#i left it a little vague in case you wanna figure out details!

[nanlanmoarchived]

@wereveaux liked for a starter!

Coming home was a stupid idea. She knew it wasn't far enough away from New Orleans to really and truly stop, but once she'd gotten herself free, the only place she wanted to be was home. Officially she'd been gone for twelve years, three months, and eight days (not that she was counting), and she was certain the pack must've thought she'd run off or was dead. In a sense she was, she supposed, her captor, having grown bored of her aging six years ago, turned her into a thing like him. Or so she'd thought. Apparently she was still able to move during the day, something she hadn't realized until recently and it was only then that she was able to escape.

Still, she felt awful. She couldn't face her family just yet, so here she stood, t-shirt and jeans soaking wet from a summer storm as she knocked on the Herveaux door. As the door pulled open Jessica's lips pressed together in a pitiful attempt to swallow back the wave of emotions that threatened to spill free as she realized who'd answered. "Alcide?"

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: one ,, next chapter / previous chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.6K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

silence. the room was engulfed in silence, save for the growling and moaning of the monsters outside the door. you and yeonjun stared wide-eyed at taehyun who was mirroring your expressions.

"excuse me what?" yeonjun blurted. "we don't even know what those things are and you wanna go out there and risk getting torn to shreds like the nurse? are you crazy?" all you could do was shake your head in fear. you were still shaken up from watching someone get eaten alive.

"s-she...i saw her get eaten and then she just s-stood up? she came back to life somehow?" you questioned out loud. the boys looked at you with fear in their eyes. yeonjun stared at your shaken state and frowned turning to taehyun. "see? if go out there we're gonna die!"

"well do you have any other suggestions? if we stay here we starve to death or something like that, it's better to go out looking for help and finding others before more of them corner us here!" taehyun was making a lot of points right now but going out there? where you just saw a woman die and come back to life? that would happen to you guys if you weren't prepared.

you tried to calm yourself by taking a deep breath, "ok i agree with taehyun...but we need to be really prepared. we may not be capable of murder at this moment but we can take them on enough to get away right?"

taehyun nods but yeonjun just paces around the room anxiously. "you guys are insane. i can't believe i'm gonna die here of all places." you and taehyun watch yeonjun tug at his blonde hair. he suddenly pauses. "i have an idea. what if we don't actually try to take them on." he looked at you both expectedly.

"what do you mean?" you asked. he rolled his eyes, "we could try to just trap them in here and make our escape." taehyun nods at yeonjun's vague plan, "i get what you mean. before we start though we should take some stuff with us. we got lucky that we're in the nurse's office, we can take stuff in case we get injured."

all three of you split up around the office to pick up anything that might be helpful. "its a good thing i brought my bookbag with me," taehyun chuckles dryly. you pack up all the stuff you grabbed and help him zip up the bag. "ok so here's how we'll go forward with the plan."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

yeonjun sighs shakily as he crouches behind the door. "this was my plan so why do i have to be the one to open the door?!" he angrily whispers to you. you're hiding behind the nurse's desk which is right beside the door, glaring at him, "just shut up and wait for taehyun's cue. if they hear you, we're screwed."

"will you two stop arguing. if anything i'm the one with the risker job," taehyun glares at you both. he's standing in the middle of the office, just a little bit away from the desk. "let's go over the plan just one more time so nothing unexpected happens," he's nervous and you can hear it in his voice. he's trying to act brave like earlier. yeonjun starts, "simple, i open the door letting the monsters in. they won't notice me since i'm crouched below the window." you sigh, continuing, "once the monsters come running in, i pull the stethoscope attached that chair other there as hard as i can. they'll trip over it sending them tumbling."

taehyun takes a deep breath, "and i'll be standing here as bait. once i see that they're both down, that should give me enough time to run out and shut the door on them." yeonjun bites his lip, "i hope this works...my heart is racing seriously."

since taehyun is now visible from the one lamp shining down on him, the monsters outside now have new adrenaline in them, viciously gnawing at the door's window. you don't realize it but you all take a deep breath.

"3″

"2″

"1!"

as soon as taehyun yells, yeonjun swings the door open. the zombies pretty much bum rush through it to get to taehyun as soon as a slither of it was cracked open, effectively managing to swing the door all the way to the wall. you watch it hit yeonjun's arm roughly and flinch. he tries to hold back a gasp and squeezes his eyes shut.

you turn your attention to your task and pull on the stethoscope. thankfully it's stretchy enough to cause the zombies to trip over it. they tumble over each other and skid across the floor. you get up to run out the door and pull yeonjun with you who's clutching his arm.

however, when you look back taehyun is not behind you, instead, he's scrambling to the nurse's closet. apparently you overestimated the recovery time of a simple stumble to the floor. they managed to get up quickly enough to chase after taehyun who thankfully was also quick enough to notice a flawed plan. "shit!" you yell out before you could think. the zombies turn their attention to you and yeonjun who are standing by the door.

they come running at you but you slam the door shut in their faces. great, now taehyun was in there and you both were out here. not to mention, he's the one with all the supplies.

"damn it!" yeonjun kicks the door in frustration. the zombies are tweaking out watching you both from inside the office. thankfully they don't notice the closet door slowly creep open.

taehyun sneaks out of the closet in a painfully slow manner, as to not get detected. he ducks behind the desk, holding his breath. he waits a moment before rising from his hiding spot and hurling a pack of unopened pens at where the cots are located. you watch the zombies whip their heads toward the sound and clamber in that direction. taehyun crawls out from behind the desk and runs toward the door. the lunch lady, who is behind the nurse, notices taehyun and runs toward him and at full blown speed.

your heart is pounding so fast, it genuinely feels like time is going in slow motion. the monster is only like a foot behind the red-haired boy. you throw the door open for taehyun and he launches himself like the outside hallway is home base. you and yeonjun once again slam the door closed on the zombie who face plants into it with a groan.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. sliding down to sit on the floor, you glance at taehyun. he's recovering from literally upper body diving out of the room but you figure he's fine since he's used to it from playing baseball so long. yeonjun seems fine too since he's not holding onto his arm anymore.

after a moment, you speak up, "are you ok?" it's not exactly a question directed at either of the two boys. you kind of are just asking yourself that but yeonjun answers anyways, "i think i'm ok, my arm is aching though. the door slammed on me pretty hard but im ok."

taehyun backs himself against the lockers opposite from you too. "i'm fine too." you examine him though you can't see him from the distance and the dimming hallway lights. his face is riddled in sweat and you can kind of see tears running down his face but he notices you staring and harshly wipes them away. he sighs letting his head rest on the lockers.

"i thought that would be easier...i thought i was gonna die back there. thanks for not leaving me," you feel like he means that so you make a noise of acknowledgment. yeonjun also nods at him but doesn't say anything.

it's dead silent in the hallway and you hope it's because the rest of the school is hiding not because they're dead. if you don't think of the circumstances you'd think it's somewhat peaceful.

taehyun breaks the silence, "what if there are other people in here in that same situation." he's not looking at you, he's looking into the abyss of darkness that is your school's hallway. once buzzing with students who you wished would shut the fuck up and move to their next class is now a ghost town. it's eerie and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling just thinking about what hides beyond the darkness.

"fuck no," yeonjun says. he's calm and you hope he doesn't lash out at what taehyun's suggesting. "taehyun..." you mumble. you don't want to say it out loud because you hate how it will sound. well, yeonjun says it for you, "did you hit your head on the way out. you almost died, dude! i know you're having some kind of epiphany about helping others and what not but think about this: those two zombie things aren't the only ones in this school. we could really die in here so we need to get o-"

"shut the fuck up!" taehyun spits. you can tell he's trying not to yell just in case there really are other zombies out here. "do you seriously only care about yourself? what if there really are other people waiting to be helped? we can't just leave them to die in this stupid ass school!" he gets up with some struggle, clutching his wrists again.

"look im not saying you have to help them but it would be really cool if you did...the more people that are alive the more likely we are to survive," with that he starts walking down into the darkness of the hallway. yeonjun scoffs and looks at you. you bite your lip. "i know it's risky...risking our lives for other people but i would feel like shit if i just let people die here while i run off like a coward."

yeonjun watches you run after taehyun. he's now left alone standing outside of the nurse's office. the zombies haven't quieted down and he wonders how much energy they have. he sighs dramatically, running after you both, "hey wait up!"

•·················•·················•

"so where are we headed?" your school isn't that big but it isn't that small either. there are three floors in total but most of the important rooms are on the first floor where you guys are located. taehyun clears his throat, "i was thinking we should get some weapons just in case. the gym's locker room/storage closet is where the team's baseball bats are located, we should be fine against those things if we manage to snag the metal ones."

once he answers you the silence surrounds you three again. you had been walking quite slowly since you didn't know if you'd encounter another zombie soon. it would be better if you could see but the power in the lights seemed to have died out. the school really did feel scarier when the lights were off.

"isn't it still day time outside?" yeonjun randomly asks. now that you think about it, he's right. if you were thinking about the time you took yeonjun to the nurse's office it was around 2 pm. "wait you're right," taehyun stops and turns around. "it was last period when you guys got to the nurse's office."

"damn it, i left my phone in my bookbag," you mumble. you thought it would be a quick trip to the nurse's office so you left it back in the class. yeonjun pats himself down and grumbles, "mine must've fallen out of my pocket during the fight. man, i fucking hate soobin! if i ever see him again he's dead."

you ignore yeonjun and look at taehyun expectantly, "sorry mines dead. i was playing with it while i was waiting for the nurse to come back," he answers sheepishly. you sigh, "we could've called for help since it's not late we could've called our parents or better yet, the police."

"don't worry, i'm sure they'll worry that we aren't coming back from school yet," yeonjun reassures. "i had practice today and my mom doesn't know i broke my wrist so she won't be expecting me home until after practice so i don't think she'll be worried until then."

yeonjun suddenly grabs taehyun's arm. you look at him in alarm because that was really random. this boy has just been full of spontaneous actions lately. "if you had practice today doesn't that mean the team would've been gathered in the gym by now?" a look of realization hits taehyun but he masks it quickly. "they're capable... they wouldn't have been turned into zombies, i'm sure there are some survivors," he sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than you guys.

as you're growing closer to the gym though, taehyun doesn't tell you that he's the best player on the team. he doesn't tell you that none of his other teammates can properly wield a bat. yes, any idiot can hold a bat but to properly swing it for the hit to have an impact takes real practice, practice that his teammates just haven't mastered. he doesn't tell you that he really doesn't think anyone in that gym has survived.

"you hear that?" yeonjun whispers stepping closer to the gym doors. there it goes again, the unmistakable moaning and groaning of the zombies. the sounds are harsher and louder being that there seem to be a lot of people in the gym at once. "damn that must be the team," you mutter. "there's no way anyone in there survived."

"we-we have to try and find out," taehyun tries. you eye him. you really don't think you'll get out of this one alive but you don't tell him that.

"we can cause some kind of distraction like last time," yeonjun suggests. "yeahhh no, im not doing that ever again," taehyun deadpans. "i think he means like what you did with the pens. that seemed to work...i think they react a lot to loud sounds."

there's a moment of silence where you all are just thinking. "your phone!" you turn to taehyun. he raises an eyebrow at you, "it's dead y/n." you shake your head, "look since it's dead and you really won't be needing it, we can just throw it somewhere in the gym. the impact of the phone hitting the wall will alert the zombies and they'll move. then we can maneuver ourselves through the darkness of the gym into the storage room to see if anyone's in there!"

both boys are staring at you with a weird look in their eyes but none of them say what they're really thinking. "that's... actually not a bad idea. the gym is big so there's no way we'll run into one. and since it looks like the lights are off they won't see us if we keep close to the walls," taehyun reiterates.

"ok so let's just get this over with," yeonjun mutters. you look at yeonjun who's staring into the gym, "you didn't have to come with us." you don't wanna sound rude but if he's just gonna complain the whole time then you'd rather be with just taehyun. "yeah right as if i'd venture off on my own in a school full of flesh-eating monsters," he rolls his eyes. "plus i'm the one who comes up with all the good plans, you guys need me."

"whatever," taehyun answers dryly. he's already starting to open the door to the gym, telling you guys that that's your cue to shut up. walking behind yeonjun, who's behind taehyun, you all crouch in a stealthy manner. you wouldn't call yourself the most athletic person but damn, why are your thighs starting to hurt? yeonjun cranes his neck to look back at you and when he sees you struggling to keep up, he slows down.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he whisper-yells. you don't know if the zombies can hear him but that sounded quite loud to you. you glare at him when the groans in the gym increase slightly in volume. "my thighs hurt, just- just leave me alone and tell taehyun to throw the damn phone." you see yeonjun purse his lips but turn to taehyun, telling him to get on with the plan. taehyun looks over to you with confusion and ?concern? written all over his face and all you do is nod at him.

he gets up slightly from his crouched position on the ground, still kind of in a half squat. he lets out a breath, preparing himself to pitch his phone. you watch in awe as you see taehyun get in the zone. you know this is a serious moment and everything but he looks good when he's focused.his eyes are trained on where he's made a mental target to throw to. even in this weird setting of a gym full of zombies of his own teammates, you can see that his breathing is steady.  you wonder why you'd never been to any of the school's home baseball games when you realize that taehyun had somewhat of a cult following. right, just like yeonjun everyone liked him and you just figured it was for nothing or that he was overhyped but you can see why now.

drawing you out of your thoughts was the sound of taehyun's phone crashing against the gym's wall. at the moment in which you were daydreaming about him, he must've thrown it. "ok cmon we gotta hurry, that might not keep them that occupied," taehyun whispers. you turn to look at the zombies which, thankfully, fell for your trick. they were all gathered in the direction where taehyun had thrown his phone. you all rose from your crouched positions and ran the rest of the way to the gym's locker room.

once inside you all let out a breath. "i can't believe that worked," you sigh. "i'm glad it did," yeonjun also sighs. "ok let's go get those bats, once we have them then we might be safe," taehyun leads you both to where he knows they are. walking down the locker room's hallway is even creepier than walking down the normal hallway. there are no windows plus the lights are out so it's even darker in here. once again you're the behind yeonjun who's behind taehyun. you feel uncomfortable and almost feeling like there's an eerie presence behind you. you never liked to be last; the shiver you get through your spine from the mere thought of something following you was weird.

just then you whip your body around but you feel it before you see it. a zombie that must've been in the locker room before you got here hovering over you. you're not sure what happened but it must've flown at you hard enough to knock your body to the ground. it was snapping and snarling in your face trying to get a bite. your eyes were closed but all your other sensed were heightened and you could definitely hear yourself shrieking wildly. you weren't sure what taehyun and yeonjun were doing but you guessed they were standing and staring in shock and horror. you are surely gonna die here.

just then, the back of the zombie's skull was knocked in with so much force that it came out through the front, effectively landing on the upper half of your body and face. just like that, it was no longer trying to devour you, instead, slumping down onto you like a lifeless doll.

you wanted to throw up but you bit it back. you figured the image of you on the floor with blood and a bashed brain spilling out of a once alive human on you was enough. 

the body was thrown off you in an instant and there stood choi beomgyu looking over you with so much concern that you were scared you turned into a zombie and were about to suffer the same fate as the corpse next to you. "oh my god y/n," his eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is agape. he kneels down to wipe the brain remnants off you but he does it hastily and not that gentle really. you flinch and he pauses, "s-sorry its just that...well i don't know. i didn't think anyone else was alive and then i see you but you're about to get eaten so i mean-." you cut him off with a shaky hand lifted when you realize he's rambling.

he wants to go in to hug you and shout for joy that thankfully his crush- i mean... thankfully you are alive but yeonjun steps in, "dude oh my god y/n, are you okay?" you don't turn around to look at him or taehyun because frankly, you're too shaken up to even stand.

"thank you beomgyu," you whisper the expression and you kind of hope it sounds spiteful towards the other two boys for not really doing anything to help. taehyun looks down and bites his lip and yeonjun just looks at you. beomgyu smiles lightly and helps you stand and when you turn around you see the other two boys flinch at what you look like.

you know you must look horrifying with blood all over you and you want to cry. not because you look absolutely disgusting in front of the two of the most popular boys at your school but because you almost died in front of them. you let out a sob and taehyun steps forward but beomgyu is already ahead of him. "oh y/n... it's ok. look," he wipes your face with his shirt and you feel even worse. "we're alive, you're alive, it's gonna be ok."

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

taglist: @fxd-skz​ (send ask to be added!)

[chibi-pix]

“When Balto was destroyed, we didn’t know what happened to you. But here you are, you’re back.” 

Okay, y’all, I’mmabout to put ya on a feels trip! But first, let’s go over a few things, okay? Now, my memory ain’t the best. But there are two things dwelling on my mind from when I watched DotU. First off, about Coran’s son. Yes, I know, in GoLion, his son and wife died, but in DotU it was said they were sent to another dimension for their protection. Okay, let’s put that on the backburner.  Now for the main thing. If I recall correctly, in DotU, though I sadly can’t remember what episode, Pidge was helping out a little girl when the people of Arus were rounded up and she got separated from her mother. Tammy was it? I don’t remember and that’s not important. What is, though, is my hopefully accurate recollection of Pidge saying that she reminded him of his kid sister. But after that episode, there was no mention, if memory serves me right, of a kid sister. Only Chip.  Now, we know that Voltron Force 2011 is not a direct sequel to DotU, especially when we look at Chip’s life on Balto and not with the Vehicle Voltron team; in fact, there doesn’t appear to be a vehicle team at all. But, it is a pseudo-sequel so some things from DotU could very well be relevant to VF. 

This, my dears, is where things get important and we go on a trip.  Now, my brain had thoughts around Balto; I don’t know if others had the same or if I saw it somewhere and I don’t remember, but here we go. Balto was originally destroyed. Older and earning fame and fortune as the DJ of Stereolactic, Pidge was able to work to establish life upon a new, uninhabited planet, named after their destroyed planet of Balto. This would include finding the survivors who did escape before their original home was destroyed. Which seems nice. Now here comes the potential feels.  Pidge and Chip. What if, in addition to being twins, they did have a kid sister. And that sister was Katie. Yes, the Katie we know (though sorta for such AU) and love from VLD. They both adored her. But they were both away, Pidge on Arus after being captured by the Drules and then escaping with the rest of his team, and Chip, in such case, probably training on Earth for a period of time with the Galaxy Alliance. Katie was on Balto, writing to them both and waiting for their return.  Balto’s final moments. Katie does escape, but something goes wrong. The ship/pod she’s in goes off course and hits a sort of rift where it somehow goes into a different reality. The VLD reality. Where she’s alone, scared, doesn’t know where she’s at, and ends up on Earth. She knows Earth, but she is quick to realize that this Earth isn’t the Earth her brothers would talk about in her writings. She easily deduces that by observing how others act, especially in their understanding of space and the fact that they haven’t even reached Pluto and Kerberos.  She’s alone on an alien world in an alien reality. 

Katie just keeps herself in her own little bubble, being an orphan in a strange place. She doesn’t end up talking about where she’s from or the fact that she isn’t Earthling (or fully? Are they fully Balton? Oh well...). She’s alone. Until the Holts adopt her.  Perhaps they wanted another child and were seeking to adopt already? Or perhaps she saw Matt in passing and thought he was Pidge for a moment and got excited. But he’s not Pidge. He just looks like him. But from there, she bonds with the Holt family and they end up adoption her at some point. 

Some ideas are vague. But perhaps Katie knows she’s adopted, but she stops thinking/remembering that she’s Balton, even with the ears. Perhaps she starts thinking that the twins she “remembers” were just imaginary friends she made up when she was scared? This could be due to the stress she first felt when she arrived.  And being called Pidge. For whatever reason, Matt decided to call her Pidge. But she couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be called that if she lost her memory. If this idea if worked on more, I’ll figure out the details. But in the end, she expresses annoyance to being Pidge.  Until Matt and Sam leave for the Kerberos mission years later. She decides to let him call her that and she holds onto that name, knowing it felt important. 

So, we go through the same events and before we know it, Pidge is a paladin of Voltron with the others. Probably at some point, the others find out she’s not exactly human and she’s just as surprised. And possibly what she is isn’t in the castle’s database so she’s left with so many questions.  Until a mission takes them to another reality where the paladins are separated and scattered across the galaxy.  VLD Pidge ends up on either Arus or Balto; I’m thinking Balto now so Chip can call up the force and get their input because he’s confused as heck at the sight of another (and bigger) green lion. 

Prior to VLD Pidge crashing, VF Pidge and Chip had always worried about and thought about their sister, wondering what became of her. They often hoped to find any sign of her. Perhaps even using music with Stereolactic if one of the songs was a song/story they would sing/tell Katie back when they were all together. But years go by and there’s no sign. They sometimes feared the worst.  And then they see her exit the green lion after VF Pidge arrives on Balto to investigate.  VLD Pidge realizes they were real all along and even share the same features she does (in this case, pointed ears and orange freckles). And they see that she’s alive and well.  And they’re happy. 

Okay, that was a lot. I probably should have put it in a “keep reading”, but oh well. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this. Or at least the art. I almost kinda wanna work on the ideas more.  Well, until next time!

[neutral-emerald]

SILVER THE COSMIC TIME-JANITOR (or: dude, what's with all the alternate futures)

silver the hedgehog has a very simple backstory. he's a kindhearted, sorta-naive but altogether very driven psychic hedgehog here to save the world by time-traveling to the past (also known as present-day) to prevent the apocalyptic future he was born into from coming to pass!

