#<- hate coming up with names. but it matches with lucy well enough

[plumbogs]

John Burb starts his day as usual by wanting to call everyone that isn't his own daughter. He had a very interesting and totally hypothetical conversation with Alexander that had something to do with 'coming up with an alibi' and 'breaking into the Simcity jail if things happened to go wrong'. What an eccentric goofball of a guy.

Meanwhile Jennifer slept in.

John went on a hike before work. He had a successful one. No bees this time.

And Darren was passing by and taking Daphne for a walk! Tartarus got to spend some time with his mom aww :)

Jennifer was awake and ready to face the day by now. She wanted to throw a party, which I decided was a good excuse to have her catch up with her late brother's children now that they're adults.

She also spent some time chatting with Desdemona, which considering the fact that she and Lucy are still engaged and it doesn't seem to be stopping, is a good plan. They get along very well.

She also sneaks in a few flirts with Florence upstairs. All according to plan.

However, disaster strikes and John runs into a comical situation at work. And then loses his job. Fortunately we didn't see a repeat of the Pleasants, because Jennifer had the good sense to not go beyond a few pickup lines before he got home.

Tybalt Capp started taking a shower at their house, which is pretty unhinged. And in the bathroom John was desperately trying to use. He managed to avoid a party accident on top of everything else going wrong in his life right now.

Meanwhile the party went swimmingly. Everyone watched sports, talked about normal things, ate some soup, and I don't think Dustin was even invited but he did show up at some point.

The party ended and Tartarus did what he always does: watch them sleep.

And at the very end of the round, Luna was born! John, despite lifetime-wanting 6 kids, didn't want to have a baby and so now he's even worse off than before. Hopefully he can recover from this whole situation.

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

"Lucy!"

Lucifer braced himself. Even with the preparation, Beelzebub hit him like a ton of bricks. He wrapped his arms around her neck, his wings coming out as she lifted them both off the ground and spun them around.

"You're here," she exclaimed, squeezing him tight enough that he could feel his ribs protesting. "You have missed so many parties! I thought we'd never see you again."

Lucifer giggled as her fur tickled his neck as she nuzzled his cheek. "Hiya, Bee." He instinctively tried to protect his neck from the cold, wet feeling of her nose as she snuffled his hair. "I, uh, had some things to work through."

Beelzebub bared her teeth, growling low in her chest. "I still can't believe she left! What a bitch!"

Lucifer wilted, Lilith's leaving a raw enough wound that all mentions of it making him want curl up and cry.

His sister paused, gauging his response. She brought them down to the ground, her hold turning into something more gentle. "I'm sorry, Lucy." She gave him a jostle. "You totally deserved better."

Lucifer didn't believe that for a moment, but he didn't want to spoil the mood anymore than he already had. Over his head, his siblings shared a glance. He hated they looked so worried, even as it soothed something along the jagged edges of his self-loathing.

"It's fine." It wasn't, but he was thoroughly subscribing to the delusion that if he said it enough times, it might make it true.

"You can talk to us if you need to." Beelzebub gave him another squeeze, almost as tight as the previous one. "You may be our big brother, but we're still your siblings."

Lucifer blinked, his eyes stinging. He looked up over the mass of her colorful hair to see Asmodeus watching them. It went without saying that the offer was extended from him as well. Lucifer couldn't bring himself to nod. The promise would feel disingenuous, as he was unsure if he was in a place to ever take them up on them offer. Sadness flickered across Asmodeus's face, knowing him too well.

Beelzebub seemed to understand as well. She pulled away, giving his shoulders one last squeeze before she let him go. She turned her sights on the sinner in the room, floating over to get a better view of him. By the time Lucifer was sure he'd blinked away any incriminating evidence of his emotional slip and was certain it was safe to turn around, Beelzebub had already reached her target.

"And who is this cute dear?" It was difficult to determine if she was using the endearment or the animal species name. With her, it could be either. She made a circuit around Alastor, coming up and over his head to hover at eye level with him. "Is this the guy you were talking about?"

Lucifer sputtered, dismayed. "Wait, what?" He spun around on Asmodeus, pointing at him. "When did you even talk about this? I heard that phone call!" It had done right in front of him! How did he miss that?

Fizzarolli held up his phone to show a series of text messages he couldn't read from this distance but could guess at their content. Judging from the smirk on his lover's face, it wasn't hard who had told him to do it.

Traitor! The whole lot of them!

Alastor turned on the charm, although unlike with Asmodeus and Fizz, it appeared to be at least somewhat genuine in this case. "Please, call me Alastor. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." If he was irritated with her fluttering around him, he didn't let it show. "From what I've heard, the famous Queen Bee's parties sound like all the rage!"

Beelzebub placed a finger to her chin, squinting her eyes as if racking her brain. "Alastor?" She said the name slowly, considering. She set herself down on the ground, studying him intently. Lucifer noted she had shrunk down in size to match the sinner's height. "The radio host?"

The redhead's demeanor became more amicable, his ego stroked, confirming jovially, "Why yes! It's an honor to hear someone such as yourself has heard of my show." He shot Lucifer a smug look, which in turn earned him a renewed glare.

The Sin of Gluttony waved her fingers at him. "I'm always looking for new music to play during parties." She danced to an imaginary beat, swaying her hips and doing a little twirl. She pointed in his general direction as she spun back around. "You've got good taste in music, if a little out of date."

Alastor wasn't offended by her critique, likely having heard it before. Perhaps emboldened by her positive engagement with him, he offered one of his own, "Perhaps, but music today sounds so..." He paused, searching for the right word. After a moments debate, he settle reluctantly on, "Repetitive."

From out of nowhere, a short clip of music played, emanating from Alastor's direction. The clip was followed by another clip, from a different song, and then a third one. They were all obviously different songs, but they did all sound remarkable the same.

"Wait." Beelzebub's eyes had widened. Alastor paused his flipping through channels on a random song. A male singer with the kind of voice that could make anyone swoon was singing about how he took his whiskey and coffee and how the subject of the song was 'too sweet' for him. She gave Alastor another circle around. "You can generate music yourself?" She clasped her hands together in delight.

The redhead cut off the music, amused by her response. He clarified, "I can act like a radio, my dear. I sadly can't produce music out of nowhere."

Beelzebub threw her older brother a grin over her shoulder. "Lucy, you don't mind if I steal your partner later, do you?"

Lucifer, who had been watching all of this with stiffly crossed arms and an ever darkening glare, scoffed. He just knew this was going to become an issue and already could see the headlines come the next morning. "He's not my anything, Bee. Really."

To Alastor's discernment, Beelzebub sniffed the air far too close to the sinner for her to be doing anything other than catching his scent. Vindictively, Lucifer couldn't help but smirk and think to himself that, yeah, it's not as much fun when someone does it to him, was it? Little taste of his own medicine.

Then she asked, "Then why is his scent all over you?"

Lucifer's hands flew to his hair, belatedly realizing how telling the movement was. He didn't care. What the hell? He'd not only cleaned up last night with magic, he'd even gone for a shower out of the desperate need to swath himself in the comforting smells of his favorite shampoo and body wash. Nothing of Alastor should have remained.

Alastor had that pleased as punch grin on his insufferable, punchable face.

Lucifer hissed like the snake everyone called him, angerly pointing a finger at the asshole. "Take him! I don't want him!"

"Now now, your Majesty, what would Charlie do without her business partner?" Alastor's tone was all sunshine and roses, as if anyone would believe that for an instant.

Behind him, Lucifer heard Fizzarolli whispering to Ozzie, almost (but not quite) too soft him to hear, "Stealing his daughter's business partner? That's ballsy."

Lucifer must have looked one wrong move away from setting the whole building on fire because Beelzebub came floating over to him, saying, "Lucy, why don't we get you that new top?" She placed her hands on his shoulders and directed him out of sight of the main source of all his current woes. "I've always wanted to try some outfits with you!"

"It still needs to be formal," he said, imagining all the outfits she'd worn over the years. They always managed to be both with the times while also being on the cutting edge of what was appropriate.

She pinched his cheek. "Yes, yes, because you're somehow covering up more rather than less." She didn't ask nor did she attempt to find out why. He was ridiculously grateful for it. She produced a slew of garments from her own personal subspace dimension.

Lucifer tried not to sweat over the sheer quantity of them.

Alastor hadn't been wrong when he'd said they had time before the main event, but they didn't have enough for the quantity Beelzebub had brought. Lucifer was able to eliminate roughly half based on the fact they they did fit his aesthetic. His sister didn't look surprised by the choices he outright eliminated, leading him to believe they were there simply because she would have found enjoyment out of seeing him wearing them.

He held up one top from his remaining pile. It was a two-piece top, consisting of a fancy button-up shirt with poofy sleeves and a sleeveless waistcoat that could be laced up at the waist for a more form-fitting look. It wasn't bad, he was so going to steal it for a later day, but there was something... boyish about it. He eyed his sister. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He shook the garment for emphasis.

Beelzebub wasn't even trying to look sheepish. "Only that you'd look adorable in it!"

No one had called him adorable since he'd still had an unbroken halo and a full set of white wings. To his face, anyway. "You do remember I'm not a doll for you to play dress up with, right?"

She picked up a top with a similar vibe to it. "But you're as pretty as one, so how could I resist?"

Alastor looked like he'd swallowed a lemon or one of Asmodeus's more phallic candies. Lucifer filed that thought away for another time.

He sent the top away to his wardrobe in his room at the hotel with a small spark of magic the moment Beelzebub wasn't looking. Listening to the conversations going on around him with only half an ear, he snagged another potential choice, only to toss it aside almost immediately. A knock at the door brought an issue for Asmodeus and Fizzarolli, calling them away with the promise they'd be back shortly.

Beelzebub and Alastor became engaged in a discussion about music, not quite arguing which time period was better. Beelzebub had all of human history to pull from, but it was quickly established she preferred anything someone could dance to.

Alastor had a soft spot for Jazz, as it was the music that followed him throughout his early adult years to the end of his life. He admitted to liking some of the music that evolved from Jazz, such as swing music.

He was down to the final two potential choices - a toss up between a very high neck coat that flared in the sleeves and a more form fitting, corseted, button up tailcoat - when he heard Beelzebub's delighted exclamation of: "You can tune into Earth stations? Have you heard of XM radio?"

The seraphim blinked up at them, as Alastor responded with, "But of course, your highness! Everyone loves a radio station without commercials!"

Lucifer wondered at the full extent of Alastor's reach. Hell was supposed to be cut off from Earth and Heaven, save for specific circumstances. It was one thing to use a crystal or spell to open a portal to Earth. To walk in the dreams of humans as they slept to communicate and influence them. It was another thing entirely to actively reach through that barrier as if it wasn't there to begin with, tuning into any radio station on Earth. Something Alastor could apparently do with ease, as demonstrated by the sound of dance music, something heavily remixed, filling the air.

Beelzebub made a noise that could only be called a squeal, her fingers twitching like she was ready to make off with the sinner the first chance she got.

So distracted by the display, Lucifer didn't immediately notice that one of his hands were empty. Fingers flexing around air, he narrowed his eyes when he found the tailcoat in the grasp of one of Alastor's shadows.

"You were taking so long to choose, your Majesty," Alastor explained innocently. "I thought I might help you choose."

Feeling spiteful, Lucifer snapped the fingers of his free hand, simultaneously sending the coat with the flared sleeves away to his wardrobe while replacing his cashmere roll neck with the tailcoat.

Alastor, the little shit, merely smirked at him. Lucifer didn't like the fact that he couldn't tell if he had done exactly what the sinner had wanted him to do or not.

The doors to the office opened, signaling the return of Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. Both of their shoulders slumped in relief when the door closed firmly behind them.

"Someone blow something up again?" Beelzebub asked, sympathetically.

"I swear, this group can't go one day without blowing something up!" Asmodeus sighed, deep and long suffering. "They didn't even have the excuse of it being a prototype."

Both of his siblings made consoling hums at him. Asmodeus' attention turned to his older brother, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw Lucifer had changed clothes. "Lucy! Marvelous choice!" He paused, tilting his head. "Not really the colors I would expect from you."

That was mostly because Lucifer hadn't had a chance to fiddle with it. He smiled back, waving a hand over the top. The original coat had been forest green, with black buckles, and silver buttons. Forest green bleed out into pure white. The corset center of the coat was now his favored pink, while the buttons and buckles took on a shiny golden hue. He pondered the length of the tail, unsure if he found it too long or not. Deciding to leave it for now, he conjured his hat and cane from his room, topping off his outfit as he placed his crown on his head.

Feeling more himself, despite the change in wardrobe, he grinned. "What do you think?"

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Fizzarolli all gave approving thumbs up.

Alastor gave him a once over, smirking and unimpressed. "I suppose it's a little better than that ringleader ensemble you're so obsessed with."

Lucifer's eyebrow twitched, stalking over to the sinner. "You're on thin ice, bitch," he said saccharine sweet through gritted teeth.

Alastor watched him approach, his smirk a challenge.

Lucifer met it with one of his own. "Now I think it's your turn for a make over." He gave the sinner a lazy once over, pointedly lingering on the tattered ends of the redhead's coat. "Can't have my date in anything other than the best."

Alastor's expression darkened, almost imperceptivity. "I can't say I know what you mean, your Majesty. I always look my best." This last part was said with the undertone of a warning, not for an agreement, but to back off.

Lucifer considered the response. If anyone could recognize someone's pride having been slighted, it was the Sin of Pride himself. Alastor's pride had been poked at, but the seraphim wasn't immediately certain why. The sinner did indeed dress to impress every day, the haircut and the tattered ends of his coat too out of place not to be anything other than deliberate. So why was he upset?

The answer came from the depths he liked to keep the memories he acquired from reading one of his people's sins: the foundation of Alastor's public persona was one large middle finger to a world that had held him to a higher standard than everyone else around him, and yet, had still found him wanting at the end of the day. It was as much a defense as a way to gain a leg up against the people in power around him.

Lucifer took a step back, lessening the pressure of his approach. He asked, "Do you have anything for a formal occasion?"

A little of the tension left Alastor's stance, now that he didn't feel that he was potentially going to be accosted. "Events in Hell don't usually require a more ...formal dress attire." In other words: sinners dressed however they were going to dress and that was that. One was lucky if they chose to get dressed at all.

Still leaving all the choice in the redhead's court, the blond asked, "Can I make you a tuxedo? If you don't like it, I'll change it back." He paused, before tacking on, "I promise." It wasn't a formal deal, but he tried to keep his promises where he could.

Alastor seemed to be weighing his options, his fingers tapping against the top of his microphone. He could chose to take the offer or he could chose to go as he was, nothing more nothing less. The sinner approached on his own, pacing around his king, his gaze equal parts considering and lost in thought. "Something in my current colors," he finally responded. "If I don't like it, you change it."

Lucifer chose to be pleased that he was being given access to Alastor's person. When the redhead came to a stop in front of him, he raised his hand, keeping it in eye sight the whole time. Alastor picked up on his caution, something fond taking root in his expression. The moment Lucifer's fingers touched the helm of Alastor's sleeve, a golden flame sparked into existence.

Pure creation magic spread like a wave across the red suit, transforming it as it went along. Pin stripes were replaced by red wool of the same color, fine black thread woven into the fabric to cast the illusion that the fabric was darker from some angles. The lapels of the coat were folded back to reveal a completely black interior. A vest and pair of pants of similar design took shape. Underneath the vest, a pure white button up shirt stood out, bright and stark against the otherwise darker colors. The only thing Lucifer hadn't touched was Alastor's black bow tie.

He tiled his head, feeling there was something missing. An idea, born of random inspiration and the desire to uphold his promise to his daughter, took shape in Lucifer's mind. In one hand, a flame of creation magic appeared, raw and undirected. In the other, he formed a flame of pure hellfire. Holding the idea in his mind, he slammed his palms together. The two flames intermingled, eating at each other as they fought to either consume or transform the other. Lucifer bent the two forces to his will, forcing them to come together and take on the shape he desired: something wholly new.

When he opened his hands, sitting on his palms was a gem, one of a kind. As it tilted, the surface reflected back at him like black glass, until it settled to reveal a light within it, gleaming of hellfire. If one were to blow out all of the blue flames that lit the office, the gem would continue to give off a glow of its own. Most importantly, woven into the very fabric of the gem were powerful protection spells, ones that would protect the wearer from someone as strong as the Sins of the Goetia. It might even protect them from an archangel, although not for long.

If Alastor had been wearing this during the previous extermination, it would have likely given Adam a moment's pause. More than enough for the sinner to escape unscathed. Not that Alastor would have run, but still.

The sinner in question eyed the gem as the Devil raised it to his bowtie, securing it in place. Alastor shouldn't have the power necessary to tell what it really was. Some of the Goetia might. Anyone of them that did would know what kind of statement he was making by placing it there. It was a more physical reminder that this sinner was under his protection and he wouldn't take kindly to anyone trying to kill him.

Asmodeus and Beelzebub could tell what it was. The former was silently laughing at him, while the latter covered her mouth to hide her grin, for all the good it did.

Lucifer ignored them. He was merely keeping his promise, nothing more.

Alastor tapped the gem, the chime unlike anything he'd ever heard before. His hand traveled down his sleeve. "Wool?" There was a slight crease to his brows, unsure with the assessment.

Lucifer didn't have the slightest clue how he could tell, since the redhead was still wearing his gloves. Was Alastor pressing the cloth into his arms and could tell that way? The blonde took a step back, nodding. "Yes, vicuña wool, to be exact."

The sinner went still, his ears ramrod straight. "Vicuña wool?" His eyes were boring right into Lucifer's, something heavy in his gaze.

The blond found it difficult to tell if the reaction was a good one or a bad one. He'd chosen it because humans seemed to place great value on the wool for it's rareness and the quality of the fabric it produced. Once only for kings, only the wealthy could afford more than one garment. He largely only knew this because Asmodeus was a fan of the fabric and had raved about it on the odd occasion.

Lucifer waggled his eyebrows. "I said I'd dress you in the best, did I not?" He still felt there was something missing, not from Alastor's outfit this time, but his own. Hand aglow with his magic, he met the redhead's gaze and held it as he ran his hand down the center of the tailcoat, transforming the pink section into red.

The same red as Alastor's favored suit and current tuxedo.

The sinner huffed, the brewing conflict passing for something more possessive. He raised a hand, a single claw tapping the fabric that hid the mark he'd left. "Isn't matching color schemes as much a statement as this would have been?" His expression stated he thought Lucifer was a ridiculous creature, but he was bemused regardless.

Lucifer caught his wrist, holding on long enough to pull it away. "Didn't agree to be your property," he repeated, teeth bared in light warning.

Alastor wasn't affected, as always.

They were both startled by the loud clapping of someone's hands. All heads turned to Beelzebub, who was grinning brightly at them all. "Alright! Fashion crisis averted!" She slung her arm around her older brother's shoulders in a hug, squeezing tightly before releasing him just as quickly. "I will see all of you at the party! Got to get ready myself and then pick up the boyfriend and girlfriend!!"

She portalled out of the room before anyone could get any remark out. Lucifer mouthed 'boyfriend and girlfriend,' bewildered as to when that had happened.

Fizzarolli blinked after her. "Do you think she's going to bring anything fun with her?"

Asmodeus gave him a very light push, little more than a nudge. "Fizzy! We do not want everyone to get black out drunk in the first hour!"

The imp gave his partner a deadpan look. "Just because they can't hold their liquor doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer."

Asmodeus chuckled as he made his way over to Alastor and Lucifer. "Lucy, brother, would you make a portal to our home?" He pulled out his cellphone. "By the time the limo arrives, we should be ready."

Fizzarolli snorted. "Speak for yourself." He dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead, demonstrating his flexibility as he swooned backwards over his partner's shoulder. "Some of us have to put a little effort into it to be this beautiful."

"Aw, Fizzy, baby, you look amazing no matter what you wear." Asmodeus followed this statement up by running a finger along the underside of the imp's chin, causing Fizzarolli to giggle.

Being the sin of Pride, Lucifer could sense the dual war in his little brother's chosen partner. Fizzarolli did indeed have his pride, he couldn't be a performer of his caliber without it. He knew his talent and his worth, but underneath it lay a wound so deep it threatened to overwhelm all of it. Asmodeus' words were an ongoing healing balm, like cool, clean water over a burn.

It was... sweet.

Lucifer swallowed the envy he felt watching them, missing the warmth that came from a loving relationship. Love looked good on Asmodeus and Fizzarolli was certainly flourishing from it as well.

He opened the portal, tempted to make a comment about them just using his own limo. It was practically Charlie's at this point for all that he ever used it. When one could just teleport or portal or simply fly to their destination, why wait to drive there? The suggestion died in his throat as Asmodeus passed him, pushing him along with them. The weight of his hand was heavy, as if he could keep his older brother there with him just by holding on to him.

Lucifer supposed he could stick around a little longer and ride with them. Leave the public guessing when he was going to pop up and from where.

He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Alastor was still with them. The sinner was stepping through the portal, taking in the new room they had travelled to. There wasn't anywhere truly 'safe' to jump to unannounced, if Asmodeus was at home, but he usually kept high traffic, potentially public areas clean of anything suggestible if he was going to work. Lucifer chose the kitchen because it was as safe as anywhere else, and he and Alastor would be able to get any snacks or drinks for themselves while they waited.

Not that Alastor was likely to have much of an appetite after his indulgence the day before.

It pleased Lucifer on a petty, vindictive level to see the taller figure in this particular setting. Everything was set up to be a comfortable height for someone as tall as Asmodeus. The counter tops likely were too tall for Fizzarolli to see over, if he never took advantage of his stretchy limbs to add on some height. Alastor's head and shoulders might clear the countertops, but there was no way he was reaching any of the top shelves without going full eldritch demon or without the assistance of his shadows.

What did the foot the redhead have on him matter when they were all lacking in height in this setting?

Lucifer closed the portal behind the sinner. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli wandered off deeper into the dwelling with the former telling them to "Make yourselves at home!" as they went off, likely to their bedroom. The king listened to their voices for as long as he could, keeping a watchful eye out as Alastor explored the new space.

He smirked upon seeing the exact moment the sinner realized the tips of his ears weren't on level with the bottom of the cabinets, the sinner lazily blinking at them like he found their placement ridiculous. He might have asked if Alastor needed any assistance, if not for the fact that even he could tell that would be walking right into a short joke. Instead, he simply conjured a pair of glasses as he settled in at the table taking up the center of the kitchen. "Care for anything to drink while we wait?" He filled his own with juice, waving the second empty one in invitation.

Alastor peered over at him from where he had moved on to inspecting a potted floral arrangement made up of one Lust Ring's indigenous flora, a plant with blue leaves tipped with purple. His eyes tracked the movement of the glass. "Wouldn't cake be more beneficial in this instance, sire?" His grin extended from ear to ear, teeth alight from within. "Wouldn't want to get any shorter, now would we?"

The reference almost went over his head. Of course he'd somehow find a way to throw in a short joke. Lucifer leaned an elbow on the table, crossing his legs. "Please, I'm hardly the white rabbit." He placed the glass on table. Alastor could take it or leave it. "And you're certainly no Alice."

Alastor abandoned the plant in favor of stalking over to Lucifer and the table. He tapped the lip of the glass, and then abandoned as just as uninteresting as the plant. The floor to ceiling window on the other side of the kitchen, however, seemed to catch his interest. "No," he agreed. Moving as if entranced, he made his way over to it. "I've always thought the Cheshire Cat suited be better."

He was certainly as annoying one, anyway.

Lucifer could only guess how different the blues and pinks of the Lust Ring must look after nearly a hundred years of the constant red of the Pride Ring. The radio host, in his own shades of red and black, stood out like a sore thumb, almost like a reminder of which of the rings he belonged to. His ears were completely forward, intent on catching the soft patter of the rain against the glass.

"Would his Majesty be willing to answer a little question?" Alastor met his gaze through his reflection against the glass.

Lucifer swirled his juice. His first impulse was to put stipulations on the exchange. Milking information out of the sinner usually cost something, why shouldn't getting information from the Devil cost the same? But Lucifer didn't have the energy to stoop to the sinner's level at the moment, so he decided to go with generous. "Depends on the question."

To a point.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Alastor to ask, "Does it always rain in the Lust Ring?"

"Yes?" Lucifer was more than a little baffled over why such a thing might interest Alastor, until he remembered that the only rain in the Pride Ring was acid rain. It tainted the water until the only safe sources were those kept safe from any access to the open sky. Anyone unlucky enough to be out in it would likely receive some nasty burns. "Oh, it's not acid rain. Only the Pride Ring has acid rain." The Greed Ring was certainly working it's way towards it, though.

Black tipped, red ears twisted 90 degrees around, Alastor being more focused on the little king than the rain. "And what makes the Pride Ring so special?"

The blonde gave a low grumble of disapproval. "Seems like you have more than one question."

Alastor pointed the head of his staff out into the room, circling it around to showcase it's emptiness. "Would you prefer I poke around your little brother's kitchen to pass the time?" His tone suggested he would absolutely make sure to mess with something, just to be a nuisance.

