “Knightmares,” and Flashpoint Dad even tries to take his raison d’etre as Batman by giving him back his family in “The Fall and the Fallen.”

Year four is about the comeback. While all of this is going on in Gotham, Catwoman has come back to him, helping him recover from his ordeal in the desert with his dad before heading back into the city. Alfred and possibly Damian may be taken from him, but even with this unspeakable and graphic tragedy, the story has started to turn.

The best Batman stories peel back all the layers of the character one at a time and examine them before piecing him back together with something new for the next creators to play with. Scott Snyder did it with his Joker stories and the extended run with Gordon and his Bat-Appleseed mech. Grant Morrison did it with Batman’s wacky history and the power of friendship. You can even see that structure as far back as “Knightfall.” The only outstanding question regarding King’s run right now is if Alfred is one of the pieces that gets put back.

Jim Dandy is a freelance contributor. You can read more of his work here.

Read and download the Den of Geek SDCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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News Jim Dandy

Aug 21, 2019

DC Entertainment

Batman

Tom King

from Books https://ift.tt/31Zqfex

#aion-rsa #Books

[haddonfieldproject]

9️⃣

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.1.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT

Warren County, Illinois

Lightning flashed across Interstate 57, combining with the headlights of the black Nissan Murano to illuminate the green sign in front of Samantha Nguyen's windshield:

EXIT RIGHT:

US 31 Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd

Tuckersville

Haddonfield

Route 395 Harris Street

Ridgemont

Bypass

Haddonfield Downtown

On her left were several brightly lit signs, staples of your usual Highway Exits: fast food joints, hotels, gas stations. There was only one sign in particular she was interested in however, and it happened to be one of the largest, a green and white sign, coincidently enough, in the shape of a lightning bolt. It read:

RUSH

Truck Stop and Wash

Open 24 Hours

A few moments later, Nguyen was passing the First Congregational Church of Holiness and Power on her left and turning into the brightly lit Truck Stop on her right. A few moments after that, she was entering the convience store area through two large glass automatic doors. A cool blast of air conditioning hit her face, it was a welcome relief from the swampy air outside.

Nguyen approached the large crescent shaped counter with four registers. A large shelf of tobacco products stood behind it and mounted on this was a small flatscreen, about a 19 inch. Three employees, a young black male, a skinny white male, and a young hispanic looking girl stood around the television watching a baseball game. None of them took notice of Nguyen. A middle aged white woman browsed the candy aisle, while a husky white truck driver in a flannel shirt and baseball cap poured himself some coffee along the back wall by the soda fountains. The sounds of the game was piping through the speakers.

“Eduardo Nunez takes ball three for the White Sox as we are just beginning to open up the ninth inning here at Wrigley Field...”

Nguyen paused for one of the employees to acknowledge her.

“Pitch inside clips the plate for a called strike to bring the count to 3-1.”

They didn't.

She cleared her throat.

The skinny white male turned around. He didn't even try to hide the annoyance on his face. The woman in the candy aisle had grabbed a bag of Peanut M&Ms and had sidled in behind Nguyen. Nguyen removed a laminated badge from the inside breast pocket of her black pantsuit and displayed it to the kid behind the counter, who grinned nervously with a set of hideously crooked and badly stained teeth.

“Good evening. I am Samantha Nguyen with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I'd like the ask you a few questions.”

The two other employees snapped their heads around abruptly. The woman's mouth fell open in astonishment.

“Swing and a miss and Nunez now has a full count.”

“Umm..sure.” The kid shrugged.

The female employee stood up and walked over to an adjacent register, she motioned to the lady behind Nguyen.

“I can take you over here ma'am.” She said, forcing a smile.

Both the employee and the woman with the M&Ms kept their eyes locked on Nguyen as she pulled something else from her pantsuit. It was a photograph.

“Have you seen this man?”

The kid looked at it. His eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” He asked.

Nguyen cocked her head to one side. “Excuse me?”

The kid turned to the black employee behind him who had gone back to watching the television.

“Deon, look at this man.” He said, pointing to the photograph in Nguyen's hand. “Isn't that the dude that got offed here last night?”

Nguyen frowned in confusion.

Deon turned from the screen and approached the register. He squinted at the picture and then his eyes went wide as well. He nodded slowly.

“Yep, that's him.”

Nguyen looked at the photo. It was a mugshot of an angry looking African-American man, with a short Afro on his head and bushy mutton chop sideburns. She looked from her own photo and then back to the two employees.

“What did you say?” She asked.

The woman at the register popped the bubblegum in her mouth and said. “Yeah, didn't you hear? That dude was murdered here late last night...well actually..early this morning.”