[ID: A screenshot of Silver from Sonic 06. He’s glowing with cyan energy as he flies over a dark, post-apocalyptic city.]

...wait, if he's time traveling 200 years into the past to completely change the shape of the timeline, how do the stars manage to align such that he manages to be born at the exact same point in the new timeline with the exact same genetics? how are his parents born? does silver have parents?? and how does he do this no less than THREE SEPARATE TIMES??!

hey everyone, i'm tumblr user neutral-emerald here to make good on the idea i vaguely gestured at yesterday and point out silver's wildly inconsistent backstory(s) and then explain to you how this isn't just sega playing hopscotch with the concept of time travel, but actually TOTALLY EXPLAINABLE if you don't mind a whole lot of conjecture and "fuck dude i just think it'd be cool."

LET'S GO.

before i get started, a few things to establish.

first, this is about… half serious, tops. it’s less of a theory and more of an observation of something that’s weird and then throwing some possible explanations at it because i am a massive sucker for time-based nonsense. if you wanna take my observations and build your own conclusions, go for it. i’m not your boss.

second, i'm basing my conclusions off of both the games and the idw comics. the conclusions i draw are applicable to either continuity, but the logic does rest a decent amount on the comics, so just a heads-up in case you were expecting pure game canon from this.

and third, i'm working off like half a brain and very intermittent checks of the wiki and cutscene compilations, so there's probably many things i'm missing! if you notice something i said was wildly off-base, go ahead and correct me in the replies and i'll either edit the post or explain to you just how that detail doesn't actually matter, depending on whether it. y'know. matters.

with that out of the way, let's get into the first topic of discussion!

part 1: the future is inconsistent, y'all

now, i'm not sure if you've heard, but in the year 2006 sonic team released this little indie game creatively entitled Sonic the Hedgehog. it was a smash hit, won countless awards, and for some reason went down in history as a messy, incomplete bugfest. but that's not what matters. what matters is that it introduced Silver the Hedgehog.

silver hails from 200 years in the future. the world is a bleak, fiery place, and has been since the monster iblis was unleashed after princess elise's death. silver was born into this world, which we know since it's literally the first thing he says in his story.

[ID: A cropped line from Silver's story in Sonic 06. "This world was devastated before I was born."]

i'm not going to drag you through a beat-by-beat summary of the entire plot of sonic 06, you should know it already. silver meets mephiles, gets lied to about who caused the apocalypse, mephiles yeets him and blaze into the past, he tries to murder Sonic the Hedgehog™, and so on. eventually he helps kill god, and then sonic and elise travel further back in time to kill god even deader so that none of the game ever happened, and the bad future into which silver was born never happened, thus thoroughly scrubbing silver's existence from the timeline!

...until.

sonic rivals.

i'm not going to speak much on sonic rivals, mostly because i'm not super familiar with it. but what matters is that silver is back! he's still from the future, he's still here to change the past, and most importantly he wasn't deleted from existence by the destruction of solaris, unlike everything else from sonic 06 including everyone's memories of it. and obviously, whatever state his future is in, it's not the same as it was in sonic 06.

now, i don't have a single clue what is going on in rivals 2, so do inform me if there's some big information i'm missing from that one. all i know is he's fixing yet another possible apocalyptic future, like always. correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t have the patience to trawl through it myself.

then we've got sonic colors, in which silver is again from the future. notably, he’s definitely not from an apocalypse!

[ID: Some screenshots from the DS version of Sonic Colors, again cropped to just the text. Tails and Silver are talking to each other.

Tails: What's the future you came from like, Silver? Silver: A lot brighter than this. Silver: The sky is blue, and everybody's got a smile.]

sonic generations doesn't add much. again, correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't think we learn anything about what kind of future silver is from, and he's definitely not here to fix it this time. that's sonic's job! he's just hanging out like everyone else.

now, up until this point the future has been reasonably consistent, setting aside my somewhat abstract understanding of the rivals games. there's nothing to say that silver's not coming back in time from the same point in a single timeline, which is the one and only version of the future ever since the destruction of sonic 06.

UNTIL.

[ID: Two panels from the comic Sonic Forces: Stress Test. In the first panel, Silver looks worried as he lands in front of Knuckles, who looks skeptical.

Silver: We've got big trouble! Eggman— Knuckles: How can you be here? I thought you returned to the future?

In the second panel, Knuckles looks away with a self-assured grin, while Silver looks more panicked.

Knuckles: Oh wait— I must be dreaming! Silver: What? No! I've come back with a dire warning from the future!]

i have a lot of issues with sonic forces, especially with how its story is written. something i do NOT take issue with is the supplemental comics, mainly because they are WONDERFUL evidence for my crackpot time travel theory.

like i said, up until this point we don't really know whether silver has been experiencing separate instances of the future, or simply traveling back in time to prevent an also-time-traveling eggman nega from messing things up in the past. but here, we get some very juicy information:

[ID: Knuckles and Silver again. Knuckles has his arms crossed and is looking at Silver, who has a nervous look on his face as he slams a fist on the palm of his other hand.

Knuckles: Come again? Silver: Something happens that brings the world to ruin! But the historical records are sparse or make no sense. I came back to hopefully head off whatever's about to happen and save the future.]

silver travels back in time to prevent a terrible apocalypse. this is not the beautiful future silver came from in sonic colors— but this is the same silver. everyone recognizes him. he recognizes everyone. and yet, the future he came from is different.

part 2: silver is a walking paradox

allow me to remind you of what i pointed out when i was talking about sonic 06. silver was born into the iblis-apocalypse. considering no elaborate timeline nonsense happened to him before the events of the game (by his reckoning) i think we can safely assume he was born like a regular person with parents.

in the first post-06 timeline, silver was probably also born. let's be charitable, acknowledge that sonic team doesn't overthink the butterfly effect like i do, and say that silver was born to the same parents, because the universe likes to keep things nice and simple and contrive itself to make this particular character exist in this time period.

so, it's entirely fair that silver comes to exist in a post-06 timeline at the equivalent point in time, aka 200 years in the future. it's also fair that he travels back in time to prevent some kind of apocalypse, because that's his narrative role! it's what he does. when it's time for him to exist in the story, that's what he's there to do.

what isn't fair is the fact that it keeps happening.

[ID: A panel from the IDW comics. Sonic is stretching his legs while looking faintly exasperated at Silver, who is nervously holding his arm.

Silver: Er… No. I came back because defeating Eggman didn't save the future. Sonic: Couldn't even play along. Had to bring the mood down. Sonic: *sigh* Okay, what happened this time?]

[ID: The following panel, cropped to just Silver's text bubbles narrating over a starry sky.

Silver: When I left, my time had been conquered by the Eggman Empire. Everyone lived in fear, choking on polluted air. Silver: When I went back, the Eggman Empire was gone— but so was everyone else. Silver: There was nothing left. No people, no animals, no machinery. Only water and sparse, metallic plant life.]

allow me to summarize my understanding of all this: silver is from the future. normally, the future is good. sometimes it isn't. when it isn't good, he goes back in time and fixes things, then returns to the future to check if that fixed things.

the least conjecture-y interpretation i can come up with is that sometimes silver will go into the past, then go back to the future but end up in a Bad Timeline and thus go into the past again to fix things. there's no weird warping directly between bad timelines, he only gets there by way of the past.

but that's boring, so here's my PREFERRED interpretation.

silver hails from a good future, but sometimes it just changes. he's unstuck from time— if something weird happens in the past, he's the only one to know that the passage of fate was changed, because he went to bed in one timeline and woke up somewhere categorically worse, and the only way he can fix it is by figuring out just what caused this and going back in time to fix it.

or, to say it in a meme:

[ID: A picture of someone lying in a hospital bed with a nurse standing next to them, edited so that Silver is in the bed.

nurse: sir… you've been asleep for 2 hours silver: oh boy i can't wait to wake up in the same timeline i went to sleep in]

part 3: how did this happen?

it's one thing to point out that silver doesn't experience time like a normal hedgehog, and another thing to explain how and why this happens.

fyi, this is the part where i go wildly off the rails and start saying whatever i want. there's a ton of explanations one could come up with, most probably stemming back to sonic 06. i'm just going to go with my own, and probably not come up with a whole lot of concrete evidence because i'm just spitballing. this is me having a fun time. going "heeheehoohoo time traveling hedgehog go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

so. something i haven't touched upon is that in all games after sonic 06, silver can time travel. we never see him do it, it's never explained how he does it. all we know is that he's doing it under his own power.

which is kinda odd, don't you think? should he be able to do that?

in sonic 06, we see three mechanisms for time travel. first is the chaos emeralds. if two people perform Chaos Control with a chaos emerald apiece, they open up a swirling rift in the air which can send them to different points in time and space. silver can't be doing that, for obvious reasons— he's only one hedgehog, and he's not exactly running around with a chaos emerald at all times. that can't be how he does it.

second is a time machine eggman built. that obviously can't be it; the machine doesn't exist at all after the timeline gets wiped, and again, silver is doing this on his own. he's actively antagonistic towards eggman, even. absolutely not this one.

third and finally is mephiles, who can make big purple orbs to take himself and passengers to different points in time. this obviously can't be it either, for similar reasons to number 2, right? after all, mephiles is one half of solaris, who was destroyed before he could be split off. he doesn't exist to be silver's time-traveling uber driver.

...right?

well, obviously. i'm not going to try and tell you that mephiles is secretly alive and shepherding silver back and forth between timelines for no reason. that's ridiculous. no, i'm going to try and tell you that silver is mephiles.

or rather, he's solaris. or RATHER, he's the new solaris, sorta-ascended to the role of Time God after the old one got blown out like a birthday candle.

like i said, i'm going wildly off the rails and as such don't have any concrete evidence to explain why it's this instead of something else, but hear me out. after elise blew out the flame of hope, the universe was left in an interesting situation. someone needs to be in charge of the flow of time, but the previous time-god was just unceremoniously destroyed. but all the power and energy of a time-god has to go somewhere, in some form, in some time.

with nothing else to go off of, the role of time-god starts flipping through every notable being it had interacted with. they're all solidly accounted for in the timeline, except for one. silver the hedgehog was born into a timeline that cannot exist. silver the hedgehog does not, and cannot exist. silver the hedgehog interacted quite a bit with both sides of solaris— he spent a substantial amount of time fighting back iblis, and associated with mephiles, even being one of the few people to directly experience his time travel abilities. silver the hedgehog tried and failed to absorb iblis into himself.

here's my theory: after sonic 06, the universe reasserted itself such that silver was the new Solaris. silver is not consciously aware that this is what he is, but he knows that he can time travel. sometimes the timeline will rearrange itself around silver. he is unaffected by this because he is a higher being unaffected by such petty trifles as "an origin" or "paradoxes".

silver the hedgehog probably doesn't have parents. he sprang into existence one day and everyone just kind of went with it, himself included.

oh also something i thought was neat but couldn't think of where to put:

[ID: More cropped dialogue, this time from Team Sonic Racing.

Silver: I'm fine. It's just, something bad is gonna happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it. Blaze: Have your travels through time given you precognition? Silver: I don't know. Maybe they have. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.]

silver might be becoming psychic in a future-vision kinda way. that, or he’s riddled with anxiety. possibly both.

TL;DR

silver hails from no less than three separate timelines, his existence is a tangled web of who-knows-how-many grandfather paradoxes, and i choose to believe that he's god.

if anyone who cares more about evidence wants to gather up like, little one-off clues that support or conflict with my conclusions, go right ahead. or just throw your own arbitrary headcanons for what's going on with this at me. or incorporate these ideas into an au or something! i just want more people thinking about what the Fuck is up with silver post-06, because by god there is a WHOLE lot of potential packed in there

anyway thanks for reading make sure to like comment and subscribe—

[ficforce]

Little Lady Part 2

Joker/52 x Reader

SFW

No set timeline

New relationship

Staring at the ceiling of her room, Y/N let out a sigh and held up the card for the millionth time. She often found herself studying it as if it would answer all of her questions - Why had he given it to her?

That strange, dangerous man with a huge grin.

The one who had comforted her when she cried…

It was hard to remember all of the small details about him after such a brief encounter. Closing her eyes she took a breath and cast her mind back; he had long hair, she vaguely remembered it shining in the firelight. She knew he was tall and slim but when he had held her, when she had been fighting with him she had felt hard muscle under his clothes.

Often before she fell asleep she would see his purple eye in her mind.

She wished she could think less about him.

Why had he been there and what was he planning? He was creepy and he had given off a frightening aura at first - that’s why she had run.

Pocketing the card Y/N finally got up and left the Fire House, it was her day off and she wanted to explore the area. Her morning was fairly regular, she found a coffee shop and explored a bookshop down the road, she spent hours looking at the books, fiction and factual, some of them she was tempted to buy but in the end, she put them back hesitantly. Whilst slipping an engineering guide back into place Y/N felt a shiver run down her back, turning her head quickly to see if she was being watched she thought she saw someone but dismissed it.

Her next stop was a clothing store having a sale, she needed to get some winter clothing sooner rather than later if the chilly wind was anything to go by. Picking a coat had been easy but it was the choice between a purple scarf and a black scarf that had her stuck. Again she felt like someone was watching her, another shiver hit her and Y/N spun to look behind her - something that felt like breath on the back of her neck made her squeak and stumble forward before turning again.

Nothing.

Though when she looked down at her basket she saw that the purple scarf had fallen inside.

Her purse was gone.

The rest of her day went like that, the feeling of being watched and little instances that spooked her or made her jump. Y/N became so concerned with keeping an eye out for the thing making her jumpy that she crashed into someone as she was crossing the road, “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” They had kept on walking, vanishing down a side street and Y/N decided it was time to go back to base - she couldn’t relax. Reaching into her pocket for her purse she paused, checking her other one just in case…

“Don’t worry, Little Lady,” Joker said and held her purse up with his spare hand, “The nice man was about to return it, right?” The thief couldn’t nod and he barely had any breath inside his lungs - the hand around his throat making that difficult. Dropping the thief to the dirty, alley floor, Joker jerked his head to the side, “Get out of here.” They scrabbled up off of the ground and ran past Y/N toward the exit of the alley; leaving just the two of them.

She didn’t even think about it, she ran in the direction the man who had bumped into her had gone and down the alley. From memory, she knew there was an exit straight ahead and an opening to the left, taking the left she came to a halt with a shocked gasp. If she kept this up she would get whiplash from all of her sudden stops.

The man who had bumped into her was being held against the wall by his neck, his feet a good few inches off the ground and babbling out panicked apologies like a frightened child. The one holding him up was dressed in smart pants, a white shirt and a maroon waistcoat, his hat obscured his face a little but she recognised him right away.

“You…” Y/N began, taking a step back as Joker advanced on her, “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” It had to have been him, it was too much of a coincidence for her to feel watched so often, “S-Stay back!” He kept coming toward her and she kept walking backwards until she had backed herself against the wall and his hands came up to cage her in.

Her breath hitched as his face leaned towards hers.

Joker’s eye narrowed and he pushed himself off the wall, taking one step back so that he wasn’t crowding her; she was scared of tight spaces, he could remember at least that much from their first encounter. “I’m not gonna hurt you, here’s your purse back.” Joker handed it to her, waiting until she snatched it out of his hand to grin down at her, she didn’t trust him at all, did she?

“Glad you didn’t get burnt to a crisp.”

“No thanks to you!” Y/N snapped and made to leave the alley, he quickly moved to block her exit, hands up in surrender and his expression was almost panicked like he didn’t want her to go.

“Hold on, Y/N, not yet, you want a coffee or something? A snack, you didn’t eat much today?” He saw the way her eyebrows drew together and the tall man sighed. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing and he wasn’t even sure if he was going about this the right way, “I just wanna talk.”

“…And what’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, looking at him suspiciously, trying to figure him out by just looking but he was hard to read. His body language was all over the place - almost like he wanted to run away, his words were friendly and wanted her to stay but the waving hands and the way his voice pitched just a little, told her he was nervous as hell.

Like a stray cat that wanted food but was afraid of being kicked.

It wasn’t too different from a feral she used to feed, it had never known how to interact with the other cats and ended up alone. “How do you know my name?”

“I looked inside your purse, says your name on the ID.” He wasn’t the least bit sorry for snooping.

He gave her a large grin before lighting up a cigarette, “Don’t you know? I gave you my business card.”

“You gave me a playing card, you nut!” Y/N almost ripped it out of her coat pocket so that she could push it almost into his face, “This doesn’t tell me a thing! Don’t you know how to introduce yourself like a regular person?!”

Joker was a little stunned by her sudden outburst and his widened eye focussed on the card nearly pressed to his nose; she had kept his card. It was a little burnt but he could see that she had been playing with it, it was worn a little in places, curled and warped from being held and fidgeted with - why didn’t she just throw it away?

Y/N took a step toward him, agitated that he had been messing with her all day, agitated that he had been all she could think about since meeting him, “This is just a joker card, how is this a business card?”

He chose it himself?

This time it was him that took a nervous step back, hands up in front of him again in surrender, “You sure are fiery today, Little Lady…” It never ceased to amaze him how people changed when they were scared or angry, “I’m Joker, so it’s totally a business card!”

“What kind of name is that?”

“One I chose myself.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her frown becoming a little deeper as she tried to make sense of him, he chose his own name? The woman crossed her arms and continued to half glare at him before throwing caution to the wind and asking, “And what was the name you were given?”

He had never had a name, not one that he knew of at least; he had been abandoned and then thrown into the darkness to serve as the Church’s pawn, to perform its dirtiest tasks. So he gave the only other answer he could, “Five-Two.”

She closed her mouth, for a moment she was going to scold him for blurting out those numbers to her, then it clicked. He really was just a feral cat that didn’t fit in with his own people.

The way he acted, the almost stalking when all he said he wanted to do was talk, getting her purse back… he was just some stray looking to her for scraps.

He had no idea how to people like other people.

But he had known enough to know that she had needed comfort after being trapped in such a small place, he had made sure she hadn’t been hurt in the explosions he caused in the Rookie Games. It was evident he could read people even if he didn’t quite know what to do.

“I was looking out for you!” He grumbled.

“…You…” She was stumped for what to say.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the street, “You can buy me a hot chocolate for creeping me out all day, got it?”

“That’s called stalking, idiot.”

Joker pulled on her hand, stopping her from walking into oncoming traffic after she had missed the light changing colour, “Careful, Little Lady. I don’t want you going splat.”

“You could have just stopped at ‘careful’,” Y/N looked away as heat began to rise in her cheeks, “And stop calling me ‘Little Lady’!”

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Sensitive

Part Four of The Mandalorian’s Games Series

Warnings: SMUT, Sub!Mando, Dom!Reader, Alludes to Over-stimulation, Oral (F), Fingering, Pegging, A little bit of a praise kink, A little bit of cumplay, Some fluff

Word Count: 3.6K+

A/N: I know I’ve been slacking with a lot of my fics but fear not, I will do my very best to jump back on them!

*Also I changed the ‘tense’ because I find the one I’ve been using much better

-

It’s four weeks before you see him again. 

This bounty in particular is a risky and long trip, a trip so dangerous that Din wouldn’t even let you argue your case to go with him.

“We can’t bring the Child and we can’t leave him alone for too long,” he told you. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He was right and you knew it. So instead of arguing with him for the sake of your pride—and out of the fear of never seeing your Mandalorian again, as you always felt each time he left without you on a job—you spent as much time as you could with him before he took his leave; time that left your body sated and Din’s used but deeply satisfied as well. 

“Be careful,” you told him. 

Din checked to his belt one last time, making sure the tracking fob was seated and the comlinks were up and working. “I will. Do the same, please,” he lightly teased. 

You grinned. “Of course.”

Now, your body thrums with excitement at the sound of the ramp opening and closing. You immediately climb your way down to the hull of the ship and as soon as Din turns around from the frozen body you jump into his arms. 

He grunts and stumbles in his footing, but years of training help him stand right back up with you still clinging on to him and he wraps his arms around you. 

“I missed you.” You whisper, burying your face in the crook of his neck; he tilts his head to the side to give you better access. 

“I missed you too, cyar’ika.”

You pull back and give the visor a big, sloppy kiss with enthusiastic emphasis. “I really missed you.” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully.   

“Yeah?” It sounds like he’s smiling. “What do you want to do about it?”

You love it when he’s like this; compliant, letting you take control—what makes it even better is knowing that at any moment he could easily overpower you—and showing his most vulnerable self; they’ve become more and more frequent lately, to which you have no quarrel with. 

“Hmm,” you exaggerate. “I think I wanna use that...you know,” you say shyly to Din’s amusement. “Do you think we have any more of that oil?”

“We do.” He answers right away, but there’s a strain in the back of his throat as he says it. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask concernedly. “If you don’t wanna do it, we don’t have to, Din. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “It’s just…”

He’s embarrassed. You can tell by the way the helmet shifts away from you, looking down at his feet. 

“Hey,” you whisper and place a soft kiss at the only thing standing in between you and his lips. “You can wait to tell me when you’re ready?” You give him the option. 

Din shakes his head and sighs, still retaining that tight grip on the back of your thighs. “I...didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I do.”

You blink. It takes you a moment, and in that moment he’s perfectly still to the point you’re not even sure he’s breathing anymore. Then—

“Oh!” You huff with realization. Then you giggle, because it’s funniest thing you’ve heard all day and your poor Mandalorian now thinks that you’re laughing at him—

“Listen,” you palm both cheeks in your hands to make sure he’s looking at you. “That’s okay, Din. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I enjoy it a lot too, and it brings me about the same amount of pleasure as it brings you. So just hush and let me take care of you now.”