Lucifer had half a mind to let him do it, just to see what would happen if he did. He sighed, put upon by choices that had led him to babysitting a sinner in his little brother's home. "Hell didn't look much like anything when we got here." He put his drink down, loosing all interest in it. "It wasn't originally meant to be our prison. It was just convenient to throw us into it."

It had been decided from the moment Eve had bitten into the apple that anyone who allowed themselves to be consumed by the Root of All Evil's influences would be tossed down to join her in her prison. Foreseeing it would get bad, God had decided that Lucifer's punishment was to be trapped with the worst of the worst, forced to watch all the ways his decision had gone terribly wrong.

"When my siblings and I recovered, we joined our powers together to create the other rings." He nodded to the window, more a nod to the Rings as a whole than just Lust in general. "Lilith and I stayed in Pride. She wanted to be with her people." He paused. Amended, albeit grudgingly, "Our people. My siblings each headed south and claimed a ring for themselves."

He was a bit fuzzy on the early details following their arrival in Hell. Lucifer had been terribly injured in the fight leading up to their imprisonment, and then further injured protecting Lilith from the Fall. His siblings, each dealing with their own injuries, hadn't been able to lend a helping hand. The moment Lucifer had been recovered enough to help with making their new home more comfortable, he'd proceeded to push too hard, too fast, creating the Seven Rings all at once rather than one at a time. They had tried to warn him to take it easy, to slow down, but he had been desperate to do something right by his family. Even with the added help of his siblings' power, he'd gone down hard.

By the time he regained consciousness, the first sinners had already begun to arrive and his siblings had already moved into their respective rings. Everything had been decided with very little impute from him. Considering how exhausted he'd been, both physically and emotionally, it had been easier to go with the flow. He hadn't cared either way, to be brutally honest about it.

Alastor looked like he could tell there was more to that story, but let it go. "And the Hellborn?"

Lucifer shrugged. "They were already here when we got here." Belphegor had speculated that the Hellborn were Roo's response to humanity, but she hadn't been able to prove it. As time passed, the natural flora and fauna of Hell had evolved and expanded exponentially with the introduction of different environments, until there were multiple different species of both. Earth evolved slowly over time, but Hell evolved in leaps and bounds. "We did start getting different types over time, though."

"And human's being delegated to the Pride Ring?" There was something about the tone that suggested that this had been the question Alastor had been working up to all along.

The blonde pushed back from the table, rising to his feet. He came over to stand behind his date for the night, just to the side enough to see out the window. "An agreement between Lilith and my siblings." He tapped the apple end of his cane against his chin. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Mostly to keep down the fighting between the Hellborn and the sinners. Humans were innovative creatures and putting the worse of the worse in one place together was always going to be a recipe for disaster. The Hellborn hadn't stood a chance. Now the sinners fought primarily with themselves, while the Hellborn lived lives as varied as humans did on Earth.

Alastor fell silent. For a while, they simply stood listening to the rain, lost in their own thoughts. Lucifer thought he might be content to mull over the new information he had received, when he broke the silence to ask, "The acid rain?"

"A present from Heaven." From behind them, Asmodeus answered before his brother could, his voice an unhappy rumble. Alastor turned to face the sin, while Lucifer left his back to his little brother. Asmodeus approached, setting his hand on Lucifer's shoulder. His hand was large enough it encompassed the blonde's shoulder and the upper part of his back. "Michael thought Lucy's kingdom was looking too nice."

"A nice way of saying Michael was still angry at me." Lucifer internally grimaced at the memory of his twin's face, distorted in anger, at the way Lilith was thriving. That Lucifer wasn't doing anything to curb it. As if he ever would. "He thought making Hell more difficult to survive would curb everyone's spirits." He snorted. "Jokes on him, because they only infected the Pride Ring and humanity is... stubborn."

It was an admirable quality, even if it often got them into trouble. It was something Lucifer could relate to.

Lucifer shook off the thoughts before they dragged him down into too much of a melancholic mood. He already had to deal with the public and it wouldn't do if he couldn't even last more than an hour with them. He stepped away, turning as he did so that he could get a look at his brother. Asmodeus had changed into a suit similar to his usual one. The colors were more vibrant and he had added a business coat over it.

Fizzarolli, notably, wasn't on his shoulder.

Noticing where Lucifer was looking, Asmodeus laughed. "Fizzy needs a little more time." He began to usher his older brother towards the door, Alastor following of his own violation least the sin decide to get the idea of getting handsy with him. "It's his first time out in public since giving Mammon the literal finger and he wants to put on his best." As they neared the main entrance to Asmodeus' home, the sin called out towards the bedroom, "Fizzy Frog! Babe! You picked out your outfit a week ago!"

From the bedroom came the shout of, "But Ozzie! It needs to be perfect!" Fizzarolli appeared a moment later. The imp was wearing a white laced jester styled outfit, fitted with a laced up bodice that was black on one side and red on the other. His hat matched his bodice, with the colors switched, while being white underneath. Similarly, the hearts adorning his shoulders and forehead alternated the red and black pattern. "I need to look badass."

Asmodeus could move fast for someone his height, when he wanted to. He cleared the room in nearly two strides, picking his partner up. "Fizz, you look amazing. No one is going to say other wise."

Fizzarolli didn't appear completely convinced. "I just don't want anyone to talk shit about you if I don't."

He received a pat to the nose with a single finger and a no nonsense tone from Asmodeus, "The only person you need to impress at this event is yourself." The blue and pink sin hugged him close. "No one else's opinions matter."

Fizzarolli took a deep breathe, his anxiety visibly calming. "You're right!" He grinned, his whole expression lighting up. "And if they don't like me, who cares? Because I don't need them!"

Asmodeus beamed at him. "Exactly!" He made his way over, ready to shuffle everyone out the door. "Now where is that limo?"

Right on cue, a horn blasted outside.

Lucifer allowed himself to be shuffled outside, casting a glance at Alastor as the human-turned-demon got his first feel of normal rain since he'd died. The sinner held out a hand, cupped it to catch the water. Nostalgia softened the sharp edges of his smile into a more real one. Lucifer turned away when Alastor stepped out fully, tilting his head back to enjoy the feel of the rain on his face.

Lucifer refused to admit that Alastor was actually kind of handsome, when he was being honest with himself and the world.

The ride through Lust and then up to Pride was filled with small talk and blessedly uneventful. Lucifer, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli had all been through the various ways to travel the Rings, so they were more interested in their conversation than the sights. Having never left the Pride Ring before, Alastor was more absorbed with the sights than their attempts to include him. He gave off the distinct impression that even if the sights hadn't been more interesting, he likely wouldn't have engaged with them anyway.

Lucifer could feel the uptick in his nerves as they entered the Pride Ring and the closer they got to Stolas' manor. The crowd of people outside, wanting to catch any glimpse of Hell's royals were lined up a mile away, all climbing over each other on the slimmest chance they would catch a glimpse of someone. The paparazzi had managed to secure the area closest to the drop off point, ensuring they would get the first photographs of the arriving guests.

A weight settled on the nap of his neck, the prick of one of Alastor's claws just above his high collar stealing Lucifer's attention before he could begin to spiral and reminding him that he wasn't alone. The mix of gratefulness and frustration was a heady feeling in his gut, even as he leaned subtly back into that hand.

The wait until it was their turn to disembark was both far too short and far too long. A portion of the crowd was especially intent on following Asmodeus' limo, the reason made all too easy to sus out.

Lucifer squinted at the signs, pointing at a particularly graphic one. "Are those... fans?"

Fizzarolli was a equal mix of put upon and repulsed. "Yeah, Mammon isn't very big on keeping boundaries between his cash cows and the... fans."

Visible through the crowd, the same fan - fanatic, rather - proceeded to do something extremely lude and inappropriate with what appeared to be a doll version of the jester.

Heaven was very dull and boring, Lucifer would never tell anyone otherwise, but he sure did miss it at times like this.

tbc

Part 16

[popcorn-plots]

who you say you are

i feel like shit so here we are

possible TW for discussions of periods and everything that happens during them, like bleeding through three layers of clothing (that was a wonderful night)

Stephen hated his periods. He hated the general feeling of unwellness during that week, and he hated having to clean blood out of everything after he inevitably bled through.. everything. The worst part about it, however, wasn't even the blood. It was the dysphoria. It was the fact that every month, his period would bring the lies of his mind, telling him that he wasn't a real man and never would be. That he was weak for whining about it.

That he was never Stephen and he never would be. That he was too feminine, or that he was never 'good enough' to pass as a man. The worst was his mind telling him that he'd always be a girl, that deep down... he was never Stephen in the first place. He was just little Lucy, trying on her dad's shirt.

On those days, Stephen would curl up on his bed, clutching a hot water bottle. Cloak would hold him as he sobbed, telling himself over and over again, like a mantra, that his name was Stephen Strange. On those days, he would ask Wong not to bother him, despite every fiber of his being yearning to be held, begging for someone to call him handsome and take away the pain.

He didn't think that Wong knew. He was near-positive that Wong had no idea that Stephen was trans. As far as the other sorcerer knew, Stephen was just another man. A man with a broken soul to match his broken hands and scarred chest.

~

It was one of those days (Dark Days, Stephen called them) when Stephen was in his room, clutching a pillow to his chest. A second was between his legs, pressed to his crotch. It was surprisingly helpful when dealing with cramps, the pressure on his lower abdomen easing the discomfort. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his heading pad in the library from when he last used it and when he finally needed it again, he was too comfortable to get it.

Magic was out of the option as well considering just how horrible he felt between the pain, dysphoria, and his hands. It was a bad hand day, because of course, and he really didn't want to move. Which, unfortunately, meant breathing through the pain and trying not to cry.

Eventually, he managed to fall into a light sleep, nodding off then jolting awake again. He woke up in a way that jarred his hands and he groaned. It might be time to sacrifice his comfort for some much-desired relief.

He was mentally preparing himself to climb out of bed when there was a knock at the door. "Stephen?"

Stephen blinked. "..Wong..?"

"You left your heating pad in the library." Wong announced.

Stephen sighed. "I know. Leave me alone."

"I warmed it up for you. I thought you might need it. May I come in?" Stephen didn't respond. Wong had found his heating pad and warmed it up for him. For a second, Stephen wondered if Wong knew, but he had hidden it so well-- "Stephen?"

"...yeah. you can come in."

There was a click as the doorknob turned, then Wong was walking across the room in brisk strides, stopping in front of the nest of blankets that was Stephen Strange. "Here." he set the heating pad down near Stephen's hands. "I also have tea and some of your painkillers. It's raining today."

Stephen let out a shaky breath. Maybe Wong was just looking out for his hands. That would explain it, right? But Wong was never so... caring. Aside from his the week after Everest and his usual quiet help when Stephen needed to handle large stacks of books.

"You're paler than usual. If you turned yourself into a vampire on accident, I will kill you again." Stephen huffed.

"I'm not a vampire."

Wong reached out a hand and felt Stephen's forehead. Stephen nearly froze at the contact, but didn't say anything. He tried to look anywhere but Wong until the hand was gone. "You're not running a temperature."

"I'm trans." Stephen found himself blurting out.

Wong looked at him. Blinked. "Do you need any supplies?"

Supplies...?

"Pads, tampons? You disappear in your room once every four weeks, only coming out for food and when you do, you look horrible. Deathly pale, hunched over as if in pain, it wasn't hard to figure out."

Stephen looked up at his friend. Wong had taken a seat in the armchair next to Stephen's bed -- one of the large library chairs that had found itself in Stephen's room after a few too many vigils of Wong's when Stephen found himself injured.

"You... you never said anything."

"If you wanted me to know, you would have told me when the time was right."

"You... always made my favorite meals."

Wong huffed a rare smile. "I have never menstruated, but I can sympathy. I have a sister. She was always... vocal with.. everything. I did what I could to make her feel better."

Stephen smiled. "It sounds like you love her."

"Very much." Wong was smiling ever so slightly. Stephen found that watching Wong smile seemed to take the pain away.

"What's her name?"

"Li." It was soft, spoken just above a whisper. "You'd like her."

"Li. Pretty name." Stephen sighed. "Mine was-- is--"

"Stephen."

Stephen paused. He stared at Wong. Wong stared back. "Your name is Stephen. You are Stephen Strange. Do not give me your dead name. It is dead for a reason. You are who you say you are, not what someone else wants you to be. You told me on your very first day that your name is Stephen Strange. That is who you are. If you wish for me to use a different name, then I will. I respect you, and I will respect you, whoever you decide to be."

Stephen swallowed, tears pricking his eyes. He refused to let himself cry in front of Wong, of all people. Wong looked at him again and nodded. "You are Stephen Strange. Remember that."

Before he knew it, Wong had closed the door behind him and Stephen was sobbing into his pillow.

A few hours later, Stephen woke up feeling a hundred times better than before. He decided to find his way to the kitchen for dinner, now that the cramps had disappeared.

He found Wong at the stove, making friend rice. Wong's go-to comfort food that had quickly become Stephen's as well."

"Thank you." Stephen whispered. Wong responded by dishing Stephen and himself a large helping of rice.

"Of course, Stephen."

[rjmartin11]

I'm Aaron

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: You're a workaholic who decides to take a private mini vacation in Las Vegas. While there, you stumble into and befriend a handsome stranger at a bar. This handsome stranger is more than meets the eye. He wants to show you a great time... privately. It's an experience that you've never had before. You soon realize that you're in over your head, and your heart is falling fast.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Meeting new people, slite bullying, teasing, past history, storytelling, historical fiction, reader just jealous, fluff, smut, cussing, oral exam (m. receiving & f. receiving)

Author's Notes: Greetings and welcome to Chapter Seven! If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking around. If you love this chapter, like and follow. I love all interactions. Kind comments are appreciated! Let's roll! 😁

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You and Jerry walk out of the elevator heading into the lounge. You hate awkward silence, so you strike up a conversation.

"So I'm meeting the wives. Am I meeting your wife, Jerry?"

"Yeah, she'll be there."

"What's her name?"

"Mrs. Schilling." He gives you a serious look, and you freeze. "I'm kidding, Y/N! I'm just kidding! Her name is Lucy." You both laugh yourselves into the lounge. His joke really relieved the tension you felt. There was a weight on your shoulders that's been lifted.

You arrive at the booth that the Mafia wives were assigned. The ladies arrive at the booth the same moment as you. Jerry is kind enough to introduce you. You all sit down and get more acquainted with the ladies around you. The two that seem to speak the most are Joann (Joe's wife) and Pam (Red's wife).

"So, Y/N, where are you from?" Pam asks you, taking a sip from her cocktail.

"I currently live in Atlanta, Georgia, but I was born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida."

"You live and work in Atlanta?"

"Yes, I do."

"What brings you to Vegas?" You try to speak, but Pan interjected. "Well, isn't it obvious? For Elvis, of course. Like every other woman she wants to be next."

"Pam! Stop teasing." Joann openly rebukes her.

"Actually, I'm just on vacation. I needed a break from work. From life." You answer the question.

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a clerk at a law firm. I've been with them for almost seven years. Without a break. It was time for a vacation."

"Oh, Joann. Ladies, she's smarter than the lost two girls. I declare." Pam says, getting the table in an uproar.

"I beg your pardon. The lost two girls?" You ask, feeling quite insulted.

"You know, doll. The last two girls apart of Elvis' harem. You're the next concubine."

Pam says this, and the ladies laugh again. You flash back to high school when you were tormented by those bitchy girls. You take a deep breath and say, "And you were overlooked for his affections. That's why you settled to be a Mafia wife."

Your words come out clearly and keenly, and the whole table is silenced. You excuse yourself and head to the lounge bar for a drink. You order a daiquiri and take a breath. You never thought that it would come to this. Why were they so mean?

"Don't let them bother you, hun. Their bark is worse than their bite." A young woman says, sipping her martini.

You look over at her. She's a beauty and somehow has the confidence to match it. "Don't let who bother me?"

"The Mafia wives. Some of them aren't even wives. A few are girlfriends in high hopes of getting that ring one day. Please, don't take what they say to heart."

"I feel like I was back in school again being bullied."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sure that's not what Elvis had intended. Come sit with me at my booth."

She knows your name? How is that? Who is she? You walk with her to the booth. Not too far from the stage.

"I'm sorry, miss. How do you know my name?" You say sitting down in the booth.

"I'm Jerry's wife..."

"Lucy!" You both say together. She extends her hand to you to shake.

"I apologize, Y/N. I should have introduced myself first. I probably frightened you."

"I'm fine. Really. It's nice to meet you, Lucy. How did you know who I was?"

"Jerry's description of you was spot on."

"How long have you and Jerry been married?" You ask as you sip your daiquiri.

"We've been married for two years, but we've known each other for three. What did the girls say to you that got you riled up?"

"Something along the lines of being the next girl in Elvis' harem. Something like that. I practically said she was mad because he didn't choose her."

Lucy started to laugh. "Good for you, Y/N. You're smart and funny. I see why E.P. likes you."

"You really think so?" You say eagerly.

"He doesn't really invite girlfriends over to meet the wives that often, so I know he's serious about you. Which is hard considering..." she pauses.

"Considering what, Lucy?"

"Pam was rude. What she told you was out of line. The way she said it was unkind and unnecessary, but there's some truth behind it."

You really care about Elvis, but hearing that the cruel words that were said to you hurt. You were afraid to ask Lucy to go into detail and to tell you everything she knew, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Lucy, what do you know?"

"Y/N, if I tell you, you can't say a word to anyone. Several people know most of this, but not all details and such. You can't take it to heart or become angry. It was a different time, and Elvis was a different man. I believe he's grown some, but a tiger never changes his stripes. This is off the record. Between friends."

You're nervous to hear, but you need to know. You give her your pinky finger in trust. "I promise." She takes your pinky finger and binds it with hers.

"So, you know Elvis has never been married."

You answer Lucy with a nod. It begins some joy to you because maybe he was waiting on the one like you. You listen as Lucy continues.

"Never been married but has been engaged several times over the years. Why is that? Is it him or the girls he chose? Y/N to simply put it, it's Elvis. He's a womanizer. I believe he believes that being a womanizer, he'll find his idea of the perfect woman. He finds great women, but he cheats on them all the same. Jerry told me about his first fianceè back before he stuck his first gold record. Dixie, I think. He was getting a lot of attention from everyone. Girls screaming and throwing themselves at him, you know?"

You didn't know, but you continued to listen.

"Jerry believes he was lonely and seeked companionship from women. Can you believe a man as handsome as he wasn't popular in high school? Dixie knew, though, and other girls started to notice, too. Dixie let him go and moved on with her. The next year, there was some girl from Mississippi he met playing in a bar. Supposedly, they fell in love in one night. She disappeared for an entire year and popped back into his life, and they got engaged in the summer of 56'." Lucy takes a breath and sips her drink again.

"What happened?" You asked, wanting her to finish the story.

"What do you think? His infidelity and lies caught up with him. She got engaged to another man the following year. I wish I could remember her name. Something like a month. May. April. June. Then what does it matter? She wised up and left. Anita went the distance for him, though. Moved into Graceland. Got the ring and everything. She stayed by his side when his mama passed. He went into the Army, and she stayed in Memphis, keeping the bed warm. What happened? Still unfaithful. He wrote her every week and still was unfaithful. He cheated on her with a minor. Anita found out because she overheard Elvis talking to his father, Vernon. She left him that day." Lucy grows silent, sipping her drink and shaking her head in shame.

"Lucy, what happened to the young girl from Germany?" You ask.

"Visited E.P. once I know for sure. They were engaged, but..."

"But what?"

"He cheated on her with actress Ann Margaret. Ann and E.P. were inseparable. They did a film here in town called Viva Las Vegas. Their passion popped off the screen. Those two separated as friends, and he tried to work it out with the other girl. Like the rest, she wised up and left with her sanity. He never got back with Ann. She married another guy, too. Life goes on."

There's a part of you that is fuming. Elvis seems to have left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. This is part of what scared you away the other night. Is he really looking for love or a good time? You understood why he was lonely now. Next to losing his mother, he couldn't fulfill that need of another.

You sigh. You pinky promised Lucy you wouldn't say anything, get angry, or take it to heart, but you can't help it. This streak of jealousy rolls through you. All those beautiful women he's been with. You just lost your virginity Friday night! It makes sense why he's so good. He's had practice.

"Y/N, I didn't tell you this to worry you. I told you this to warn you. You can't just give your heart away too quickly. Like I said, he's grown. He doesn't do that anymore. I think he's looking for the one."

"The one? Who's to say who she may be?"

"Well, you're here now. He doesn't introduce girlfriends like that."

These words bring you some comfort, and you smile to yourself. As the lights go down and the orchestra begins. You sit back and get comfortable in your seat as your lover makes his way on stage.

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Elvis is pure perfection. He gets better with each show! You see the nervousness within him, but with each song and each joke, he shines like a star. Brighter even.

As he sings the last song, Jerry comes by the tables and escorts you and the Mafia wives backstage. You find it safer to stick with Lucy as she isn't condescending. Joann isn't so bad, but she sticks with Pam, trying to keep her on her best behavior.

Penny (Lamar's girlfriend) came by to apologize for laughing at what Pam said to you. She mentioned that she laughed harder at what you said about Elvis not showing interest in Pam. It seems you made two friends tonight, but you keep your eyes on Penny. Not too sure if she's spying or not. You remain kind, and the three of you bond over cocktails.

Before long, Jerry and Lamar come to take you and the ladies to the penthouse for the after-party. As the ladies crowd off the elevator to the door, Lucy pulls you a side.

"Y/N, I wanted to tell you something before going in."

"What is it, Lucy?"

"Just another warning. At these parties, the guys invite girls they believe are Elvis' type. They're usually all over him."

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Trying to not allow her words to bother you. After all, it's just a warning. She's not trying to get under your skin.

"I can handle it. It's okay." You tell her, opening your eyes.

You two enter the crowded room and start scanning the area. You see a lot of people. Lucy spots a few famous faces in the crowd, but none of them are familiar to you. Everyone drinks, snacks, and chats as they wait for Elvis to make his grand appearance.

You and Lucy each grab a cocktail and find a corner to chat in. It doesn't take too long, and Penny finds the two of you, and you all strike up a conversation amongst yourselves.

All of a sudden, you begin to hear a commotion enter the room. Greetings and hellos fill the air. There's an awe that takes over the entire space, and you know Elvis has entered the room. You try to stand on your tiptoes to look over the crowd just to get a glimpse of him.

You see him make his way around the room. A smile dons his ethereal face. As he gets closer to you, you become short of breath. How does he manage to take your breath away in a room full of people? He's dressed to the T as always. Elvis wears a brown suit with a turquoise belt. The best part is he doesn't have a shirt under his suit jacket. You silently applaud his outfit choice. You want to trail your hands up and down his chest, but it can wait.

Elvis makes his way to your corner. He gives you a hug and kisses your forehead.

"You were amazing tonight, love." You whisper to Elvis, inhaling his scent.

"Thank you, baby. Remember, no running away tonight." He says, looking you in the eyes.

"No running. I promise."

Elvis gives you a wink and slips away, continuing his way around the room, greeting people. You look on as he strikes up conversations with everyone around you. He's so charismatic and alluring. How could anyone stay away?

Even though it was almost three in the morning, you would wait for him. You just wanted to be in his arms. You wouldn't deny him anything if he wanted it from you because you wanted it too.

You, Lucy, and Penny continue getting acquainted with one another. They share what it's like being the ladies of the Memphis Mafia. Late night parties at Graceland, expensive trips around the country, and such.

"We never know what time we're going to bed. I usually go without Jerry, and he finds me eventually. It's different when we're home." Lucy says.

The conversation kind of gives you a deeper dive into Elvis' mind. You knew he was a night owl. It would explain your late night visits. You're a bit of a night owl, too, but you worry if you can keep up with Elvis.

You hear some giggling and turn your head. Elvis has made himself comfortable in the company of a few ladies. There's a ladies on both sides of him and one on his lap. This makes your blood grow cold. You've never been the jealous type, although you've never had feelings this deeply to be jealous of anyone. There were times you found yourself jealous of your friends, but you replaced it with love and care. You'd pray on it and be happy for them, but this was different.

You turn back to Lucy and finish your drink. "Y/N, relax. I told you this is something that he does."

"Honesty, Y/N. It's not a big deal." Penny says.

"Penny, would it be a big deal if it were Lamar sitting there?" You say to Penny. She considers what you say and grows quiet. "I don't have to stand for this. I can..." You close your eyes remembering the promise you made to him about not running away.

"You can what?" Lucy asks.

"I could leave, but I promised him I'd stay. How can I stay and watch this display?" You say, looking back at him.

"You don't have to at all." Lucy says.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your damnest to hold back your tears. You decide it's time for another drink. As you grab your drink, you consider your options on your next move. You promised him that you wouldn't leave, but you don't know how you can stay.