Nguyen nearly had to take a step back. “Say what now? You're sure?”

“That's him alright,” Deon said, “Someone beat him to death in the outdoor bathrooms. My buddy Will was working and he found him, said it was really bad.”

Nguyen looked from one employee to the next in disbelief.

“What time was this?” She asked.

“Will said he found him at like four thirty this morning.” said Deon.

“This morning?” Nguyen asked. “Today, the 31st?”

Deon nodded. “Yeah, Will thought it was a Halloween prank at first. He said there was blood everywhere.”

“A cleaning crew with pressure washers were here cleaning it out when I got on my shift at one o'clock this afternoon.” The white kid said, still smiling with those horrid teeth.

Nguyen closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to refocus. When she opened them, Deon and the white kid had resumed watching the baseball game. The girl was now ringing up the trucker with the coffee.

“Did he come in a truck?”

“Who?” Deon asked, not turning away from the screen.

“Joe Griswald, the man in the picture.” answered Nguyen.

“Yeah, the cops impounded it this morning.” Deon waved at her.

Nguyen pulled her iPhone from her pocket and googled the number for the Warren County Police Department.

“So Nunez is on first with a walk and now O'Brien is up to the plate for the Southsiders, he was called out on a pop fly last time up in the seventh.”

Nguyen dialed the number.

She got a busy tone.

“What the hell?” She breathed.

She was about to ask for directions to the police station when the ballgame on the television erupted.

“O'Brien smacks one into the the left field corner! Nunez has a head of steam and is rounding second base!”

“Go!” Deon shouted at the TV while the girl threw up her hands.

“Oh no! Come on!” She shouted in disgust.

Nevermind. Nguyen thought and googled the address. She hit the START NAVIGATION button as she exited through the double doors and back into the humid night. The sounds of the game trailed behind her.

“Pennington can't grab it in the ivy and Nunez will round third base and he will score!”

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #halloween movie #halloween story #horror #michael myers #the shape #haddonfield #scary #scary story #fan fiction #slasher #slasher genre #scream queens #novel

[dipulb3]

MLB TV review: Stellar baseball streaming hampered by blackout restrictions

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/mlb-tv-review-stellar-baseball-streaming-hampered-by-blackout-restrictions/

MLB TV review: Stellar baseball streaming hampered by blackout restrictions

For out-of-market baseball fans, MLB.TV is the only game in town to follow your favorite team night in and night out. As a Cincinnati Reds fan living in New England, I’d be able to watch only a handful of Reds games during the season — on the rare occasion when my small-market team makes an appearance on national television — were it not for MLB.TV. With the service, I’m able to watch nearly every one of the Reds’ 162 games from April to October, along with other out-of-market games every day of baseball’s regular season.

Like

Wide device support

Easy access to in-game stats

Choose your own audio feed.

Smooth streaming

Don’t Like

Blackout restrictions can be frustrating.

Inconsistent experience across devices.

At $130 for the year, MLB.TV is too pricey for casual fans but certainly worth it for serious baseball geeks who live outside their team’s home market. And that’s the catch. For fans of the local team — say a Red Sox fan living in New England, a Dodgers fan in LA — subscribing to MLB.TV makes little sense. That’s because your local team’s games are blacked out on MLB.TV, which means you’d be better served with cable or a live TV streaming service, like AT&T TV, Fubo or YouTube TV, that includes the regional sports network (RSN) that carries the games. 

Read more: MLB baseball streaming 2021: Watch your team’s games this season, no cable required

Not only are your local team’s games unavailable on MLB.TV, but nationally televised games also fall prey to blackout restrictions. Games on ESPN, Fox, FS1, MLB Network and TBS are blacked out on MLB.TV, which can be terribly disappointing when you attempt to tune into a game and are greeted with the blackout notice. It’s even worse for fans of the Yankees, Red Sox, Dodgers, Cubs and other big-market teams that are on national TV seemingly every week and, thus, constantly blacked out on MLB.TV. Even if you think you are sold on the service, be sure to peep your team’s national broadcast schedule before subscribing so you don’t find yourself singing the blackout restriction blues before the ivy turns green at Wrigley.

If you’re an out-of-market baseball fan willing to put up with the blackout restrictions, however, you’ll find plenty to like about MLB.TV. The live game streams are steady and smooth with few dropouts in my experience. They feature informative, easy-to-access stat overlays that enhance the viewing experience. From iPhones and tablets to PCs and TVs, there’s broad hardware support so you can tune into games no matter where you are. And you can listen to radio broadcasts with MLB.TV, which I’d say would be useless for every sport other than baseball.