He grunts, but there’s no mistaking the laugh behind it. “You sure are a bossy woman, aren’t you?”  

You laugh, throwing your head back in the process. He starts moving then, your vision blurring from the suddenness of it, and look back up at the helmet. 

“Oh someone’s eager.” You coo. 

He chuckles lowly through the vocoder and tightens his grip around your thighs just before dropping you onto the cot. You lick your lips and sit back on your hands, crossing your legs and watching the silent but trembling armored figure await for your instructions. 

“This time,” you pause, biting your lip. “This time I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you. Every little detail of it.”

The clenching of his fists is a delight to see. You know he’s struggling not to just throw himself down on his knees and touch you, beg you to fuck him like you’d ordered to, and it brings a warmth in your lower stomach. 

“Go on,” you encourage lightly at his silence. 

A crackles illuminates from the helmet, and you think vaguely that it’s a moan he tried to cut off. You uncross your legs and spread them just a little, giving him a tease as you settle more comfortably on the cot. And wait. 

“I—” His voice is strained, helpless from weeks of not being touched. “I...I want to kiss you. I want—” He starts taking off his gloves, slowly, as if he’s the one teasing you now, all the while the visor stares right at your face. “—to taste you, touch you, to feel your skin against mine. I want you to mark me, to remind me who I belong with.” Din kicks off his boots next, the chestplate soon after, and the plates on his thighs, vembrance, until he’s in nothing but his dark clothing and the helmet. “I want you to fuck me.” 

You grin as he finally walks towards you, getting down on his knees as soon as he’s in between your spread legs. You try your best to keep your breaths even as his hands plant themselves on your covered knees, giving them a squeeze; the pressure makes your pussy flutter with excitement, and when you subconsciously lick your lips, a growl fills the silent bunk. 

“Please,” he breathes. “Let me...let me kiss you.”

You can’t deny him this; besides, you’re just as eager as he is. With a nod you help him practically throw the helmet off and the first heated kiss he lands on your lips is like a breath of fresh air, filling your lung with familiar warmth that brings nothing but comfort and ecstasy throughout your body. The moan you receive in the kiss sends a shiver through you, your tongue dancing with his, teeth clashing every now and then, but it’s not painful enough to stop the sloppy kiss. 

“Din,” you break the kiss for air, letting him trail his lips over your jaw and down the slope of your neck. You gasp when he adds teeth, his hands now sliding up your legs until they reach your hips. “Din.”

“Star,” he groans into your neck. 

It’s very hard to stay in control now when you’re finally feeling the press of his lips against your skin, when his hands mold the flesh of your hips, working their way up your sides—slightly tickling you in the process which makes Din chuckle—and up to your chest, groping your breasts with careful ease. Your nipples harden under his touch and you close your eyes, surrendering yourself to his caresses as they become deeper and harsher, teeth nipping over the wet spots on your neck and your shoulder until they’re at your collarbone. 

“Let me do this first,” he says, but comes out like a question, asking you for permission. You’re about to ask what it is he wants to do when his hands fall from your breasts and land on the waistline of your pants. “Is this okay?”

You nod, too enthralled in him to use your voice. His smile is so bright and full of a light that is rarely seen outside of the safety of your arms—and the Razor Crest, of course—with swollen lips and a mess of hair atop his head thanks to his helmet and your wandering fingers. His own slips beneath, hot fingers that leave the muscles he touches jumping and quivering, and swiftly pulls your trousers down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder like they’re a nuance to his existence. 

Lips—soft, not as chapped, just perfect for your trembling skin—trail up your left leg, giving your ankle a squeeze as he keeps a steady grip on it, maneuvering your leg to his liking. You bite down on your bottom lip and watch as he adds new marks to your supple flesh, getting closer and closer to your hot and aching core. 

From here, you can inspect him without his reassurances that he’s perfectly unscathed; he’s lied about it before for your benefit, so now you pay extra attention to him when he returns from a job. So far, you find nothing that warrants any special treatments, and his short, blunt nails are digging into your waist and his mouth is hovering right over your clothed pussy, inhaling like it’s the most alluring scent to him. Your mouth waters and your hips move on their own accord, tilting upwards towards his mouth with a deep urgency. 

Din laughs, all deep and broken, and hooks his fingers to drag your panties down next, the cool air greeting you. His eyes, somehow even darker than before, gaze at the space between your thighs, licking his lips just before his head snaps down towards your pussy, enveloping your folds with an eager vigor that has you keening into his hold. 

“Din.” You whimper. “O-oh.”

His tongue scratches against your clit, barely brushing against the hood before slipping back down towards your slit, slurping at your juices. You gasp in surprise when he pulls you towards him, bringing you closer to his hungry mouth. His light stubble scratches against your inner thighs, but you welcome the irritated burns as long as it means keeping him between your legs; they start to shake under his assault, his teeth grazing through your folds before he moans, sending a wave through your pussy that has your hips buckling. 

“I needed this,” he groans into you, nose pressed against your bundle of nerves. “I needed this so badly cyar’ika you have no idea.”

“Then show me,” you breathe softly. “Make me cum, Din.”

The whine that escapes his plump lips is a magical, pathetic sound that makes your pussy clench, adding fuel to the growing fire in the pit of your lower stomach. He dives back in and goes straight for your clit, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks the sensitive pearl. 

“Oh oh fuck.” Your arms shake as they stand your upper body up, not wanting to miss a moment of his head between your legs. 

Din tightens his grip on your hips and scrapes his teeth against your clit. You moan and throw your head back, panting as you feel the coils tighten and strain against the onslaught of your incoming orgasm. 

“F-fingers.” You groan wantonly. 

He complies immediately, inserting a single finger inside your quivering cunt. Your back arches under the intrusion, but it’s still not enough for you. He must sense it in the way your fingers grip his hair, because as soon as the first tug hits he slides another finger inside, curling them when he’s knuckles deep. He pumps them slowly at first, letting you adjust to the thickness of his fingers, and thrusts them faster once your moans and cries become louder and needier. 

“I’m—” You’re cut off by your whine and his groan alike, his fingers hitting a spot so deep inside you, so electric that it’s starting to get hard concentrating or even thinking at this point. 

“Please,” Din begs. “Cum on my fingers, please mesh’la.”

His voice, gruff like always but somehow lighter with the lust and excitement coursing through him, brings you closer to the edge, your thighs tightening around his head. His lips attach themselves to your clit again the same time his fingers pump and curl. The tip of his calloused fingers scratch against your g-spot and you cry out from the increased pressure in your abdomen. 

“Yes yes yes.” You repeat like a mantra, your pussy fluttering and clenching around his fingers hard, drawing him in with a feverish clutch. 

The coil becomes hotter and hotter until it finally snaps with one final twist of his wrist, and you’re cumming with a silent scream and rigid muscles, falling onto your shoulders—your back stays arched, hips canted towards his hungry tongue as he laps up every single drop you give him. Your lungs ache with the lack of oxygen flowing through, but it’s so hard to breathe when he’s still on you like this, fingers still moving inside you and scraping against your walls and his tongue still licking at every inch of your aching cunt. 

“Din.” You warn breathlessly, pushing his head back subtly and not so gently—you’ll make up for the scratches against his scalp later.     

Din finally lifts his head up completely. His lips and chin are absolutely covered in your juices, slick and shiny in the dull lighting of the ship, but the image is nothing short of erotic for you, painting a beautiful canvas for you to remember and cherish on the days that he’s gone. 

You quickly pull your shirt off and open your arms towards the man you love, whispering a soft “C’mere.”

He wastes no time in pulling off any and all barriers between your skin and his and crawls atop you, carefully lowering himself down until his towering figure completely covers yours. You gently cup his cheeks in your hands and bring him down for the first soft, slow kiss of the night; the taste of yourself is prominent and strong in his mouth, but you lick it up with quiet moans of appreciation. 

His hands wander down the slope of your body, getting used to the feel of you again, showing his appreciation and—a part of you believes that he’s doing this subconsciously—whispering praises in Mando’a on your lips as his hips grind down against yours, his cock fitting between your bodies with beads of precum already dripping onto your stomach. 

“Want me tooo—” you pause for effect, dipping your hand between and wrapping your fingers around his thick girth. “—return the favor?” 

Din chuckles, but it’s mixed with a moan as you squeeze him. “N-not sure if I can hold out,” he stammers. “Want you to fuck me now.”

You grin, all wide and cheeky, and nod your head, signalling for him to get up, but not before another sensual kiss; this one sparks your pussy right back to life, with your teeth biting down on his bottom lip and lightly pulling until the flesh is red and irritated, which rewards you with a snap of his hips against your grip and a shuddering breath across your face. 

“Lay down,” you tell him. 

He obliges, helping you up to a standing position before settling back into the bunk. You quickly grab the strap and the oils, fitting it around your waist until it’s comfortably settled, then pouring a generous amount of the oil on the strap and in the palm of your hand, walking towards the trembling Mandalorian. 

He lifts his legs up so that his feet are placed on the cot, watching your every move as your knees weigh down on the flimsy mattress. 

“You know,” you say, scooting closer to him so you can apply the oil. “I really did miss you.” You say this with a punctuated thrust of your oil-slicked finger into his puckered hole.

Din moans and buckles into you, biting down on his lip to keep the rest in his chest. “I...I can tell.” 

You giggle and remove your finger, ignoring his whine of protest and situating yourself at his entrance. His chest rises with every heavy breath, perfect soft hair sprung out in different directions, and the imagery is complete for you when you slowly slide in and watch as he mouth opens in a silent gasp and his dark chocolate eyes close in pleasure. 

You wait patiently for him to adjust, taking in every shuddering breath that leaves him. When he nods and whines, “Move.”, you pull out just as slowly as you pushed in, continuing the leisurely pace until he starts begging for more—you grin, just like he does when he’s fucking you into oblivion—and thrust harder and faster, shifting your hips to find the perfect spot. 

He chokes and sputters once you tilt slightly upwards, his entire lower half jerking up towards yours. 

“You like that?” You pant, muscles straining from the excursion, but it’s a welcoming ache that proves worthy when Din withers beneath you and nods. You grab on to his calves and sink your nails into the bronze skin. 

“Fuck.” He gasps, canting his hips up to meet your thrusts. “Fu—cyar’ika I’m not gonna last long.” 

True to his word, you can feel just how close he is; from the way he gasps on to your bicep, careful not to hurt you, how his legs look like they just want to wrap around your hips and bring you impossibly closer and deeper into him. 

“I know.” 

You stop, just for a second, and quickly lean down to peck his lips. His hand gathers a handful of your hair and kisses you back, a small trail of spit slithering from the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too wired to care about it. 

“Touch me.” He breathes in your open mouth. 

You hum and look down at his neglected cock, red and pulsing against his stomach. Reaching out and taking him in your hand, you bend your knees a little and jerk him in time with your increasing thrusts, squeezing the tip of his cockhead each time your hand slides up. 

“C’mon,” you encourage. 

His moans become louder, and any other time you’d be scolding him to be quiet for the sake of the little guy asleep in his pod, but four kriffing weeks is enough to warrant this type of loud celebration. 

“I like the sounds you make for me,” you moan, feeling your lower stomach tighten and your toes growing numb from the upmost pleasure; seeing him let go like this makes you just as wrecked as you’re sure he feels right now. “Never want to stop hearing them.”

“Never.” He’s too far gone, so close to his impending orgasm, that nothing but mindless babbles fill your ears. “Wanna make you happy, wanna cum so bad, mesh’la. Shit, shit keep going right there Star—kriff I want you to cum again, please cum with me.”

This man here and now is nothing like the Mandalorian the galaxy sees—these breathless whimpers, all high pitched and taunt muscles under soft fat, slick skin and red lips with little teeth indents in them, his legs shaking and his nails digging now into the flesh of your hips, helping you move. They’re for you and you only. 

“Okay baby,” you groan, jerking him faster as you feel his cock jump in your hand and see his muscles stretch and coil. “I want to cum for me like a good boy, you can do that, can’t you?”

“Oh!” The cry comes out choked and broken, neck strained and red as he throws his head back. “Oh kriff I’m...I’m—”

With three final hard and quick thrusts, spurts of hot cum fly towards his stomach and chest, your hand also being covered as you continue to milk him of everything he’s got. Your cunt pulses and clenches, and all it takes is for a simple weaseled please for you to follow through, gasping and moaning until you can no longer stand on your own two feet. 

You sit there for a moment, still seated inside him as the both of you catch your breaths. Once you do, you pull out—Din hisses softly but assures you he’s more than okay—and he surprises you when you undo the straps and go to move when he reaches out and grabs your wrist, bringing you down until you have to crawl towards his limp form. 

“Wha—?” Your breath hitches when he sticks his tongue out and laps at the remaining cum on your hand, groaning softly at the taste of himself, just as you did when you kissed his lips; you decide that you should help him clean up, and your version of that is leaning down and licking the pearls of white off his stomach and chest, his body all the while squirming under your searing mouth. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, my Star.” He whispers. 

The gleam in his eyes as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and cups your cheek brings you the love and stability only you can find in him. “Yeah?” You tease. You slide your hand to his wet and abused hole, slipping just the tip of your finger inside. He clenches around you and growls, but it doesn’t sound as menacing as you think he wants it to be. 

He says your name, a clear warning, but you just can’t help yourself and lean further down until your lips hover above his cock, looking up at him to make sure he’s still watching. 

“I didn’t say we were done,” you tell him coyly. 

Before he can argue, you grab him and take his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue at the base. 

“FUCK!” He nearly screams, his body slouching over your crouched form as his whole body jumps. 

Yeah, this is going to be a very long night.         

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @feral-drea, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @housekenobi, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @dyn-djarin, @ben-is-a-hoe​

[dreamypeaches]

just like a movie | pope heyward x oc

summary: aster wants her life to be just like a movie. pope is happy to oblige

warnings: cursing, alcohol, so much fluff it’s like cotton candy

word count: 2.4k

a/n: here is my entry for pope appreciation week day 1! some fluffy fluff that had me smiling the whole time i wrote it. got the title from a wallows song, which you should go check out. enjoy the song and enjoy the fic :)

Pope didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but Aster spoke loudly when she was drunk and she and Kiara were only a few yards away from where he, JJ, and John B sat. Plus, in the years he had know her, Pope’s ears had become attuned to the sound of her voice, hanging on to every word.

“It’s hard not to have high expectations, you know?” Aster sighed, her drunken arm movements erratic as she spoke.

“Right, but you watch way too many movies, babe. Life just doesn’t compare. You need to get your head out of the clouds if you actually want a relationship,” Kiara said sympathetically. Aster slumps over into her friend’s lap, taking another sip of her drink before groaning.

“But whyyyyyy?” She said, holding the last letter like a grumpy child. She sits back up and sighs again, looking up into the sky. “Is it so bad to just want a guy to sweep me off my feet? I want him to send me flowers and sweet notes and pull off grand romantic gestures. I just want a guy who shows me he loves me in beautiful ways.”

“And by ‘a guy’ you mean Pope,” Kie said, earning a loud shush and a hand clamped over her mouth from Aster, who looked back at the boys with wide eyes. Pope stared into the fire before him, not wanting Aster to know he had been listening. She and Kie continued talking, but Pope had tuned out. Was it true? Did Aster like him?

Pope had been harboring a crush on his best friend since middle school. In high school, when his feelings were still going strong, he realized it was much more than a crush. He was completely in love with her. Refusing to believe she felt the same, he buried his feelings deep, deep within him. But her drunken words were like a shovel, digging through his heart until she hit gold. Staring into the flames, he suddenly can see everything he’s ever wanted. With a final look back at Aster, a grin growing on his face, Pope makes a decision. She was everything he wanted, he was going to be the same for her.

Aster stretches as she wakes up from her spot on the pull out couch. A slight pounding in her head reminds her of the night before and she groans. Kie is curled up beside her, soft snores echoing in the air. Aster looks to the other side, the space where Pope had occupied was empty, cold. Aster frowned, missing the comforting feeling of having him nearby. Looking out the window, though, she sees his head peaking over the window sill.

Aster pushes open the porch door, opening her mouth to speak when she notices a small bouquet of her daisies sitting on the ground, an envelope tucked between the petals.

“It’s for you,” Pope says nonchalantly. Aster furrows her brows.

“From who?” She questions, but Pope just shrugs. He knows he will give everything away if he says too much, remaining silent in the better option. Aster picks up the flowers, admiring them with a small smile before opening the small envelope.

"You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you." Pride & Prejudice, 2005

- The Darcy to your Elizabeth

Aster’s eyes scan over the words again and again. The words were pulled from one of her all time favorite movies. Despite the beauty of the words, she focuses more on the sign off. She doesn’t recognize the handwriting and she can’t think of anyone who would send her such a beautiful gift. The smile refuses to fall from her face as she plops down next to Pope.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone drop these off?” She asks, looking to Pope. He shakes his head a little too quickly, his shrug too large, and he hopes she doesn’t notice.

“Nope. No idea. They were just there when I woke up.”

Unfortunately for Pope, Aster knew him like the back of her hand, and his strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed. Unable to believe that Pope had any feelings other than friendship towards her, she didn’t make the connection between the gift and her best friends nerves.

“Well, whoever it is is very sweet. Want to read?” She asks, holding the card out to him.

“Nah,” He suddenly stands up, moving towards the door, “I have to use the toilet actually. Y’know, wring it out. I’ll be back.”

His heart pounds as he speed walks through the Chateau, partly from nerves but also excitement. She liked it! She really liked it. Confidence soars through Pope as he plans his next move, hiding in the bathroom.

The doorbell rings just as Aster sits down for lunch. She glances towards Kie, who is busy cutting up strawberries for the both of them. Aster sighs and gets up from her spot, slumping towards the door to find out who disturbed her meal. Her annoyance disappears though when she notices a box, a single daisy on top of it with an envelope between the two. She goes for the envelope first this time, hoping that it will warm her heart like the one from earlier that day.

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” Moulin Rouge, 2001

- The Christian to your Satine

“Who is it?” Kiara calls as she makes her way to the door. When she noticed the flower and envelope, she gives Aster a curious smirk. “You’re secret admirer?” She giggles, poking Aster.

“Shut up, it’s not a secret admirer,” Aster says, pushing the girl away as she blushes.

“Hm, a person is sending you love letters but won’t tell you who they are, I wonder what that’s called?”

After flipping Kiara off, Aster picks up the box and brings it back to the kitchen. She gasps in awe when she opens it, revealing her favorite lunch, pineapple fried rice from the Thai place on Figure 8. Very few people knew about her love for Thai Lotus, since she rarely got to eat there. A hope passes through her mind in the form of a boy who’s smile is like the sun.

“Kie, did you tell the boys we’re hanging at your house today?” She questions, looking back at the note and examining every stroke and curve of the writing.

“I don’t know, probably.”

Aster sighs in frustration at the vague answer before picking up her phone, finding Pope’s contact easily. He picks up immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing just having lunch with Kie. Where are you right now?”

“Um…I’m out on some deliveries with JJ. Why?”

Aster feels her hope fall at the words and shakes her head before realizing he couldn’t actually see her.

“No reason, just checking in. Wanna hang out later?”

“With you? Nah,” The smile in his voice gives him away, and Aster can feel a similar smile growing, despite her hopes that Pope was her secret admirer being crushed in his unknowing hand.

“My house? Movies, popcorn, ice cream?” He adds on.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.” Pope laughs.

“Cool. See you later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile.” Aster giggles, hanging up and sitting down to dig into her meal. Her fingers twirl the flower in one hand while the other scoops rice into her mouth. Kie says something to her, but Aster doesn’t hear. Eyes focused on the soft white petals of the daisy as her mind to the boy she had just spoken to, and how she wished the daisy had been a product of his love.

At the sound of the door opening and Aster’s voice drifting down the hall, a grin made it’s way to Pope’s face. Leaving the popcorn spinning in the microwave, he grabs the small present on the counter and moves down the hallway. He puts on his best confused face before he reaches Aster, holding the gift out to her.

“Hey, this was left for you at the Chateau. JJ told me to give it to you.”

Aster rips the package from his arms, admiring the small daisy hair clip before ripping into the envelope.

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” The Princess Bride, 1987

- The Westley to your Buttercup

Aster sighs and presses the card against her forehead with a sad smile.

“Did JJ say who gave it to him?” She mumbled.

“No. It was just there.” Pope’s words are short again. His plan is close to completion. He can’t ruin it now. Aster carefully slides the envelope into you back pocket before working the wrapping paper open. She bit back her smile as she held a special edition copy of The Princess Bride and the book with behind the scenes stories. Her eyes scan over the objects in excitement, while Pope’s flitter across her face. He took in every detail of excitement and happiness that shone on her beautiful features.

“Wow, this guy must really like you,” Pope comments, compelling Aster’s eyes to meet his own. For a moment, he tries to plead with her wordlessly. Don’t you know it’s me? Please know it’s me. When Aster’s focus breaks away from him, he knows the message didn’t get through.

She shuffles the dvd case in her hands, tapping an erratic rhythm before holding it up and shaking it towards Pope.

“When’s the last time you saw The Princess Bride?”

“Well, I’m friends with you, so probably yesterday.” He grins at her as she rolls her eyes. She slaps his chest, pushing past him to move into the Heyward residence living room. His gaze follows her until she disappears from sight. Pope rubs his chin, but the movement does nothing to wipe the goofy smile that Aster gave him.