You decide on something dramatic. You separate from Lucy and Penny and find a seat close to Elvis and the women that surround him. You sip on your drink and look him directly in the eye. You're quiet. Deadly quiet. You're so quiet that it gets the attention of the women around you who have their hands on Elvis.

"What? Does she want a turn with the king? If so, he's unavailable." The blonde on top of his lap says, kissing his face.

You cut your eyes at her, then look at your drink cup. Considering options again. "You know, I don't consider myself a jealous woman, Elvis Aaron. I can't say I'm not pissed at this moment. They are quite beautiful, but you promised your night to me. So, you can either tell them to move or I'll scream." You tell him finishing off your cocktail and glancing at him.

"What?" Elvis says a bit surprised at your actions.

"Make them move now, or I'll scream."

"Move! Leave!" Elvis orders. The ladies flock away from him and give you angry looks as if you care. It's just the two of you now. You move from your spot on the sofa and sit on his lap. You circle your arms around his neck and look deeply into his eyes. You see that they are blown stormy black. You question if it's anger or lust.

"Thank you. If you didn't get rid of them, you wouldn't get your present."

"Present?"

"Something from me to you. I have no doubt that you've received this gift from others, but I want to give it to you anyway."

"I do love presents. What is it?"

You bring your lips really close to his lips and say, "Meet in the bedroom as soon as you get rid of everyone." You lick his lips, scoot off his lap, and head to the bedroom.

What has come over you? You feel like you can breathe again. Everything happened so fast that you barely remember what took place. When did you become so possessive? Elvis doesn't leave you waiting long. You have enough time to take off your shoes and sit upon his bed. He rushes into the room and finds you sitting on the bed.

There's a pause in between the two of you as he observes you. You innocently bite the middle of your index finger and spread your legs open for him. He comes to you, grabbing your face between hands and plants a kiss on your lips. He lays you gently against the bed, and you moan in his mouth. You slip your hands under his jacket to his bare chest.

Elvis stops and looks you, lightly placing a curl behind. "Where's my present?"

"How could we forget your present?" You smile at him and roll over on top of him. You unbutton his one button on his jacket, revealing his chest. "Elvis, I must admit I love your wardrobe choice for this evening." You place soft kisses down his chest until you are on your knees in front of him.

In shock, Elvis sits up. You slowly pull at his turquoise belt, and he stops you. "Y/N, baby..."

"This is your present from me."

"Y/N, you don't..." You place your finger to his lips.

"I want to. I want to return your kindness. True, I-I-I don't know what I'm doing, but you can teach me. I want to please you just as much as you please me."

Elvis looks at you and lightly strokes the back of his fingers against your cheek. "Baby, are you sure?"

"Yes." You speak so quickly, and clearly, it nearly makes his head spin. He nods his head and unbuckles his pants, revealing himself to you. You help him remove his pants and jacket completely.

You stroke his hardened cock, already dripping with precum. You stick your tongue out and taste the tip of him. Warm and salty. You swirl your tongue around his, diving into his foreskin, and place your lips around him. Making out with his dick in the same manner you kiss his lips.

Elvis moans deeply, and you look at him. He rolls his eyes in the back of his head and pants. You know you're doing something right. You pop his head out of your mouth, and he breathes loudly.

"You like that?" You ask him, so eager to please him.

He opens his eyes to look at you and nods. "You're so willing and able to please me, baby. I thought you never did this before?"

"I swear, you're my first everything."

"Everything, baby? Nobody else?"

"No one else. Just you."

"Do it again, Y/N. Please." He asks.

You repeat the same motion you did the first time. Practically French kissing his dick and swirling your tongue in and out of his foreskin. Taking him in inch by inch each time. Moaning more with every inch you take in your mouth. You this until finally you are stroking him inside your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. My talented girl so willing to please me. You like this cock in your mouth, baby? Huh?" You moan in response as you suckle him. You pop him off one last time, and as you lick his head to suck again he cums into your mouth. His cum dribbles on your chin and lips, you hold what's left in your mouth.

Elvis gasps for air, and looks at you partially covered with his cum. You swallow in response to his look at you. He grabs your face and licks the cum off your chin, trailing his way to your mouth. He kisses you so passionately that you nearly lose your balance, and he catches you.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

"You took my breath away." You tell him as you place your hands on his shoulders. "Did I do good? Did you like it?"

"Like it? Baby, that was the best present I've ever gotten. Thank you." He says, this placing kisses around your face and neck. He stands you up to examine your body and your little black dress.

"Y/N, did I tell you that black is one of my favorite colors?"

"You did. Along with your other favorite color." He lays you down on the bed once more, discovering your panties are pink lace, and he loses it.

"I fucking love pink!" Elvis says. This time, he uses his teeth to remove your panties.

You giggle as he bites them off and slides them off your legs. Elvis slides his hands up your legs and thighs. You set yourself up on your arms as he plays with you. He opens you up and crawls to your core, licking a long, agonizingly slow strip from your pussy to your bud. You close your eyes, moaning loudly in pleasure.

"What was that out there?"

You open your your eyes and pant.

"W-W-what? What was what?"

He slowly sticks two of his long fingers inside of your entrance, spreading some of your wetness to your cunt. This makes you tremble.

"What was you jealous bout? You were gonna scream. You only scream for me. You don't make a scene. Understand?"

"Oh. Oh." He says this as he strokes your swollen bud.

"Answer me, Y/N. Who do you scream for?"

"Y-You. Awe. Just. You."

"Damn right, baby. I'm gonna teach you how to scream tonight." Elvis says, bringing his tongue back to your cunt.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @plasticfantasticl0ver @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @fallinlovewithurlove @literally-just-elvis-fics

[americasass91]

The Shield and the Sweater

Hello lovelies! This little fic came to me when the lovely, beautiful, talented @stargazingfangirl18​ asked a very important question on her blog. Would you rather be enemies to lovers with Steve Rogers or friends with benefits with Ransom Drysdale. Well my greedy ass wanted both. Thus the birth of this story. I also turned it around a little to make it fit into Siri’s 5k Soft Dark Challenge! I’ve never written anything dark before. Also not sure if this classifies as soft!dark or if it’s more dark. But it’s one of those! If that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t read it. This is also my first time writing a threesome, so let me know if it sucks! I hope you enjoy it! 😘

General prompts:

8)The town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

Dialogue prompts:

3)”Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

11)”I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Rating: Explicit(if you’re under 18, please leave)

Words: 6.2k(this one got away from me, sorry)

Warnings: soft!dark/dark themes, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome(M/M/F), manipulation, language, model!Ransom being an asshole, Steve not being who you think he is

“And I really think if everyone pitches in to make these changes, it’ll really make a difference in the long run.”

Wow, so this is how you were going to die. In your whole 20 something years of existence, you never thought boredom would be your cause of death.

Sure, you were the lead Accountant at Stark Tower and these monthly meetings were mandatory. But did you really have to be here to listen to Rogers go on and on about how we can ‘improve our working environment’? Why did he even care anyway? He was barely ever here as it is.

You must have been zoning out worse than you thought because next thing you know your coworker, Janet, is poking you in the side and pointing towards Steve.

With a quick glare sent her way, you move your gaze to the Captain. He is giving you the same look he always does. Like he’s disgusted with you. “I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N. Am I boring you?”

A scoff escapes your mouth. “No, not at all Captain Rogers. I just love when people who are never here seem to always have an opinion on how things are run and how they could be better.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do you have a problem with me, Y/N? Cause if you do, I’m sure there’s a way to solve that.”

You stand up and match his expression. You lean forward with your hands resting on the table. You can’t help but notice the Captain drops his gaze to your cleavage that’s now on more display than before. But just as quick as it was there, his gaze rises back up to meet your face. “Is that a threat, Captain Rogers?”

“Oh, it’s more than a-“

Tony quickly stands up and claps his hands together. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! You two, come here!”

You quickly straighten yourself up and make your way over to Tony. You always try to make sure you show him as much respect as you can. He’s your boss after all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. My emotions got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I accept your apology. But what I’m not understanding is why Steve here wanted to fire you?”

You both turn to look at Steve who has a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, Tony. She just seems to bring out this ugly side of me. I’ll try to keep it more contained next time.” He then moves his gaze to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I promise to be more professional moving forward.”

He makes a quick exit, leaving you shocked that he apologized at all. Ever since you started here almost a year ago now, you’ve been at each other’s throats. It was your fault really.

It was your first week and you were in the break room grabbing some coffee when you overheard a few of your coworkers making fun of Steve for being a virgin. Now, you weren’t sure if it was true but you wanted to fit in so you made your way over to the group and asked if anyone calls him Captain Virgin. That earned you some big laughs. But the laughter died down quickly as Steve entered the room to grab some coffee. Judging by the glare he gave you, he heard what you had called him.

You went straight to Tony after that to apologize. You really didn’t want to get fired. But you wanted to make sure Tony heard the story from you before Steve got the chance to talk to him. To your utter surprise, Tony found the name hilarious and gave you a high five, saying you were going to fit right in.

Well long story short, it’s almost a year later and Steve is still getting called Captain Virgin. Oh but don’t worry, he has names of his own for you. His favorite is Tony’s Pet. For some reason, it really eats at you when he calls you that.

But the one thing you hate the most about Steve?

Is how utterly, hopelessly, and desperately attracted you are to the son of a bitch.

That happened in your second week when you went to use the complimentary gym and saw him beating the shit out of some poor punching bag. Your panties and your workout were definitely ruined after that.

The more you fought with Steve, the more you just wanted him to bend you over any surface and have his way with you.  

It was despicable how horny you were for him. You were pretty sure all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and point to the floor in front of him and you’d happily drop to your knees and take him down your throat.

So that left you leaving work every day in a horny state. You started by taking care of it yourself when you got home. But after a while even that wasn’t cutting it. Then you started bringing home one night stands. But after the 4th disappointing non-orgasm, you gave up and just learned to live with it.

Sure, you could attempt to start being nice to Steve and maybe ask him out. But you were pretty sure he hated you. Plus you have way too much pride to actually do that.

So that leads to now. It’s Friday night and your workday is almost over. You’re inputting the last few numbers from the last expense report in your pile.

You get the last number put in when Janet approaches you. She sits on the corner of your desk. “So, you coming tonight?”

You take your glasses off and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “Coming where?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, come on Y/N! You know we go out almost every Friday night. You never come and you always say you will!”

You start to clear off your desk and put things back in their place. “Yeah well I could. Or I could go home and sit on my ass and do nothing.”

“Well, that explains why it’s looking a bit bigger lately.”

Janet’s jaw drops as she directs her gaze at Steve, who is now standing in front of your desk.

You smirk and lean on your elbows towards him. “You like looking at my ass, Rogers?”

He scoffs. “Well when it takes up that much space, it’s hard not to notice. But here, I came to give you this.”

He hands you what looks to be a 10 page expense report. “Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy, you know. Saving the world.”

You ungraciously take it from him and throw it in your to-do pile. “That can wait until Monday. I’ve got plans. We’re going to-” you look towards Janet for clarification. “Lavo.” You turn your gaze back to Steve. “Yeah, we’re going to Lavo. So this will wait til Monday if that’s okay with you, sir.”

Steve does his best to move his bag and jacket subtly towards the front of his pants so you won’t notice his growing hard-on. He hates how turned on he gets when you guys get into it. And then you call him sir? Jesus. He clears his throat. “Of course, I'm the one who turned it in at the last minute.”

Janet speaks up quickly. “You could always come with us! It’ll be fun!”

You grin widely at him. “Yeah! You could finally get your cherry popped, Captain Virgin.”

Steve can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks. “Uh, I can assure you my cherry has been popped since the 40’s. But thank you for your concern. And thank you for the invite, Janet. But i think I’ll stay in tonight.” He takes out his phone and sends a quick text before turning around and walking towards the elevators.

Wow. He didn’t even try to retaliate. You shrug your shoulders and grab your purse before standing up. “Alright, I’ll go! But on one condition!”

Janet claps her hands in excitement and starts walking with you towards the elevators. “Sure, anything!”

You press the button for the lobby. “You are going to be my wingwoman. Cause this girl definitely needs to get laid.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Lavo is super packed by the time you guys arrive. Of course you all had to go home and change.

You decided to go with a simple, yet effective, little black dress that showed off just enough to get men’s attention.

Thankfully you are able to score the last table. The waiter comes over and gets everyone’s drink order. You decide to stick with your favorite. You don’t want to get too drunk on the off chance you find someone to take home.

About a half hour into hot office gossip, Lucy, who is sitting across from you, taps your arm. You raise your eyebrows in question towards her.

She subtly nods her head towards the bar. “Okay I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I have ever seen is checking you out.”

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t miss him. He’s fucking hot. Like no comparison to any of the other dudes sitting up there.”

You glance down at your drink and quickly finish the remainder. You stand up and adjust your dress, pushing up your breasts in the process. “Well, then I guess it’s time for a refill.” You wink and turn to make your way towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. And boy was Lucy not kidding. He was fucking hot. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a smug smirk that would normally turn you off. But on him it worked. And who even looks that good in a fucking cream colored cable knit?

You go up to the bar, not too close to Mr. Hottie of course, and patiently wait for the bartender.

Hottie McHothot not so subtly moves his gaze up and down your body. He must like what he sees. “Hey honey, have you ever raised chickens?”

Uh. That’s definitely not the first thing you expected to come out of his mouth. You look over at him with confusion on your face. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Just kinda figured you might. Cause you sure can raise a cock.”

Okay, you’ve definitely never heard that line before. You crack up. You’re pretty sure you even snorted on accident. Once you collect yourself you ask, “Has that line ever worked for you?”

The bartender makes his way over to take your order. After reordering what you had before, you turn towards Hottie and wait for his answer.

“Not sure, my buddy told it to me yesterday so this is the first time I’m using it. Did it work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It was pretty cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it got you to laugh. So I’d say mission accomplished. Name’s Ransom. What’s yours, pretty girl?” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

Ransom. Now where have you heard that name before? You accept his hand shake. You can’t help but notice how much bigger his hands are than yours. Jesus. You could already feel your panties getting wet.

“My name’s Y/N. Ransom, that sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

He releases your hand and goes to take a sip of his bourbon. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you read magazines or have you seen the side of the city bus lately?”

You quickly wrack your brain. You don’t read many magazines. But the bus drives by you everyday on your walk to work. Holy shit! That’s it! He’s in his underwear on the side of the bus. You’ve drooled over that picture plenty of times.

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! I’ve seen you on the bus! What’s it an ad for? I can never really get past the almost naked man. A bit distracting on my way to work.”

He smirks as he briefly glances down at your breasts. “I’m glad you know my work. It’s an ad for Calvin Klein. For their new line of men’s briefs. Sorry I’ve been a distraction.” He sends you a wink.

Fuck. He was a model. And a popular one at that if he’s in an ad for Calvin Klein.

“I didn’t say I minded. You can make it up to me you know.” You wink back. Holy shit. Were you really flirting with a model?

“Yeah? Well, how about we get out of here and I’ll show you a fully naked man.”

Okay. Cheesy line number 2. Was that really going to work on you?

Yes.

Yes it was.

“Let me just go grab my purse.”

Drink forgotten, you go back to your table as quickly as you can without looking desperate. “Sorry, girls. But this is where I leave you.”

Janet glances down at her phone. “We haven’t even been here an hour yet! Where are you going?”

You send her a wink. “I’m leaving with that guy! You guys know him! Remember that ad on the side of the bus?”

They all turn their gaze to him. And they all make it very obvious. He just waves and sends them a smirk.

“Holy fucking shit! That’s the new Calvin Klein guy! Oh my god you lucky bitch!”

“Wait! Listen. We’ll let you go on one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay?”

Janet gives you a naughty smirk. “On Monday I’ll need a report on if they had to stuff his briefs to get that delicious looking bulge or not.”

You give her a naughty smirk of your own. “I can totally do that.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Monday morning you were all smiles as you stepped off the elevator and headed towards your desk. You give Janet a wink as you pass by her. She quickly makes her way over just as you sit down. “Um, excuse me hoe. But is that the same dress you were wearing Friday night?”

You quickly grab the cardigan you always keep in your desk out and put it on and button it up, attempting to look a little more professional. “Maybe.”

Janet opens her mouth in shock. “You stayed the whole weekend with him? You little slut! How was it?”

You turn on your computer and grab for the expense report of Steve’s you left in your to-do pile. Then you turn towards your nosy coworker. “Well, if you must know, yes. I did stay the whole weekend with him. And I’m pretty sure I was in an orgasm-induced coma the whole time. It’s all kind of a rough, sticky, mind-blowing blur.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you put in your login information on the computer. “I haven’t decided yet. While the sex was the best I’ve ever had, he’s kind of an ass. Talked about himself and all the famous people he’s hooked up with since becoming a model. I honestly kept initiating sex just to make him shut up.”

She gives you a look like you’re stupid. “I’m not seeing the issue here. So what if he talks about himself a lot? The sex was amazing. You need to lock that down girl.”

You roll your eyes at her. “That’s the thing, Janet. He doesn’t do relationships. He told me so multiple times. Plus I’m pretty sure he was texting another chick in between our ‘sessions’. I suppose if I’m desperate, I’ll get a hold of him.”

“You know you could always just have him on backup for sex. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

“Janet, I’m in my late 20s. I’m too old for that kind of relationship.”

“Exactly, you’re in your late 20s! This is the perfect time for that kind of relationship before you settle down and get married! Have one last final hoorah!”

“I can’t have this conversation before caffeine. I’m going to get coffee. You act like I’m dying soon or something.” You turn to walk away but then remember you were supposed to tell her something. “Oh yeah and by the way. The bulge is definitely not stuffed.”

You give her a wink and then head to the break room for some much needed coffee. When you see who’s in there, you almost contemplate going downstairs to a different break room.

Steve is standing at the counter, preparing his coffee. He turns when he hears you come in and gives you a once over. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You grab a mug out of the cabinet beside him. “Sorry my appearance isn’t up to your standards today, Rogers. I was a little...busy this weekend.”

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it’s right. Then he moves out of your way so you can get to the coffee, but still staying close. “Busy getting run over by a truck? Cause that’s kind of what you look like.”

You pour yourself a generous amount of coffee and take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid slowly make you human. “Yeah, well. I was busy getting fucked all weekend, Rogers. But I know your little innocent mind wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

That wipes the stupid little smirk right off his face. He almost looks pissed. He moves even closer to you. Almost pressing himself right up against you. So close that you can smell his coffee-scented breath. If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined.

“Not all of us feel the need to sleep around. Some of us are looking for a real connection. Not just a one night stand of meaningless, mediocre sex.”

You press yourself just a little closer to him, his chest now touching yours. “Oh, it was anything but mediocre. Maybe if you actually got some, you’d know what that feels like.”

He leans his head down until his mouth is next to your ear, his left hand now resting on your hip. “You really need to stop insinuating that I’m a virgin sweetheart. If you were nicer to me, I’d show you that I know how to fuck.” With that he backs up and heads out of the break room.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Jesus Christ. You swear you almost came.

And if you were nicer to him? Fuck him. He’s not nice to you either. That’s okay. You have someone who can scratch this itch.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text.

To: Fuckboi

You busy tonight? I could really use a release.

The reply came almost immediately.

From: Fuckboi

Didn’t get enough of my cock this weekend huh? I suppose I could make myself available.

You roll your eyes and quickly reply with your address and what time to be over.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. It takes you half the day to enter Steve’s expense report. God he’s descriptive. At least it’s completed. You can’t really say that much for the other Avengers. They usually half assed them and made them barely acceptable.

You are shutting down for the day when Steve approaches your desk. You remove your glasses and look at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

A blush creeps it’s way across his cheeks. “Um, I was actually just wondering if you had time to go over the new expense report forms? They should be a lot easier to fill out.”

You glance down at the clock on your computer. Ransom is going to be at your place in about 20 minutes.“Can we do it tomorrow? I have company that’ll be showing up at my apartment in like 20 minutes.”

His hopeful smile falls. His face is now unreadable. “Would your company happen to be whoever you spent the weekend with?”

Confused, you grab for your purse after getting your computer shut down. “Actually, yes. Should I have asked your permission first?” You attempt a joke to ease the sudden tension.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. Wow. You weren’t aware he knew how to text. You hear it ping with a reply before he angrily puts it back in his pocket. “Sure, we can do this tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your whoreing around.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. Sure you guys were always throwing jabs at each other. But he’d never said anything like this before. And in such a mean tone.

You round your desk and stand right in front of him. “Fuck you, Steve.”

You hurry towards the elevators before he can see the tears that have welled up. You couldn’t let him know he had that power over you. Asshole. Thank god Ransom was coming over. Hopefully he could fuck what Steve just said right out of your head.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms Ransom has pulled from you with his mouth when there’s a knock on your door.

Ransom looks up at you from his kneeling position on your living room floor. “Did you invite someone else to join us, pretty girl?”

You scoff and push him away so you can stand up. You pull your dress down as you make your way towards the door. “Yeah. I can barely handle just you. I’m pretty sure if we added someone else, I’d actually die.”

You open the door and gasp in surprise. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I know you probably already have company but I felt really bad about what I said to you earlier today and wanted to apologize.”

You have so many questions. “How did you know where I lived?”

That sheepish smile makes its appearance again. “I may or may not have looked in your employee file.”

You shake your head. “And you felt the need to come all the way here and apologize? Why not just text me?”

“It would only have felt right to me to do it in person. I really am sor-”

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Well, who do we have here? Why is Captain America at your door?”

You turn your head to address Ransom. “He just came by to apologize to me. I think he was just leaving.”

Steve has a disappointed look on his face. “Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“Awe, what a shame. I thought you were gonna ask him to join us, pretty girl.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide at the thought. You quickly speak up. “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that. He’s a little old fashioned.” You give him a sincere smile. You didn't think that was a bad thing.

Steve looks back towards the elevators and then back to you. He clears his throat. “What if I wanted to join you?” Seeing your wide eyed look, he quickly adds, “Only if Y/N would be comfortable with that of course.”

You contemplate what the consequences could be in your head. But then you get distracted when Ransom starts grinding his hard on against your ass. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a decision.”

The next word comes out of your mouth faster than what your brain can process. “Okay.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Now you were standing awkwardly in your bedroom with Steve and Ransom looking at you expectantly.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure how this is supposed to go. “So, um. How do we start exactly?”

Ransom smirks and comes up behind you. “I think you should call the shots, pretty girl. If you’re okay with that, Steve?”

With the mention of his name, he walks towards you and places his hands on your hips. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I kiss you now?” He places his hand under your chin and raises your face up to meet his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” With that, his lips meet yours. It’s explosive. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck and press yourself up against him.

You get so lost in the kiss, you forget that Ransom is there. That is until he presses his lips against your neck and presses himself against your ass. It presses you even further against Steve, making you feel his excitement against your lower belly.

You’re so overwhelmed already and you’d barely started. You may not survive this evening.

As you move your hands down to remove Steve’s shirt, Ransom is unzipping your dress, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve moves his hands around to unhook your bra so he can get his hands on your breasts. He pinches your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He moves his lips to your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

After successfully removing your dress, Ransom stands back up and turns your head to connect your lips. He starts rutting his clothed hard on against your naked ass. His left hand reaches around to bat one of Steve’s away so he can squeeze your breast.

Steve takes the hand that had been swatted away and moves it down to your soaking wet core. He starts lightly circling your clit. Just enough pressure to make you mewl.

You reach behind you with your left hand and tug at the waistband of Ransom’s briefs. “Off.” You moan out as you take your right hand and start attempting to take off Steve’s jeans. He smirks into your neck and helps you out. He barely gets them unbuttoned and unzipped before you’re reaching your hand into them and his boxers to grab his cock. It feels big.

Ransom grabs your left hand and places it on his now free cock. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze before you start pumping your hand up and down. You do the same to Steve’s, making the both of them let out grunts against both sides of your neck. Steve increases the pressure on your clit a little. Still not enough.

“Nee-need, you. Please.” You weakly moan out. Ransom moves his mouth up to your ear. “How do you want us, pretty girl?”

You reluctantly pull away from both of them so you can think. You decide to be greedy. You point to Steve. “I want you to lay on the bed, please.”

He does as you ask. Putting his hands behind his head as he awaits further instructions.

You get on the bed and straddle him. You turn around and reach your arm out for Ransom. “Want you behind me.” You lean over and open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and toss it at Ransom. He smirks as he straddles Steve’s legs and gets behind you. He uncaps the lube and starts coating his cock with a generous amount. “Need my cock in that ass, pretty girl?”

You hold up your hand. “Wait.” You lean down towards Steve and give him a quick kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

He nods his head. “As long as you are.” You raise back up and smile at him. You turn your head and look at Ransom. “I’m assuming you're okay with this?”

He just smirks and squeezes some lube out so that it slides down the crack of your ass. “More than okay, pretty girl. Need me to stretch you out first?”

You smirk and pull him in for a quick, filthy kiss. “I think it got plenty stretched out this weekend.”