Check out the MLB.TV app on iPad, phones and TV streamers

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In short, MLB.TV makes it possible and enjoyable to follow your favorite baseball team when you live far away from it. Being able to watch games live almost every day of the six-month season and hear your team’s announcers, the home crowd and even local ads connects you to your team. And after a year of chaos, pandemic and lockdowns, a summer of baseball could be just what the doctor ordered.

MLB.TV subscription options and extras

There are three ways to subscribe to MLB.TV:

Pay $130 to be able to watch out-of-market games live or on-demand. You can watch replays of your local team’s games, but there’s a 90-minute delay from the final out before the archived stream is available. Archived games are available sooner for out-of-market teams.

Pay $110 to be able to watch a single, out-of-market team live or on-demand. If you’re only interested in watching your favorite team play, then this plan can save you a few bucks. You sacrifice, however, the ability to switch over to a potential no-hitter in progress elsewhere or any other exciting matchup or moment that does not involve your team. I spend 95% of the time watching Reds games, but I still pay the extra $20 for the full package because FOMO is a real thing.

Pay $25 per month to be able to watch out-of-market games live or on-demand. This is a good option if you have doubts about your team contending this year and can see your attention waning along with your team’s chances by midseason. 

You can pay by the month or for the full season.

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With MLB.TV, you can also listen to home and away radio broadcasts. And baseball is one of the few sports, if not the only, that’s enjoyable to listen to on the radio. And some rare good news for the in-market fan: MLB.TV’s radio broadcasts aren’t subject to the blackout rule, so you can listen to your local team’s games live. 

MLB.TV also includes a ton of video content, including classic games, baseball documentaries and old This Week in Baseball episodes. This year, a new show called Big Inning made its debut for MLB.TV subscribers. Starting at 9:30 p.m. ET each weekday night, Big Inning will offer live look-ins across all the games in action as well as highlights as they happen. It’ll feel similar to the NFL’s RedZone channel that jumps around the league’s game on Sunday afternoons.

MLB.TV is also adding pre- and post-game coverage this year, which is a welcome addition. After a big Reds win, I’m pumped up and ready to hear interviews and analysis, but my MLB.TV feed gets abruptly cut off before the on-field celebrations are complete. It’ll be a slow rollout with one or two clubs offering pre- and post-game coverage to start the season before being added to more than half the clubs by midseason, according to MLB. As with the games themselves, the pre- and post-game coverage will be available only to out-of-market viewers.

Two types of blackouts

MLB.TV lets you watch every game of the regular season that’s outside of your local TV market and also not on national TV. As a resident of New England, for example, I cannot watch Boston Red Sox games live on MLB.TV. Since the team I follow is a small market team that has not had much success in recent years, it is not picked for national broadcasts with any great frequency. As a result, I rarely encounter a Reds game blacked out on MLB.TV. I’d imagine the blackout restriction is much more frustrating to fans of successful, big-market teams, since their teams are shown regularly on ESPN and other national broadcasts. 

These blackout restrictions mean an MLB TV subscriber is either an out-of-market fan like me who can’t watch his or her favorite team in-market, or a hardcore baseball fan who wants to watch even more baseball than what they can get from their local and national TV broadcasts. Were I not a subscriber to MLB.TV, I would need to subsist all summer long on box scores, highlights and the rare Reds national broadcast to follow my team.

Watch (and listen) on just about any device

No matter how big a fan I am or how much I enjoy streaming games on MLB.TV, I have neither the time nor the inclination to watch nine innings of baseball every night. My favorite part about MLB.TV is its wide device support that lets me catch parts of a game while I go about my day and evening. 

I watch a few innings on the iPad in the kitchen while making dinner and a few more innings after dinner on my laptop when my son is playing on my iPad. And perhaps the last few outs on the big screen via my Apple TV. And when I can’t watch, I listen to the Reds’ radio call on my phone when I take the dog out for her evening stroll or during weekend yard work, which just so happens to coincide with Sunday day games.

MLB.TV offers broad hardware support.

Sarah Tew/CNET

MLB.TV is part of the free MLB app, which is available on a slew of devices, from phones and tablets to computers and game consoles to streaming boxes and smart TVs. Here’s the full list:

Mac and Windows PCs

iOS and Android phones and tablets

Roku, Apple TV, Amazon Fire TV, Android TV, Chromecast streaming devices

PS4, PS5 and Xbox One game consoles

Samsung smart TVs

Xfinity Flex

You can get more details, including system requirements and specifics on supported models, on this MLB.com support page. 