They’re far into the movie, Fezzik and Inigo had just brought Westley to the Miracle Man. Aster yawns and stretches out, her head landing on Pope’s shoulder, snuggling into the arm wrapped around her. Frowning, she looks down into her empty cup.

“Popey, could you get me more water?”

Pope let’s out an over exaggerated groan, flopping forward and onto his feet and pressing pause on the movie. Aster giggles at his antics, passing the glass to his outstretched hand. He starts to move away, but she stops him with her words.

“Can you get me some more popcorn, please?”

“As you wish,” He says before quickly disappearing. Aster giggles at his quote, but they slowly fade as the words bounce in her mind. She pulls the envelope from her pocket, tracing over the handwritten words with her finger as she stares towards the spot Pope had disappeared from.

The popping of the kernels is starting to slow as Aster saunters in. Pope jumps when she presses her cheek into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“What’s up, lovey?”

“What do you think of my secret admirer?” Pope freezes up for a moment, recovering quickly as he rests his hands on Aster’s.

“He seems like a wonderful guy who’s gotten you some wonderful gifts.” She suddenly pulls away as if Pope were burning hot. Pope turns towards her, confusion clouding his eyes.

“How do you know that, Pope? How do you know it’s a guy?” She points an accusatory finger up at him. “And these gifts aren’t just wonderful, they’re perfect! The daisies and the Thai Lotus and  The Princess Bride and the move quotes. Who else on this god forsaken island would know about all of that except for…” She trails off, energy suddenly leaving her body as she stares into his lovely orbs. Pope clears his throat and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, staring down at it as his shaking hands unfold the used paper.

“I was going to wait till later but, uh, here it goes, I guess,” He clears his throat, “‘I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.’ When Harry Met Sally, 1989. Love-”

“The Harry to my Sally,” Aster’s eyes are watering as she smiles up at Pope, then she giggles, a happy and terrified and excited giggle that forces a smile onto Pope’s face.

“Thank you for citing your sources,” She jokes. Pope shrugs.

“I am a man of academics.”

She laughs again, brushing the stray tears from her cheeks.

“So it was you? All day you’re just been…what? What is this Pope?”

He takes a deep breath, clenching his fists before wiping his sweaty palms on the side of his pants. He steps towards Aster, taking her head in his hands and moving forward until they’re inches apart.

“I am in love with you, Aster Goe. I heard you last night, talking to Kie. Please tell me it’s me, I’m the one you want to sweep you off your feet.”

She giggles, the giddy laughter impossible to control as she cups her hands over his larger ones.

“Of course it’s you, Pope! You’re the best fucking thing in my life! You’re the Darcy to my Elizabeth, the Westley to my Buttercup the…the Pope to my Aster. I am in love with you, Pope Heyward.”

Barely a second passes after her words before their grinning faces crash together. Pope pulls her close, hands trailing down from her cheeks to wrap around her back. Her hands grasp the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to her.

Both Pogues curse the human need to breathe as they pull away, chests heaving and eyes beaming. Pope pecks her lips again, quickly, before speaking.

“So, is this just like a movie?” He asks, thumbs rubbing circles on her hips beneath her shirt.

“No, this is way fucking better.”

The come together once more, lips moving like a symphony, perfectly conducted. This moment had been years in the making, and neither wanted it to end. They wanted to let the credits roll, fade to black leaving them stuck in this moment forever. The end. Fin.

But as they pull apart, basking in the love radiating through the air, they know there is so much more beyond the credits. A whole life to live, and a whole lot of love to give.

taglist/moots: @jjmaybby @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @rekrappeter @diverdcwn @rafecameron @prejudic3 @starlightstarkey @https-luna @sunnypogue @obxmxybxnk @jjmayybank @euphoricheyward @socialwriter @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @peachydrews @outerbanksbro @poguestyleskye @softstarkey @bricksatanakinswindow @mdlyncline @poguemackin @downbytheouterbanks @rae131415 @ptersparkers @prkerspogue @moldisgoodforyou @outrbanks @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @tempestuousjj @stargazingstarkey @anxietyandtacos @uwubonebabie @joshy-obx @sortagaysortahigh @overly-b @highondrew @madelynsclines @cherryobx @royalmerchant @wtfkie @ilovejjmaybank @broken-jj @vindictive-hearts  @fttayla @rafej-cambanks

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter nine: pleasures of the flesh

Sam boarded that plane with Chuck, Tiffany, Alex, Eric, Greg, and Louie at about ten minutes to the hour.

On one hand, it almost felt wrong to do that when she should be on the plane back to Los Angeles. Bill awaited her and she knew that she would have to face the music with him at some point anyway. She figured that the sooner she would have to see him, the better, and as far as she knew, he had ruined his own house.

But then again, as far as she knew, he had ruined his own house. She would have to return home to nothing.

She settled back in the seat next to Louie, and right next to the window as well.

Given it was so early in the morning, she peered out the window at the stretch of mainland United States under the veil of darkness. Clouds dotted the lower part of the sky beneath them: the soft orange and pink shades that kissed the tops made her think of watercolor. Despite it being so early in the morning, she was still wide awake from that latte that Eric had bought for her. A three hour flight back to San Francisco and there was no way in which she could fall back asleep.

Louie stayed wide awake as well, and she realized that was the first time in literal months that she and him had been alone together as well. He turned his head and showed her a wistful little smile.

“Almost home,” he said in a broken voice.

“Almost home,” she echoed him; if nothing, she could make her way down the Central Valley into Los Angeles and then Lake Elsinore, but that was for another day when it deemed necessary. Louie sighed through his nose and turned his head back to where he stared straight ahead at the seats in front of them: Greg and Alex were right behind them and had long fallen asleep once again, while Chuck, Eric, and Tiffany were right across the aisle, all asleep as well.

“My dad's gonna be here eventually,” she told him.

“It'd be nice to see him, wouldn't it?” Louie replied with a twinkle in his eye.

If only there was a way. If only there was a way she could convince him that he and Zelda belonged together, but if only there was a way she could tell him that he had a family in the background somewhere there.

“Absolutely. Especially after moving out here, too.” She fell silent for a moment. “Have you talked to Zelda lately?”

“I haven't, no,” he confessed. “I mean, we did see her and the girls back in Europe but I didn't really get alone with her and talked to her, though. Probably should, though, don't ya think?”

“Absolutely,” Sam replied and she nestled down in the seat some more.

“You know, Sam, if I'm being perfectly honest with you—I love how concerned you are about these sorts of things.”

“I just try to be a good friend,” she confessed.

“Well—and this is something I've learned from being around Zelda, too—sometimes you have to let people live. Sometimes some things are just better left unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well—” He turned his head to the row right across from them, and the three of them sound asleep. Neither Greg nor Alex made a peep since they left the airport. “I told you she got it out of me, right?” he asked her in a near whisper.

“How could I forget.”

“I figured that there are times where it's better to keep secrets so no one can use them against you because that's—kind of what happened between me and her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. She told me that if the secret gets out between us—and that includes you, too—there will be hell to pay. If Testament is going anywhere in the world, and we probably will, just knowing these two fellas right behind us right and Chuck's searing vocals, there are some things that need to stay private.”

“It's none of people's business anyways,” she pointed out.

“Exactly, right! So that said, I hope to god that things will stay under wraps with us—you, me, and her. I trust you, Sam. I trust you and I trust Zelda, too. I trust that these things will stay between us.”

Sam extended her pinky finger for him.

“Excellent,” Louie remarked as he hooked his finger around hers.

“I should ask—where should I stay when we get back to the Bay Area?”

“You can stay with me,” he offered her.

“For real?”

“Yeah, I'm kinda—by myself now.”

“Aw.” She tilted her head at that and he nodded with a solemn look on his face.

“Yeah—but I'll take good care of you, though. When we touch down there, I'll do the first thing I did for Zelda after I started frequenting Rhode Island more and I'll take you out to breakfast. I'll ask Thing One and Thing Two back here if they wanna join us.”

She giggled at that.

“If there's one thing I couldn't do for my old girlfriend but I learned to do, though, it's that. It's treating you girls right.”

“I just think of that sentiment Charlie told me when I was hanging out with Anthrax back home in New York: you guys embrace your female fans.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “We absolutely love our female fans—mainly because there's not a lot of you running around, especially with us and this... I wanna say it's a second wave of thrash coming out of the Bay Area in particular. There's us and Death Angel, and there's a few others—we'll have to introduce you to them once we land.”

“There's Exodus, too,” she pointed out.

“Exodus has been around almost ten years now,” he corrected her. “Formed in the last gasp of the Seventies straight outta high school like us and Death Angel. And of course, Anthrax have some now, mainly with the help of the Cherry Suicides, but they've got some. I've seen a few women at our shows wearing Among the Living shirts and shirts with 'NOT' written on the front in big letters. I dunno if you've seen them throw that word around lately, but they have, though.”

“Like a catch phrase of some sort?”

“Kinda, yeah. I don't know if you seen Scott with that word shaved into his chest hair before but it's kinda funny, actually.”

“I don't remember,” she confessed.

“And it's a select few women, too. Between you, the four of them, and Marla, I haven't really seen any for Testament aside from the odd small bunch over in Europe.”

“Yeah, I probably counted all of five women in the crowd last night,” Sam recalled.

“Exactly!” Louie chuckled.

Sam then reached down between her legs for her purse and she took out her journal, her pencil, and a couple of her pens.

“Ah, you wanna draw for me!” he declared.

“Well, I also wanna show you the thing I made for Greg last night on the night flight,” she told him, and she flicked open to that one page. He gaped at the sight of the black ink on the page before him.

“Wow! What is it?”

“It's Joey and Alex on either side of one of the trees from the Black Forest. They're like praying to the tree together.”

“Oh, yeah, that's Alex and the little bit of gray upon his head—and the one with the curls is Joey.”

“It needs a little more touching up, but that's what I get for drawing so late at night and being partially asleep all the while, too.”

Louie chuckled at that when a low guttural noise cut him off. Sam stopped right in her tracks.

“Was that you or me?” he asked her in a low voice.

One of them in the seat behind groaned in his throat: Sam craned her neck back at the sight of Alex shifting his weight in his seat. Even though he was still asleep, nothing could deny the pained look on his face.

“The young buck,” she told Louie with a nod of her head back behind them.

“Aw—oh, yeah, he's not quite yet a full grown man so he's still suffering from that teenage hunger.”

“You ever get that hunger where it feels like you're about to puke?”

“All the time! You ever get the kind that sneaks up on you? Like you're fine one minute and then all of a sudden, you're like, 'holy hell, I'm hungry.' I used to get it all the time even when I hit twenty years old. I had my daughter then, too.”

“So that's why you were always struggling for money,” Sam noted.

“Nah, I was struggling for money because there was no money to be made yet. Zelda was only making enough to pay our rent and buy groceries and that was it—no idea what they must be making now. There still really isn't at the moment, not with us. Our label isn't giving us squat and touring is only really keeping our lights on. Seriously, Sam, it's only every so often we can splurge on something like going out to eat—and in Alex's case, it's to keep him at his parents' house still. I figured I have enough for a cab ride back to my place and then I can get something to eat after that, but that's about it. Really, that's why we're all on this plane and not a private one like Metallica are.”

“Metallica have their own plane now?” She was stunned by that, and Louie nodded his head and tucked a piece of flat hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Surprised me, too. But as we were leaving Munich for the first night, Alex was talking to Lars over the phone and they had flown to Copenhagen via their private jet.”

Sam brought her gaze down to the floor. To think Metallica were making enough money to have their own flight plan, and Cliff wasn't even there to witness it himself.

“Did he say how they got it?” she asked him.

“Nah, Alex was just like 'how in the world did you manage that one?' and Lars said they were just making enough money from their touring at this point that they were finally able to get it for themselves. Touring in the wake of losing Cliff, too.”

Sam shook her head. There was no way she could hold it against them for making money off of their dead friend because it wasn't their fault. But at the same time, merely addressing that the thing was a thing and going no further than that left her unsettled.

“I think it's interesting that Alex started wearing that skull ring, too,” Louie continued.

“Why's that?”

“'Cause Cliff had one himself. Remember that?”

Sam paused for a moment. Even though she only got to see him a handful of times prior to his death, it was such a vague little detail for her to remember altogether.

“By the way, when's everyone's birthdays again?” she spoke again. “I know Alex's is on the twenty ninth of September, and you're two days after me in January. I remember Chuck and Eric telling me once but it's escaped me.”

“Chuck is right after the summer solstice, June twenty third. Eric is May fourteenth and Greg is April twenty ninth.”

“All of us born later in the month, my goodness!” she declared.

“I know, right? Us Aquarians know how to throw people, you know?”

“We bear the water, after all,” Sam pointed out, “I bear the goat horns, too. I'm on the cusp.”

“I ain't getting in an argument with you,” Louie joked, “the goat horns and the bones, too.”

She giggled at that, and then she remembered the skull ring in question. And she began to wonder Alex's exact intent as the sun's first rays followed them all the way back to California.

They touched down in the Bay Area, right as the first wisps of that thick fog gathered right outside of the coast, and Sam was eager to step outside and feel the fog on her face and the crown of her head. Greg and Alex trudged behind her and Louie all the way to the area outside of the gate.

“Hey, you guys wanna join us for breakfast?” she offered them as she adjusted the straps on her purse and her overnight bag. “Lewis here is gonna take me out in a few minutes.”

“I'm ready for a nap,” Greg told her.

“Yeah, I'm probably just gonna mosey on back home and curl up in my bed,” Alex added as he rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. “Get on home and eat something, too. But I kinda miss my bed.”

“Exodus is playing tomorrow night, though,” Greg pointed out.

“Yeah, that's right!” Louie recalled. “Right across the street from me, too.”

“Oh, well, lucky us,” Sam proclaimed.

“Yeah, c'mon, Sam I am—I'll take ya home with me.”

She followed him out to the parking lot and towards the sidewalk on the far side of the black top. And then she realized that he didn't have a car.

“Are we taking the bus or—?” she asked him, but then her voice trailed off as he raised his arm up for a taxi, and the little green car pulled up to the curb before them.

“You know, the entire time I've lived in New York, I've only seen a few taxi cabs,” she told him as he held the door for her.

“Really? Well, you lived in the Bronx most of the time, though. Most of the cabs I've seen were down in Manhattan or over in Brooklyn. Like more so in the inner city part of it all rather than a straight up neighborhood such as that.”

“Right, and we lived in Hell's Kitchen, too! Down by the water and it was more like that, too. I always either hitched a ride with Charlie and Marla, or I took the subway or the bus with Bel, or I walked places.”

They climbed into the back seat together and Louie told the driver they were headed for Hayward.

“That's a name I haven't heard in ages,” she noted as they got rolling along the streets.

“What, Hayward?”

“Yeah. All the names out here on the West Coast, actually. It's astonishing, really. A few weeks ago, Chuck, Tiffany, Alex, Greg, and I all went to see Death Angel in Alhambra and the four of them were staying in Corona. When Cliff and I were together, and we visited my parents in Reno, it was kind of surreal, almost like a dream of sorts. To see all the street names and all the old neighborhoods again. And it's like visiting an old friend to an extent.”

“When Zelda and I split up, and I moved back here,” Louie explained, “the exact same thing happened to me, too. Like, wow, I can't believe I'm actually telling someone to take the 880 Freeway down to Fremont and San Jose, and the 92 bridge across the Bay over to San Mateo. Like, it wasn't that long ago, I was looking up directions from Narragansett to Boston. We're going to be a block away from the cemetery, too.”

The driver nodded in response: meanwhile, Sam peered out the window at the early morning fog as it collected all around the sky overhead. So much that Cliff hadn't shown her when he was alive, and at that moment, in the back of that cab, she witnessed it for herself. All the little shops that lined the streets and the small slivers of parks throughout the place all the way over to All Soul's Cemetery and the ramshackle apartment complex right across the way.

Louie kept his promise and paid the fare for them.

The two of them stood on the sidewalk together and he groaned.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“The place I wanna take you isn't open yet,” he explained.

“It is still pretty early,” she pointed out.

“True, true.” He led her up the sidewalk to the apartments: after he held the door for her, and she stepped inside, the fatigue of having traveled so much settled over her right then.

“We're just on the ground floor here,” he guided her down the hallway to the fourth room on the right and he unlocked the door for her.

A cozy one bedroom apartment with a small couch tucked in one corner and across from that was a small television upon a milk crate. To the right of her stood a large wooden armoir that looked as though it hadn't been painted with a coat of veneer once in its lifetime. Before her was a short hallway that led back to the bedroom in question as well as a bathroom and a closet: to the left was the small kitchenette with a narrow shabby table that needed a paint job in and of itself.

“Well, at least this place isn't dirty,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I mean, it's just me here now—it's not like there's much to clean here anyway. You can set your things in my room if you wish.”

“You're gonna make me sleep on the couch, aren't you?” she asked him.

“Nah, you can sleep head to toe with me in my bed,” he offered her. “It's a comfy bed, I promise you that.”

Indeed, Sam showed a little grin and then she made her way into that little bedroom so as to set her things down. In one corner of the room was a small pile of laundry: on top was a black T shirt and inscribed on the front, in swirled sparkled red letters, read “The Cherry Suicides”. Right within the name was a pair of cherries with the stem split apart by a butcher knife: on the handle of the knife was a white bow.

“You have a Cherry Suicides shirt?” she called out to him.

“Oh, yeah!” he called back to her from the front room.

“I didn't know they sold shirts!” she declared. “All the times I saw them, there was like no merch to be seen.”

“Yeah, Zelda gave that to me when we were going out,” he explained as he stood in the doorway behind her. “She actually made that for me because they couldn't get a thing to make merch for themselves—well, they probably can now, but a few years ago, they weren't able to so she made her own. You can have that if you'd like. It doesn't fit me.”

“Aw, thank you. Yet another sleep shirt.” She picked up the shirt from the pile: indeed, she knew it would be a bit of a snug fit for her given she had far more curves than Louie at that point.

“I should ask you,” he began again, “have you shown Alex that drawing?”

“I haven't, no. I haven't shown him any of my art so far.”

“Oh, man, you should. You know those drawings you made for Charlie for this past tour? He was awestruck by them. Whenever Chuck and I asked him about it, he was like, 'dude, that's some of the best art I've ever seen in my life.'”

She gaped at that.

“But he couldn't put two and two together and realize that it was me who made them, though?” she asked him, to which Louie shook his head.

“Seeing as you're back out here on the West Coast, you ought to catch a moment alone with him when you can. Really show him your art, like do a demo for him.”

“He was heart broken when Jean Michel Basquiat passed away recently,” she recalled.

“Oh, I bet he was! He's more of an art nut than Lars and Charlie both. So you ought to do it for him. Anyways, I'm gonna change my clothes and I'll take you over to the place I want to take you for breakfast. You'll love this place, Sam. Best coffee and pancakes in town.”

“We'll be the judge of that,” she told him as she peeled off her shirt right there in front of him, much to his gasping. But she put on that homemade Cherry Suicides shirt for herself: the body hugged her breasts and her belly a little bit but it fit her as if Zelda had crafted it just for her. The neckline hung low upon her chest so it accentuated a bit of skin, and Louie nodded at that.

“My turn!” he said, and he took off his shirt as well. Sam kept her eye on his slender drummer's body as he stepped past her for a plain dark gray sweatshirt himself. He fixed his hair and then he gestured for her to follow him back outside to the restaurant in question.

Cozy and warm and a slice of life away from the deathly feeling right up the block from them, and Sam soon saw that he was right about the coffee and the pancakes: she helped herself to a large fat stack of five of them, each of them light and fluffy and loaded up with butter and a small kiss of fresh blackberries.

“So where are we seeing Exodus at tonight?” she asked him as she mopped up the rest of the blackberry syrup with a final bite of pancakes.

“Right over there—” He pointed out the window to the block on the other side of the cemetery, where she spotted a low but bright lit bar with dark stained glass windows. “Doors open at about five o'clock so we'll be meeting Alex and Greg over there around then. Since we're friends of Exodus, we get in for free. You'll probably have to pay five bucks, though.”

“Sounds good, though,” she assured him, and then she raised her coffee mug for him and they made a toast to one another. “Wait a minute, it's a bar, though,” she pointed out. “What's Alex gonna do there?”

“They sell food until about eleven,” he told her. “So he can go in there.”

“All the food his tummy could ever wish for,” she said as she took another sip of coffee. After breakfast, Sam settled into the apartment for a few hours with her journal and her pencil until Louie put on his Chuck Taylors and then his watch. She figured she had enough to not enough to cover the way into the bar as well as a drink for herself. She ran a brush through her hair and then she followed him back outside to the cool afternoon: most of the fog had burned off at that point, but a few wisps and thick clouds dotted the otherwise rich blue canopy overhead.

“The girls also played there,” he told her.

“Really?”

“When Zelda and I were first going out and I was trying to hide my old life from her, yeah. That was where she treated me to a show and she offered to take me home to Rhode Island with her.”

“So this is like coming full circle here,” she followed along as she put on her sunglasses; even though they weren't going very far up the street, she decided to wear them regardless of anythin g.

“Exactly! Right up the street, too, so it's oh so close to home.”

He led her up the sidewalk and all the way around the circumference of the cemetery, to the furthest point and under a row of tall oak trees. She thought about that night in Brooklyn and the Day of the Dead ceremony. She knew she would have to do it again for Cliff as they crossed the four lane road together: he reached the sidewalk first. A gust of cool oceanic wind sent a shiver down her spine but she figured the pancakes from that morning would keep her warm enough until they reached the bar.