He matches your smirk. “You little slut. Wanting both of our cocks stuffing you full.”

You whimper as he lands a smack on your ass. Leaning up on your knees, you grab a hold of Steve’s cock and start running his tip up and down your folds. He places his left hand on your right hip and his right hand on your left thigh. “Condom?”

You quickly shake your head and pause your actions. “On the pill. Unless of course you’d be more comfortable with one.”

He shakes his head. “No, just making sure.”

You turn back to Ransom. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

He nods and places his hands on your shoulders, waiting somewhat patiently.

You slowly sink down on Steve’s cock. He’s stretching you out so deliciously. It burns in just the right way. Ransom may be longer, but Steve is definitely thicker.

After you get fully seated on him, you take a minute to adjust. It only takes a few seconds. You turn your head towards Ransom. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He removes his right hand from your shoulder and grabs the base of his cock and starts pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He’d been in there a lot over the weekend. But it was still a tight fit regardless. He doesn’t go as slow and sheaths himself to the hilt, causing you to moan out in slight pain and pleasure.

Holy fuck. You feel so full. You think you might die. That is until Ransom removes his cock until just the tip remains and then forcefully thrust back in, causing you to grind on Steve’s dick.

Steve grunts out from the movement and starts thrusting up into you the best he can from his position. Ransom wraps his left arm around you and continues his thrusts, not letting up his pace. You don’t even really have to move, the both of them doing it for you. They somehow find the perfect rhythm. Each of them pulling out and pushing in at the same time. One of your hands is behind you, resting on the back of Ransom’s head while the other is resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve sits up suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss. “Like being stuffed with both of our cocks, pretty girl?” You hear from behind you. “Yes. So good. So full. Gonna cum.”

Ransom removes his arm from around you and reaches down and starts circling your clit. “Do it. Cum all over us. Make a mess.”

Steve can feel you squeezing him. “Please, sweetheart. Need to feel you cum on my cock. You’re gripping me so good.”

You explode. You clamp your eyes shut, seeing stars behind your eyelids. You let the both of them fuck you through it.

Ransom’s hips stutter. The fluttering around his cock is too good. He cums with a shout of your name, filling up your ass to the brim. He gives you a few more thrusts before he pulls out and collapses beside you two.

Steve’s been patient while you come down from your high. He lays back down, pulling you with him so that your chest to chest. He bends his knees and grabs onto your hips. “You ready, sweetheart?” You raise up, both of your hands on each side of his head. You give him a nod.

That’s all he needs. He starts fucking you, hard and fast, chasing his release. He can feel it building. He just needs to feel you come undone around him again. He moves one of his hands and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me again, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Can’t. Too much.”

Ransom sits up beside you. “I know what she needs.” He reaches over with his left hand and wraps it around your throat, squeezing gently.

It makes you clench down on Steve’s cock. “Yeah? That all you needed, sweetheart? A hand wrapped around your pretty throat? I know you like it. Can feel you squeezing me.” He picks up his pace. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunts, your breathy monas, and skin slapping against skin.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you. This one is somehow even more intense than the last.

You must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in between Steve and Ransom.

Steve smiles down at you. “There she is. We lost you for a second, sweetheart.”

You feel drunk. You smile goofily up at him. “Did you cum?”

Just as you ask that, you can feel his release seeping out of your overused cunt. Then you feel cum leaking out of your ass. You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ransom removes one hand while Steve removes the other. “Nuh uh uh. No hiding allowed, pretty girl. I have no regrets.” He looks at Steve. “Do you?”

Steve smiles down at you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “None from me. You tired, sweetheart?”

You let out a big yawn and nod your head, slowly closing your eyes. “Get some rest, pretty girl.” That’s the last thing you hear before sleep takes you.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You wake up sometime in the early morning, stretching out your sore limbs. You know you have a dumb smile on your face. But you can’t help but notice your empty bed.

You sit up and hiss at the deliciously sore feeling between your legs. You grab your robe and slip it on. You can smell coffee coming from the kitchen. You giddily make your way out of the room and down the hallway. They both barely just come into view, still unaware you’re there, when you hear Steve speak.

“I thought you were going to be an asshole to her? Make her see I’m not that bad.”

You hear Ransom next. “I was an asshole to her. I’m sorry I dicked her down so good that she wanted more.”

Steve scoffs. “I never gave you the okay to fuck her!”

“You also didn’t tell me it was off limits. Look you got what you wanted right?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I didn’t pay you so we could have a threesome together.”

What the fuck? Steve paid Ransom to help him get in your pants?

“Ok, how about this? I’ll give you all of your money back if I can fuck her one more time before I go? Then we’ll be squared away.”

Steve seems to be conflicted. “Fine! But this is the last time Ransom. I have to get to work anyway. After this, she’s mine. And make sure she’s not late for work herself.”

Before you have time to react, Steve rounds the corner and sees you standing there. He has a deer caught in headlights look. Ransom comes up beside him and sees you. “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You slowly start backing up towards your bedroom. Steve moves towards you, stopping once you put your hands up. “Stay away from me! Both of you! I want nothing to do with either of you!”

Ransom moves past Steve and grabs onto your arms. “Oh, please. You’d fuck us again if we wanted. Wouldn’t you?”

You spit in his face. “Fuck you, Hugh.”

He gets a sinister look on his face. “Wrong move, pretty girl.” He looks toward Steve. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the brat out of her. You better tell her boss she won’t be in today.”

Your eyes go wide at his words. You start thrashing against him, trying your best to get away. Steve has had enough. He comes over and yanks you away from him and presses you against the wall. “You better calm down, sweetheart. I’ll treat you like a princess if you can be my good girl. Can you do that?”

You shake your head. “Why would you think I’d want anything to do with you after finding out you paid someone to help get into my pants?”

He gives you an evil smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to release the tape of last night on the internet. Let everyone see how much of a slut you actually are.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re bluffing.”

He smirks and turns his head towards Ransom. “Show her.”

Ransom gets his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen for a second before turning it in your direction.

Holy shit. They weren’t bluffing. There you were, getting fucked by the both of them. That would ruin you if it got out. Not only would you get fired, but your parents would probably disown you. You’d never have a normal relationship again. You’re fucked. Even more than you were last night. How had you not noticed they were recording it?

Ransom must have read your mind. “I set my phone up while you were busy with Steve’s fingers on your cunt and his tongue down your throat. I think you need to ask her again Steve.”

Steve grabs your chin and moves your gaze onto his face. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be my good girl? Let Ransom fuck you one more time and then it’ll just be me and you?”

You drop your gaze to the floor. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you whisper out, “I’ll be your good girl.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @lllols @patzammit​ @quxxnxfhxll​

Steve Taglist: @donutloverxo​

[thepremedthatwrites]

Insufferable (pt.2)

request: Hi lovely, can you do Peter pevensie x reader imagine, please? The reader meets Pevensies in Narnia, but from the beginning she and Peter can't get along together, lots of arguments, while secretly and slowly developing feelings towards each other they don't want to admit, lot of sexual tension before smth happens but eventually they'll end up together. you can include some smut stuff. Thanks xx

part 1 | part 3

I woke with a start as someone pulled back the blanket.  A pair of warm brown eyes were looking back at me, a soft smile on their face and their curly brown hair hanging down freely.  “Who are you?” I asked, pushing myself up and away from the person.  As I took them in, my eyes caught sight of two small horns sprouting on top of their head and just peeking out of their hair.  “What are you?” I added, my eyes now wide in shock.

“I am Daisy, a faun,” she said, a soft smile on her face.  “High King Peter has requested that I prepare you for breakfast today.”  She put out her hand and I slowly took it as she led me out of my bed and towards another section of the room closed off by deep red curtains.  My shock grew as I saw a pair of goat legs attached to Daisy’s human-like top, her hooves clicking on the stone floor.  The faun grabbed a bucket of water that sat next to a tub that was already halfway filled with water.  “Get undressed,” she commanded as she poured the rest of the water into the tub.

I hesitated, not wanting to expose myself to a complete stranger, especially a stranger that wasn’t human.  “No,” I said, crossing my arms.  The faun let out a sigh as she put the bucket back on the floor.  “I can wash myself.”

“That is not what the high king wants.  He specifically ordered that I wash and dress you.”

“Then I will take it up with him,” I said before turning around and making my way to the door.  Daisy hurried to follow me as I entered the hallway, trying my best to remember the way to King Peter’s room.  

“Miss, you don’t want to do this.  The high king will be very upset,” Daisy started as I reached the double doors that were guarded by two men.  The guards watched the scene unfold as I banged on the wooden door.

“I don’t care how he may feel.  He has no right making me get naked in front of a complete stranger,” I replied.  The door swung open to reveal King Peter who was only wearing brown pants, his top half naked.  I did my best to avoid his toned body, but my brain still subconsciously noticed his strong arms and tight abs.  I focused my eyes on his blue ones as I spoke, doing my best to concentrate on my anger.

“How dare you!”

“How dare I what?” he asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as his eyes studied my face.

“Do you really think that I would be willing to undress in front of a complete stranger when I hardly even know where I am?  I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“There’s no need to be so angry, darling.  This is only routine for visitors of the royal family.  And if your hair is any indication of how you take care of yourself, I do not think your claim is as true as you believe it to be.”  My hands flew to my hair, combing my fingers through the knotted locks.  King Peter let out a chuckle at this before leaning on the side of the doorway, his arms crossed.  We were only inches away now and I could feel his body heat radiating off of his bare skin.

“Well I,” I started, getting slightly distracted as I felt his eyes watch me intensely.  “I don’t need someone to help me take a bath.  At least let me do that by myself.”

“Alright,” he said to my surprise.  “You can do that by yourself.  But let the faun dress you at least.  You need to look somewhat presentable in public.”

“Fine,” I said.  I turned around to face Daisy, taking a few steps toward her before stopping.  “Daisy,” I said, turning my head to face King Peter.

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“The faun’s name is Daisy,” I explained.  “It might do you some good to know the names of those who serve you, your majesty.”  I turned my head back around before following Daisy back to my room.

Daisy waited in the area of the room with the bed as I bathed behind the curtain.  It felt nice to wash off the dirt and grime that had accumulated from the night before.  As I got out, I grabbed the robe Daisy had laid out for me, tying it tightly around my body as I emerged from behind the curtain.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Daisy said as she brushed my hair.

“Do what?”

“Tell King Peter my name.  I’m not important enough for him to know my name.”

“That’s nonsense,” I said as Daisy put down the brush, her fingers working on putting my hair into an intricate braid.  She would pause every now and then to weave white flowers in with my hair before continuing with the process.  “You are just as important as a guard or even King Peter himself.  Without you, the castle wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does.  Just because you don’t wear a crown doesn’t mean you’re less than.”

“Thank you, miss,” Daisy said.

“Please, call me (y/n).”

“Of course, (y/n).”  Daisy stepped back, handing me a handheld mirror so that I could get a good look at her work.

“Oh Daisy, it’s beautiful,” I said, my voice soft as I admired my hair.  Daisy only nodded, walking over to the wardrobe where I had grabbed the robe the night before and pulling out a purple dress.  

“I’ll wait by the bath while you put it on,” Daisy said, already making her way towards the curtain.

“Thank you.”  I waited till she was behind the curtain to take off the robe and put on the dress.  It hugged my curves before falling down to the floor.  The material was so soft and light that it barely even felt like I was wearing anything.  I let out a small grunt as I tried, and failed, to tie the strings on the back.  “Daisy,” I called out.  She peeked her head from behind the curtain.  “Could you help me tie the strings on the back?”  

Daisy made her way to me, expertly tying the strings, her fingers brushing my bare skin every now and then.  “Thank you,” I said as she stepped back.  “Do I go to join the royal family now?”

“Yes, I’ll lead you to the pavilion.”  I followed Daisy down the hall and out of a door that led out to a beautiful garden.  Butterflies hovered over flowers and green foliage spilled out onto the stone path that led to a small pavilion where a round table sat.  The table was small, only allowing around five people to sit comfortably at it.  I saw Edmund and King Peter sitting there, along with two girls.  Daisy led me down the path.  We came to a halt as we reached the pavilion.

“Thank you for bringing her, Daisy,” Peter said.  I felt my heart warm as I walked to the empty seat between Peter and the girl with long, brown hair.

“It’s my pleasure, your majesty,” Daisy replied, a large grin on her face as she curtseyed before turning around and making her way back to the castle.

“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming,” Edmund said, a large grin on his face.

“I would never offend his majesty like that,” I replied, matching his grin.

“I hope there weren’t any other complications with getting dressed this morning,” King Peter interjected.  I felt my face warm as the grin fell from my face.

“No, there weren’t.”  Edmund looked at both King Peter and I quizzically, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m Susan,” the girl I was sitting next to offered.

“And I’m Lucy,” the other girl said.  “It’s so nice to see that you’re okay.  I was picking flowers in the meadow to make flower crowns and found you laying in the grass.  I was afraid you were dead and ran to get Peter who carried you to the castle.  I apologize for not checking in on you last night.  I was waiting with Peter for you to wake up, but it was getting late and Peter made me go to bed.”

“Thank you for finding me,” I said, offering a small smile.  “And there is no need to apologize, I would hate to have been the reason for you staying up so late.”

“Peter said you are from Earth, is that true?” Susan questioned before taking a bite of a strawberry.

“Yes,” I replied, stealing a glance at Peter who was watching me.  “I didn’t realize you were all talking about me.”

“You are all Peter has been talking about,” Edmund said.  Peter shot him a look before turning to me again.

“I wanted to assure them that you aren’t a threat,” he explained.  I nodded.

“Peter, the king of Telmar is visiting next month.  I have been writing to him for a while, but it seems he does not want an alliance with us.  Perhaps you could talk to him for us and convince him,” Susan said.  I was thankful that the conversation had turned away from me.

“Yes,” Peter said.  “I’ve been thinking of what to do with Telmar.  Maybe a marriage would be the best chance of peace with them.”

“You mean an arranged marriage?” I interjected.  I wanted to laugh at the idea.  “Surely you are joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“Because marriage is supposed to be the joining of two people who are in love, not some political power move between two nations.”

“It’s politics (y/n).  Not everything is going to be pretty in politics,” Peter said.

“It’s stupid is what it is,” I mumbled, playing with the food on my plate.

“Well then, let’s all be grateful that you aren’t a queen.”  I glared at Peter who stared back at me.  His bright blue eyes were slightly narrowed and a hint of amusement shone in them.  Behind that amusement there seemed to be something else, though I wasn’t sure what it was.  At first I thought it may be fear but that wasn’t it.  No, it was curiosity.  As a high king, nobody questioned him so now that there was a random girl in his castle questioning his every move he seemed intrigued, curious.  

I looked away from his eyes as they had become too intense for me.  My heart seemed to be pounding in my chest as my eyes flickered to his nose which was slightly flared, before traveling down to his full lips.  They were a luscious pink and I subconsciously licked my own lips as I looked at his.  I could feel his eyes tracing my own features as well, and I knew his siblings were still there but for a moment it was only me and him.  

It was when I heard a fork clatter with a plate that I broke from the spell, ripping my eyes off of him, instead looking around the table to see both Susan and Edmund wearing large grins on their faces.  “What is it?” Peter asked both of them.  I turned to Peter to see his cheeks were a light pink.  I then turned to Edmund and Susan, Edmund shaking his head as Susan took a long sip of her tea, her eyes darting between Peter and me.

“Nothing,” Susan finally said as she placed the teacup delicately onto the saucer.

[bqstqnbruin]

Always be my plus one - part 2

Ok I know that I should use a different gif for each part but I'm not going to. But here's part 2! It's longer than the first part so have fun.

People to thank who are amazing and I owe my whole life to even though I'm probably forgetting someone because I'm the worst: @zinka8 (I CAN FINALLY TAG YOU) @hockeywocs @calgarycanuck @chara-hugs @justjosty anyone who sent in an anon and again I'm forgetting someone so if you helped me with this and I forgot, yell at me.

But here we go! This is about 9k words, and, fun fact, this is also my 5,000th post on this blog, so that's exciting!

Hope you like it!

Read part 1 here!

Series masterlist --------------------------------

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day

New Year’s Eve is the last day of the Georgian calendar year, marked with celebrations that last well into the next day. Huge parties take place around the world, one of the most notable being the ball dropping in Times Square in New York City, marking the new year for the eastern coast of the United States, televised with Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve hosted by Ryan Seacrest. This special each year includes a packed Times Square, performances, interviews, and general excitement to put whatever happened in the past year behind them. Likewise, in Canada, the CBC has hosted a similar countdown special since 2017, including live music and coverage of festivities in each of the provinces and timezones the country spans.

New Year’s Day is the first day of the Georgian calendar year, again marked with celebrations. In the United States, various parades take place, including the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California, or the Mummers Parade in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In addition, various sporting events take place as well, including the Citrus Bowl in Orlando, Florida, the Outback Bowl in Tampa Bay, Florida, the Rose Bowl Game in Pasadena, California, and the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, Louisiana, all post-season college football games, and the National Hockey League's outdoor game, the Winter Classic, typical showcasing a major regional rivalry. The day typically includes people already failing at keeping up with their New Year’s resolutions, whatever it was they promised to do every day of the year (such as working out, flossing, getting more sleep) already not going well.

=============

December 27, 2021

Lucy had insisted Anne go with her to the mall to go shopping when she found out that she was going to a New Year’s Eve party with Tyson’s teammates. Once her older sister found out that Anne’s ‘mystery man’ was a professional hockey player, she went practically bat shit trying to figure out more information about the two of them since Anne had yet to tell her anything.

If only she knew there was nothing to tell.

“Come on, what about this?” Lucy asks, holding up a dress. Anne wasn't sure that it would go past her butt, not to mention the open back and the plunging neckline. Lucy had to know that Anne would never, on any occasion, wear a dress like that. It would look good on Lucy, and Lucy would be comfortable in it, but not Anne.

“No,” Anne tells her, continuing to look through the rack for anything that had more fabric to it than what Lucy was offering her. There was nothing wrong with the dresses, really, and Lucy was normally pretty good about picking things out that Anne would actually like, but something about this being a dress for what sort of was, sort of wasn’t a date with a guy she spilled her coffee all over was making her more nervous than she needed to me.

“But it’s for your man. On New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t hurt to look a little sexy,” Lucy begs, making sure to add a little shoulder shimmy at the word ‘sexy’ for emphasis.

‘He’s not my man,’ Anne wanted to say. But she wasn’t about to spill that secret before Lucy even met him. It would be easier to just tell them they broke up by Valentine’s Day. “Tyson wouldn’t want me to wear anything that would make me uncomfortable,” she lets out instead.

Lucy sighs, pulling out dress after dress to show to Anne. “Ok, how about this: what color do you want to wear and how long do you want it to be?” Anne shrugs, not having thought about it in the slightest. “Well what’s Tyson wearing? Are you matching with him?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Annie!” Lucy practically screams the nickname her family decided they were going to call her, a few of the other store patrons turning to glare at Lucy’s outburst. “How do you not know what your boyfriend is wearing to a Colorado Avalanche New Year’s Eve party?”

'Not my boyfriend' she thought. “I don’t dress him. Do you know what Jason is going to wear for every party?”

Rolling her eyes, she holds up another dress that Anne turns down. “Well, since I’ve known my man since we were in diapers, I know his style, and therefore, know what he could potentially wear before I tell him what he’s going to wear.”

Anne lets out a sigh, wandering away from her sister while she continues to go through what seemed to be endless rows of dresses. Part of Anne wished she was like her sister: lucky enough to find a man that she would love forever when she was young, never having to worry about anything. The other part of Anne wished her family wasn’t so annoying about her finding a man, wishing that Sebby didn’t steal her phone and see Tyson’s name, and that their mom hadn’t come down and jumped to conclusions before she had a chance to defend herself.

“Hey,” Lucy comes up to Anne, “Why don’t we grab some food and then try a different store.” Anne nods, Lucy linking her arm in her sisters before taking her out of the store. “Have you met any of Tyson’s teammates before? I mean, you have to mean a lot to him if he’s bringing around the guys he spends the most time with.”

“He’s told me a little bit about all of them, but I haven’t met them yet.”

“You know this is big, then, right?” Lucy says, finding a line at the food court for them to order from.

Even if Lucy hadn’t picked a place that Anne wasn’t too fond of, her words made Anne lose her appetite. As far as she knew, Anne’s family thought they were dating, which they weren’t, while Tyson’s teammates thought they were friends, which they were. That’s what they had agreed to. They just needed to make it to New Year’s Day and then this would all be over.

Lucy keeps talking, rattling off information about Tyson’s teammates that Anne was sure she had found on their Wikipedia pages, Lucy’s ‘top of her class,’ ‘photographic memory’ coming out while Anne stayed silent.

“Look, Anne,” Lucy says once she gets the food she ordered for both of them, “if he likes you enough to bring you around his teammates, that’s a good thing. Think of it like Jason asking me to go to his soccer games when we were freshmen. He wants you to be at something important for him.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Anne shrugs, “I’m worried about bringing him into the belly of the beast the next afternoon.”

“Why, because you’ll be hungover and Ma and Dad haven’t seen you that way yet?” Lucy asks, smiling with her fork between her teeth.

Throwing her head back and groaning, Anne starts, “No. Ideally, we’ll still be drunk and calling you or Matthew to come to pick us up. Remember what Mom was like when I introduced you all to Andy?”

“Well, yeah, it was hate at first sight. And she was right to feel that way, obviously. If you think Tyson is the ‘one,’ then you’ll be fine.”

Anne chokes on the fries she was picking at when Lucy says that. “The ‘one’? Please. I wouldn’t know if he was the ‘one’ at this point. Right now, he’s my ‘plus one' at best.”

Lucy shrugs, a sly smile on her face as the two of them continue to eat in silence.

The two of them venture to another store, Anne not having high hopes in finding a dress, knowing that she was going to have to resort to wearing something old that probably wouldn’t be very ‘New Year’s Eve’ themed, or borrow something from Lucy, who, albeit having great style, definitely didn’t have anything that she would want to wear. Maybe she could call Stephanie or her cousin Lauren and see if they could pity her enough to let her borrow something.

Lucy went to the dress rack, Anne just wandered around the store. At this point, she didn’t even care if she found a dress; a long shirt would be just fine. She was nowhere near her sister or the dresses, but she saw something out of place, a skirt and sleeves peeking out in the middle of pant legs. She picked up the dress, solid black, which would probably fit her like a glove, off the shoulder. A black choker, which she had, and a nice pair of heels would make the dress perfect. And it was even on sale. Someone had probably put it there in order to hide it, but Anne didn’t know that for a fact, so could she really feel bad about wearing it?

She practically ran through the store to find her sister, grabbing her by the arm to the dressing room despite the stack of dresses on Lucy’s arm that were probably going to end up back on the rack or in Lucy’s own closet.

Anne looked at herself in the mirror, excited for the first time for Tyson to see her on New Year’s Eve wearing something like that. The two had been talking nonstop, but Anne had made it clear they were friends and that she wasn’t looking for anything. If something came along, she would know it, and honestly, she didn’t know it with Tyson.

But picturing him seeing her in the dress gave her a glimmer of hope that it was Tyson, even if he wasn’t the ‘one’ like Lucy had been badgering her about earlier.

“Hey, Annie, come on!” Lucy snaps Anne out of her fantasy, banging on the door to show her, “Jason texted me that he and the girls are going to be home in an hour with dinner so you can’t take all day.”

“You really think putting on this dress is going to take an hour?” Anne huffs, opening the door from the dressing room stall.

“Well, it depends on how many dresses you try,” Lucy starts, cutting herself off when she sees her sister in the dress. “Oh, Anne.”

“You like it?” she asks, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. It was a simple dress, knit and insignificant. She had no idea why she was so excited about it.

“I do,” Lucy says, coming up behind Anne and resting her chin on her sister’s shoulder as the two of them admire Anne in the mirror. “And you know who else is going to love it? Tyson.”

Anne took in a deep breath, Lucy rubbing her back between her shoulders before she let her get changed back into her clothes. ‘Tyson was going to love it.’ Anne hoped so.

=============

December 31, 2021

Tyson said he was going to be at Anne’s place at 9:15 to pick her up and drop off stuff at her place to stay over. Since they were going to be together all night, it was easier if Tyson stayed with Anne after the party before needing to drive to Anne’s uncle’s house the next afternoon.

But it was 9:30, and Anne was sitting on her couch, waiting for the boy who was supposed to fake being her boyfriend tomorrow to show up to take her to a party with a bunch of people who had no idea who she was or that this scenario was going to be happening the next day.

How did Anne end up like this? What if he didn’t show up? Why did she let her mom and siblings take over the conversation about her life and let them believe that Tyson was her boyfriend? And why did he agree to it?

Anne gets snapped out of her downward spiral of thoughts by her phone ringing, Tyson calling to hopefully tell her that he was waiting to be let in. “You said you were going to be here at 9:15,” she answers, not letting Tyson say anything.