I tested MLB.TV on the devices I usually use to watch games: iPhone, iPad, MacBook Pro and Apple TV. I also checked out MLB.TV on my Roku TV and a Windows PC.

Stat overlays and radio feeds

My preferred device for watching MLB.TV is the iPad. All devices give you access to stat overlays, but the iPad’s implementation is best. Swipe from the left edge and you can see a pitch-by-pitch summary of the game. Swipe from the right edge for the box score. A two-finger tap brings up both info panels along with scores of all the games along the top edge and a game-status panel along the bottom edge. 

Stat overlays work well on the roomy iPad screen.

Matt Elliott/CNET

You get similar overlays on a phone, but there’s only two and the box score panel that slides up from the bottom edge blocks most of the screen. On an iPad, you can call up all four panels and can still see most of the game going on in the middle of the screen. On a PC, there’s only a single stat panel that you can toggle on and off on the right edge of the player. 

MLB.TV lets you watch the home or away video feed so you can listen to your team’s announcers. And should you prefer your team’s radio announcers to the TV announcers, you can change the audio feed so you can listen to the radio call while still watching the video stream. 

The ability to choose my audio feed is one of my favorite features.

Matt Elliott/CNET

Watching MLB.TV on an Apple TV has a benefit not offered on my other devices, including Roku. On the Apple TV, when you tune into a game in progress, you are given three options: Catch Up, Start from Beginning and Watch Live. The last two are self-explanatory, and the first is the option I usually select. It gives you 90 seconds of highlights from the action you missed before taking you to the live feed. On Roku, you can only join live or start from the beginning.

The Apple TV app has a cool catch-up feature.

Sarah Tew/CNET

As much as I like watching on the iPad, there’s no option to start watching a game other than to join it live. Why can’t every device offer the three options as Apple TV when I go to tune into a game that’s already in progress?

On all my devices and using both wired and wireless network connections, games streamed smoothly. They occasionally get choppy when on Wi-Fi, but such instances lasted only a few seconds or a minute at most before returning to HD clarity. A few seasons ago, I would avoid watching on my Apple TV because the video quality looked poor when displayed on my HDTV, but now streaming games on MLB.TV on my TV look no different than watching a game on ESPN on my TV via YouTube TV.

Ad-free highlights, repetitive ads during games

When I miss a game, I can watch the Game Recap highlight package on MLB.TV the next morning or a slightly longer Condensed Game. Each shows plays from the game without additional commentary; you hear the call from either the home or away announcer. There is also a collection of individual highlights you can fire up to see the big hits and outstanding defensive plays.

When watching highlights, as a subscriber you do not need to sit through ads. The highlights play immediately, letting you jump from one to another without the fear of an ad inserting itself in the middle of your review of the previous night’s game. Individual highlights are also available during a live game on about an inning-or-so delay.

You will see ads during the usual commercial breaks between innings and during pitching changes of live games, and they will get repetitive. We are not even a week into the season and I can safely say I’ve seen the ad for Duluth Trading Co. underwear enough times to last all summer. On the other hand, I never grow tired of hearing ad reads for Skyline Chili during Reds games even though each mention of Cincinnati’s unusual take on chili makes me wish I were back in the Queen City.

Beware big-market blackouts

For diehard baseball fans who don’t live near their favorite team, an MLB.TV subscription is the only way to follow your team day in and day out over the course of the long, 162-game, six-month season. I don’t take advantage of any of the extra video content and still think my subscription is money well spent just for the ability to tune into nearly every game live on TV or the radio and hear the Reds announcers no matter if my team is playing at home or on the road. My only word of caution is for out-of-market fans of big-market teams. 

You access MLB.TV via the free MLB app, but be sure to check out how the blackout restrictions affect the team you follow before subscribing.

Sarah Tew/CNET

Baseball’s inequity between big- and small-market teams makes it difficult to be a fan of a small-market club like the Cincinnati Reds because my team loses its young stars as they enter their prime and misses out on free agents to big-market teams that can hand out huge contract after huge contract. An MLB.TV subscription might be the only thing in baseball where it’s an advantage to be a small-market fan. 

To fans of the Yankees, Dodgers and other big-spending, big-market teams, I would say enjoy your team’s abundance of pitching, your deep lineup, your regular postseason appearances but be sure to check its national TV broadcast schedule before subscribing to MLB.TV. There’s not another option for out-of-market baseball fans that delivers the sheer volume of baseball of MLB.TV, but a Yankees fan who lives far from the Bronx, for example, might be able to satisfy their fandom with a pay TV service that includes ESPN, Fox, FS1, MLB Network and TBS instead — the channels that regularly show your team’s games that are blacked out on MLB.TV.