“Hey, there's Eric!” Louie pointed out. Up ahead, wrapped in thin black leather and with his inky black hair down so it freely twirled in the wind, Eric lingered outside of the front door of the bar and shuffled his feet about. As they came closer to him, and Sam realized she had made a mistake by not bringing a coat with her, he flashed them a grin.

“Not in the Big Apple anymore,” he declared to her. “Bitchin' shirt, by the way.”

“Not even close,” she said over the whistle of the winds, “I literally forgot how cold and dry California is, even up here. And thank you! This is courtesy of Zelda herself.”

Eric held the door for them and she stepped into the big spacious room first. Given they were right across the street from a cemetery, small sugar skulls lined the walls around them. Old names from years and decades past there in the San Francisco Bay Area lined the phony bricks that were plastered upon the main wall to the left, all in thick calligraphy and block letters like the names in obituaries. Posted up at one of the tables by the wall was Alex and Greg, the latter of whom waved at her. Meanwhile, Alex adjusted the skull ring on his right hand and leaned back in the chair. He had dyed his hair jet black once more, albeit with a bit of haste, however this time around, it was hard to tell that he even had a gray streak there over his brow to begin with.

“Really, who says you can't be girly and badass at the same time?” Greg asked her as part of his greeting.

“I thought being girly was a part of being badass, dude,” Alex pointed out.

“It's badass to be manly, too,” Sam assured as she took her seat there next to him.

“Right?” He clenched his fist to show her the silver skull on his ring finger.

“I'm gonna check on the guys,” Louie told them.

“I have to pay the cover charge,” she retorted to him.

“Oh, yeah, do that,” Alex advised her.

But lucky for her, she found out that she could have half price for a drink, and thus she treated herself to an Irish coffee. A thick frosted glass of that light brown coffee with a thick foam up top and so early in the evening to boot, and she knew that the party would start. She returned to Alex and Greg, right as the former put his hands around a glass of root beer and the latter sipped on some actual beer.

“Why would you do that?” Alex was asking him once she returned within earshot.

“Why not? I could probably do it with one ball first and then work my way up to two.”

“You do that, it's just throwing a single thing in the air,” he pointed out.

“You're still doing it, though,” said Greg.

“No—?” Alex chuckled at that.

“What're you guys talking about?” she asked them with a bit of laughter herself.

“Juggling,” Alex replied, “apparently, he wants a shot at it. He wants to start I tout with one object, too.”

“That's not juggling, though,” she pointed out.

“See what I mean, dude?” He took a sip of his root beer when Eric returned with a plate with a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Oh, yeah, you get pizza and I just get root beer,” Alex scoffed at him.

“Courtesy of the guys, little man,” Eric advised him and he gestured to the other side of the room behind him.

“I'll be right back,” Alex told the three of them and he bowed over to the table there by the bathrooms, where Louie was helping himself to a plate full as well. Indeed, Sam brought her attention over there and she spotted the man right in front of Louie. She almost didn't even recognize him from his now shorn hair and the fact his face looked as though it had been boiled in a vat of water.

“Oh, man, Zetro doesn't look good,” Sam remarked.

“I guess they haven't been doing too well,” Eric told her as he covered his mouth with one hand. “This last record they put out—last October, I think? It was a total flop—I thought it was pretty good, though. The guitars sound like chainsaws and Zetro's vocal delivery is just not for the faint of heart. I mean you heard him, when he was with us.”

“Oh, right, right! Real screechy, high vocals.”

“Indicative of thrash! But yeah, everyone hated it upon release, though.”

“Do you think maybe Zelda might have something to do with it?” she asked him.

“No clue, to be honest. Could just be nerves—you know, the sophomore slump thing, but who knows, really. That is a possibility, though, 'cause he was a wreck when she and him split and she made amends with Louie. One can only hope that their next one will be a bonafide masterpiece.”

Within time, Alex and Louie returned with plates, for themselves and for Greg and Sam in that respective fashion.

Within the hour, more and more people filed into the bar and Exodus prepared to take to the stage. Eric and Louie made their way over to the stage to check in on the band themselves, and Greg had gone off to the men's room. Thus, Sam and Alex were left alone yet again, that time with empty plates before them. He lifted his glass of root beer to his lips but he didn't take a drink for himself.

“Samantha, when you turned twenty, how'd you react to it?” he asked her.

“How'd I react to it?”

“Yeah, like—what was going through your mind then?”

“I just kind of—resigned to the fact that I was going to be twenty years old soon, like I wasn't going to be a teenager anymore.”

She dropped her gaze to his fingers as they curled around the base of his glass of root beer. She wondered what was going through his mind right then.

“Why?” she asked him as she leaned her head in closer to him. “Alex? Is there something you want to tell me?” She peered over her shoulder once again. They were alone yet again; she returned to him. “You can tell me. You are my best kept secret—you can tell me if something is troubling you.” He sighed through his nose.

“I'm just—kinda—realizing the fact that I'm not a kid anymore,” he confessed, to which he knitted his eyebrows together. “I haven't really felt like a kid in a long time, either. You know? I feel like I've had to grow up a great deal in the past six years. Hell, the past three years, I feel like I've had to grow up a great deal.”

“Well—you're still Alex, though,” she pointed out in a low voice. “You're just—a little older is all. My mom told me that when I turned eighteen in fact. She said, 'you're still my little girl regardless of how old you are.' So to that, you're still little boy Alex to me. You're still that chubby sixteen year old with the yarmulke, the one whom I first met in New York City.”

He raised his head at that and he raised his eyebrows: the softest she had ever seen him at that point.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I bet your parents feel the same way about you.”

He paused for a second. “They do, actually. In particular my mom. They did a lot for me—they still do, actually. My mom helps me do laundry and sometimes there's just something about coming home and feeling her hug me. Feeling my dad hug me, too. You know?”

“Oh, yeah! That's one thing I miss about living close to my parents is hugs from them, especially my dad.”

He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass.

“So do you know at all when he's coming out here?” he asked her.

“Who, my dad? I don't, no.” She paused herself. “Why, you wanna meet him?”

“If it's not too much trouble,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I always introduced my friends to my parents growing up. That was actually the first time I really heard the word 'meshuggah' was when I brought one of my friends over to jam guitars with. My dad was like 'my kid's meshuggah!' to their parents. And I mean—you know, it's all of us out here in the Bay Area together now—it just—kinda makes sense that we all get together and hang out together when we're not on the road.”

“Which is quite often,” she followed along.

“Oh, my god, yes! We're supposed to be back in the studio soon, too. And we've got those shows down in Reseda before Christmas.”

“By the way, when's Hanukkah this year?” she asked him without a moment's hesitation.

“Hanukkah? Oh, god, I dunno. I do know Rosh Hashana is coming up here in like two weeks or something like that, but that's where it starts and ends with me, though. I couldn't tell you when Yom Kippur is or even—almost twenty years old and I know for a fact my mom's gonna take me over her knee and I'm gonna get spanked for this—Passover. Besides my family's non traditional Jewish. I don't always wear my yarmulke or my Star of David.”

“Still a Jew boy, though,” she pointed out with a giggle.

“Oh, yeah. This last name is definitely indicative of that. There's not a lot of us running around but it's there, though. I mean, if my dad utilizing a word like 'meshuggah' isn't enough indication, I dunno what to tell ya.”

He shrugged his shoulders and rolled those deep eyes a bit, and she giggled some more at him.

“Do you celebrate Hanukkah at all?” she asked him.

“We did when I was little! Like when I was a toddler and when I first started school, but like I said, my parents are non traditional. So it doesn't bother them in the least if we miss any of the holidays at any given time, and they usually do, too.” He picked up his glass and sipped on the rest of his root beer, and then he turned his attention back to her, that time with a thoughtful look on his face. “We do have a menorah, though,” he said in a low voice.

“A real menorah?”

He nodded.

“Oh, yeah, it's as real as the black dye on my head right now.” She giggled at that. “And I'll tell you what. When Hanukkah starts—whenever it does this year—you ought to come on over. We'll light up the candles for each of the eight nights, and I'll do it for you, too.”

Someone up on stage laughed out laughing right at that moment.

“It's not that funny,” Sam cracked, and Alex cackled at that. Someone else up there addressed Alex by name, and he turned his attention towards them with a twinkle in his eye.

“I dunno, man, why you asking me!” he called out in that big bold voice, and Zetro made his way to the middle of the stage with the microphone in hand. He pointed in their direction and Sam sank down away from the look of mischief on his face.

“I see exactly one Alex Skolnick out there in the audience,” he declared and his speaking voice filled up the entire room, “—twenty years old in a few weeks time—you know, he's only in here 'cause there's food.”

People in the audience chuckled at that. Alex bowed his head and closed his eyes, to which Zetro stuck out his tongue and flashed Sam a wink. She peered over at him and before she could even so much as put her hand on his arm, Zetro spoke again.

“Anyways, come on up here, little man—come on up here and give us a li'l kick in the ass and give the cherry a good poppin'. We could use it right about now to start us out.”

Sam and Alex glanced at one another, and she shrugged her shoulders at him. He rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his root beer, and then he stood to his feet. People applauded him as he took the walkway on the other side of the room. Soon, over the small sea of heads, Sam recognized his head of jet black hair against the overhead lights. One of their stage hands gave him a big white flying V guitar, much like the guitar which Dave gave Joey for auditions.

Her jaw dropped as she watched him take center stage next to Zetro.

Alex absolutely dwarfed the five of them. He didn't even need the gray streak upon his head for Sam to recognize him from clear across the room: he had that handsome oval face and those prominent features. Indeed, there was that indication she had for him: his hair could turn completely gray and she could still recognize him, but she made that sentiment when she locked eyes with him. But as she watched him up there on stage with Exodus, she realized that it was more than that.

The kid literally stood out like a monolith. Long lanky legs wrapped in those fitted black jeans and his slender little body accentuated by that black button up: at some point on the way up there, he had undone the top two buttons and revealed a sliver of his chest to the audience. He ran his fingers through his inky black curls and showed off a bit more of his neck.

She had never seen him like that before, such that it was almost too much for her to bear right then. She wanted another slice of pizza but she wanted to pay more attention to him.

Thus, she climbed off the stool and almost ran right into Greg, who gasped at the sight of her.

“Oh, my—hi,” she muttered to him.

“Hi,” Greg said back to her. One inch of clearance separated them. “Do you know where Alex is?”

“I don't, no—I was—I was just gonna ask you.” Sam peered down at his narrow legs and his belt as it poked out from underneath the hem of his shirt. “Oh, no, wait, he's up there with them.”

“Oh, yeah!” Greg clapped his hands over his head as Alex let his fingers do the talking on the guitar's fret board.

“Oh, my,” she muttered, to which she fanned herself.

“Practice it, man!” Zetro bellow into the microphone.

“Yeah, practice what you preach!” he shouted into the microphone right behind him, and his voice was even bigger for that room in comparison to that of Zetro. All Sam could think about right then was Soundgarden, the Seattle band at the show in Dusseldorf.

Her heart fluttered inside of her chest all the while. The way Alex stood there with that white guitar pressed against his body.

“Watch my purse for me, Greg?” she asked him.

“Sam, I will walk up and down the street with your purse over my shoulder if I have to,” Greg replied, and she bowed away from there, but then she doubled back for her glass.

The fact she was legally married to a man and the fact that she had a boyfriend back home in New York. It was almost too much for her to bear.

Sam shook her head. No amount of Irish coffee could soothe the warm feeling in her face: if anything, it only added to the feeling within her. That fluttery feeling in her chest and the way her hips wanted to sway about with his rhythms.

She sipped on the glass again and then she bolted from the table.

She couldn't even make it to bathroom when Alex himself bumped into her there at the corridor's entrance.

Not again. He hadn't even broken out in a sweat for a second. But his body lingered there before her, all big and tall and with two buttons undone, as if he had done it all for her.

Not again.

“Oh—hi,” she sputtered and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Hi,” Alex retorted back to her. One inch of clearance separated them, just like with her and Greg. “Uh—I need a drink of water, I'm like dying of thirst right now.”

“And I gotta use the ladies' room—” He tried to bow past her but she went in the same direction as him. She went the other way and he followed her as well.

“Damn it—” he chuckled at that.

“Pardon me,” she told him as she finally bowed past him and into the women's bathroom. She shut the door behind her and she peered into the mirror in front of her. A light touch of pink crossed her face. She shook her head about and let out a long low whistle, even though that did nothing to settle the nervous sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Yet another moment where she hadn't seen Alex without that stoic expression on his face.

She didn't even have to use the bathroom but she needed to be away from the table, away from Greg's prying eyes. She washed her hands and splashed a little cold water on her face before she returned back out to the bar. Greg had gone off, and Alex was back in his spot there at the table. His face was flushed and he pushed his bangs right off of his face so as to keep himself cool.

“Are you okay?” she asked him once she took her seat again.

“Yeah. I just—wasn't expecting to see you over there.”

“I see.”

“What about you? You look like you're about as red as a cherry tomato.”

“It's this Irish coffee,” she told him with a tap of the glass. “I almost wanna Jew it up.”

“Jew it up?” he echoed her. “Why would you wanna Jew it up?”

“What's wrong—with Jewing it up?”

“You Jew it up, you make it kosher and dry. And you don't wanna do that to coffee.”

“Maybe I do,” she teased him. “Make coffee nice and dry.”

Alex shook his head and stuck out his tongue at that, and then he gave her that hearty laugh once again.

“I don't think I'm ready to understand you, Alex Skolnick,” she teased him once again.

“A lot of people don't,” he promised her. “I'm just gonna tell you this right now—really, listen to me, Samantha. A lot of people don't understand me, especially my parents.”

And yet a part of her told her that it was only just the beginning with him.

[ad1thi]

no place like home | AU-gust Day 7: Childhood Friends AU

AU-gust masterlist

“We were childhood friends but since you moved, we haven’t been in contact in years. And my family keeps bugging me about dating, so I lied and said I was in a relationship with you. But all of a sudden you come back to visit and I don’t know how to tell you, that everyone thinks we’re dating.” AU (x)

for @iam93percentstardust, this is compliant to s2.12 Profiler, Profiled. so please watch out for the content of this episode. 

//

Derek Morgan would like it to be noted, penned down in ink, carved into stone, that he loves his family. It's important that there's a record of a point of his life when he adored his sisters, because right now, all he feels is annoyance and rage, and is weirdly sympathising with the UnSub they're investigating, a man who kills younger sisters.

 "Desiree," he says for what feels like the tenth time, "I'm fine. I'm happy. I don't need to meet your friend Savannah. Matter of fact, I don't need to meet anyone, because I'm not on the market for anyone. Why can't you trust me when I'm telling you I'm happy?"

"Derek," Desiree's voice seems significantly more whiney over the phone, "You forget that I know you. That job of yours is killing you, and I just want you to be happy. Why are you against meeting her? I'm not asking you to knock her up, just meet her for dinner."

 Her voice takes a suspicious tone, "Are you seeing someone Derek Morgan? Is that why you're so against this?"

Derek opens his mouth to explain that no, he isn't seeing anyone, he's just content with his life as it is right now, but a commotion in the bullpen distracts him. He looks over to see Hotch opening the door to someone, must be the new recruits. He squints, trying to get a feel for the flesh blood, and what comes out is, "Spencer?"

In his ear, Desiree squeals, and he remembers with rapidly growing horror that his sister is still on the phone. "You're getting Spencer?" her voice gets progressively higher pitched, "I had no idea you guys reconnected! When did that happen?"

Derek means to explain, but he's so tired of trying to convince his sisters that he's better off single - which is how he ends up coming up with his half-cocked story about how he met Spence in D.C a couple months and they'd been seeing each other. He keeps the details purposely vague because his mind is wrapping itself around the fact that tiny Spencer Reid is in his office at Quantico.

 (and that he's no longer tiny anymore)

 "I always thought you guys would end up together," Desiree says speculatively, "but then Spence moved to Nevada. Did you know that Ma and Mrs Reid had bets about when you guys were going to get your heads out of your asses. Oh, she's going to be so happy that you guys reconnected."

"No!" Derek says loudly, causing Elle and Gideon and look up, "Desiree, listen to me very carefully - you cannot tell Ma." Lying to his sister was one thing, Derek was not about to lie to his Ma.

 "Why not?" Desiree asks plaintively, "she'll be so happy about this Derek you know it. Plus, she already knows Spencer, so it's not going to be a huge shock for her."

"I just," Derek fumbles for words, "I want to be the one to tell her okay? And I want to do it proper, bring him back to Chicago, the whole nine yards. This isn't something that I want to do over the phone. Can you respect that?"

"Okay," Desiree huffs, "but you owe me."

 The knot inside his stomach loosens. In the bullpen, Hotch is waving him over, "Desiree I have to go, I think there's been an update in our case. I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Okay, but I expect details!" she says, but he's already stepping outside Gideon's office and climbing down the stairs.

 "Hey," he says when he gets closer, tapping Gideon's shoulder, "Thanks for letting me use your office. My sister does not like to be ignored. I appreciate it man."

"Not a problem," Gideon gestures for Spencer to come over, and Derek notices the minute Spencer recognises him, "Derek Morgan this is -"

" - Spencer Reid," Derek finishes, unsure of whether he could open his arms for a hug or settle for a single handshake, "As I live and breathe."

 "Actually," Spencer ducks his head, "It's Doctor Spencer Reid now. I got my PhDs a couple years back. Derek Morgan? As in..?" he trails off, and its soothing that Spencer is just as unsure of how to approach this as he feels.

Gideon gestures between them, "Do you guys know each other?"

Derek decides to take the first step, and throws his hand around Spencer's shoulder, the way he used to when they were kids, "We grew up together. I've known Spencer since he was a kid in diapers."

 "I thought you were from Nevada," Elle pipes up from next to them, and Spencer answers, "We moved when I was 15. But I was from Chicago before that."

He looks up at Derek with warm fondness, "Derek was there when I graduated from highschool. He was there for most of it."

 "Hell, yeah I was. So, PhDs huh? Plural? Wanna tell me about that?" Derek asks, but before the conversation can go anywhere, Hotch interrupts them. "I hate to break this up, but we've got an update on the case."

 The shift in the group is remarkable, even amongst the newest members. Derek shifts everything out of his mind, including his conversation with Desiree.

 Looking back, that was probably where the trouble started.

 /

 Holding cells are not unfamiliar territory for Derek. He's been inside more than he can count, all over the country. They're all the same, four drab walls and a window or two shackled with bars, and a one-way mirror so that you can look at yourself. Ostensibly, it's so that interrogations can be witnessed by other officers, but Derek thinks they have a more important purpose - they force the perp to face themselves, to look themselves in the eyes with the knowledge of what they've done.

 He's seen hundreds of holding cells. He's just never been the person they're trying to keep in a holding cell.

 (Actually, that’s a lie, but Derek lies to forget that part of his life. There's nothing about that period of his life worth remembering)

 "Derek Morgan," the doors open to reveal Gordinski, and Derek fights the urge to introduce Gordinski's face to his fist. What was the man thinking, arresting him outside his Ma's place? How was he going to explain this to her?

 "Did you get any sleep?" he asks, carrying a beefy file with him. "Slept like a baby, myself. Didn't even want to get out of bed."

"Really?" Derek cocks an eyebrow, "So that wasn't your donut-eating ass on the other side of the glass all night?"

Gordinski ignores him, which is expected, because he's a shit cop, and barrels on with the witch-hunt that he's concocted in his head.

 "Whose grave is this?" he asks, shoving a photo in front of Derek's face.

"Have you been following me?"

Gordinski presses like he hasn't heard Derek, "Whose?"

"I don't know his name," it was the truth. Nobody had known the kid's name. But Derek had looked down at his still body and seen his own face staring back - and it never sat right with him.

"But you led the collection," Gordinski switches out the photo for more of him at the grave, "And you visit him a lot."

"Everytime I come home," Derek isn't ashamed of that, but he has no idea where Gordinski's going with this, "What, you got a crush on me all of a sudden?"

 Gordinski's face twitches, and mentally Derek tallies it. Derek:1, Gordinski: 0, he thinks to himself, but is careful to keep his face blank. There's no need to give Gordinski more ammo than he already has.

 There's a new photo in front of him, and Derek's brow furrows, "Okay that's me at the youth centre, tossing a ball around with a couple of kids."

"You did a little more than that," Gordinski's alluding to something, but for the life of him, Derek can't figure out what, "This is about you giving one of them a ride home, one of the boys."

 Terror creeps into Derek, surely? - "Yeah I did. This kid named, um, Damien. His place was on the way to my mother's."

Gordinski puts down a final photo in front of him, and when Derek sees what it is, he thinks that there should be some sort of law against Gordinski being this smug about a crime scene photo. "Damien Walters," he jabs at the photo, "D O A."

 Oh fuck.

 "Fuck," Derek says out-loud, "someone killed him."

"Not somebody Derek," and with sudden clarity, Derek understands what Gordinski's getting at. "You think I did this?"

Gordinski opens his mouth to reply, probably to read him his rights, but there's a knock on the door - and he excuses himself, radiating smugness.

 "Fuck," Derek says again, out into the empty cell, listening to it echo against the walls.

 /

 The door swings open again, and Derek stands up, fully expecting it to be Hotch. When Spencer steps in however, he loses all of his steam, sagging back down against the desk.

 "Spence," he says in a long huff, "What're you doing here? I thought they weren't letting anyone see me?"