“Well, traffic,” he explains, “It’s New Year’s Eve and I didn’t want to speed, either, and end up getting pulled over for that. Can you come let me in? It’s cold.”

Anne gets up from her couch, venturing downstairs in the slippers she was keeping on until the last minute. The heels Lucy had let her borrow weren’t uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to wear them around her apartment building if she didn’t have to. She spots Tyson sitting on the couches in the lobby, going up to him. He was looking down at his phone, but seeing him made her heart race. He had on a white button-down with the top two buttons undone, a black jacket, and black pants on. She goes up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Tyson looks up, unable to find the words when he sees Anne. He stands up, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Anne sees this and lets out a small laugh. “Are you ok?” she asks, her nerves of seeing him dissipate while he acts like this.

“You’re,” he starts, letting out a breath as he looks her up and down. He shakes his head, a lazy smile on his face. “You’re beautiful.”

Anne laughs, grabbing his bag for him and leading him back upstairs to her apartment. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You know,” Tyson starts when the two of them get to her door, “pretending to be your boyfriend really isn’t going to be that difficult.”

“Yeah,” Anne scoffs, putting down Tyson’s bag with a thud by the couch, “and if you keep flirting with me like you mean it, then they’ll really believe you.” Anne’s back was turned to Tyson, so she didn’t see the look on his face, him biting his lip at her words that she thought he was just pretending. “You’re staying over for a night, what the hell could you have brought with you?” she asks him.

Tyson clears his throat, still not over Anne’s little dig about him pretending to flirt with her. He’s been flirting with her since they met, has she really not noticed? “Uh, you didn’t tell me how formal or casual this is at your uncle’s so I just packed a few options.”

“Huh, I never pegged you for a fashionista,” Anne teases, putting on her shoes and coat as Tyson orders the Uber to take them to the venue.

“Apparently you’re never going to peg me at all,” Tyson mumbles, not loud enough for Anne to hear.

“Sorry?”

“Uh, the Uber will be here in a few minutes so we should get downstairs,” he tries to save himself.

“But,” Anne says, locking her door and following Tyson back down to the lobby, “You can pretty much wear anything to Uncle Vince’s house as long as it isn’t a Juventus shirt.”

“Juventus?”

“That’s Napoli’s biggest rival. It would be like me wearing, I don’t know,” Anne says as they both get into the car that had pulled up, “a Red Wings or a Wild shirt to something for you guys.”

Tyson can’t help but smile, even though he knows it’s probably meaningless. Anne had made it clear that the two of them were just friends. But what if, “you like hockey?”

Anne shrugs, looking out the window as they drove into the city. “I don’t hate it, but I couldn’t tell you much about it. I’m more of a basketball girl, honestly.” Tyson scoffs, Anne turning to him. She had a smile on her face, trying to hide the slight insult she felt by the noise he made. “What?”

“Hockey is clearly better.”

“You’re just biased.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he teases her, reaching over and nudging her arm. His hand lingers on her arm for a little bit, not really thinking about Anne’s noticeable settling into his touch. “Um,” he clears his throat, taking his arm back and praying that it was dark enough that Anne couldn’t see the red on his face, “What are your teams?”

“Men’s are the Nuggets, of course, women are the Seattle Storm, and college I go for UConn.”

“Did you go there?”

Anne shakes her head, Tyson admiring the way her hair framed her face, thankful that she was looking out the window instead of at him. “Nope, I went to CU Denver. My dad’s other brother, Johnny, went to UConn, and when I was born, that was around the start of the women’s dynasty that they have. When my dad was away on trips and mom was working, he and Aunt Lisa would watch the four of us and always have the UConn games on. I fell in love with Diana Taurasi, Sue Bird, Maya Moore, Stephanie Dolson. I grew up wanting to play basketball and be like them, so I played basketball.”

“Did you in college?”

“No,” Anne laughs, looking at the building they were pulling up to. “I played until high school, and was definitely not good enough to play in college. I still love it, though.”

Tyson smiles at her, getting out of the car and rushing to the other side to help her out, linking his arm in hers to escort her in. “I love that,” he whispers to her, walking in and thankful that he had Anne on his arm that night.

The guys weren’t necessarily on his case about finding someone the way it seemed like Anne’s parents were, but that didn’t stop the chirping about him never having a girlfriend for as long as he was on the team. They knew she was his friend, but, hey, it was better than nothing.

Anne had no idea where Tyson took her, not recognizing the building they had walked into, but she was speechless at the sight of the grand ballroom, the lighting just dim enough that she couldn’t help but feel at peace, the noise from Tyson’s teammates and their families taking that away and leaving her overwhelmed. Tyson had slipped away to hang up their coats and grab drinks, leaving Anne to fend for herself for the time being.

She knew they weren’t late by any means but based on the sobriety, or lack thereof, that everyone was displaying, an outsider would think that Tyson and Anne had shown up hours late, everyone seemingly on at least their third drink of the night, if not more. Anne worked her way to the side of the room, giving herself a good view of the bar where Tyson was, hoping that he could find her after he was done chatting with whoever it was that had his attention.

“You look almost too comfortable for someone just watching everyone on the side. Who are you here with?” someone interrupts her thoughts. She snaps her attention to the mystery man standing next to her, leaning against the wall and looking out at the crowd as they danced and sang, drank and had fun. He was the same height as Tyson, just about, probably not that much younger but the rosiness on his cheeks made him look years younger than both her and Tyson.

“I’m here with Tyson,” she tells him, waving to the guy who was supposed to be by her side that night.

“You’re the girl who spilled her coffee on him when we went to the hospital for the charity event,” Rosy Boy laughs.

Anne scoffs, “I wish that wasn’t my legacy, but here we are.”

The two of them stand and watch everyone, laughing as some of the kids pretend to chase around the adults, one of them catching someone by the leg as the man pretended to fall down. “That’s our captain, Gabe,” Rosy Boy tells her, “being chased by Naylah, Nazem’s daughter.”

“So, Gabe, Nazem, Tyson,” Anne says, pointing at the only three men of the Avalanche that she knew, “You?”

“Cale Makar.”

“Anne DeFormicola.”

Cale smiles at her, turning his body so he was facing her directly. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Anne could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, thankful that her hair was down to cover the red that she knew had appeared on her ears. “Uh, are you and Tyson together?” Cale asks, his voice shaking as he prayed he didn’t make the mistake of flirting with one of his teammate’s girls.

“No,” Anne tells him, “We’re just friends.”

Cale lets out a sigh of relief. “Good, I, uh,” he stammers, Anne’s confused look making him nervous despite the smile that was on her face, “I mean, good, good for me. You? Us? I don’t know what I’m saying.”

The two of them laugh together, Anne seeing Tyson out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look particularly thrilled as he watched her and Cale talking, the distance between them shrinking as the conversation proceeded.

Before she knew it, Tyson was by her side, a glass of wine in hand for her that he practically thrust in her hand. “So, how’s Cale treating you?” Tyson asks, not hiding the discontent he felt seeing Anne and Cale so obviously flirting.

Anne watches Tyson down his drink, a little too fast for her liking, especially considering Cale was obviously uncomfortable by what his teammate was doing in that moment. “Very well, we were having a good conversation.” Anne sips her wine, Cale mumbling something and slipping away. “What was that about?”

“I want you to be careful?” Tyson says as if it were obvious, even though he was lying. He didn’t want to have to see Anne flirting with his teammate all night.

“Of who, Cale? Didn’t you tell me he was the human equivalent of a puppy?” Tyson rolls his eyes, looking over to the bar and already wishing he had more to drink before having this conversation. “What’s the worst he’s going to do? Bite my ankles? Bark when he wants to go play outside?”

“Ok, you’re being mean.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” Anne studies his face, the way he bit his lip as he tried to find his words. “You remind me of Sebby.”

“Your little brother?” Tyson asks, not really wanting to be compared to him.

“He’s really protective of me. We’re all protective of each other, but he’s especially protective of me. You’re probably the same way with Kacey, right?”

Tyson swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah.” He wasn’t even just friend-zoned: he was sibling-zoned.

“You just don’t want me to get hurt,” Anne reasons, already finishing her wine. It’s not like it was that much in the glass. “I think if anyone was going to hurt me, it wouldn’t be Cale.”

The two of them stand there, watching Tyson’s teammates dancing as the music changed to something more upbeat. On the nearest table, Tyson put down his and Anne’s empty glasses, extending his hand out to Anne in a bid to lead her to the dance floor. Anne hesitates, not really too fond of dancing, but then Tyson smiled at her, raising his eyebrows, and for whatever reason, she felt like she had to go with him.

His hand found the small of her back, holding her close enough that they could still talk over the blaring from the music, his other hand in hers as he tried to get her to move to the rhythm of the song. It’s not that Anne was uncoordinated, but she just wasn’t that great with dancing. “I would have thought you were better at this,” Tyson teases her, looking down at their feet as Anne steps on for what he thought was the fourth time.

“I will gladly go back to my place against the wall and watch you make a fool out of yourself by yourself instead,” she jokes, rolling her eyes as Tyson spins her around.

He pulls her in closer than before, the music changing to a slower song. “I don’t think you want to do that,” Tyson tells her, his forehead pressed against hers. He could kiss her right now if she let him. This was technically their second date, if they considered the coffee place their first. And Tyson did. He didn’t know why he wanted this girl in front of him so badly so fast, but there was just something about her that he had to be with her.

Before Anne could say anything, she feels someone tapping on her shoulder. Pulling away from Tyson, she sees Cale standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. His entire face was red, clearly nervous, as he started, “Uh, sorry, but I was wondering if I could dance with Anne?”

Anne smiles at him, looking over at Tyson to signal that she wanted to. Cale was adorable, and something about him left Anne unable to say no to him. Tyson gives a sad smile, releasing Anne from his grasp. “I’m going to go get another drink,” he says, leaving his date and teammate alone to be closer than they were before. He couldn’t be with a girl that didn’t want to be with him, he thought, downing the drink he got probably too fast. At least tomorrow he could pretend that the two of them were together, pretending that he was hers and she was his.

But for now, he had to watch Anne smiling and staring at Cale, his teammate holding her so close that Tyson wanted nothing more than to be Cale.

Tyson had his back against the bar, watching Cale and Anne dance and have fun when JT came up to him. “Didn’t you bring a date?” JT was the only one Tyson had told about the fake dating plan between him and Anne.

“Yep.”

“She in the bathroom?”

“She’s dancing with Cale,” Tyson says, raising what he thinks was his third drink in their direction. He was praying that they couldn’t get any closer than they were now, but the way Anne was smiling, he knew that was what she wanted.

JT looks between Anne and Cale together and Tyson’s near angry expression as he took another sip of his drink. “Oh, I get it,” JT realizes, Tyson side-eyeing his friend. “You like her, and now you’re seeing her with Cale and you’re jealous.”

Tyson could feel himself start to panic. He did like her, but he wasn’t about to let everyone know that. “No,” he lies, JT scoffing at him. He hated that he knew him so well. “Maybe.”

“Well, then why aren’t you the one dancing with her?” JT asks, Tyson watching Anne throw her head back laughing, Cale burying his head in her shoulder, a smile just as big as hers on his face.

“She wanted to dance with him. What was I going to do, say ‘no?’

“Yes.”

“No,” he rebuts, signaling the bartender for yet another drink. “At least I can pretend to date her around her family,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, until she pretends to dump you because she’s really dating Cale.”

“Maybe in the new year you should try to be more helpful instead of whatever you are now,” Tyson snaps. “Sorry,” he mumbles into the fresh drink he was bringing to his lips, planning on downing it as fast as he got it. If he had to watch Anne dancing with Cale, he might as well be drunk so he can’t remember it in the morning.

“It’s almost midnight,” Cale whispers to Anne.

“Yeah,” she smirks, having a feeling she knew where this was going, especially judging by the way his grip tightened around her waist.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, getting nervous about what he wanted to ask her. “Who are you kissing at midnight?"

Anne can’t help but smile, his innocence endearing to her. Tyson and JT were still watching the two of them dance even though Anne and Cale were too focused on each other to notice. “I think it depends on your answer,” she flirts.

“I was kind of hoping it would be you,” he tells her.

Anne laughs, “Yeah, I got that,” she tells him, running her hand through his hair at the nape of his neck, sending a chill down his spine. “I was hoping it would be you, too,” she tells him, closing her eyes with their foreheads pressed against each other. She almost wished she had spilled her coffee on Cale instead of Tyson, not needing to pretend to date him tomorrow and instead just date Cale and date him for real. It might have been the alcohol or the night that was making her feel this way, but Cale was not a hard guy to like.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Tyson mumbles, not wanting to see Anne and Cale anymore, setting his drink down and leaving the room before JT could protest.

Soon after, everyone began their countdown to midnight, chanting while Anne and Cale stayed silent.

Anne knew Cale wanted to kiss her before the countdown was over. He was hovering against her lips as soon as someone yelled ‘ten!’ She didn’t know what it was about him, but she was ready to kiss him, not waiting for everyone to get past ‘five’ before she connected with him for a second, already wanting more as soon as they started.

Cale pulled away fast, smiling, moving his hands from her waist to cup her face, kissing her as soon as everyone around them was screaming ‘Happy New Year!’ When they finally pulled away, Cale’s entire face was red, and Anne knew that there was some color on her cheeks, too. Kissing Cale was something else, but something was missing. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

=============

January 1, 2022

Anne and Cale danced a little longer, some of the guys and their families starting to leave.

“I think I have to go find Tyson,” Anne tells Cale, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy she came with for the better part of an hour.

“Uh, wait,” Cale says as Anne starts to pull away, Anne stopping as Cale smiles at her. He puts on her jaw, tilting her head up to kiss her again. “Can I see you again?”

Anne smiles, biting her lip. “I’d like that. But I really have to find Tyson.”

The two of them start walking around, trying to locate their lost boy. “Are you coming back with us?”

“Us?”

“Tys and I live in the same building,” Cale explains, part of him wanting to ask Anne to go home with him.

Before he can, Anne starts, “No, Tyson is staying at my place tonight. We have something tomorrow. Today,” she corrects herself.

“Oh, ok. Well, then, can I get your number?”

“When we find Tyson because he has the ticket for our coats and my phone is in my coat,” she explains, regretting giving everything to Tyson.

“Anne!” they hear someone yell, turning around to see Tyson stumbling over despite JT trying to help him up. Anne hadn’t told him not to get very drunk out of caution for having to deal with her family in a few hours, but now she was regretting forgetting.

“How much did he drink?” Anne panics, slinging Tyson's free arm around her shoulder.

“When I got to him he was already on four and I think he had at least three more while I was with him. I couldn’t tell you what he had on his own,” JT explains, the four of them getting their stuff and trying to get out while Tyson could barely walk.

Tyson mumbles something, trying to lean his head against Anne’s shoulder while they walked, despite the three-inch height difference that would have been bigger had Anne not been wearing heels. JT asks him to repeat it while he orders and Uber to get Tyson and Anne home. “Anne’s so pretty,” Tyson says, practically screaming it in Anne’s ear.

“Thank you, Tyson,” she says, trying to be as sweet as she could despite her anger she felt for him getting this drunk.

Tyson keeps babbling incoherently, none of them wanting to try to figure out what he was saying while they were waiting in their Ubers.

“Hey, Anne, hand me your phone,” JT asks, trying to reach out to her with his free hand while also making sure Tyson didn’t fall over or fall on Anne. She does as he asks, Cale standing there wondering why he didn’t just do that in the first place. “Text me when you two get back to your place and let me know how he is before you leave for your Uncle’s.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anne says, not even thinking about how he would have known where the two of you were going later.

Before Cale can ask for Anne’s phone, the Uber for her and Tyson pulls up. “Are you sure you’re good to get him back?” Cale asks her while JT gets Tyson in the car safely.

Anne nods, putting her hand on Cale’s bicep to reassure him. “Yeah, he should sober up enough to walk with just me during the drive back. Thank you, though,” she says, giving him a quick kiss before climbing into the car.

“I wish it was me,” Tyson slurs, his head on Anne’s shoulder as the Uber pulls away.

“What’s that, Tyson?” Anne asks.

“I wish it was me that was kissing you.”

Anne looks at him, his eyes closed as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “When?”

“At midnight. I wanted to kiss you at midnight. I just hope you didn’t kiss Cale. That would make me sad,” he says, letting out a yawn.

Before Anne could say anything to respond, Tyson was asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and the Uber driver probably hoping they remembered this to tell their friends in the morning. Why would he have wanted to kiss her? They were just friends. They had both made it very clear that everything they were doing was just out of friendship because they both needed someone to be there for the other and just pretend they were something they were not.

This wasn’t going to be like one of those ‘fake dating’ tropes that Anne had read in books when she was a teenager or in rom coms. Those weren’t real life. That didn’t happen.

Anne gets Tyson up to her apartment, surprised that she was able to drag him out of the Uber and balance him long enough that he didn’t fall over and take her with him to the ground. She practically threw him onto her bed, getting him in position so no matter what happened he would be fine. He was asleep almost immediately, a soft snore coming from his lips.

Anne pulls out her phone to text JT that his teammate was asleep, getting herself ready to go sleep on the couch.

The next morning, Anne woke up to Tyson sitting at her kitchen table, already having helped himself to a cup of coffee. “You look like you’re feeling great,” Anne commented, Tyson clearly hungover from the night before.

“Why did I wake up in your bed and not your couch?” Tyson asked.

Anne shrugs, fixing herself a cup of coffee to join him. “You’re my guest and the couch isn’t the most comfortable thing to fall asleep on if you aren’t used to it.”

“You are?”

“I’ve fallen asleep plenty of times while I was reading on that couch,” Anne tells him, wishing she had something to offer him to eat. “Uh, when we get to my uncle’s house, there’s going to be a ton of food so if we didn’t eat now, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Tyson nods, looking down at his coffee. He wished that he didn’t have to pretend to be Anne’s boyfriend. He already wanted to be more, but Cale was already closer to that in one night than Tyson was in how many weeks. “What do I need to know about your family before I meet them?”

Anne starts rambling about her family: her grandparents moved back to New York which was where they grew up so she hasn’t seen them in a while because they’re too old to make the trip out here and she hasn’t had time to make the trip to see them. They were going to her Uncle Vince’s house, her dad’s older brother. He has three kids, Michael, Emily, and Spencer, all of them dating someone. Then there’s Uncle Johnny, her dad’s younger brother, who has two kids, Lauren and Landon, and three grandkids from Lauren: Christopher, Lydia, and Henry.

Tyson didn’t even know if he was going to remember everything she was saying; from the food that Johnny brings just for Landon because of allergies, or the food that was designated as ‘the kid's food’ which was absolutely off-limits unless you were under the age of five years old. The Sam Adams’ beer is only meant for Aunt Lisa and Aunt Laura unless they offer it to you, but the wine is a free for all because it’s guaranteed that everyone of age brought their own bottle anyway, including Anne.

“Wait, but I don’t have a bottle,” Tyson asks, both of them getting up to get ready.

Anne smiles at him, going into one of her cabinets. “You want white or red?” she asks, holding up two bottles. “Because, as you know, I’m partial to red.”

Tyson laughs, taking the bottle of white wine from her, not even sure if he should be drinking anything given the night before. He was just lucky he somehow didn't feel worse despite how much he had. “I knew you were my kind of girl.”

They stand there for a second, neither of them sure how to react or what to do. “We should go get ready,” Anne says, bringing the bottles over to where she kept her keys so she wouldn’t forget them.

She retreats to her room, leaving Tyson to get ready out in the open of the rest of her apartment. That wasn’t a moment they just had in her kitchen, she tells herself. She puts on a pair of jeans, trying to find a shirt suitable enough for her mom to not nag her about, finally settling on a sweater that she was almost sure was Lucy’s that she stole a few months ago.

“Hey, Anne,” she hears Tyson calling her. “Someone’s calling you.”

An unknown number flashed on her screen in Tyson's hand, her forgetting she left the phone by the couch. Normally an unsaved contact was something that she wouldn’t answer, but the Calgary area code, for no reason whatsoever, told her that she had to answer it. “Hello?”

“Anne? It’s Cale. Sorry, I got your number from JT.”

Anne smiles, looking at Tyson who could hear his teammate's voice just loud enough that it made him upset. Tyson’s words from the night before rang through Anne’s mind as she finally answered him back, “Hey, no, it’s fine. What’s up?” Anne goes back into her room to finish getting ready, putting Cale on speaker as she does.

“I just wanted to check on you. And Tyson, I mean, that you were ok with him last night.”

Anne laughs at his nerves, the same ones that came through when they were first talking last night that she was thankful had faded as time went on. “Yeah, we’re fine. We’re getting ready to head out, though.”

“Any idea what time you would be done? I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight?”

She could hear his voice shaking, wishing that she could say yes. “I can’t tonight, but maybe another time?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, both of them saying goodbye as Anne grabs what she needs to head out.

“You ready?” she asks Tyson. He looked good, a simple black button-down he had paired with jeans. Why did he have to look good? Tyson nods, grabbing the wine while Anne grabbed her keys.

The two of them drive in silence, her phone plugged into her car with Cale and JT’s contacts popping up on the screen on her center console as they were texting her. “I’m glad you got along with some of the guys last night,” Tyson tells her, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah, me too. Especially since someone seemed to enjoy the bar more than anything else,” she teases.

“Hey, the bartender was attractive, and giving free drinks, what was I supposed to do?”

Anne laughs, knowing that wasn’t the real reason he was there the entire night. She didn’t know what that reason was, but it wasn’t because of the looks of the person giving Tyson drinks. “What do you remember from last night?”

Tyson hesitates, really not sure what to answer. “I remember the drinks and you were dancing with Cale at some point.”

“You remember none of the Uber drive back?”

He almost did. He knew he had fallen on Anne’s shoulder, but he didn’t remember getting into the car with her. He wasn’t even sure that Anne was the one that got him in the car. “Not really, no.”

“Ok,” Anne says, partially thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she would want to relive the part of the night, nor did she think Tyson would either.

She pulls up to her uncle’s house, already seeing Lucy’s car and her cousin Spencer's sitting in the driveway. “Ready to enter the belly of the beast?” she asks him, patting his thigh as a sign of encouragement.

Tyson looks out to the house, seeing someone standing in the doorway waiting for them to get out of the car. “We’ve gotta start acting like a couple, now, don’t we?” he says, leaning closer to her across the center console.

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing that he wanted a kiss or something, anything to show Aunt Laura that Tyson was actually her boyfriend. She does kiss him, sweet and slow. Tyson was sure if they weren’t being watched, he would have gone for more, but knowing he couldn’t was killing him. He had to make the most of the time he had with Anne’s family.

When Anne pulled away, she reached up to Tysons face, grazing her thumb along his beard as his hand connected with hers. She didn’t know why, but she kissed him again, their foreheads pressed together as they sat there in her car. It was different kissing him compared to Cale. A good different, and like last night, she couldn't put her finger on why. She almost forgot where they were, startled by Aunt Laura knocking on her window.

Anne’s face had to be bright red, embarrassed that her aunt saw whatever moment, real or fake or whatever that was, while sitting in the driveway of her house. She greets her aunt as she gets out of the car, handing her the two bottles of wine.

“You must be Tyson!” she says, more excited than Anne thought she would be. “Teresa’s told us so much about you, come in, come in,” she gestures. Anne was sure that she would have dragged him in by the collar of his shirt if she didn’t have the wine in her hands already.

Tyson looks at Anne, confused. “I have no idea what my mom could have said to her,” Anne says. Tyson shrugs, grabbing Anne’s hand as she leads him into the house.

Lucy comes running up as soon as Anne steps through the door, a baby that couldn’t be more than a year old in her arms. “Hey there, Hazel,” Anne coos, taking her goddaughter from her sister. Hazel reaches out, grabbing Anne’s hair as Anne winces at the slight pain from the baby’s pull. “This is Tyson.”

“Hi, pretty girl,” Tyson says, Hazel reaching out, squirming to get away from Anne and into Tyson’s arms. “Is it ok if I hold her?” he asks Lucy, waiting for her to nod before Anne passes her off to him.

Lucy pulls her sister aside, a silly grin on her face. “He’s perfect,” she gushes, “Look at him!” Tyson was bouncing Hazel up and down, Hazel shrieking with glee with him.

“He’s not perfect,” Anne says, “but he might be close.” The sisters laugh, Lucy hugging Anne from behind while they continue to watch Anne’s ‘boyfriend’ interact with Lucy’s youngest daughter. Anne wasn’t even sure if she was really pretending as the rest of her family came into her uncle’s house.

Teresa was practically attached to Tyson the entire time, as were Skylar and Harper once Tyson started playing with them. Literally, Tyson was walking around Uncle Vince’s house with Skylar and Harper clinging to each of his legs. Tyson was the center of attention, Anne wishing that it wasn’t because everyone was just finally excited that Anne found a man.

“What do you think of him?” Anne asks Sebby, the two of them watching Tyson and Matthew talking as if there was no one else was in the room. She had heard ‘touchdown’ and ‘linebacker’ come up in conversation, meaning Matthew was going on a rant about the Broncos, something that he did way too often.