"They weren't," Spencer confirms, "but Hotch and Gideon are busy, and I can be convincing. Occasionally. I think I might've talked so much that Gordinski let me in just so that I would stop talking, but it worked right?"

 "Yeah it did," he says with relief, and moves to hug Spencer before the metal around his wrists dig into his skin, "It's good to see you man. How's everything going on out there?"

Spencer's face turns solemn, "It's not great. You were right, Gordinski is convinced that you did this, and he won't listen to any of us when we say you didn't. I really missed out on some crazy years huh?"

"Yeah you did," he chuckles despite the situation he's in, and reaches out to grasp at Spencer's fingers, "Gordinski's had it in for me for ages. It's a good thing you left before that shitstorm hit me."

 "Yeah Desiree filled me in when I went to see your family earlier," Spencer's face turns sly, "Speaking of, when were you going to tell me that we were dating?"

Derek's eyes widen. Fuck, that conversation felt like it was an age away. "I'm not saying I'm against it," Spencer continues, "but I do like to be consulted about this stuff."

 "Oh you do Pretty boy?" Derek says, just to watch his cheeks heat, "I'm sorry man. It completely slipped my mind, what with the murder charge I'm facing and all."

"I know what you're doing," Spencer hums, "but I'm not letting you off that easy. Desiree thinks that we've been dating for close to a year. Says you talk about me all the time. Somehow, I feel like I would've noticed if I was sleeping with the Derek Morgan for a year, but it never came up."

Derek ignores the twitch in his pants at the thought of sleeping with Spencer, and instead says, "Your observational skills clearly need work pretty boy," he jangles the cuffs, "I'll help you out once I'm out of these."

 Spencer huffs, but lets the subject be, "Are you sure you don't know who's got it out for you Derek? I'm not saying that Gordinski is right, but you have to admit - it's a hell of a coincidence that bodies drop every single time you're in town. It's almost a statistical impossibility. The only logical explanation is that someone's setting you up."

 Carl Buford, Derek thinks instantly, almost unbidden. He dismisses the thought almost instantly though, even though it ruminates in his mind. "Rodney Harris, he's a local gangbanger in town. He's had it out for me ever since we were kids. It’s gotta be him Spence."

 "I think Hotch is running down some leads now," Spencer says with a nod, "I'll tell the team though. Get all of us on it. Are you sure there's nobody else Derek?"

Carl Buford, he thinks again, but he shakes his head. He's not ready for the team to know that about him yet. He's not ready for anybody to know that about him yet, least of all Spencer.

 He knows that Spencer has sense he's lying, but thankfully, he drops it.  He's almost at the door when Spencer turns back to him and says, "I didn't hate it. Being your boyfriend. Wished you'd actually asked me, but - I didn't hate it."

 He's out of the holding cell before Derek can formulate a response.

 /

 Despite his loud, emphatic protests otherwise, all roads lead back to Carl Buford. Derek is still smarting about the fact that Hotch dug into his past, when he specifically told him to leave it the fuck alone, but he takes small comfort in the fact that the rest of the team seems any the wiser.

 He can't escape his Ma and sisters though, and there's a lot of tears and hugs in the Morgan household that night.

 "I never knew," his Ma says desperately, cheeks wet, "you have to believe me Derek. I never knew what he was capable of. I wouldn't have pushed you to reconnect with him if I'd known."

"I know Ma," he soothes, and brings the her palm to his lips to press a dry kiss to the back of it, " 'Course I know that."

"Were there others?" Desiree asks bravely, even though Ma turns to her with a sharp look, "Did he have, others?"

 "I don't know," Derek says honestly. "I'm sure he did. Abusers," his voice cracks over the word abuser, but he pushes ahead, "generally have multiple victims. It's why I made it a point to keep up with kids like James, just in case he ever did something - I wanted them to think they had someone to tell."

 "Shit load of good it did, since Buford still fucked him up anyway. But at least now," he takes a steading breath, "At least now he's behind bars. James has still got time. Time to get over it, to make a new life for himself. I just hope it's enough." His Ma starts crying again then, collapsing in his arms, and Derek just holds up. He feels Desiree wraps her arms around his neck and lean against his back.

 He's loath to leave them the next day, but his leave is up, and JJ got wind of a new case that demands their attention. Still, it's not easy walking out of his Ma's house and onto the plane, especially not with everything that's ever come out.

 There are a few advantages of being back with the BAU though.

 "You didn't hate it huh?" he knocks at Spencer's shoulder, grinning when he blushes, "I believe those were your exact words?"

"I'm the one with the eidetic memory," Spencer replied wryly, "your shtick is muscles. Stop taking my stuff."

"Oh is that how it is?" Derek raises an eyebrow, "I'm not gonna let you skirt past this pretty boy, we're having this conversation. There's nowhere to run anymore."

 Spencer looks around the plane like he's looking for an exit anyway, and Derek softens, "Hey. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But there's a reason I never came clean with Desiree." He moves to get out of his seat, give Spencer some space, but a hand on his bicep stops him.

 "Did you know," Spencer says, apropos of nothing, "that our mothers had a bet going about whether we were going to get together. She told me during one of her more lucid moments. Said the thing she regretted most about leaving Chicago was separating us."

 "I did," Derek says gamely, "Desiree told me about it when I first told her that we were dating."

"I had the biggest crush on you," Spencer says, admitting it like it's a secret, which - given how long it's been since they were kids in Chicago, Derek supposes it is, "Still do, if I'm being honest."

Derek's heart is pumping so loudly in his chest, he can hear his blood roaring. "As long we're being honest," he says with a lilt, but reaches down and intertwines their fingers.

 Spencer looks down at where their fingers are joined, and back up at him, and Derek knows that he gets it from the way his face splits into a wide smile. Before either of them can say anything though, Derek's phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of his pocket with this free hand.

 >> Hotch: I expect the paperwork on my desk by the end of the week. Congratulations.

 Spencer and Derek look up at Hotch simultaneously, but he's looking down at his book. There's a smile playing on his lips though, and despite himself, Derek smiles too.

 Fin

//

this ficlet exists as a spiritual sequel to this fic

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 33

Waking up in Bucky’s arms was something that I truly wanted to get used to - And the way he was grabbing me a little tighter as he woke up, snuggling deeper into my neck and shoulder, kissing his way to full wakefulness, I had a feeling he was all in.  

“Morning,” I murmured as his kisses grew less drowsy and more hungry.  Biting my lip, my back arched so I met his heat, and then I was rolling over my hands searching for his neck as our lips were meeting - magnets, tongues tasting one another and I really liked our new normal. 

Bucky’s teeth nipped at my lower lip as he slid into my warmth, giving me the freedom to make those noises that he’d told me he loved hearing.  He didn’t need to help my legs find purchase around his hips, his left hand was planted on the mattress beside my head while his right was sliding through my hair.  

“I won’t break,” I promised, reminding him that he could control it, that he had before - that the bruises that came weren’t unwanted or unmanageable.  

A small shift and his left hand was on my hip, holding me steady as the tempo took on a less leisurely pace.  His mouth returned to mine, and then he rolled, putting me above him - his idea of a compromise, but I rocked against him and he growled, making me smile against his lips.  Both of his hands slid up my body, along my sides and then, skin and metal, both were cupping my breasts and I broke our kiss as I gasped at the duality of it.  Our eyes met and I watched as he finally seemed to grasp it - that I loved ALL of him.  He shifted and my back met our mattress and our lips were pressed together as his hands, both of them, slid down my body to move my legs back into place around his hips.  And then they rose along my body again, and I felt certain, as we moved together - that Bucky understood that I wanted ALL of him all the time.  

Breakfast was - different.  When we were in Louisiana we ate at the diner, well we did when we managed to get out of bed in time.  We’d only had breakfast once before he’d gone off to be a hero before that - So this was a different situation for us.

“Sit,” he pushed me toward my kitchen table and I raised an eyebrow.  “Please?” He softened it with a kiss on my nose and holding out my chair.  

“Are you actually planning on cooking breakfast or are you just going to hand me leftovers from Romeo’s?”  I asked, watching as he walked back to the fridge in his t-shirt and boxers.  “I’m fine with either, by the way, I just want to know what to expect.”  I didn’t want to give Bucky a complex, hell half the time I ate leftover whatever for breakfast.  

“Hush,” he shot me a look over his shoulder and I contemplated telling him to forget breakfast, I’d rather just have another order of him, heavy on the protein. Dear GOD, what was he MADE of?  I watched as he took stock of my fridge’s contents.  “I think you have everything I need -” He started pulling out stuff, carton of eggs, milk, cheese, some veggies that I fucking hoped were still edible - “Where do you keep your bread?”  

“If it’s still good?”  I pointed to the breadbox.  He nodded.  “There should be some English muffins in the pull out drawer in the -” he went back to the fridge and gave a little woot of excitement.  “The butter is in there too.” I added helpfully.  I watched him pull both out.  “I’m guessing we’re having an omelet?”  

He hummed, moving with more confidence through OUR kitchen now that he saw that I was at ease with him using it.  He found a frying pan, a spatula, a whisk, a knife - which he did a flip with that made my clean panties grow slightly damp doing - a bowl.  I watched as he worked, thinking that he moved like a dancer, silent, but also effortlessly.  He had the omelet going to almost finished before he popped our English muffins in the toaster.  He knew what he was doing, I’d give him that.  

“Should I ask how you know how to do this?”  I asked, moving over to wrap my arms around him from the back and pressing my cheek against his spine.  

His hands covered mine and I heard his contented sigh because my ear was so close to his skin.  “It’s not really classified information, Brooke.”  I chuckled.  “Omelets, toast?”  He shrugged.  “Everyone’s gotta eat, right?”  

I nodded, snuggling into him, breathing him in.  “Yeah, but it’s not fair if you’re good at EVERYTHING, Bucky Barnes.”  That got him laughing.  “I’m sure you’re going to say Steve would tell me ALL the things you’re NOT good at, but he’s not here, and Sam is not really unbiased.”  

“Guess not,” his hands moved and I knew he was flipping our breakfast.  “Gonna let me go so we can eat?”

“No,” I murmured.  “But I’ll unwrap my arms while we eat.”  

First of all, Bucky Barnes can freaking COOK.  Who knew? Well I do NOW.  That omelet was amazing and I seriously considered forcing the cooking duties on him from that moment on, but then I thought that would be a shitty thing to do - so breakfast was his from that moment on when he was home - because I think we both knew that he’d eventually be called back to duty.

Second of all, we had a reprieve from Connie, but that wasn’t gonna last forever. In fact, it barely lasted a full 24 hours once I got to our house.  We finished breakfast and my cell phone gave the alert that I had a text, then it rang because she has all the chill of a house on fire.  

“Hello, Connie,” I had her on speaker and I knew she knew it.  “I haven’t read your text yet, so let’s hear it.”

“Just checking to see if you two are doing -” she sounded like she wanted gory details of how the two of us were doing, had done, would be doing soon, and if there was a video just in case my memory was lacking.  “Oh -” I heard Joey’s voice in the background, squinting I wondered what fucking time it was.  “Joey wanted me to ask, before he runs out to work, do you guys wanna come over tonight for a tiny get together?”  

“Tiny?” My eyes were narrowed at the phone and Bucky’s were wide.  “How tiny, Connie?”  

“Oh, you know, just some of the old crowd.” She was being a little too vague for me.  “We’re so excited that you’re being more social that we wanted to celebrate.”  I looked up at Bucky and he was grinning. 

“And I’m sure it has NOTHING to do with one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes moving in with me, right?”  Bucky looked like he might end up cracking a rib soon from holding back his mirth, go figure.  “Why don’t you ask HIM if he wants to attend this ‘tiny get together’, Connie?” 

The phone went so silent I had to check to see if Connie had disconnected our little chat.  I could see the seconds ticking by that proved she was still on the call - biting my lip I shared a look with Bucky.  

“Do I get an invite?”  Bucky had joined me at the counter, having loaded the dishwasher with our breakfast dishes, and clearly wanting to poke at my best friend as much as I did.  “Or is this an ‘old gang only’ kind of shindig?”  

His arms went around me and he was staring down at me, lips quirked in a grin that I mirrored as we waited for Connie to regain her ability to speak.  “No,” I snorted and Connie groaned.  “I mean, it’s not just an old gang thing - fu-” I heard her cover the phone with her hand and I knew she was promising her little mafia shakedown princess to put some cash in the swear jar after nearly dropping the f-bomb.  “Yeah, Bucky, of course you’re invited.” Connie came back on the line and ALMOST sounded normal - almost.  “I mean, if you’re not busy - doing Avenger type things.” Her voice faded toward the end and I swear both Bucky and I could FEEL her burning blush from her house.  

“Wow, yeah,” Bucky’s laugh lines were in full force around his eyes and his teeth gleamed in a full grin.  “Sounds great, Connie.”  I shook my head, I’d rather eat paint.  “We’ll be there.”  

I rolled my eyes, but he convinced me with a soft kiss.  Fine, I’d give in graciously - for HIM.  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I murmured when I pulled back.  “I guess we’ll be there.”  

Connie gave an ungodly squeal and I considered a pitstop by the church to ask if the priest would come with - just in case she needed an exorcism.  “Awesome!  You’re gonna have so much fun seeing everyone - AND meeting everyone, Bucky!” She started talking a mile a minute and I felt my head spinning while I tried to keep up.  Jesus.  I finally cut in to remind her that Bucky still had to unpack and I had to - well I had to do THINGS.  “Right, of course - Just come around 6, ok?”  I assured her we would and then told her I loved her, while doubting the force of my affection as I hung up.  

“She’s excited to have you back,” Bucky soothed, seeing how exhausted I felt after the call.  “Steve was like that too - sort of.”  He squinted, thinking back.  

“Yeah, I have a feeling that he was a little less bouncy while he had you locked down in that vise, Buck.”  He chuckled.  “But, since we are now being forced to spend the evening with my -” I swallowed hard.  “There is something I want to show you BEFORE you unpack.”  

He looked down at me with curiosity, but also trust.  Good, because what I was going to show him wasn’t BAD.  Grabbing the keys to the shed, I pulled him out the backdoor.  “You got something creepy in your shed, Brooke?”  He was teasing, but I wanted to show him the car - and I also wanted to offer him something else.

[mrsrcbinscn]

[Past] Franny Sor’s 1 hour set at a bar in Downtown Nashville, February 24, 1999

hi i’m in my feelings so have this silly hc piece. It’s a mix of a oneshot and just a list really.

I hc this is the gig that Franny met Cornelius at, but I left all the other details about him vague ^_^

cover versions of the songs are linked for general vibe

so anyway someone come write my cornelius lmao<3

The 9 PM time slot at The Whiskey Hive on Broadway was a coveted one, a surefire moneymaker. Franny, wonderin’ how in the hell she was ever going to pay for her next semester, let alone her next three years at Belmont, jumped at the opportunity to take it when the original singer cancelled at 4:30. Lucky thing she lived on campus and could easily make it in time -- even with guitar and banjo in tow.

Pete the talent manager always called Franny first or nearly-first when he had an open slot. She didn’t usually get the best time slots. She was barely nineteen, new in town, not like these other people who have been songwriting in Nashville for over a decade, and there was a sense of seniority in these circles. Franny could tell Pete was giving her a chance to earn her way into the 8-10 PM time slots and there was no way in hell she way blowing it.

That of course meant there was only one song from her repertoire she could possibly open with...Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me by Linda Ronstadt of course! If Franny ever needed an ‘impress a crowd free’ song, she only needed to whip Linda Ronstadt out of her back pocket. It also didn’t hurt that Terri Clark had recently brought the song back to the attention of country music fans with her cover of it.

“Let’s give a big Whiskey Hive welcome to little miss Franny Sor, a freshman here at Belmont University, all the way from Payne Lake, Georgia!” Pete said into his microphone before turning it off and nodding to Franny to begin.

The crowd applauded between eating and drinking their beers and cocktails, and Franny idly played a few chords to get some background noise goin’ as she introduced herself.

“Hey y’all! Like Pete said, I’m Franny Sor, I live here in Nashville and I’m a music studies student and songwriter. We’re gonna start tonight with a little Linda Ronstadt.”

The crowd, mostly the thirty-five-and-older folks, applauded, and Franny began her acoustic rendition of Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.

“Thank y’all so much! Now, if there’s anything you want to hear at any point in the next hour, just let me know, I love requests. And if you like what you hear, feel free to drop some change in the tip buckets, it helps keep me here in Nashville, put gas in my car, buy my cat wet food. You know, the essentials.”

She went right into Roseanne Cash’s Seven Year Ache, trying not to notice the young man at the bar, probably about three or four years older than her, who met her eye a few times and seemed to be fishin’ for his wallet. 

A few folks dropped some tips in the bucker, including the handsome young man alone at the bar.

“Thank you, thank you! And where are you from, sir?” Franny asked, figuring now was a good opportunity for crowd engagement. 

The man startled, clearly not one comfortable with being put on the spot, but answered her with a nervous smile.

“Ohhh, I’ve always wanted to go there. Cool accent! What brings you to Nashville? What’s your name?”

“I’m living here for work right now. Uh, Cornelius.”

“What kinda music do you like, Cornelius? I can play anythin’. Rock, pop, country, bluegrass.”

He blinked, almost as if he forgot what music was, let alone what he liked. After a beat, he stuttered out, “Um- a- an-an original?”

Good Lord, the squeak that came out of Franny’s mouth. “That’s the first time anybody’s ever requested an original! I’m very excited about this song I just wrote. To keep a very long story offensively short, my mother came to the United States in 1979 as a refugee from Cambodia. She was separated from her entire family during the conflict there, and didn’t even know that my grandmother was still alive until I was nine. I wrote this song over Christmas break, when my grandmother visited from Cambodia and my brothers and I got to meet her. This song is to my mother, from my grandmother’s perspective.  I promise I’ll play a fun song after this one.”

That at least got some laughter from the audience.

She set her guitar down, picked up her banjo, and played Oh, Sophia, a song she wrote.

“I promise y’all, if I ever write a happy little love song, y’all will be the first to know,” Franny joked as she switched out her banjo for her guitar again. “It’s just that ain’t no guy I’ve gone with has been love song material. Hey, Cornelius, if you know any guys worth writin’ a love song about, you call me, eh?” 

Franny hopped up on her tippy toes to look out at a table where a family with a cute little girl was sitting. “What about y’all, with the little girl in pigtails? Where’re you from?”

“San Francisco! Exciting! What brings you to Nashville?”

“Vacation!”

“You came to the right place, I love this little city. What kind of music do you wanna hear?”

“Know any Roger Miller?” Asked the husband.

Franny giggled, then smirked. “Of course I do! Roger Miller’s some of my favorite songwriting in country music. Do you like Kansas City Star?”

She reached down into her guitar case and brandished a tambourine, which she promptly put her foot through on the floor to use to keep time as she played her cover of Kansas City Star.

Franny did her very, very, damned best not to make eye contact with Cornelius with the accent again, but she couldn’t help it. He was the only person in the place lookin’ at her like she wasn’t just background noise.

"Is anybody else here from Georgia tonight? Or just me. Anybody from Georgia?”

A bachelorette party toward the back WOOOOOO’d and Franny immediately regretted asking.

“For real? Where at?”

“Marietta!”

“Y’all like Reba?” More WOOOOOOs from the girls. 

Franny gently slid her tambourine to the side with her foot and got ready to bang out The Night The Lights Went Out in Georgia. If she could get the energy in the room nice and up with Reba, then she could probably play the song she’d been dying to play all hour.

Her eyes kept darting toward Cornelius at the bar, still sipping the same beer he’d started the hour with. At least he ordered food too. Bartender probably wouldn’t be too pissed as long as he tipped good. Judging by the twenty he dropped in Franny’s tip bucket, he should.

It wasn’t just the fact she made good money off of him -- he was just. Listening to her. People didn’t do that here, not really.

As she finished, the crowd applauded for the performance she gave on that song. Turns out going for a tough song pays off...if you got the skills to back it up.

“This is one of my favorite songs, and I don’t get to play it often. Ain’t really country, but I really want to play it. Is that all right with y’all?” Franny asked the crowd, who, on account of being thoroughly entertained at this point, cheered.

She set her banjo down and picked her guitar back up, and picked out the first few notes of Angel of The Morning.

It was a risk, but the bar seemed to like her well enough to go for it. Was it a great bar song? Eh, no. But did Franny believe her vocal performance could make up for that? For sure. 

And lookit that, a gentleman at a table in the middle stood out of his seat to applaud her! Ha!

“Y’all wanna hear a girl do Hank Williams?” Franny joked, and at the applause and whoops, she said, “Gimme a song, any Hank song, c’mon!”

“Lovesick Blues!”

“You wanna hear Lovesick Blues? And where are you from?”

“Calgary!”

“Canada! Well, welcome to Nashville. Here’s Lovesick Blues for ya, Canada.”

Country fans always did find it impressive when she could country yodel into a Hank song.

As she considered what exactly to whip out next, someone shouted, “Tammy Wynette!” and Franny zeroed in on that request. 

“Which song?”

“Stand By Your Man!”

“Alright folks, heeeere’s Stand By Your Man by the legend herself.”

Franny personally didn’t adore the song -- she thought it gave men’s shitty behavior a pass. But it was a classic, and to make it in music, you gotta know the classics.

“Does anybody here like Alanis Morisette? I know, I know, it’s not country...I told y’all! I like everything. I’m a teenage girl in 1999, of course Alanis Morisette speaks to my soul.”