Sebby looks him up and down, pursing his lips while he thought about it. “I’m not sure I trust him.”

“Oh, come on,” Anne whines.

“He’s an athlete. And a professional one, at that,” Sebby throws his hands up in defense. Growing up, Sebby was the only one who didn’t really like sports, feeling they were a waste of time when he could be doing something like reading or studying. Sports were only relevant when his siblings were involved, otherwise, he hated them.

“Give him a chance. Please?” Anne begs, not even sure if it were necessary. “He’s not Andy.”

Sebby narrows his eyes at his sister, jumping slightly as Tyson and Matthew start laughing. “Why didn’t you mention him before Christmas?”

“If you remember, I didn’t mention him at Christmas, you did,” Anne scolds him, trying to figure out what story to tell her brother. “And, it was still new. I didn’t want to say anything if it wasn’t going to be something.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I think so,” Anne lies. At least, she thought she was lying.

Tyson comes over to Anne while she was talking with Sebby about his upcoming semester, his last one before he graduated from college and hopefully entered law school. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder. “You think I could steal her for a second?” he asks.

Sebby narrows his eyes, Tyson a little thrown off by her brother’s reaction. “Sure.”

Tyson brings Anne into another room, praying that no one would walk in on them. “We didn’t talk about anything we could say to your family about how we met,” he brings up.

“I was planning on deferring that to you since I normally can’t get a word in otherwise,” she admits, even though she hadn’t thought about it before.

“That’s not fair,” Tyson says, looking over Anne’s shoulder to see someone in her family looking at the two of them. “Your family is watching.”

Anne follows Tyson’s gaze, turning and waving at Landon and Lauren. She reaches up and puts her hand on Tyson’s cheek, Tyson taking it with his own and kissing the palm of her hand. “When you see how I get pushed aside at dinner, you’ll understand why it’s fair.”

The two of them continue talking about how they were going to go on with the rest of the day, Anne telling Tyson she was fine with everything he had done so far and really didn’t care if he kept doing it. Anne, not wanting to tell Tyson, liked what he was doing. It felt right for some reason. Was Tyson right that it should have been the two of them kissing at midnight and not her and Cale?

Tyson’s drunken confession from the night before was still ringing in her mind when everyone got called to sit down for dinner. Tyson was still, unsurprisingly, the center of attention. His hand was on Anne’s thigh for most of dinner, Lucy’s eyes never leaving as Anne rested her’s in his. The usual rounds of conversation started, asking Lucy about her medical practice, Jason about Andersen’s, his restaurant that bore his family’s name, Matthew and Steph about work at United, Sebby about how he was feeling going into this last semester of college.

Then the conversation was supposed to turn to Anne, normally swamped with questions about Anne’s lack of love life. Instead, of course, the conversation turned to Tyson.

“How did you two meet?” Teresa asks, giving a smug look to her daughter, “Anne hasn’t told us anything about you.”

Tyson hesitates, figuring Anne wouldn’t want her family knowing they met when she spilled her coffee on him. “I was out with some of my teammates after practice one day,” he starts, hoping that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was good enough. “We were at a coffee shop, and I saw Anne there grabbing something before her shift at the hospital. I saw her smile at the barista when she thanked him for taking her order and,” he looks at her, taking Anne and putting it on the table for her family to see. “Something about that smile of hers I just knew I had to talk to her. I needed her in my life and I’m happy she’s in it.”

He kisses the side of her head, whispering, “we have to remember that story now,” against her skin. When he pulls away, Anne smiles at him, signaling that she would. There was no way she could forget that honestly. Why was pretending to like him so easy?

The conversation stays on him for a little longer, Anne never being asked anything. Finally, Emily stands up with Jimmy, saying they had an announcement. “We’re engaged!” she squeals, holding up her left hand with the ring that she either just put on, or no one noticed as the family congratulated her. Jimmy had proposed at midnight, down on one knee right as whoever they were with said ‘Happy New Year!’

“Another wedding!” Teresa yells, Tony rolling his eyes next to her. He didn’t hate weddings, he hated his wife’s need to spend an extravagant amount of money on a new dress and presents for the couple every time. “And then maybe we’ll have one for Anne in the next year, too, oh Tony we’ll get to plan another wedding.”

“Mom!” Anne scolds, Tyson’s face getting bright red. “That ringing in your ears is not wedding bells.”

The rest of the dinner goes on fine, Anne and her siblings off in one of the rooms while their spouses and Tyson were nowhere to be found.

“I think Tyson’s scared of me,” Lucy says, examining her nails.

“He might just be intimidated by you, Signoria Perfezione,” Anne teases her with the nickname Lucy got when she was little, her need for order prevalent from a young age.

“Yeah, he said that Anne told him how smart you were and he didn’t want to feel stupid around you,” Matthew points out.

“Well, shouldn’t he be intimidated by Anne?” Sebby asks.

“I know you’re trying to compliment me, but your tone says otherwise,” Anne says. “Why don’t you like him?”

The three of them look at their youngest siblings. “There’s something off,” he starts, Anne feeling her heart start to race. “He’s like borderline pretending to be with you.”

“Come on, man, you’re paranoid,” Matthew scoffs, Lucy agreeing.

“I mean,” Sebby explains, “He looks at Anne like he wants to be with her, not like he actually is with her.”

“You’re just over analyzing. We’re together. Probably more together than you and Collins are,” Anne fires back, part of her hating that she was lying to her siblings, the other part of her wondering how much of it was a lie.

Sebby shrugs, “Well yeah, because we broke up.” Anne’s jaw drops, Matthew raises his eyebrows in shock, Lucy the only one to scream and actually make a verbal acknowledgment of what he just said. “Yeah, the other night. She finally blew up over the whole, ‘I don’t want to move to Boston or California,’ thing and said if I wasn’t willing to move to be with her then I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Anne says.

"Why didn't you tell us," Lucy asks.

"I see how they act about Anne never being with someone," he says, Anne glaring at him. "I'll just find someone in law school and not say anything unless they ask. Plus, I don’t want to be that far away from you guys. Why would I stay with someone who wants me to do that?” he admits.

“Aw, you do like us!” Lucy teases him, her and Matthew tackling him in a hug while Sebby yells for them to get off, yelling louder when Anne joins in.

“Hey, um,” Tyson interrupts, “Sorry, you’re having a moment.”

“No, no, what’s up?” Anne breaks off, going over to him.

“Your aunt said dessert is out,” he tells them, or, rather, tells Anne with her siblings in earshot.

“See, you’re delusional,” Lucy tells Sebby as they walk past Anne and Tyson into the next room.

Tyson looks at her confused, waiting for an explanation. “I think Sebby’s catching on to us pretending,” she shrugs, really not that worried. She and Tyson could talk later about how long this would go on, and if anyone in the family were to find out that it was fake, Sebby would be the one to keep it quiet.

She goes into the next room, leaving Tyson there by himself. “Yeah, pretending,” he says to himself.

[captainlevisteacup]

Okay, here we go!

Warnings: none

The Demon Brothers+Newly Dateable's Reactions to Bratty GN! MC Who Likes to Push the Limits

Lucifer

Is not amused.

King of "try it, I dare you"

"Are you REALLY going to play that way with me, MC?"

Endlessly irritated

The only reason he hasn't been pushed into his demon form is solely because of Diavolo, who finds their spunk amusing and would be unhappy if they were to be threatened or harmed

Of course, he still loves MC. That's not debateable

They just REALLY get on his nerves

Happens so frequently that he automatically KNOWS when MC is opening their mouth to say something bratty

Probably the second most irritated by it

Mammon

Is just flabbergasted

"Are ya dumb, or something, human? Ya know I could kill ya, right?"

Isnt particular annoyed by it, just more exasperated.

Has made it adamantly clear he can begrudgingly let other times slide, but they better listen to him if it's to keep them safe.

Does that stop MC?

Of course not.

*turns around to see MC wandered off yet again*

"MC I GET THAT YOU SUCK AT LISTENING, BUT DO YA REALLY HAVE TO HAVE A DEATH WISH??"

Eventually uses his lanyard keychain to tie MC's wrist to his because he refuses to get hung from the ceiling (again) because MC couldn't (wouldn't) listen

Satan

Even more irritated by it than Lucifer is

Who are they, a mere human, to push him like that?

Every time he sees that damned look on their face, he has to close his eyes and count to ten slowly before even thinking about speaking

Has been pushed into his demon form at least twice a week

MC thinks it's the funniest thing in the world

Asmo agrees. So does Levi.

When MC is in dangerous territory, Satan will slightly smile and call them Kitten

Which usually prompts MC to push further, being the dumbass they are.

MC around Satan is literally like fire around gasoline

Is easily the most bothered by MC's behavior

Levi

Meh.

Not that he doesn't care, it's just not too upsetting to him

The only thing MC could possibly do would be to ruin one of his possessions

ALTHOUGH

There was one time MC kept purposely mispronouncing anime names wrong (pokey man)

Yea, that was not a good day for ANYONE in the house

PDA works too

Usually ends with him screaming and running away

All the other brothers find that hysterical, even Luci even though he would never admit it

Asmo

Does not care.

He finds it endearing for some reason

Giggles every time MC pushes one of the brothers or says a sarcastic comment to someone

The King of Sass anyways so is totally into it

Sometimes helps you come up with sassy comebacks

Eventually ends up having competitions with MC to see who can be brattier

Beel

Is actually kinda hurt

Does MC not like him? Are they mad at him?

Eventually realizes they're like that to everyone

MC doesnt have the heart to keep doing it to him after they find out it hurt his feelings

Beel watches from the sidelines to make sure MC doesnt get hurt

Steps in if they go too far and are in danger (*cough* Satan *cough*)

Belphie

Has no problem with it

As long as you don't do it to him

"Don't test me, MC, I'm not awake enough for this"

Murder bean

If they tease him, he'll be super underhanded and passive aggressive about getting them back

Its hysterical to him if they open their mouth against Lucifer. Isnt even worried about their well being; not because he doesn't care, but because he knows they'll be fine.

If you mess with his naps, though

Oh, no

RIP MC

Diavolo

Takes absolutely NONE of it personally

MC could call him "Double D Diavolo" and he would think it's the funniest thing he's ever heard

Lucifer absolutely hates it if they try to tease or push Diavolo

Diavolo not only doesn't care, but he loves it

He sees it as friendly banter

Secretly loves that MC is comfortable enough with him to be bratty

Barbatos 🤨

Oho

If such a person with enough audacity to mess with him exists

He has to respect them

Not even the demon brothers would push him

So for a human to do so?

Mad respect

Is secretly the best as matching MC's level of sass

"What's up, Barbie?"

*silent pause*

"The only plastic I see here is you, MC."

Cue the slow clapping from Diavolo

Solomon😑

Whatever MC does to him, he will do right back to them

It's impossible to win

No mercy, will not hesitate to insult MC

Never gets mad, he is aware that's the reaction MC wants.

Refuses to give them the satisfaction of breaking his composure

Sometimes uses spells to make MC trip if they're irritated

Just to send them over the edge

Does more of the harassing than MC even does

Simeon🥺

Oh boy

Try as they may, MC just can't

Not because they aren't trying

Simeon is just immune

MC can't insult him. He just doesn't take anything as an insult

He's too pure for that

Infinite amount of patience

The only thing MC can do to him is make him flustered with *ahem* scandal

Like revealing/right clothes

Suggestive comments

It's the only thing that has any effect on him.

Sorry, MC

Luke😇

Too easy.

Easy target. The poor boy.

All MC has to do is make barking noises around him

He'll run squealing to Simeon

Who, in turn, just chuckles and tells Luke MC is just messing with him because they're friends

The brothers 10000% line up to watch MC harrass Luke

[buckys-black-dress]

a fine line, part one

a/n: did you really think i could control myself enough to NOT do an enemies to lovers professor!bucky fic? did you really think i have that much willpower? i fucking love this trope and it’s so cute and i definitely will be doing more of these. k bye! leave feedback if ya want, and as per usual, don’t copy/share w/o my consent! if you read this all, luv u tons <33! - ali

wc: 4.2k words

-

Walking into your office bright and early was always the worst part of your day. Not because you hated your job, or because you hated the students you taught, but because of your neighbor.

Being a college English professor was something you dreamed of since you were a young girl, and it was something that you thoroughly enjoyed doing every single day.

Even if it meant being up before 7 AM during the week. 

But something that never failed to irritate the absolute everliving fuck out of you when you walked in was Dr. James Barnes.

Dr. Barnes was an incredibly educated man. He could tell you anything about historical events. Any day, any year, any country. But there was something about him that gave off an air of arrogance and ‘I’m better than you because of all my friends in the staff.’ You only joined the English Department of the Avengers University about a year ago, but in your time there, you’ve already built a strong reputation for yourself. 

Unfortunately, you were a bit shy when it came to conversing with your coworkers. Your most prominent friends who you’ve made are Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the Russian Literature and Studies professors. They were the ones you gravitated to the most, naturally, and have been incredible friends since you started this job. 

While they’ve been friendly, you’ve been having a pretty difficult time breaking out of your shell. You tend not to really put yourself out there in terms of sociality because of how unfamiliar you were with the setting, but you were slowly building your confidence to truly get to know your coworkers.

Steve Rogers, one of your fellow English professors, came into your classroom on this gloomy, early Monday morning with a cup of coffee in both hands.

“Mornin, Dr. Y/L/N.” Steve says while placing your cup on your desk, taking a fine morning?” He asks, breaking into a grin.

Steve was contagious when it came to his happiness and uplifting mood, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

“I’m just peachy, Professor Rogers. How was your weekend?” You ask, opening your laptop and reaching for your lesson binder. 

“It was actually really nice. I got my grading and planning for the week done last week so I got to spend time with the fiancée.” He smiles, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, how nice! What’s her name again...? I keep forgetting, forgive me.” You laugh, failing to recall the name of Steve’s beloved.

“No worries, Y/L/N.” Steve laughs at your aloofness, “it’s Peggy. She actually works as a military strategist.” He says with a proud smile, which you took notice of rather quickly. 

“That’s really interesting... I would never even be capable of doing anything with the military.” You giggle, making sure you have everything ready for your lesson today. 

“So... Y/N.” At the mention of your first name, your head shoots up in concern. Was something wrong? “Do you have anyone special at home?” Steve asks.

Your mouth felt dry at the question. You know Steve probably wasn’t trying to pry, but you couldn’t help feel yourself shrink under the question. 

“I- uh, no. Unless my cat counts.” You try to lighten the mood and lessen the speeding of your heart. 

Steve takes notice of your bright blush and embarrassment. To be fair, you were embarrassed. You were well into your twenties, a successful woman with a stable job, but little to social life. Or love life, at that. 

“You have a cat?! Let me see ‘em!” Steve exclaims, trying to deflect from the previous question. 

“Oh! This is her...” You say, flipping a frame facing you on your desk to Steve. In the picture frame was a beautiful, tiny black cat. “Her name is Lucy.” You tell him, smiling fondly at the image. 

“How old is she?” Steve asks.

“She actually just turned a year old. I thought it would be nice to have some company in my apartment when I moved here. I was getting a bit lonely.” You tell him, reminiscing on when you first adopted Lucy.

“She’s a real sweetheart.” Steve’s not able to wipe his grin away while looking at the furry animal. 

“Oh, you don’t even know. She’s a spoiled little thing, you should see her when I leave in the mornings.” You scoff, looking back to your checklist on your computer.

“Y’know, Bucky has a cat, too. I think he would like to know that someone else around here has one, the rest of us all have dogs.” Steve mentions casually, but your brows furrow in confusion.

“I-I’m sorry, I know I haven’t been the most sociable person here since I arrived, but... who’s Bucky? I don’t think I’ve met someone with that name...” You search your brain for any recollection of meeting someone named Bucky, but you were coming up completely short. 

“Oh! Bucky is what James usually goes by... I mean, normally people don’t call him James, just Bucky or Barnes as nicknames, y’know?” Steve clarifies.

“Oh, that makes sense,” you say with a slight laugh, “Dr. Barnes and I haven’t interacted very much since I started here... I get the feeling he’s not too fond of me.” You say with a smile to not make Steve uncomfortable. You knew the two of them were friends, as they were always chatting in the professor’s lounge and cracking jokes. 

“Bucky...? Not fond of you? Did something happen between you two that I wasn’t aware of? You’re not unlikable or anything...” Steve wonders out loud, trying to understand. 

“I-I’m not too sure, Professor Rogers.” You try to stop the conversation here before things got too blown out of proportion. “I hate to cut this short, b-but I’ve got a lecture in ten minutes, so I should get going.” You tell him curtly, gathering your things into your tote and seeing Steve out of your office. 

“I’ll catch ya later, Y/L/N!” Steve says as he walks in the direction of his office down the hall.

“See you, Rogers!” You say back, making your way out of the building to the next. 

Just as you locked your office shut, you see a head poking out of the office next yours.

You keep your head down, not really wanting to engage in any aggressive banter right before your lecture. 

But of course, Dr. Barnes had other ideas. And while you really didn’t have the time, Barnes definitely did. 

“Mornin’, Professor Y/L/N! Already late to your first class of the week?” James calls from his spot as you walk in the opposite direction to the exit of the building. 

“I’m actually perfectly on time, Dr. Barnes. And it’s Doctor! Have a good day!” You turn back briefly for about two seconds to meet his gaze, and walk into the biting morning air, ready for the long day ahead.

Dr. Barnes, damn you for making my days ten times longer than usual.

-

Going home was always your favorite part of the day. Your apartment was your safe place, your place where you could drop the professionalism and not worry about having to interact with other people. 

Most of your nights were spent reading, watching movies, learning new recipes, and whatever you could do to take some time to yourself. Lucy was roaming the kitchen while you were trying to perfect your latest baked good. 

As Lucy intertwines herself between your legs, you look down, making sure you don’t trip over yourself.

“Luce, you have a whole plaything set up over there, why do you insist on putting yourself right ther-” Just as you were scolding your kitten, your phone rings from its’ spot in front of you on the counter.

“Hello?” You say into the speaker.

“Y/N! How are you?” Natasha’s voice came through the speakers, making you pull the phone away from your ear. 

“I-I’m good, Natasha. What’s up?” You ask, wondering why she was calling you since she was very clearly not at home. 

“W-Well,” she lets out a laugh with commotion in the background, “a few of us are down at the bar a couple blocks away from your place, I think.” Another round of ruckus in the back, “would you like to join us?”

“O-Oh... who else is there?” Your voice came through softly, making your nervousness evident through the phone.

“Just a few people in our group... Wanda, Banner, Stark, Rogers, Wilson, Odinson...” Natasha’s voice trails off, like she was still going to mention someone else, but was holding her tongue.

“Oh... Uhm, I was just in the middle of a recipe, but I think I could swing by for a bit...” You look down at your mixing bowl, covering it and placing it in the refrigerator. 

Lucy scurries through to your closet once you open it, searching for something to wear, because your current situation was quite frankly sweats. Choosing a black turtleneck and jeans, you dab on a little bit of makeup and pull on some boots, making your way to your car and warming it up. 

Once you made it to the bar, you were met with a stench that only bars have, one you haven’t smelt in years. College was fun while it lasted, though. 

The first person you spot is Wanda, who’s sitting at the bar waiting for drinks, you presume, so you make your way towards her.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you came! Natasha said you were, but we weren’t sure, you don’t normally do, but it’s perfect! I’m so excited, we never hang out too much, you know? And-” Wanda was rambling, and although you could tell she didn’t want to offend you, it stung. You know you haven’t been out with your coworkers, but it was just one of the effects of your social anxiety. 

“It’s okay, Wanda. I know, but I’m gonna try to come out more... I think it’s time.” You tell her with a small smile. 

“That’s great, Y/N. I’m glad, you deserve to let loose and have fun every once in a while, you know. It’s okay to relax.” She pats your shoulder, and you can feel her warmth in it, both physically and emotionally. It was nice.

“I- Yeah, thanks, Wanda. Do you need a hand with the drinks?” You ask, seeing the two full trays. 

“Yes! If you don’t mind, we’re just back there. We got you a drink too, but we didn’t really know what you liked so we just played it safe.” She explains, pointing to the Old Fashioned on the tray.

“Oh! You didn’t have to...” You trail off, placing the tray down on the table. 

“Hi, Y/N! Didn’t know you’d be joining us tonight, good to see ya!” Steve says while scooting further down the booth seat to make room for you, everyone else welcoming you. 

“Thanks for inviting me, guys. I guess I really did need to get out of the house.” You say while sipping on your drink. 

As the chatter around the table starts again, you quickly end up finishing your drink, caught up in the atmosphere around you and how you were having such a good time. 

Maybe this isn’t so bad. I should do this more often.

And as this thought came to your head, Natasha sees that you’ve finished your drink, motioning to the empty glass.

“Need another, Y/N?” She points to the bar, “I’ll come with, I need one too.” 

You nod, scooting out of the booth.

“I’ll just have a glass of red,” you tell the bartender, Natasha giving you an odd look, “I still have to drive home later..” You laugh when she hums in realization. 

While waiting, a tall guy with dark hair is already chatting up Natasha. And just when you didn’t think your night could get any weirder, you feel someone come up next to you.

“What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing here all by yourse-” But the voice was cut short as soon as you turned your head towards whoever it was. As soon as your mind recognized the face, your eyes widened, met with equally wide, ocean blue eyes.

“Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice was filled with confusion and mild disgust, ouch. 

“I-I was invited... By Natasha...” Your voice was meeker than you wanted it to sound, because who the hell was Bucky to question why you were here? 

“Oh. I didn’t know it was you, for the record.” Bucky states, watching in satisfaction as you look down at your wineglass that the bartender placed in front of you. She gave you a sympathetic look, turning back to another customer.

“I-Yeah, I figured, Barnes. Sorry to disappoint you, I suppose.” You grab the glass and walk back to the table, trying to not look as though someone just called you ugly to your face. 

“Y’know, I don’t quite understand why you can’t just let her be.” Bucky turns his gaze to Natasha.

“I just... don’t like her. It’s as simple as that, Nat. She walks around acting all high and mighty, like she isn’t equal to us.” He reasons, trying to make his point. 

“Bucky... Maybe if you took five seconds to get rid of that ego of yours, you’d know the kind of person she is. And she is most definitely not as pretentious as you’ve made her out to be. She’s a human being, just like the rest of us here.” Natasha finishes defending you, turning back to the table, leaving Bucky even more confused than before. 

-

As the night went on, you very evidently avoided anything that had to do with Bucky. If he came by the table, you would waver your gaze elsewhere, and if he initiated the conversation, you would keep quiet. Although you knew it was probably the easiest way to avoid conflict with him, you could tell you were folding in on yourself. 

And Wanda and Natasha most definitely noticed. 

Every time Bucky spoke, it was like you would disconnect. Focus your mind elsewhere, filling your head with thoughts completely unrelated to your current atmosphere. 

“Y/N, what do you have planned for the holiday break?” Sam’s voice pipes up, trying to include you in the conversation. 

“Oh, uhm... Not much, I usually stay at home and make myself a nice meal. Take some time to myself, y’know.” You smile at the thought of the holiday season. You were completely ready to take the time off to catch up on self care. 

“Oh, no family to go see?” Steve’s voice asks from across the booth.

“Uh... no, not really.” You try let out a light laugh at the answer, trying to not show the stiffness of your body at the topic at hand. 

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...” Steve says, trying to rectify the situation.

“No! You’re completely okay, Steve.” You reassure him, not wanting to make things even more uncomfortable. 

“Well, now that we’re on the topic,” Bucky’s voice breaks the silence, “Y/N, how come we know, like... nothing about you? You’ve been at the university for a bit now and this is the first time we’re seeing you outside of work.” Bucky’s expression was smug as could be, and you were really fighting the urge to cry right now. 

“Bucky, leave her alone.” Wanda’s voice was coming as a warning, daring Bucky to go even further.

“No, I’m not trying to sound rude or anything,” Bucky keeps pushing, “but you just seem to act like we don’t deserve your time, like you’re better than all of us or something.” 

“Buck, that’s enough.” Steve’s voice was like ice. “Just leave her alone, for God’s sake.” 

The table falls silent, your eyes fixed on your hands in your lap.

“I-I’m sorry, guys...” Your voice was holding on by a thread. “I think I should go, thank you so much for inviting me out with you guys. Have a good night.” And with that, you slip out of the booth, disappearing out the front door at an exceptional speed. 

The rest of the table was watching Bucky with several emotions, including mild disgust, anger, and hopelessness. 

When will this stop?

- 

That night when you return to Lucy, you were drained. Tired. Exhausted. Ever since you were a child, it seemed that you couldn’t outgrow your shyness and quietness. The only place that made you feel like you belonged was your lecture hall. And although you tried, several times, to overcome this horrid quality of yours, it seemed that you could never escape it. 

It just always came back.

And you know how it made you seem to others. Pretentious, snobby, it gave you an air of a superiority complex.

When in reality, it was exactly the opposite. You were so afraid to speak sometimes that you just choose not to. You didn’t want to be judged or ridiculed for saying the wrong things, so you thought it was better to keep quiet.

Becoming a professor definitely helped you break out of that shell a little bit, but it never really translated outside of the classroom.

Flopping down on your grey comforter, you realize that you couldn’t continue to feel like this. It was years and years of meekness, of keeping to yourself. That was the reason why you were almost 30 with no boyfriend, no fiancé, and certainly no husband or child. 

You knew you had to make a change, but you didn’t quite know how to. But that’s something you’ll have to worry about later, because you were close to passing out right now.

-

The following week had been... different. You were spending less of your lunch hours in your office, alone, and finally accepting Natasha and Wanda’s consistent invites to eat with them. It took them by surprise at first, but they welcomed you with open arms.

It was now Thursday, and you were in Wanda’s office, digging into your pasta salad that you’d packed.

“So, Y/N, just out of curiosity...” Natasha speaks through her lunch, “What suddenly made you want to join us? I mean, after last week, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see us again.” She laughs a breath out, clearly feeling guilty for last weeks’ events. 

“Well,” you supply after a moment to think, “I realized something. After James... spoke his mind, I guess you could say, I realized that he was right, in a way.”

“Wha-” Wanda interjected but you continued to explain.

“I realized that I had removed myself so far from the people that I see every single day so much that they don’t even know me. And it’s been like this most of my life... I usually just keep to myself, but I think that even though I’m terrified of speaking to people I don’t know, it’ll never get better unless I actually try.” You release, feeling a metaphorical weight lift off your chest. 

“Well, Y/N, I’m glad you finally chose to let us in... But Bucky was still an asshole, and totally out of line. We know we can’t speak for him, but we’re all really sorry for what he said... He doesn’t even know you, and he shouldn’t have made those assumptions about you.” Wanda says after a moment of silence. 

“Thank you, guys.” You smile, gathering your things and standing up. “I have a lecture to prepare for, but... thank you for everything, both of you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had good people in my life that I can call my friends.” You’re shocked at the fact that you feel two sets of arms wrap around you at your confession, holding you tight.

“Y/N, you don’t ever have to thank us for being your friends... you deserve good things, never forget that.” Natasha tells you, and for the first time, you actually believe it. 

“Okay, I actually have to go now, but I’ll see you two later?” You ask, already halfway out the door.

“Yeah, we’ll text you!” Wanda yells back, and you’re making your way back to your office to gather your belongings for the lecture.

But of course, you could never get ready for a class without Barnes popping out and giving you a little pep talk.

“Afternoon, Y/L/N. Getting ready to bore another groups of kids to death?” He asks, a smug look on his face with a mug held in his hand. 

“Actually, Dr. Barnes, I happen to have excellent students who truly enjoy being in my class, being that I don’t teach any 101s, that’s more Steve’s part. But thanks for the concern.” You tell him, shutting the door behind you and letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

You’ve never spoken to anyone like that in your life before. 

And James was equally shocked at your attitude, standing in his doorway, dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open. He was staring at your shut door, wondering where the quick with came from.

He begrudgingly turns back into his own office, truly trying to process what just occurrfaxed.

While you slung your bag over your shoulder, there was an infectious smile gracing your face, proud of not being his doormat for the first time.

That day, class was even better than usual, and you even let your students out early, telling them to enjoy the rest of their day. 

And that night, you went home feeling the best you’ve felt in a long time.

-

You went into the university the next week feeling refreshed from you girl’s weekend that you hosted at your apartment, inviting Natasha and Wanda, and even another professor named Carol who you’ve recently befriended as well- to unwind and have fun with. 

And as you swing the usually locked door of your office open with ease, your eyebrows furrowed. 

I remember locking it when I left on Friday...

But the only thing that seems to out of place is the iced americano and chocolate croissant sitting on your desk.

On the bag of the croissant, there was writing that read, ‘Thought I’d make it up to you.’

Who the hell would go out of their way to bring me breakfast? You thought to yourself. And they know my usual...

You honestly assumed it could’ve been one of the girls, but you don’t know what they could’ve been making it up to you for. Maybe girl’s night? But still, everyone did a good job of bringing things with them to compensate for you hosting. 

But nothing explains the door being unlocked. But you weren’t really afraid. You didn’t keep anything too valuable in there anyways, taking most papers home with you, and keeping classified files sealed in the file cabinet. 

It didn’t really scare you, but you truly wondered who would go out of their way to do something like this for you.

The rest of your day went by pretty quickly, and it was oddly quiet. Specifically from the office next door.

It’s now 5 PM, and not a peep from James.

It unsettled you, to say the least. First the breakfast and unlocked office, and now not a word from him. 

It was weird.

You spotted him talking to Steve earlier in the day, but you haven’t seen too much of him either.

Although, there was a staff meeting tonight, so you’d definitely see him then.

As you made your way to the designated conference room with Natasha, you see Dean Fury waiting for everyone to arrive. He greets you with his usual disgruntled look, which you’ve learned to not take personally over the time you’ve spent here at Avengers University.

Slowly, everyone made it in, taking a seat. 

“Good evening, staff. I hope you’ve all had a productive day thus far, but there’s a reason I’ve called you here tonight. I have a proposal for all of you.” Fury explains, making you all curious. 

“I’ve decided, after a few months of toying with the idea, I’d like to do partner teaching. Each and every one of you will be assigned a counterpart, and you will both help each other in making the others’ teaching environment better. Here at AU, we’re committed to always pushing the envelope, and that means that sometimes, you’ll have to get uncomfortable. And if you’re wondering, there’s no way out of this. You all have to do it. Each one of you has received an email to your .edu inbox with your partner assignment and further instructions on how this will be done.” A pause overtook the room as everyone pulled out their phones to check their emails. “Happy teaching, we start next week, folks.” Fury finishes, exiting the room. 

Meanwhile, you couldn’t believe your eyes when they saw the opened email. 

Dr. Y/L/N, you’ve been selected to teach alongside Dr. Barnes.

Oh fuck no.

And the look he was sharing with you from across the table confirmed he was thinking the exact same thing. 

-

a/n pt.2: ooooooh cliffhangerrr!!! holy shit y’all this bitch long asf. don’t worry, part 2 will be coming soon! comment and lmk what you thought down below! this might have a part 3, i haven’t decided yet !! lol, anyways, i have class in an hour, so bye! if you made it this far, i seriously love and. appreciate you!

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Four.

a/n: this was one of my fav chapters to write, so hope you all enjoy! I think you’re all gonna like this one hehe :’) pls reblog to share and leave feedback as it continues to motivate me <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.1k

come talk to me about WTSGD! i’d love to know your thoughts!

October 31, 2017 

A lot had happened in the last five months that felt like an eternity. 

After Luci’s very first performance for Miss Saigon and her unfortunate breakdown that was caused by one of the biggest critics of Broadway, practically insulting her, she performed almost every night after that. 

When one bad review on her performance was ratified by hundreds of tweets and reviews, saying that Luci’s performance was one of the best they’d ever seen, she’d say she did her damn job. The night of her breakdown, she received a text from Nina, who sent her a link to a few reviews on her Broadway debut. Those articles directly addressed how unprofessional and poorly written Adam West’s review was, and that he needed to open his eyes to observe and admire brilliant, wonderful, and beautifully performed talent. On top of the important names next to Adam West, theatre-Twitter seemed to agree with the positive articles that were written about her, tweeting that Luci was the next face of Broadway; and who cared if she started her career in commercials and Off-Broadway because getting the role in Miss Saigon had proved that she worked her way up and that she was good. 

After reading the articles and tweets, her mood had drastically shifted. She was so overwhelmed by the positive comments that defended her from a misogynistic man that she cried again, but it was tears of happiness this time around. She walked out of her apartment, headed to Harry’s door to show him the uplifting reviews, and he was happy to see that she was ecstatic—he was happy for her. 

They had definitely become closer since that day. 

Harry and Luci hung out a lot. Whenever they had the chance and they both weren’t busy, they would knock on each other’s doors or text one another, asking to hang out. For the most part, he opened up to her, showcasing his true personality and becoming more comfortable around Luci—enough to joke around and be himself. He loved the way he didn’t feel like he had to be someone he’s not; everything felt true and real. 

It was refreshing for Harry to have a real friend, a best friend, other than Jeff and Mitch. Although he developed a small crush on said friend, it was nice to just have a chat and walk around the neighborhood with her. He’d been talking himself up to ask her out, not knowing if she’ll say yes or if she even feels that way about him; but from what he could tell, he thinks that she’s sort of infatuated with him. Luci would flirt with him from time to time, and would tell him that he’s adorable and sweet, making Harry’s cheeks redden from the sweet talk. 

Luci’s situation with Daisy and Samuel never got better. Ever since she started to perform more and more—sometimes even more than Daisy—they would be nothing but rude to her. They weren’t used to someone taking their spotlight; it was like someone stepping right in front of them on center stage to steal the show—especially if it was someone they despised and was new to Broadway. The two tried to take it up with Tal, demanding and arguing about how they deserved to perform every single night, but Tal kept her word to Luci and the rest of the industry: that she would stand up for her cast and run the show herself. 

Throughout the months, Luci had been talking with Harry about something very, very important. It was a few weeks ago, during their walk to a bagel place in the morning, when she first brought it up. 

“Remember that lady who came up to me after the show?” She asked as they walked along the sidewalk. Harry nodded, letting out a ‘mhm.’ “So, she’s a talent agent…” Harry raised his brows, thinking she was an agent for Broadway. “In Hollywood.” Samantha Stone was one of Hollywood’s greatest and biggest agents; she mostly worked with actors who were first starting out in the industry before making them successful. Samantha was always on the hunt for new and fresh talent; she walked the streets with an eye like a hawk. 

In early September, Samantha was in New York for a small getaway, as well as to meet one of her side pieces in the city. She figured she could watch a show or two since she was already in the city, and it’d been ages since she'd seen a Broadway show. Deciding on Miss Saigon because she saw the tweets and reviews of Luciana, she decided to give it a shot and see what her hype was about. And it did not disappoint. She was so intrigued and invested in the story, and was absolutely blown away by Luciana’s performance. Naturally, even though she shouldn’t be working, she waited until the cast was coming out of the theatre to approach her. 

Luci was in complete shock because she’d never had anyone walk up to her, telling her to give her a call because she was a talent agent and hoped to work with her soon. When Luci got back home, she looked up Samantha Stone and her breath hitched as she found out who she had worked with and what she did for a living. 

“Holy shit!” Harry completely stopped walking, making Luci stop as well. They stood on the side of the sidewalk as people passed by them. Harry beamed excitedly, but soon his smile softened, noticing Luci’s didn’t match his. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you excited?” 

“I-I don’t know. I just get nervous thinking about it, like she wants to work with me.” Luci fiddled with her fingers. 

“Isn’t that great?” Harry asked softly; he didn’t see what was wrong with that, but he was being patient with Luci to try and understand what she was feeling and thinking about.

She nodded. “It is. I’m just nervous; I hate disappointing people. What if I call her and I do an audition or whatever, and she realizes that I’m not meant for the job? She’s the biggest agent in Hollywood, Harry. That would mean I’m not meant for any job,” she explained worriedly, anxiety bubbling up in her stomach as if it’d been simmering for hours on the stove.

Harry slightly frowned. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to doubt one’s own talents, and he absolutely hated that Luci was doing it. 

“Luciana, listen to me.” Well, that definitely caught her attention. “You’re remarkably talented, end of. If you end up being dropped by that agent, then fuck her. She shouldn’t be a talent agent if she can’t see clear talent right in front of her. Literally everyone in the same room knows you are so incredibly gifted. Plus, wouldn’t you like to try it out? It doesn’t hurt to try because you have nothing to lose. You’ll still be on Broadway; and then you’ll try again later if right now is not your time.” 

Smiling, she appreciated his words. She nodded, knowing he was completely right. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” Her response seemed to satisfy Harry. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you.” She smiled. “Still gonna help me grade papers?” 

She chuckled as they started walking on the pavement again. “Yup. Believe it or not, it’s actually fun grading papers.” 

He turned to her shockingly. “Oh, really? Then maybe you could be my TA and I’ll have you grade all the papers.” Luci laughed, saying that she didn’t mind; she adored moments when they were playful. Their friendship was refreshing to the both of them. 

A week after her conversation with Harry, where he reassured and encouraged her, she called Samantha, who was delighted to hear from Luci. Samantha asked if she wanted to meet for lunch; Luci was hesitant, but she remembered Harry’s words, and it really didn’t hurt to try, so she agreed and they met in Midtown at a Thai restaurant. 

It was a casual luncheon where Samantha got to know Luci before she decided if she wanted to sign her or not. Luci completely rocked her socks; she was funny, kind, and very humble—traits that not a lot of stars had. So, Samantha immediately thought she was perfect and very likeable. After thirty minutes of eating and chatting, Samantha pulled out her business side, along with a contract, and discussed what this could mean for Luci. She went over her contract very quickly, and Luci knew she couldn’t keep up so she pretended to listen, nodding and letting out a ‘mhm’ to be interactive. 

Samantha had a pen ready for her to sign, but if Luci knew anything, it was to not sign contracts right then and there, and to go over the contract in further details on her own. So, Luci told her that she would look over the stack of papers once more before she got back to her potential agent. 

Luci wished she took a business class to understand such things about contracts and how to handle things herself, but she thinks that she might enroll in some classes some time soon. She attended Boston University and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Performing Arts in Theatre Arts. On top of auditioning, solo acts, musical pieces, and countless shows for the four years she was there, she maintained a 3.5 GPA in her general education, and that’s something she’s incredibly proud of herself for. There were a few classes during her freshman year that she failed, making her consider dropping out, but she picked herself back up and promised herself to work harder, and she did. 

When she got back home, she tossed the contract on her coffee table as she sighed, grabbing a glass of water. She had felt stressed out about the situation, but then she remembered that Harry’s sister, Gemma, was a lawyer in London. So, she sent Harry a quick text, telling him about her situation, and asked if Gemma was able to help out. Harry was on his lunch when she texted, but he quickly asked Gemma and she was quick to comply, anything to help her brother’s friend.

The day after, Harry and Luci both sat down on his couch, FaceTiming Gemma on his laptop; it was the very first time his sister and Luci were meeting each other. Harry warned Luci that Gemma was a bit tough with his new friends, but once the two women chatted for a few minutes, Gemma was smittened with her; Harry was shocked at how quick they seemed to become friends, but he cherished it because he liked Luci…a lot. 

Luci had sent over a scanned version of the contract, so they went over it together with Harry sitting next to her for moral support; and from what Gemma said, the contract was clean. The most important thing that Gemma was looking for was that Luci had a say to back out of the contract, and it stated that clearly. Gemma told her that she could sign the contract if she wanted, and that eased Luci’s anxieties, making her thank Gemma almost a million times for her help. 

The next day, Luci met up with Samantha for brunch with the signed contract in her hand. Samantha was delighted to see that it was inked with her signature; she told Luci that this won’t be the only thing she was going to sign because so many people are going to want her autograph. That made Luci smile, giggling a tad bit at the thought of it. 

By the beginning of October, Samantha called Luci and informed her that she was booked for an audition for a supporting character in Ocean’s Eight that was to be released late next year. Luci was surprised at how quickly Samantha was able to get her an audition, but they didn’t call her the best for nothing. 

With only two weeks to prepare, Luci put her time and effort into rehearsing the few pages of the script Samantha had sent her. Luci didn’t have a talent coach whatsoever, so she tried her best to see every aspect of her acting, jotting down notes on the margins so she could further better herself. She was hiding her stress and nerves quite well as she tried not to freak out about how insane this opportunity was to even audition. 

When her audition was only two days away, she called Ren for the traditional pep-talk that inspired and motivated her to do better and to try her best because that was all that she could do. She wished that her family was physically next to her so she could feel the comfort and warmth that they provide because after all, they are home and always will be. 

Luckily, some producers were in New York holding auditions, so she didn’t have to fly to California for a day or two. She’d never felt more intimidated and nervous than the moment she stepped inside the medium-sized room that was painted in a light gray tone. A long foldable table was in the middle of the room with a small camcorder on a tripod next to it. Luci’s had many auditions, but this…this was real shit, the real deal. She was standing in front of Hollywood and big name producers who’d never heard of her name until the moment she walked in and they had a glimpse of her portfolio. 

She introduced herself, masking the nerves that were crawling up and down her body with a warm smile—not too bright, but enough to show her gorgeous grin. They asked her to read off of page twenty-three to twenty-five; taking a breath, she gave all that she could. And in her opinion, it’s the best acting she’d ever done, which is saying a lot because she thinks she did quite well after every show of Miss Saigon. 

The producers’ faces were unreadable as they simply looked at one another, writing a few notes on their yellow notepads. Luci wanted to lurk, to see what they were writing as she hoped they weren’t disappointed or had immediately crossed out her name from their list. 

They thanked her for coming in before dismissing her; she thanked them as well, waving as she walked out the door where she released the biggest sigh. It wasn’t from relief because she was still on edge of the result of her audition, but she felt like she had been holding her breath for the ten to fifteen minutes that she was in that room. Her heart was pounding quite sturdily; and if she was being honest, her mind had completely blanked out once they yelled ‘action,’ but that was usual for her. 

Now that it was ten days after her audition and Halloween, Harry practically begged Luci to get out of her apartment. She knew that she couldn’t stay cooped up in her room as she overthought the audition constantly. She began to get headaches from overthinking every single thing she did in that audition, and it drove her insane. 

So, when Harry suggested that she should go to the Halloween party that Daisy was throwing on the rooftop of her building, she dreaded it at first, but the thought of going out was calling her. She assumed Daisy wouldn’t want Luci to be at her party, but she invited the entire cast and a few more people that she knew personally, so it wasn’t like Daisy was going to speak to her. Since it was a party, everyone could bring a guest or a few friends, so that was when Luci begged Harry to attend with her. 

“Please, come with me.” She had her best pouty lip on, looking at him with doe eyes. Just by that look, he almost gave in, but he wasn’t sure if this type of party was for him. Harry was a mellow and chill guy; he didn’t need rooftop parties and unlimited amounts of booze. He was fine with a small gathering, a few movies and board games—now, that was his type of party. “The party would be so much more fun with you there.” 

Harry playfully scoffed. “Please. Luci, I’m the most boring guy there is.” 

Her brows furrowed in disagreement. “No, you’re not. I happen to think you’re quite fun.” He smiled softly at her in appreciation. “Please. We wouldn’t even have to stay that long.” 

He could tell that she wanted, no, needed him to be there with her. She wasn’t very close with her cast mates—despite all the months she’d been part of the production—besides Nina. But Nina knew everyone so Luci would be left awkwardly standing there, waiting for her friend to come back. 

“How long would we stay?” 

Her eyes brightened with hope. “However long you want.” 

“An hour? Hour and a half, tops?” 

“Sounds perfectly fine to me.” 

“And what would we wear?”

Luci was a bit shocked by his question. “You wanna match?” 

“I mean, that would be fun, right?” She nodded, agreeing. “Since it is quite last minute, I say we dress up as the 70s or 80s era. Pretty easy, right?” 

She liked the sound of that. “Yes, let’s do 70s! I wanna raid your closet because I know you have some gems in there.” 

Harry laughed out loud—her favorite laugh that was music to her ears. He knew he had a great sense of fashion, and he’d always go to the thrift store to pick up something that he’d never worn before. It wasn’t like he was not going to wear it, he just needed to be more comfortable with himself to wear the clothes that he buys. So, for now, he settled with black skinny jeans and patterned-print button downs, which is the most ‘flashy’ he’d dress as…for now. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason because I was hoping you’d say 70s.” Luci felt her cheeks warm up before they went to Harry’s apartment. 

It took an hour and a half to find an outfit that Harry liked; it would’ve been shorter, but with Harry’s 70s playlist that was playing in the background, they took breaks to dance and sing. Harry had a beautiful voice, Luci thought; and she wondered if he was ever in a band before or wrote music because he does have an elaborate music taste, and that added to Luci’s liking for him. 

They proceeded to go to Luci’s apartment so Harry could help her find an outfit. He brought his wireless speaker so the music wouldn’t stop; and she continuously threw the articles of clothing onto her bed—where Harry was lying on his stomach—every time he shook his head no. 

With the same amount of time it took Harry to decide on an outfit, Luci settled on hers. She looked in her full-body mirror, twirling around to see if it looked okay and if she was satisfied with it. Harry remained on her bed, admiring how beautiful she looked as he thought that she was way out of his league. As Luci was dancing and prancing around her apartment, Harry was deep in his thoughts; he didn’t know if asking Luci out was the way to go. Not only would he lose her as a friend when or if she rejects him, but he couldn’t bear the ache he would feel in his heart. 

For his own sake, he needed to protect himself before the heartbreak; and if that meant refraining himself from making a move, then that was completely fine to him. 

“Ready?” Luci called out from the doorway. Harry got off the bed, looking her up and down. 

She was wearing peach colored pants that flare at the bottom, sitting high on her waist; a white silk blouse with orange accents, a long brown coat because it was quite chilly outside, and pink glasses that were transparent. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, and her outfit was meant for her. The colors matched Harry’s outfit as he wore rust-orange pants that sat wide at the bottom, a flashy patterned long-sleeved blouse with the collar matching his pants. Luci gave him a similar pair of glasses as hers, so they weren’t wearing shaded lenses in the nighttime. 

“Yup. You, uh, look really good.” 

Luci smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “Thank you! You look good, too. This color looks amazing on you.” 

Harry looked down at his outfit, hiding the blush that formed on his cheeks. “Thank you. I like it a lot.” 

They headed out and towards Daisy’s apartment building where the rooftop was large enough for everyone to stand comfortably without feeling like they were shoulder-to-shoulder. There were plenty of lounge chairs, and a few tall bar tables next to tall heaters, considering it was just below fifty degrees. 

Some people were making their way towards Daisy's apartment since it was too cold outside, but Harry and Luci decided to stay, both agreeing that the heaters were keeping them warm as they sipped on their drinks. 

“Luci!” Nina walked over towards her, giving her a hug; Luci made sure not to mess up the placement of her fairy wings. 

“You look amazing!” Luci complimented as Nina put her hands on her cheeks, thanking her friend. Luci could tell that Nina was a bit drunk already as her eyes were drooping and she couldn’t stand straight on her own two feet. 

“Harry! I’m so glad you’re here.” He smiled saying hello to her. Nina and Harry met in July when he had gone to see another show. He was giving Luci another bouquet of flowers—the same bundle that he gave her the last time since she told him that she really liked them, and they looked amazing on her windowsill—and she dragged him to find Nina since she was performing the same show. Nina immediately gave Luci that certain look that said ‘he’s really cute,’ and Luci just nodded, giving her an apparent look as well. 

“Did you bring anyone?” Luci asked, knowing that she was talking to a few guys; her favorites, from what Nina told her, was Laurent and Alec—the two guys that are in her Soul Cycle class, one on Monday and the other on Friday. 

Nina shook her head. “No. I wanted to get fucked up today and didn’t want any of my mans see that shit. Oh! Can I take a picture of you two? You both look so cute!” 

Luci looked at Harry, silently asking and he nodded. She stood beside him, not knowing whether to put her arm around his waist. They’d never taken a picture together before, after all the months of knowing each other. Luci handed Nina her phone before she turned on the flash, taking a picture of the two. Harry hesitantly puts his arm around Luci’s shoulder, making her look at him, smiling. She then wrapped her arm around his waist as they both smiled at each other before looking back at the camera. Nina was squealing behind the phone because she just captured the cute and quiet interaction between them that made for a sweet candid. 

Nina handed Luci’s phone back to her before she told her that she was going to talk to some other people. The two women hugged, and Nina said goodbye to Harry. 

Harry leaned into Luci’s side, bending down slightly. “Send me those pictures, yeah?” 

A chill ran through her body at the sound of his voice so close to her ear. “Sure,” she croaked out, sending the pictures to him. 

After a few moments of light conversation and humming the beat of the music, Harry asked, “So, which one is Daisy?” 

Luci looked at him, quite shocked as to what sparked his interest in her, but she didn’t say anything. She looked around until she spotted her in a leather catwoman suit, hugging her body tightly that Luci thought it was cutting off her circulation. But she had to admit that it looked amazing on her. 

“That one.” She slyly pointed at Daisy who was talking to some of her friends. Luci was surprised to see that Samuel wasn’t here, considering that he was part of the cast. Daisy and Samuel seemed to be in their ‘off again’ stage of their relationship; and no one who was part of the cast or who was close to them could keep up with how many times they’d been through that stage, but they seemed to like each other too much to call it quits for good. 

“Hmm. She seems nice.” 

“Yeah, she does—to everyone except me.” They were both looking at Daisy, and it was like Daisy could sense a few eyes on her, so she looked around and made direct eye contact with Luci. She excused herself to her group of friends before making her way towards her and Harry. “Speak of the devil.” Luci sighed, making Harry chuckle. 