She very pointedly was not looking at cute-Cornelius-at-the-bar as she sang Head Over Feet, lest she catch nerves and butterflies. Even as she noticed him get up out of the corner of her eye and drop another bank note into the tip bucket.

“What do y’all wanna hear for the grand finale? Old country, new country, pop, rock...? What about you, Mr. Cornelius-from-[redacted]?”

“New country! I, uh, actually could use some educating on it. About it. Country.”

Franny smiled and readied her fingers on the right frets for the first chord. “Great! We’ll wrap up our time together with some Mark Chestnutt.”

It’s A Little Too Late was a goddamn blast to play, so why not?

Franny hopped off the stage and sped through counting her tips, in hopes of catching Cornelius before he left to chat him up more. What? He was cute, had a cool accent, and tipped her well. May as well say hello...

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XXXVI)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX | Part XXX | Part XXXI | Part XXXII | Part XXXIII | Part XXXIV | Part XXXV* | Part XXXVI | Part XXXVII | Part XXXVIII

((Hey all! I might have to take a bit of an unexpected hiatus for a few days. Don’t worry, I will try to continue to write while I am gone and post as soon as I can. I apologize for the inconvenience!))

TW: mentions of sex (no actual sex, just vague discussions about it!)

It had been over a week since Remus and Sirius had fooled around in Black and White, and their late night shenanigans had yet to be mentioned by either party. Remus had avoided bringing anything up at the risk of making Sirius feel uncomfortable, and he could only assume that his boyfriend had done the same.

When Remus was out with Lily on their weekly coffee date, he absentmindedly nodded along to whatever his friend was saying; his mind was focused on other, more pressing matters.

"You okay, Remus?" Lily asked, nudging her friend with her foot. "You look a little out of it…"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, trying to bring his attention back to Lily. "Just lost in thought…"

"Wanna share with the class?"

Remus shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. He wasn't sure how much to disclose, or how much Sirius had already said to her. Seeing as Lily wasn't begging for additional details, Remus had assumed that Sirius hadn't mentioned anything about their evening in the gallery.

"Is Sirius a virgin?" Remus asked, surprising even himself with his straightforward question.

Lily stared blankly for a moment before bursting out in laughter. Remus furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what was so funny.

"What kind of a question is that, Remus? Where did that come from?"

"Iunno…" Remus looked down at his hands, trying not to let himself feel embarrassed. "I... was just wondering…"

Lily blinked. She scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side.

"You're not kidding, are you..."

"Nope."

"Uh… no. No, Sirius isn't a virgin. Remus, he's almost thirty!"

"So?" Remus scowled at Lily, crossing his arms in dismay. "Age has nothing to do with that."

"You're right, you're right… I'm sorry. I just… A— are you?" 

"What? No! I'm— no, I'm not. This isn't about me." Remus knew he was sounding a bit too defensive, but he hadn’t been expecting Lily to ask him that. Remus never had any particular qualms discussing his sex life in general, so he didn’t mind answering candidly— he was just taken by surprise by Lily asking him the same question in return. "I...well, things were a bit odd the other night and I was just… wondering…"

"Odd?" Lily quirked an eyebrow as she rested her chin in her palm. "In what way?"

Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"How much do you know?"

"Nothing." Lily must have noticed the look on Remus' face, because she put her hands up and let out a giggle. "Honestly! Nothing! He hasn't told me anything! Last I heard, you two made up and you've been on a few dates and that's it!"

Remus nodded— they had made up and been on a few dates, that much was true. It seemed that Sirius neglected to tell Lily that after each date since their night in the gallery, he gave Remus a chaste kiss and a jovial goodbye before driving away. 

"Sirius and I… we uh… we haven't…" Remus ran a hand through his curls, trying to think of a way to discuss this delicately. "I mean, we've only been dating for a week, but I was kind of expecting to… you know… and we haven't…"

"Hmm…" Lily crossed her fingers and chewed her lip in contemplation. "Maybe he's… trying not to push you? Like… maybe he's trying to respect your boundaries?"

"I've… made my intentions pretty clear," Remus admitted with a chuckle. He had not been subtle about his desire to sleep with Sirius this past week, but Sirius acted as if he was none the wiser. 

"Have you tried asking him?"

Remus shrugged. 

"I figured I'd ask you first… I didn't really want to… make things awkward, you know? We haven't been together that long. I was starting to get the feeling that something else was up..." Remus took another sip from his mug, trying to give himself a moment to think. "Is this… his first time dating a guy?"

Lily shook her head.

"No, he's been with men before. He's… never been averse to sleeping with anyone, to put it lightly."

"Just me, then..." Remus didn’t mean to sound so dejected when he spoke, but he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. 

Lily's expression changed to the dreaded look of pity that Remus hated. She reached a hand out to his, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm sure that's not it, Remus. You should talk to him! I'm sure he has a good reason for why you two haven't done anything…"

Remus' mind wandered briefly to a fleeting image of Sirius on his knees and he quickly distracted himself with his tea. 

"We… I mean… it's not like we haven't done anything…" He murmured, barely concealing his blush.

"Oh my god, Remus! Why haven't you told me?! Tell me everything!" Lily had a grin so wide, Remus couldn't stifle his laugh. 

"No. I'm not telling you everything. We just… we did some stuff… he didn't seem as interested in doing other things…"

"Ugh, you're being so vague. This isn't helpful, you know!" Lily tried to give Remus a serious look, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. 

"He… didn't seem too keen on having sex. I didn't want to push it, so I just… left it at that. I was confused, is all. So I figured I'd ask you if he...had ever done it before..."

Lily's smile wilted as she considered Remus carefully, trying to read him.

"As far as I know, Sirius has always been fine with sex… I'm not really sure what's going on… Do you… want me to talk to James?"

"No no, leave James out of it. I'll talk to Sirius myself. I just…" Remus rolled his eyes as he thought about this whole situation. "I figured I should do some recon in case there was something delicate that I needed to know before I breached the subject. God… this is all so high school…"

Lily smirked at her friend over her coffee cup. 

"You two are adorable," she cooed before taking a sip.

"Yeah yeah… shut up."

——-

"Hey Remus!"

Sirius sounded so enthusiastic on the phone, Remus could picture the gallery owner's smile perfectly in his head. The artist grinned up at his ceiling as he held his cell to his ear.

"Hey…"

"Ready for tonight? I was thinking we could catch a play. I've got a friend who can get us great seats—"

"That sounds lovely, Sirius," Remus interrupted, trying not to sound like he wasn't grateful. 

"I feel there's a but coming…"

"I thought maybe… we could stay in tonight? I mean, don't get me wrong, this past week has been amazing, and it's so sweet of you to take me out to all of these things…"

"But?"

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

"But I hate that it always has to be you treating me. I'd… I'd love to be able to treat you to something for a change. I just… you know I can't really aff—"

"Exactly!" Sirius sounded like he was sure Remus had just proved his point. "I don't mind treating you to stuff! You're my boyfriend, afterall. Let me spoil you. You know that I can afford it, I don't really see the problem!"

Remus held back his groan. Of course Sirius didn't see the problem.

"I know, I just…" Remus picked up a paintbrush that had been lying on his bedside table and he began to twiddle it between his fingers. "I like that you want to spoil me, I just… I'm not really a fan of being spoiled…"

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, Remus was sure that Sirius was about to break up with him.

"So… you don't want me to take you out places?"

"No, no, I just… how 'bout a happy medium? It doesn't have to be going out every time we see each other. We don't have to go to fancy restaurants every evening. We can… stay in sometimes. Watch some TV… play a board game… you know?"

Something about Sirius' silence told Remus that he didn't know.

"So… you want to spend tonight in?"

"Yeah! You can… uh…" Remus turned to look at his tiny flat, knowing that it was nothing compared to what Sirius was used to. "You can come to my place if you want. I can… cook you dinner…"

Remus silently prayed that Sirius would say no and invite Remus over to his place instead. That would be the ideal compromise: a night at Sirius' place.

"You know what? I'd like that. Dinner at your place sounds lovely."

Remus blinked, his hand stopped moving and the brush fell onto his chest.

"I… what?"

"We can have dinner at your place tonight. I didn't realize you could cook!"

Neither did I…

Remus closed his eyes tightly, silently cursing himself for trying to be polite and inviting Sirius over.

"Yeah, okay," he choked out, trying to sound casual. "I'll cook you dinner at mine. See you tonight…"

"See you tonight, Remus. I can't wait to see what you're gonna make!"

"Yeah… same…" Remus groaned, more to himself than to Sirius. He had accidentally dug himself a hole that he wasn't entirely sure he could climb out of. 

[sabinemorans]

Mission Impossible: Nanny

Quinn McKenna x female reader

Words: 2,679

Warnings: none!

A/N: This was co-written with @nothing-but-a-comedy the title credit goes to @sailorsquadgoals

Quinn was finally starting to get the hang of caring for Rory, but there were some days he wished he had some help. Shared custody with his wife was already a bit of a struggle, and Quinn knew that Rory could use an extra caregiver or two. It eased his mind that Rory was actually the one to suggest this idea since his mother had hired a nanny recently. Of course he said it in his way– very blunt and matter-of-fact– but Quinn enjoyed it actually.

Even though everything had changed after the Predators had come, this was a good thing to come of it. He felt closer to Rory now than ever and it would take a special person to be good enough to watch him, and a very special ad to draw them in. It was a normal ad detailing the basics up until it mentioned protection for his son, including the lines “people with ex-military or security background preferred.”

It took a little longer than Quinn had hoped, even if it was a unique ad, but he finally found the perfect candidate hit. She was educated, well reviewed, and passed a background check on the nanny site with flying colors.

That would have been enough for anyone else, but Quinn knew with his line of work, he’d have to do a deep search just to be on the safe side. He sent her name to Nebraska, knowing he could trust him to find out about any red flags. Surely she would understand, and if she didn’t, then Quinn would know she wasn’t right for the job.                                 

The best part was her suggestion for a secondary nanny as the request had mentioned this was protection for the child as well. The second one, a man, also passed with flying colors and was sent to Nebraska. When there were no red flags to be found after Nebraska had essentially done a deep dive-Quinn emailed them. Cause if Nebraska couldn’t find anything, then there was nothing to find. 

It looked like a solid deal, and Quinn was a little excited to be getting some extra help and a chance to make Rory happy. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was how attached he would become to her. To you. 

~~~

You’d partially given up on finding a new nanny job when finally good news was in your email. Quinn McKenna wanted to interview you! Grinning, you immediately called your backup and very best friend Din, telling him the news. 

“If he wants to see me, he probably wants to see you too, considering,” you said, moving from your kitchen counter to your stove where pasta was boiling. You had your headphones on so there was less chance of you dropping your phone into boiling water which had only happened once but Din acted as if it had happened a dozen times. Honestly, it couldn't have happened after he had left your apartment?

“Good, his was the only interesting job on there. I wonder if he’d be ok with me bringing the baby along at times. Maybe if the kid takes a liking to us, it might be good for him to socialize with a baby.” Din had adopted a baby at the beginning of the year. He’d gone with a mutual friend of yours to an adoption agency and just fallen in love. It had taken forever but as he put it, he’d just known as soon as those big dark eyes had found his that they were meant to be. 

“We’d definitely need to build some trust first. I know my little one doesn’t cry much, but to a child on the spectrum, it can be very hard to handle. That would be the best case scenario though since there’s two of us. Though this McKenna guy mentioned protection, so maybe he’s a political person or something. We don’t wanna bring that dark eyed angel into any danger.” You strained your pasta and dumped it a bowl, pouring sauce on top and beginning to mix.  

“Fair enough. Guess we’ll see, sweet girl, huh?” 

You smiled and shook your head at the affectionate nickname. “Don’t call me that Din, you know better. I always think you want something from me when you call me that.” 

“What me? Never,” came the reply where he was so obviously grinning like an idiot. God you hated him sometimes, it was so hard to love someone so ridiculous but you managed it even with knowing him as long as you did. You could ask for better company than him sometimes but you couldn’t ask for a better best friend. Bastard knew it too. The two of you were bonded for life, for better or worse.

“Smartass. I’ll call you with the details when he emails me back, love you Din.”

“Love you back, sweet girl.” You heard a laugh before he hung up and you pulled your headphones off. 

“Silly man,” you muttered as you began to eat your pasta and homemade sauce on the way to your couch. Turning your TV on, you settled with a comfort show so your brain could wander as you ate. Quinn McKenna...what an interesting name.

~~~

Mr. McKenna had been busy with work over the weekend, so it took a few days for the interview to happen. You arrived with Din by your side, as Mr. McKenna had proposed you had applied more or less as a team and would be interviewed as such. He told you that he liked your forethought to mention a second you already trusted, and that compliment made you smile. Thinking ahead had always been a strength of yours. 

“Should you knock or should I knock?” Din looked at you and you shrugged back with an indifferent look on your face. 

“Do you think it matters?”

“I guess not.”

“...you want to knock don’t you?”

The door to the cozy two story house had an old school knocker on it and Din’s grin gave you all the information you needed. 

“Go on then,” you chuckled, waving your hand at it. 

He knocked three times and sighed, satisfied with that stupid grin on his face. You shook your head. Ridiculous man. 

The man who answered the door looked anything but ridiculous. He was absolutely not what you’d been expecting at what-six foot two? Filled out well too with bright blue eyes you could get lost in, blonde hair shorter on the sides a little bit flopping at the top and a smile that screamed “good ol’ boy” more than anything you had ever seen.

And you were fucking hooked.

But you were a professional and despite the sudden mental images of jumping on him and pressing your body to his (likely muscular and strong and maybe even a bit pudgy) body you simply smiled brightly and hoped that Din would keep his professional manner even though Quinn McKenna was definitely one of your types. 

“Mornin’, thank you both for comin’,” McKenna said before waving the two of you in. 

Din let you lead and he followed both you and McKenna to the dining room table where your possible employer sat in front of both of you. He was prepared, both your resumes sat before him and he had them side by side with what looked like prepared questions written down. Din and you shared a glance that spoke volumes. He was very serious wasn’t he? Maybe he was political, maybe he was a part of the mob or maybe he was some kind of paranoid kook. It was a nice house and it actually reminded you of David Lieberman’s house in ‘The Punisher’ and then a fourth option to what Mr. McKenna did crossed your mind quickly followed by a fifth. 

Either he was a government spook, or he was the Punisher. Either way you weren’t that mad about it.

“Take a seat,” Quinn gestured to the chairs in front of him with a face that didn’t betray much emotion.

You noticed that he glanced at you a few times too many, but he made it hard to read what was going on in his head. He must have noticed the confused looks on your faces, because he gave you a reassuring smile as you sat down before clearing his throat. “You must be wondering why I needed two nannies with your type of background,” he chuckled.

You exchanged a look with Din for a split second before Mr. McKenna broke the semi-awkward silence. “I’m in the military too and I wanted people I could trust with my kid’s safety,” he explained. His answer was still a little vague for you, but you figured you’d ask him more about it later. It was nice to know he would understand the two of you though, you’d worked security for a little while and were amazed at how much people pushed back when asked what you thought was safest. With Mr. McKenna you might fight over strategies but at least he’d understand them.

You found yourself wondering what branch he was in, what his rank was when Din spoke, pulling you back to the present. 

“Well, in that case, you found the right people for the job,” Din said in a professional manner. “We both served in the Marines. I was a Corporal and she was a Sergeant as I’m sure you saw by our records.” Din explained, and you took a moment to admire how well he always pitched the two of you as valuable assets. He went on to detail (as much as he was allowed to) how you’d worked together for years. You did chime in here and there with details Din couldn’t remember and explained your individual special skills. 

Din was a master of stealth, infiltration and quiet extraction were his specialties. You on the other hand were a sniper. Your furthest confirmed kill was clocked at 1110 yards– a near record. The pair of you were well trained in hand-to-hand combat and familiar with most guns that could be thrown at you though with the choice between a gun or a knife, you favored the K-Bar while Din favored his Sig Sauer.

Mr. McKenna  crossed his arms in front of his chest, giving Din an impressed look as he heard his pitch. His eyes had lit up when you said you were a sniper and you smiled back, recognizing the look of a fellow sniper in him. The fact that you had something so specific in common was mind blowing really!  While you both derailed for a moment to talk about things you saw Din smirking a little. Ass. He knew exactly what it meant when you grinned like that. Trying to stay professional (and not give Din the satisfaction of knowing your thoughts too well) you locked down the thoughts of the two of you on a date, seeing who could  hit the farthest target even if it would probably be you. 

“Both of your resumes are impressive, but I’m wonderin’ why you guys left after spending so much time climbing the ranks.” Mr. McKenna quirked an eyebrow at you, so you chose to answer this question instead of leaving it to Din.

“It was just time for us to get out. With all the jobs I’ve had in the world I’ve listened to my gut about when it was time to seek out something else. Din trusted me enough that when I said the Marines wasn’t the right career for us anymore that he put in to leave when I did. A few months after we left we got word that a lot of our unit had been badly injured in an ambush masquerading as a rescue mission.” You shifted your hair from one side to the other and kept eye contact with Mr. McKenna, who let out a sigh through his nose and nodded. Nothing else needed to be said about that.

After that it lightened up. You felt at ease answering his questions; he didn’t seem as intimidating as you initially thought him to be, and the interview eventually flowed more like a friendly conversation than a job interview. You all even laughed about things! Maybe it was the fact that the three of you could bond over your military backgrounds (Quinn as he insisted on being called after the third time he was referred to as Mr. McKenna, was a Ranger Captain), or maybe it was because of the way that Quinn looked at you differently than he’d look at Din. You didn’t have time to put your finger on what kind of look it was exactly before a young boy came walking out of a nearby hallway but it certainly warmed you all over. It was nice to talk so freely with another man besides Din too, someone else who understood.

Din’s face lit up as he saw him, and you couldn’t help but smile as he exclaimed, “Oh hey, little man! Is that Rory?” He asked as he turned to Quinn with a bright smile.

“Yup,” Quinn responded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gestured for Rory to sit beside him. He ruffled Rory’s hair and pointed in yours and Din’s direction to introduce you to him. “These might be your new nannies, whaddya think of that, bud?”

Din held his fist out for Rory to bump and you shook the little guy’s hand in a greeting, smiling widely at how cute he was. You glanced up at Quinn as Din and Rory exchanged a few words, already acting like they were the best of friends. Quinn was obviously very protective of his son, happily watching the exchange, but you could tell he was watching closely to see how Din would get along with him. Din was being his usual self around children, boisterous but at a respectful volume, which was so different from how he was around most new people. You laughed at a stupid joke Din made which made Rory smile before running your hands through your hair again. Your eyes were pulled towards Quinn in soft glances and you noticed when he glanced at you as well, carefully timed to when you were listening to Rory talk about what he liked to do and how he liked things to be.

Before your eyes could meet Quinn’s and you could really analyze those glances, you heard Rory mention something about a fight. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart what did you say?”  Quinn looked at Rory, stunned and then at the two of you. 

“Now hang on buddy I don’t-“ His father started but Rory kept going anyway. He was definitely determined and had been waiting to say this. 

“I wanna see you guys fight, you know, see who’s better. And the winner can fight my dad! If you can beat my Dad or just hold your own you’re definitely good enough to be my nanny.” The sweet faced little boy was so succinct about his needs that you laughed a little incredulously but with no small amount of humor.

“You know what you want sweetheart I’ll give you that,” you said with a grin and shrug to Quinn and Din. “I’m game, but we probably shouldn’t swing to really hurt each other. Do you have boxing gloves maybe or we could do more Jiu Jitsu and grapple rather than throw punches.”

“Yeah no, no real hits. But if the little man wants to see a fight he’s gonna get a fight.” Din was already standing, making to take off his nice jacket and you were following suit when Quinn stood and waved his hands. Jesus-his hands were huge. How had you not noticed that yet?

“Hang on hang on,” he said looking at the pair of you, both paused with your jackets pooled at your elbows.

“But Daaaaad,” Rory whined, looking up at him.

Quinn raised a brow at his son before smirking and letting out a small chuckle. “You guys shouldn’t fight…” He grinned at Rory before adding, “...in the house.”

[ahogehope]

BlazBlue Alternative Dark War Nightmare Fiction Event English Translation (Part 2: Starting Beneath the Dim Light)

Crossposted from reddit just for a little more exposure.

This is part 2, or the third story quest in the event.

Previous parts can be found here: [Part 1-1, Part 1-2]

Some notes:

- The default name of Rei is used for the player character and was selected as male at the beginning of the game.

- I’m still on the fence on if I should be using honorifics or not. Your opinion on the matter would be greatly appreciated.

Click here to be taken to a pastebin with the translated dialogue or look under the read more to read it here.

Section 2 – “Starting Beneath the Dim Light”

Fuzzy Ah, that was fun! I enjoyed that more than I thought I would!

Ciel Fun... I guess you meant combat when you said you wanted to “play.”

Fuzzy But there’s nothing more fun, don’t you think? Don’t you?

Fuzzy There aren’t many people who play with me anymore. Everyone always breaks before we’re finished.

Fuzzy Well, I didn’t exactly give my best performance this time either. But you guys played with me until the end so I guess you pass.

Raabe I thought the goal was to get know each other better, not an all out battle. Such bloodthirst is unbecoming.

Raabe Although... we seem to have passed the test. We probably shouldn’t worry too much about what he says.

Fuzzy Ahahaha, don’t be such a stick in the mud. It’s not like I actually tried to kill you, you know.

Fuzzy Besides, what better way to get to know one another than to have some fun?

Fuzzy So now I know more about you and you guys know a little more about me. Right?

Fuzzy Especially you... Rei.

Raabe Admittedly I was able to collect some valuable data. In any case, please hurry and tell us where we can find the elements.

Fuzzy Okay～.

Fuzzy If you keep heading straight down this road, the scenery should start to change a bit. It’s over there.

Hazama Just keep going straight? You can’t give us a bit more of a detailed explanation?

Hazama Do you not trust us or are you simply handling the situation as you see fit?

Hazama Ah, I’m not trying to sound overly skeptical here or anything.

Fuzzy You can take your doubts and shove ‘em. You’ll be fine, the city isn’t that big anyway.

Fuzzy It’s not that far and you’ll know it when you see it. Probably.

Kazuma "You think?" I can’t speak for Hazama-san, but I can’t say I feel overly comfortable with this either... Fuzzy-san...

Kazuma Is this really okay?

Fuzzy Who knows? I’m just following the role I was given. You don’t know if I’m lying to you but you also don’t know what the truth is either, do you?

Fuzzy Well, whether you believe me or not is up to you guys. Isn’t it?

Raabe That’s a logical way of looking at it. We don’t know anything about this world so whether or not we believe you we don’t have much of a choice other than to do what you say.

Fuzzy Now you’re getting it. What’s the harm in just going along with it? I’ll tell you everything I know.

Fuzzy After that, you’re on your own～!

[Fuzzy leaves]

Ciel Doesn’t matter whether he’s coming or going, it’s impossible to tell where Fuzzy-san is.

Raabe What an undesirable trait. Saying whatever they want and then vanishing without a trace.

Raabe The information we were given might have been hard to digest, but our options do appear to be limited.

Raabe We still need to find a way out of here. If gathering these elements is our only lead, then that’s our best option going forward.

Ciel Roger.

Hazama Please allow me to accompany you. I don’t think I could stand being left alone again in this unfamiliar place.

Hazama I’m counting on you.

Kazuma ...If you ask me, this guy may be better than Fuzzy-san but he still seems like a piece of work...

Hazama I must admit I was surprised, though.

Ciel What do you mean?

Hazama I wasn’t expecting you guys to be so skilled in combat.

Ciel Thank you for the compliment.

Hazama On the contrary, I’m much more ashamed such skills are outside my range of expertise.

Hazama I’m much more suited to infiltration and reconnaissance. Or, that is to say, I get the feeling I would be anyway.

Hazama Nevertheless, I must be lucky to have met up with such strong individuals. Kazuma-san is even a magician! How cool is that?

Kazuma A-Ah... is that so...

Hazama As long as I’m with you guys, collecting these elements should be a breeze. It’s a real confidence booster.

Raabe .........

Hazama My, you’ve been staring at me rather intensely for a while now. Is there something on my face?

Raabe ...No. I was merely ruminating on our situation. Don’t worry about it. If I feel I must say something, rest assured I will speak my mind.

Hazama Oh, is that all? I won’t look into it too much then. Feel free to ruminate to your heart’s content.

Raabe ...Hey, Rei.

Raabe Do you think Kazuma is real?

>I think he’s real. Raabe Really... If you think that’s the case then you’re probably right.

>What do you mean? Raabe ...No, it’s probably nothing. Tell me if you start to notice anything off.

Raabe We have so little to go on right now and everyone we’ve met, including Kazuma, have been cryptic so far.

Raabe For now, I would be wary of our allies.

Ciel Just like Fuzzy-san said, the scenery has changed.

Ciel If he’s to be believed, one of the keys... the elements, should be here.

Kazuma At first glance, nothing seems particularly suspicious.

Kazuma Since this place is so big, should we split up to look for it?

Hazama We still don’t know what these elements are supposed to look like. Splitting up would probably be unwise.

Hazama It would be nice if it turned out to be something simple like an actual key but... I doubt things will end up being that easy.

Raabe I agree. For all we know, it might not even be visible.

Hazama I do so hope he didn’t forget to let slip that these “keys” are potentially dangerous.

Ciel Kagami-san once called this sort of thing a “flag.”

Raabe Hey, don’t just say that. You’ll end up making it come true.

Kazuma .........

Hazama Kazuma-san? You’ve had this distressed look on your face ever since earlier. Is something bothering you?

Kazuma Aah, no, that’s not it. I’ve just had a lot to think about.

Hazama That’s understandable. All of this happened out of nowhere, after all.

Hazama I can see how you’d be overwhelmed.

Hazama We’ve all gotten caught up in this awful situation.

Kazuma Haha, you’ve got a point...

Hazama Does this sort of bizarre thing happen to you guys often?

Hazama You’ve remained very composed this whole time, analyzing things, and you seemed accustomed to combat as well.

Raabe How observant of you. Where did you cultivate such a discerning eye?

Raabe You had said before that you were skilled at infiltration and reconnaissance. What sort of work do you do?

Hazama Aw, now that’s not very fair. I’ve forgotten everything about myself. What I can remember is vague at best.

Hazama I told you earlier. I just have a feeling that I would be good at investigation. There’s really no deeper meaning to it.

Hazama It’s nothing more than an educated guess.

Raabe Is that so. Well let me tell you something you may have forgotten then. It’s hardest to trust those who speak the loudest. You would do well to remember that one.

Hazama Ahaha... So harsh.

Ciel ...!

Ciel I’m picking up a biological reaction! It’s coming closer--!

[gunshot]

Hazama Gyaaeehh!

Ciel That was an interesting scream.

Hazama I don’t care about that right now! Did you not see me almost get shot to death!?

Raabe You’re still alive, aren’t you? Ciel, where is the enemy located?

Ciel In front of us, at 12 ‘o clock!

[enter Noel]

Ciel Noel-san?

Ciel What are you doing here, Noel-san... Were you brought here, just like us?

Noel Who are you? Why do you know who I am?

Raabe This doesn’t seem to be like Kazuma’s case.

Raabe No, wait... this reaction...

Raabe I figured it out. This is the element. Noel Vermillion possesses the element of fire.

Ciel Why would Noel have one of the keys Fuzzy-san was talking about?

Raabe It feels like she has more than just possessing it.

Raabe Rather than being Noel Vermillion herself, the element may have overwritten Noel’s very existence here.

Noel Excuse me, but if you have nothing to do with me would you please stand down? I have business with Hazama-san.

Hazama Eh? Me? With me? Uh, now hold on just a minute.

Hazama I’m very sorry but I have no idea who you are. ...Then again, perhaps I should know who you are.

Hazama Yes, could you please tell me? What is my relationship with you?

Noel How dare you say such a thing...!

Noel How could you have already forgotten what you did to me and my friend!

Raabe She’s not being very reasonable. What did you do?

Hazama How am I supposed to know!? I wanna know just as much as you do!

Hazama Uh, Miss... Noel, was it? I think you may have mistaken me for someone else...

Noel I’m NOT mistaken!

Hazama Even if you say that... I really don’t remember anything so I don’t know what you expect me to do...

Kazuma Since she’s already so angry, why don’t you just go ahead and apologize for now?

Ciel I’ve heard that it’s always important to apologize.

Hazama I don’t really understand the point of apologizing for something I don’t remember doing but... I guess it can’t be helped. Sometimes it’s an adult’s job to take the high road...

Hazama Um, Noel-san, correct?

Hazama I offer my sincerest apologies. I must have hurt you deeply.

Hazama It’s regrettable that I don’t know who you are, but from the bottom of my heart I apologize.

Noel There’s no emotion in your words... they have no meaning.

Noel Were you even going to apologize in the first place!? No, you can’t just apologize and expect me to forgive you.

Noel I must defeat you...! You’re my enemy!

Hazama Uh, wait, isn’t this going a little differently than expected? I apologized and now things have gotten worse!

Hazama At any rate, would you mind putting the guns down? They’re scaring me.

Ciel Noel-san’s battle level is increasing and she’s getting more hostile by the second.

Hazama You think I can’t see that!?

Noel Don’t bother trying to resist!

[gunshot]

Hazama Aaaiiii!

Noel I will never forgive you!

[gunshot]

Hazama W-Wait a second! Surely we can talk this out!

Noel Talk... there’s nothing here that needs to be talked about...!

[gunshot]

Hazama Owaah--!?

Kazuma Do you think he’ll be okay...?

Hazama Do I look okay to you!? I don’t get along well with people like this!

Hazama This girl is a fire type, right? I’m a dark type. Fundamentally we just aren’t compatible.

Hazama You understand, don’t you, Kazuma-san? Since you’re a wind type you’re also no good at this kind of thing, right?

Kazuma Eh? Me? I... that’s...

Hazama Ohhhhh this is bad!

Hazama I leave this up to you guys!

>What!? Hazama Don’t give me that look! Surely you knew something like this would happen eventually.

>Even if you leave it to us... Hazama You guys are my only hope! I’m counting on you!

Hazama That’s it, Ciel-san should know how to handle this, right?

Hazama She’s a light type, after all.

Noel What are you whispering about...!

Noel You there! Please hand over Hazama-san quietly!

Noel Otherwise, I will have to use force...!

[gunshot x3]

Raabe Oh dear. It would appear that there’s no use trying to talk things out.

Raabe I guess it’s unavoidable. Ciel, Rei, prepare for battle.

Ciel Roger! Initiating elimination of target.

[static]

Raabe ...she disappeared?

Ciel Noel’s reaction is no longer within range. However, in her place is...

[a sphere with the fire symbol appears]

Kazuma That’s... a mass of mana, isn’t it? That’s the feeling I’m getting from it.

Kazuma I can feel it radiating the power of fire.

Hazama Perhaps this is the fire elemental key.

Fuzzy Ding ding ding! You’re absolutely correct!

[enter Fuzzy]

Raabe You were watching us from somewhere. You’re timing is too perfect.

Fuzzy Hm? Whatever could you be talking about?

Fuzzy Rather than that, aren’t you more interested in where the next key is? Aren’t you?

Kazuma I don’t think...

Fuzzy Aren’t you curious? You are, right?

Fuzzy I’ll tell you about it. There’s a building down at the end of this road – the rooftop is your next stop.

Raabe Once again you are awful with giving directions... So we’ll find the next element if we head there?

Fuzzy Probably. I think so anyway.

Raabe You think so... Take a little responsibility for your words.

Fuzzy Ahaha, you’re funny. I’m plenty responsible.

Fuzzy I hope you manage to get the next one too. If I feel like it, I might even come watch again. Alright?

Fuzzy Well, good luck getting there!

[Fuzzy leaves]

Kazuma So... should we start heading that way?

Hazama We should do that. We can’t expect to make any progress if we just stand here.

Hazama I wonder which elemental key we’ll find next?

[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.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @cxddlyash @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @dammitbands @sexgodashton @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes

[winterrose527]

I’m voting early tomorrow in Texas bc it’s my birthday and I wanna give my vote an extra oomph. I’m gonna wear blue since can’t wear specific political stuff and go with my friend.

I’d like something with a supernatural element for Myrcella and Robb, please. Maybe a ghost story.

Oh my goodness, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARLING! So so happy you were born, and so happy that you are taking the opportunity to do that most important thing - vote!

Here you go, it may be a bit different than you were expecting...

Only Sansa Stark could make enough friends in a week and a half to fill the entire bottom floor, and part of the grounds, of their new home.

Home.

Robb looked around the grand room he was in, completely with coffered ceilings and marble pillars. It didn’t look like any home he was used to. Their home up North had been large but well… homey. It had been full of wood and old photographs and at least one fireplace was going at any given time. 

The kids had been overwhelmed when their parents showed them this place, with the pool and the tennis courts and the all of it. Sansa had nearly fainted when his parents showed her the suite she’d call her own, complete with the dressing room and a separate sitting room.

It was far too King’s Landing for him though. He didn’t care about more room for his clothes, especially because none of the ones he wore up North were usable now. 

It was Halloween and it was warm. Really warm. 

Up North, Sansa would always complain that having to wear a coat over her costume or layers underneath ruined the effect. Tonight though, she’d worn her toga and sandals and headdress and looked every inch a queen - no parka in sight.

She’d had the idea to throw a party last weekend and their parents, so grateful that one of their children was adjusting, had readily agreed. He hadn’t paid much attention to the details, too focused on his college applications and football practice, so when he’d come downstairs this afternoon and saw a giant cauldron on the lawn being filled by uniformed waiters with water and apples it had been his first indication that the party was going to be more than a few friends.

He recognized some people as he walked through. There were people dressed as weirwolves, and minions, and nurses. One girl dressed as a bubble bath, which was far more endearing than the countless girls dressed as cats. He nodded at a guy from his football team who was dancing with a girl in his homeroom, the pair of them dressed up as characters from some show everyone was watching.

Sansa was somewhere, the belle of the ball. She fit in better down here than any of his other siblings, better than him. Though, she actually tried to when the rest of them were focused on getting back North to their real lives.

He tried not to be a grouch about it, to set a good example, but this was his senior year. He was supposed to finish it with Theon and Jon, get their last championship and do Senior Prank Day and Senior Skip Day and Prom with all the people he’d been going to school with since Kindergarten.

And he hated everyone in the south for not being them. 

He walked through the kitchen where a couple was making out against the fridge and down the hallway past his father’s study to the library. He rarely came in here, but he just needed a few minutes away from the music and the people to gather himself.

The light was on, which was weird because it had been made clear that everything past the kitchen was off-limits. He looked around warily, figuring that a couple had come in here to do more than make out.

“Oh!,” a surprised voice said. 

He turned towards the window, surprised he hadn’t seen her standing there before. She was a wisp of a thing, to be sure, but with her golden hair and sparkly dress she was hard to miss.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, adding in his head in my family’s private room. 

That wasn’t the sort of thing you said out loud to a girl who looked like her though.

“That’s alright,” she said and then smiled, as though they shared a private joke, “I suppose I’m the one that startled you.” 

There was something in her voice - money and honey but something else that he couldn’t really place.

“A good surprise,” he admitted and then scratched his cheek, “Though uh, I’ll admit you’re not really supposed to be in here.” 

The girl looked around the room and smirked, “Tell me about it.” 

“What?,” he asked.

At the same time though she said, “I’m Myrcella.” 

“Robb,” he waved awkwardly.

“It’s a pleasure to know you,” she smiled and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I… haven’t seen you around,” he told her.

She looked to be a year or two younger than him, maybe Sansa’s class, so they wouldn’t have any classes together. Even still, he definitely would have remembered her if he’d seen her in passing. She looked prissy, and certainly spoke prissily, so it was possibly she went to a different private school in the area.

Sansa would have died over her costume. Like her, Myrcella had chosen a historical one. She was dressed as a flapper, but it didn’t look cheap the way the ones in the costume stores always did. He wondered vaguely if the dress had belonged to someone in her family. 

More acutely he was focused on the girl inside it.

She placed her hands behind her back and nodded, looking out the window, “I don’t come out very much.”

“Why not?,” he wondered, “Too shy?”

She looked at him and bit her lip, “Something like that.” 

“Well I can leave you…,” he started, hoping she’d say no. 

She shook her head, “It’s nice to talk to someone.”

He nodded and went towards her. She looked at him like he was a hunter, so he tried to appear as non-threatening as possible when he sat on the couch. 

She sat in one of the arm chairs, crossing her legs at the ankles. Her skin was practically shimmering under the overhead light. 

“So how’d you know to come over here?,” he wondered. 

She looked at him and said, “Want to know a secret?” 

“Yes,” he agreed readily.

“I used to live here,” she told him. 

“Oh!,” he exclaimed. “That’s… that must be strange to be back here then.”

She smiled, “Truth be told, it feels like I never left.” They could hear the music getting louder and she closed her eyes, “It’s just splendid that there are parties here again.”

He wondered when she’d lived here. Maybe as a little girl. It was unusual for people to move out of their family homes, unless there had been a tragedy. Death, debt, or divorce. 

He looked at her, really looked. Even with the golden hair and the perfect cheek bones and the sparkling eyes, it was clear. This was a girl that had seen a tragedy or two. 

“Wha-,” he started to ask but then he heard a loud crash. “Fuck - sorry, I um… I have to go see what that was… can you… will you be here…will you stay?” 

She smiled sadly, “Oh, at least for a little while.” 

He nodded and got up. He should ask for her number, just in case, but that crash sounded bad. He waved at her and ran out. 

The crash was bad. There were two guys fighting in the front hall and they’d knocked over an antique vase. More people had crowded in. 

It was a half hour before he’d been able to fully break it up, and by that time people had gotten a little out of hand. He and Sansa decided it was time for the party to be over, so they ushered everyone out the door. 

By the time the last person had left it was after midnight. He ran to the library but found it empty, and cold.

Disappointed, he went up to bed and called Jon. He and Theon were at a party and they put him on speaker phone so that the whole party could say hi. When he hung up he turned out the light, wanting to fall asleep quickly, and sleep through the rest of the year.

That night though he had the strangest dream. Myrcella was there, dressed just as she had been that night, but everyone else was dressed like her too. There was something he had to tell her. Urgently. Like his life depended on it - or hers did. He kept getting close to her and then she’d slip away. And then there was a bang! and he woke up.

He padded downstairs to the kitchen and saw Arya sitting at the island eating cereal and his Mom unloading the dishwasher.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled. 

“Our hero,” Arya cooed at him.

His Mom looked over at him, “Morning baby, thank you for keeping things from getting too out of hand.”

He shrugged, getting himself a mug for coffee, “Sorry about the vase.” 

He sat down next to Arya and sipped his coffee, picking a piece of cereal out of her bowl. She slapped his arm but nudged her bowl closer to him anyway. 

“So,” his Mom said, “Did you manage to have any fun at all?”

To his surprise he nodded. His mom looked at him in surprise and he said, “I met a girl.”

“Ooooooh,” Arya teased, making kissy faces. 

He clamped his hand over her mouth and looked at his Mom’s happy face and explained, “She used to live here.” 

At that his Mom’s face fell into a look of confusion, “Robb this house was vacant when we bought it. Had been for… oh say…. thirty years? The last owner didn’t have any children, and it had been his since…I think the twenties…Are you sure that’s what she said? Could she have meant in King’s Landing?”

He thought about it and nodded, “I…I guess she could have? I haven’t seen her around. You’re sure about the previous owners?”

She nodded, “Yes, it was a Mr. Baelish who owned it. A bachelor til the end… there’s some things of the house’s past owners still in the library… we’ve hardly moved anything… so you can check but I’m almost positive.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “I’m going to go for a run.” 

He went upstairs and got changed into shorts and a t shirt and pulled on his sneakers and grabbed his head phones. He was going to take a run in the woods, there was a path that he liked, so he went down the back staircase. 

He was about to walk out the door when he saw that the door to the library was open.

Usually he wasn’t so curious, but it was a bit strange. She’d made it seem like she’d lived here. Not in King’s Landing. In this very house.

He walked inside and started looking on the book shelves. Mostly it was musty copies of old books, their gilded letters starting to fade. 

He was about to give up when his hand, seemingly on its own, found its way to a leather bound album. He felt a chill go down his spine when he touched it, which was ridiculous. He was just creeping himself out. 

He grabbed it off the shelf and sat down on the couch and opened it to the first page. 

The Baratheon Family, 1921 - it said on the first page. It wasn’t printed, the way their family albums sometimes were, but written in an elegant, almost lazy scrawl. 

He opened the first page and saw the house. Even in sepia tone it was still the same. He turned the page and saw a large brown haired man standing with a smaller one. The larger man was smiling but the smaller man was smirking. 

The person had written, Daddy and Mr. Baelish. 

On the next page was an elegant woman, that looked somehow familiar. She was beautiful but scowling. 

Mumsie, Summer 1921. 

He turned the next page and saw two blonde haired boys, the oldest only a year or so older than him. 

Underneath this photograph the same person had scrawled. Tommy and Joff, Summer 1921.

He turned the next page and his heart stopped. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. 

But there, looking back at him was Myrcella. She was dressed similarly to how she’d been last night, an effervescent smile on her face.

Underneath it the person had written, Me, me as bright as can be!, Summer 1921

He looked through the rest of the album. She was there a number of times, with the boy named Tommy, and the dour woman. A picture of a whole lot of them, other golden haired dandies and powerful men. Mr. Baelish, with that same smirk.

He was starting to feel lightheaded, but it didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

In spite of his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and typed Myrcella Baratheon into the search. There were listings for a couple of numbers and he kept scrolling and then came across the following headlines. 

Violence Strikes King’s Landing

The Tragedy of Myrcella Baratheon

Bootlegging Scheme gone wrong, daughter pays the price 

He clicked on that one and read the story. It appeared that Robert Baratheon ran a successful bootlegging operation, and a man named Petyr Baelish had been part of his crew. There was a sting operation, Baelish had cooperated with the feds to catch Robert and his sons and wife, who were all part of it. Myrcella Baratheon was meant to be out of the house, attending a party with the man whom everyone was convinced would soon be her fiance, Trystane Martell, but she heard shouting as she was about to leave and ran into library. She spooked someone, though the article did not say who, and was shot three times in the chest. 

He clicked out of that article and into the one titled The Tragedy of Myrcella Baratheon. The story was written by a teetotaler, who was using Myrcella as an example of how innocent lives were being ruined by drink.

In spite of his better judgment, he said to the room, “Myrcella?”

Unsurprisingly, no one answered. He went back to the first article and his blood ran cold. 

It was dated November 1, 1921. She had died on Halloween night, nearly a hundred years before.

He placed the album down on the couch and as if on its own it felt to the last page. There was no picture, just the elegant scrawl.

See you next year.