“Luci! I’m so glad you made it.” Daisy faked a smile as she greeted Luci with a hug, which surprised both Luci and Harry. Daisy pulled away, immediately locking eyes on this. “Oh, who’s your friend?” Instantly, Luci knew why Daisy was so nice to her; it was because she spotted Harry and didn’t want him to think she was such a bitch. 

With her brows furrowed, Luci shifted a little closer to Harry who was standing there and not saying anything. “This is Harry.” 

Daisy flashed him her stunning smile that wooed almost everyone. “Hi, I’m Daisy.” He shook her hand, introducing himself. “Your outfit looks really good.” She complimented him. 

“Thanks, Luci helped me pick it out.” He smiled at Luci, who was smirking. For a second, Daisy rolled her eyes before she returned to her big smile. 

“Would you like to get a drink with me? I see you’re almost empty.” Daisy’s eyes pointed at his cup, which only had a small sip lingering at the bottom of his clear plastic cup. 

“Uh-”

“C’mon, just one drink?” Her voice was innocent and sweet, nothing like the cruel and rude Daisy that Luci knew all too well. 

What Luci expected Harry to say was that he was okay and that he didn’t want a drink with her, but he responded quite the opposite. 

“Okay, sure.” Luci’s head averted towards Harry as she looked at him with shock and a face asking what the fuck he was doing. But he shrugged as Daisy clapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the bar. Luci huffed, watching the two walk away and she was left by herself with a watered down drink and the cold air. 

She figured she’d wait for him to come back to where she was sitting, hoping he wouldn’t take too long. 

But twenty minutes had gone by, and Luci started getting annoyed.  

Thirty minutes, and Luci tells herself that she doesn’t care and mindlessly goes on her phone. 

An hour had gone by when Luci huffed, mentally saying that she does give a shit and goes to find Harry. 

How long could one drink take anyways? Definitely not an hour, Luci thought. She searched the rooftop for the two, only to hope that Harry was looking for her too. After ten minutes of looking around the rooftop, passing her cast mates who were asking her to take a shot with them—she took another one, adding more alcohol into her body—she couldn’t find Harry. She started to think the worst; he could’ve possibly taken Daisy home, or Daisy could have taken him up to her room—either way, she didn’t like any of those options. 

For a minute, she mentally debated if she should check Daisy’s apartment, which would be better since it was warmer indoors than it was out—she was convinced it got colder once Harry left her side—but the negative side of her mind, who was taunting her like the devil on her left shoulder, told her to check if Harry was inside because she wasn’t going to like what she was going to see. 

Either way, she needed to find Harry and she didn’t want to go home without him, so she went inside the building and took the elevator down to Daisy’s floor. There were people walking in and out of her place, so it wasn’t that difficult to find which one was hers. With the same amount of people inside her apartment as there was on the rooftop, Luci made her way through the nice and luxurious apartment. She was just on the edge of tipsy; the drinks with her coworkers had gotten her there. Heading up the stairs, she passed by people who were making out, cuddling on the steps, and talking. 

Once she got to the end of the hallway, she had almost given up on her search for Harry until the door at the end of the hall opened, revealing Harry who was leaving and quietly closing the door. 

Luci stood in the middle with an expressionless face. He hadn’t seen her yet, but the way she wasn’t giving any emotion didn’t mean that she didn’t care; the thoughts in her mind were invading every inch that there was just too much to focus on. 

Harry turned around, stopping in his tracks once he faced her. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Were you…” Luci referred to what was happening inside the room as she couldn’t finish her sentence because the thought and the words simply disgusted her. 

“N-No.”

“Why do you seem unsure?” She was testing him; she heard the hesitancy in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell the truth. 

A new attitude rose him. “Why do you care?” His voice was a tad bit harsher, but he was a little confused on why she was questioning his actions. 

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, crossing her arms, avoiding his question. “I’m going home. Are you coming with or…?” Harry bit the inside of his cheek, remembering that she hadn’t answered his question, so he’ll ask again later. He nodded, and Luci turned around; he followed. 

The entire ride on the subway and walking towards their apartment building was quiet. They didn’t even sit next to each other like they always did; just across one another, avoiding eye contact.

It was when they were both in front and unlocking their doors was when Harry spoke up. 

“Luci.” She stopped her movements, turning around slowly as did he. This time, she looked at him so deeply in the eyes that it was physically difficult for her to take her eyes off him. “Why were you mad at me before we left?” 

On the ride back home, Harry thought about the events at the party. He’d never seen Luci so annoyed at him before, so it got him thinking a lot about what she felt for him. She was jealous, anyone could see that, and he wanted her to say it out loud why she was jealous because he could name a few reasons. 

“Did you have a good time with Daisy?” 

Harry breathed out a chuckle. “You’re jealous,” he stated immediately. 

“Answer my question-”

“Then answer mine.” 

The tension was so thick that with just one small poke of a needle, it would collapse and break. They’d never had this type of conversation before, where the tension was rising and the room felt warm; they were always playful and laughing with each other that neither of them thought they were capable of having this certain type of energy with one another. 

“I was mad because you left me alone at the party…with Daisy of all people,” she said honestly, leaving a few things out. 

“Is that all?” He raised his brows, crossing his arms. 

Luci shook her head. “That’s not how it works, Styles. I answer yours, you answer mine.” 

A smug grin landed on Harry’s face. “Did I have a good time with Daisy?” He repeated her question. “To be honest with you, no. She was pretty drunk, so I took her to her bedroom—that’s why I was in there, She was…nice.” Luci sensed a ‘but’ trailing. “She even asked me if I’d wanna go out some time.”

“What’d you say?” 

He tsked. “Not how it works, Suki.” Luci rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff. “Hey, they’re your rules.” He chuckled. “Now, answer this: why were you jealous?” 

There was a surge of confidence that Harry’s never felt before; maybe it was because he knew things Luci didn’t know herself, but watching her unfold those realizations was definitely feeding his ego. 

Luci sighed deeply before she started. “Knowing that Daisy could possibly get anyone she wanted was a bit of an insecurity of mine when we were on our way to the party. That was because I knew she’d want you. I mean…look at you, you’re literally so gorgeous.” Harry blushed. “And I knew that it was inevitable that she would ask you to hang out; I was just surprised when you said yes.” 

He nodded. “I rejected her when she asked if I wanted to go out.” A bit of weight lifted from Luci’s shoulders, but not completely as there was still something heavy she’s been wanting to say. “Why’d you hope I’d say no? Besides the obvious that she’s mean and rude to you.” 

Alright, time to fess up, Luci. 

Luci inhaled deeply, hoping her confession wouldn’t have him running for the hills. “Because why would you go out with her when you could go out with me? Like, on a date…” Her anxiety was up to her chin as she locked her hands behind her back, preventing them from shaking any more than they already were. 

That one simple question had answered all of the other questions swirling in his mind; not the ones that were asked in the rapid fire round of questioning and answering under the thick cloud of tension over them, but the ones he asked himself a few months ago when he was doubting that she’d ever felt something for him because all this time, she had felt something, and she just asked him out. 

His heart flipped. “You wanna go on a date with me?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask, but I didn’t know if you were interested in me or not,” she said shyly. Luci hadn’t asked someone out before—someone she was really interested in. She’d either wait until they asked her and if they didn’t, she’d move on and pretend that her feelings for them never existed. But Harry was different; seeing him with Daisy tonight had made her realize just how much she felt for him. He made her laugh, smile, and he was such a kind person. 

“I’d love to.” He suddenly answered, taking her back a little. 

She looked at him with wide eyes. “R-Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you too, because I’m very much interested in you, but I didn’t know you were interested, well, until tonight.” Luci giggled. 

“I made it pretty obvious that I was jealous, huh?” 

“A tad bit, but it’s sweet; and I wasn’t gonna go on a date with Daisy. She’s no Luciana Ivy Suki.” He teased, making her face heat up at the sound of her full name coming from his lips. She wanted to kiss him right then and then, wanted to taste the sweet taste that he was storing in his mouth; but she refrained from doing so, figuring that they’d wait until after their date—whenever that was—to wait to kiss him because it would very much be worth the wait. 

“Okay, I’ll, uh, plan the date then.” Her lips turned up, feeling a certain ache on her cheeks already from smiling too much. 

“Can I plan it too?” He genuinely asked. 

“I did ask you, Harry.” She raised her brows teasingly. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll plan the next date then.” He blushed. 

Luci tilted her head, smiling sweetly at his words. “The next date, huh? We haven’t even been on the first date; what makes you think there’ll be a second one.” 

“Oh, love, I think there will be.” Harry stepped closer to her, heart pounding in his chest; Luci gulped at the closeness. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her by the way he was looking at her intently. And for a moment, she was gonna give in and say ‘fuck waiting,’ and kiss his pink lips until he leaned forward and kissed her soft cheek for a brief moment. “Can’t wait for our date. Let me know what the plans are.” 

“O-Okay.” The touch of his lips on her skin had stunned her, and she wanted them back on her instantly. 

Harry opened his door, giving Luci a small smile before walking in. She started to slowly back into her open apartment, holding onto the door handle tightly. Before they closed their doors, they stared at one another, admiring each other before they said: 

“Sweet dreams, Luciana.” 

“Sweet dreams, Harry.” 

November 8, 2017 

Harry strongly knocked three times on the door right across from his own door with a bag full of takeout, another bag full of snacks, and a small brown bag that had a white box inside. 

The door swung open; Luci smiled at the person behind it. 

“Happy Birthday, love!” Harry greeted.

“Aww, Harry, thank you so much.” She was surprised that he remembered, let alone bring a celebration to her as she eyed the bags in his hands. Luci turned twenty-six today; her day was full of greetings from her cast mates, her family, and FaceTime calls from her brother and parents. She was going to make a trip back home for a day or two since she had to perform on Friday, but she was going to see her parents during Thanksgiving, so FaceTime calls had to suffice till then. 

Stepping to the side, she invited him in. He hugged her tightly, kissing the side of her head as her face heated up. They walked to the kitchen, and Harry set the bags on the countertop, unraveling the tie of the takeout. 

“First, I’m sorry for just showing up unannounced and invading your place.” He added a breathy laugh. 

“No, it’s okay! You’re welcomed any time,” she genuinely said; Harry made a mental note of that. 

“Second, this is not a date. I know you didn’t want today to be our first date, but I couldn’t just sit in my apartment and not do anything on your special day! So, here I am.” 

“Here you are.” Luci couldn’t help the warmth that rushed to her face and neck. 

“Third, I brought Chinese since it’s your favorite food. And I just so happen to know a lovely place that has the best Chinese in Brooklyn, which is my favorite place that I’ll take you to soon, but know that you’re so incredibly special because I never take anyone there.” He took the takeaway boxes out of the bag, opening them up as steam released from the boxes. 

Luci leaned against the countertop. “And what makes me so special?” Teasingly fluttering her eyes. 

Harry stopped what he was doing, looking at her intently. “You’re so sweet, funny, and incredibly kind. But most importantly, you’re grounded and humble; and you’re special to me.” His dimpled poked through his skin as he smiled, meaning every word. 

Heart flipping, stomach in knots, and tears washing over her eyes, Luci walked around the counter to hug him, head resting against his chest as she whispered a ‘thank you’ in his ear. 

For the rest of their night, they ate the authentic Chinese food while Harry told her about the restaurant he got it from, including the workers who owned the place. They also talked about work, teased, flirted, and bantered about whether fruit belonged in salads—they do not. 

Harry gave her the brown paper bag that held her gift, and she opened it with shock. He gifted her a gold circle pin that was customized with her initials engraved in the middle, and the saying ‘Shine bright, Dream even bigger,’ separated at the top and bottom. He’d noticed that she had pins on her travel backpack, and would occasionally wear one on the side of her baseball cap. It was the most thoughtful and attentive gift she’d ever received, and that earned Harry a tight hug and many thank you’s. 

After the night was coming close to eleven-thirty, Harry called it a night as he still had to wake up early tomorrow for work. Their goodbye at her door was a long one that was filled with tight and long hugs as they swayed for a moment, enjoying the warmth of each other. They promised each other that they would find a day that was open in their schedule so they could finally have their date; they even pinky swore on it—Harry kissed her pinky, vowing. 

Luci watched Harry open his door before walking inside his apartment; she blew him a kiss as he caught it, placing his palm on his cheek, making her smile. 

As they closed their doors, Luci couldn’t help but think that she just had the best birthday ever. 

November 17, 2017 

Luci’s leg nervously shook as she waited for her digital clock to hit 2:30 p.m. 

Today was Luci and Harry’s first date, and will hopefully be written down in history. She’d been anticipating this day for a while now, and she couldn’t believe the day was finally here. The few days after she asked him out, they tried settling on a date, but the two weeks after Halloween were booked for them. 

Luci was performing most days out of the week and Harry needed to figure out his teaching plans since it was close to Thanksgiving break and winter break. But when Harry found out that he had a random Friday off, he immediately told her, and to their luck, Luci wasn’t performing that day. So, they were settled on a day, and Luci couldn’t wait to take him out. 

She told him that he was going to need to dress warm since they were going to be outside for most of the day, so he opted for light blue jeans that were a bit baggy, a white t-shirt, a black coat that had faux fur on the thick collar and cuffs; since he, assumingly, was going to be walking around a lot, he wore black old school vans. Harry looked in the mirror, ruffling his hair in his hands to get it to stick the way he wanted it to. His hands slightly shook as he was fixing his hair, and he realized he hadn’t felt this nervous in a while; it had been a while since he’d gone on a date with someone he truly liked. 

When it hit two-thirty, Harry opened his door and locked it before taking a step forward. He took a breath, shaking his nerves off; as he was just about to knock, he heard Luci shuffling around inside her apartment as her keys jingled in her hands and her boots thudded against the wood. He put his hand down, thinking it would be nice for her to just see him right when she opened the door. After a few moments, Luci felt like she had everything she needed, so she swung her door open to only find Harry standing right in front of it, hiding behind a familiar bouquet of flowers—her favorite ones from him. 

“Hello.” He smiled, dimples clearly present. Luci felt like she could cry on the spot from just being so overwhelmed with her nerves and the anticipation leading up to this day, this moment. “These are for you. Hope you never get tired of them.” Harry handed her the bouquet, and she hugged them to her chest. 

“Harry, thank you. Believe me, I would never.” The start of her cheek aches had begun, and it had been about thirty seconds into their date. But cheek aches with Harry were her favorite type of aches, so she didn’t really mind it. 

She went back inside her apartment as Harry followed her in; she put the flowers in a vase before fixing them a little, making sure none of them were drooping down on the edge of the glass vase. Placing them on her windowsill, where she usually puts the flowers Harry gifted her, she smiled gratefully at them before turning her head and smiling at Harry, extra grateful. 

“Shall we go?” He asked, and she nodded. 

Harry followed Luci down to the subway station as she got on the M train. In eleven minutes, there were four stops; the subway was quite packed with no available seats, so the two stood, holding onto the silver bar in between them with their bodies close in proximity as they stood. Harry took the chance to look down at her, simply admiring her beauty as she mindlessly looked around, not noticing his eyes lingering on her. 

When their stop was on Essex Street, they got off, transferring onto the F train towards Coney Island; and Harry suddenly knew exactly where they were going. He didn’t say anything but smile. The entirety of the ride took forty-two minutes with twenty-two stops; they were able to sit down next to each other after the first stop. 

Their bodies were close—thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Luci took out her wired earphones—figuring they were going to be there for a while, why not listen to some music—handing Harry the left one as she put the right one in. She played Fleetwood Mac, Tame Impala, ABBA, Lorde, and Hozier—a few artists they’d bonded over—as they both swayed in their seats, making up some dance routine with their arms and shoulders. They laughed and ignored the weird looks of bystanders, who were trying to have a peaceful train ride to their destination, but Luci and Harry were too focused on each other to care. 

Once it was their stop, Luci put her headphones and phone in her purse before they got off and walked side by side one another. Harry had the urge to pull her close to his side, to hold her soft hand, but he was too shy to make a move. When they walked up the stairs to exit the station, their fingers brushed together—practically bumping into one another. Luci confidently made the move and linked their fingers together; Harry looked down and back up at her as he blushed, squeezing her hand lightly. 

“Is this okay?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“It’s perfect.” He meant it; the way her small hands fit so perfectly into his, as if he was protecting them. Holding her hand was comforting, and it surprised him at how comfortable he was to be making physical contact with her; but ever since he met Luci, he’s surprised himself quite a few times already. 

They finally reached their first date hotspot, and Harry assumed right as to where she was taking him. 

Three wide entryways painted in navy blue and orange had ‘Luna Park’ painted in orange at the top. Above the entryways were large flower-like and crescent moons that lit up during the nighttime, giving the boardwalk the most illuminating glow. The large Ferris wheel could not be missed as the carts swung and rattled back and forth. On top of the excitement of the amusement park, there were screams from people who were on the roller coasters, and the smell of fair food that they couldn’t wait to devour. 

Luci paid for their entrance admission, and Harry frowned, wanting to pay, but they both agreed that they could go half on the food, and games and rides. 

They felt like little kids who were at Disneyland, minus the famous castle and Main Street music, as they walked around the park to check it out as the wood beneath them creaked with every step while they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. 

“Everything looks really fun,” Harry exclaimed.

“Right! Do you wanna play some games first or ride on some rides?” 

“How about we get the rides out of the way? You look very excited to go on them, and I have a feeling there’s no way you’re not going on them without me.” Harry assumed, quite accurately. 

Luci put her hand on her heart teasingly. “You know me too well.” Harry chuckled. “Okay, let’s go on some rides!” She dragged him to the admissions booth, and Harry paid for both of their passes for rides. 

They waited in line for the ‘Cyclone,’ which was the biggest rollercoaster besides the Wonder Wheel. Luci sensed Harry’s nerves as he kept looking up at the ride, and he couldn’t keep still. 

She squeezed his hand tightly. “Harry, you don’t have to go on the ride with me.” She was starting to feel concerned for him because his hands were becoming damp, which she didn’t care for, and he kept bouncing his leg everytime the line stopped moving. 

He raised his brows, and brushed away his nerves to the side but not very far. “No, no. It’s okay—I’ll be okay.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, he nodded. “I’m sure. We’re here to have some fun, not be nervous, right?” 

“Yeah. But I’ll admit, I was nervous before we left,” she said, hoping to change the subject to distract him from the fast ride above them. 

“Why’s that?” He curled his lips into his mouth. 

“This is our first date, I want it to go well,” she said honestly. It had been a while since she’d been on a real date—the last one being in college—but to be nervous for a date was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. 

“Think it’s going quite well, don’t you think?” He gave her a toothless grin, brows raised. Luci nodded, happy that he was always reassuring her and making her feel comfortable. “Plus, I was nervous too—still am, if I’m being honest.” 

“Yeah?” 

He nodded his head as if his nerves were the most obvious thing. “Oh, yeah. I want this to go well too. But by the way we’ve been friends for months before this happened, I think we’ll be okay, Ci.” Her eyes slightly widened at the new nickname that she’d never heard; Harry instantly noticed her shock. “I-Is it okay if I call you that?” To be honest, he’s always wanted to call her some unique nickname that would only be for him. ‘Luci’ seemed to be the name everyone called her, ‘Ana’ was her brother’s name for her, so the last syllable in her name seemed to be free. 

“No one’s ever called me that.” And she thinks that’s extra special. “But yes, please call me that.” She approved, and he smiled. 

It was their turn to get onto the Cyclone, and Harry suddenly didn’t feel so nervous anymore as they were being safely strapped into their rollercoaster cart. The ride was quite high, looking over the blue water and Coney Island Beach; the view was quite gorgeous, even in the middle of a cold November day in New York. 

They screamed as the ride dropped; Luci held up one of her arms as the other held tightly on Harry’s hand as he grasped the metal bar, afraid to bravely put his arm up like his beautiful date. 

When the ride was finished, they had a rush of exhilaration, wanting to go on the other rides. So, they did; they laughed, screamed, and were the most carefree people they’d ever been in their entire lives because they brought it out of each other. 

After they filled their rollercoaster crave, they ate and talked. Individually, they were both worried about this part of the date where they had to talk because they’d been hanging out for so many months and getting to know each other that they thought coming up with conversation topics were going to be difficult. But it was natural for them; they didn’t put any pressure on themselves to speak every single minute of the date. Instead, they relished in the comfortable silence they seemed to form, not minding it one bit. 

The sky had turned into a cotton candy pink from a bright blue quite quickly. Luci wanted to watch the sunset, but was a bit sad that they hadn’t played the majority of the games; but Harry told her it was okay, and they would come back another time when the park reopened again during the Spring. 

Hand in hand, they walked to the beach that was just across the street from Luna Park. The bright lights from the park were becoming distant as they continued to walk further away from it. Since it was mid November, there weren’t that many people out because of the cold temperature—just the few people who were passing by along with others who decided to watch the sunset as well. 

“Tell me about your last relationship?” Luci suddenly asked; Harry looked at her amusingly. 

“Like now? In the middle of our date?” He teased, making her laugh. 

“I mean, if you want to. I was just curious.” 

Harry thought for a moment. “Hmm. My last serious relationship was over a year ago. We broke up right before I started teaching at the middle school.” 

“What happened?” She asked softly, not wanting to pry, but she was also curious. 

“We weren’t good for each other anymore. I guess life happened, and we turned into people we weren’t proud of. We grew apart; she was more in love with her career than she was in love with me. Couldn’t say I was the best boyfriend either,” he explained, not getting into too much detail. But he’d neglected her without even realizing it, causing his ex to occupy herself with work. “So, we broke up. And it felt like it was a sign from the universe that was holding me back from venturing out because I immediately got a job at the school when I had been putting off finding a proper teaching job.” He breathed out a chuckle, remembering the memory.

He’ll admit, his last relationship had hurt him quite a lot. He’d never felt such pain before, and it had made him quiet and reserved. But how it ended made him not seek out to find a relationship. For a while, he didn’t like the idea of love because it had only hurt you. But then he met Luci, and at first, he was hesitant to even be her friend because just at first glance, he was ruined, and he didn’t want to go through that process again; but here they are now. And maybe, he’ll tell her this, but for now, he doesn’t want to scare her off. 

“Do you still talk to her?” 

“Nope. Last I heard of her, she was engaged to this woman she met a few weeks after our breakup, but I have no clue if they’re still together.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What about you?” 

“My last relationship?” Harry nodded. “To be honest, I’ve never been in a serious one…like ever.” 

He raised his brows in shock. “Really?” 

“Yeah. The furthest I’ve gone that was close to a relationship was a friends-with-benefits towards the end of college, which didn’t end well.” Harry sensed her mood change a bit, so he didn’t pry on asking what happened in the past. The bad memories had filled her mind, making her frown, but she pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to think about them at the moment because the timing is unbelievable. “That’s that; I don't have any exciting or tea-spilling relationship stories.” 

For a moment, she didn’t want to jinx her luck, but she imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with Harry—despite it only being their first date. Her mind took her to a fantasy that was so special and sweet because that was how she pictured what it would be like to be with him. 

They sat in silence as the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls above them took over their hearing. It was nice and refreshing to sit side by side, taking in the beautiful scenery that the world provided. Sunsets had always made Luci feel a vast amount of gratitude towards the world and the people around her; the opportunities, the things that she got to see—they all wouldn’t have happened if the sun didn't go down, promising a new tomorrow. 

Suddenly, Harry stood up, brushing the sand that had gotten on his jeans. He reached out to Luci, who was still sitting down and looking up at him. 

“C’mon. Let’s walk,” he suggested. She grabbed his hand as he helped her up, and she patted away the soft sand that had stuck to her black jeans. 

They held hands as they walked the shore of Coney Island Beach, walking towards where the sun was departing from the world. Once the sky had turned into a purple and orange blended masterpiece, Harry stopped walking, facing Luci as he took a deep breath. 

“I’m trying…really hard to hold back.” He held her cold hands in his, lightly pushing and pulling her towards him. He’d been thinking about it for the entirety of their date, and he just wanted to pull her in and kiss her whenever.

Luci shook her head softly as she stopped swaying; her eyes flickered towards his mouth, glad she wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing. She dreamed of this—had been wanting to press her lips against his for quite some time 

“Don’t hold back. Please, don’t hold back.” Her tone and eyes were pleading for him to not refrain himself from the most magical feeling. Luci let go of his hands, wrapping them around his waist as if she was giving him permission to kiss her. 

He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing down to her elbows before he trailed them back up and to the sides of her neck and jaw. Placing a soft kiss to her forehead before placing his on Luci’s, he inhaled deeply, taking in the saltiness of the ocean next to them and the sweetness of her skin. 

Luci fluttered her eyes closed, and Harry took that opportunity to connect his lips with hers. They molded their lips together as if it were one, tasting one another for the first time. The feeling of their passionate kiss felt like the ocean had synchronized together, forming the most beautiful and largest wave for the most dedicated surfer; and when it crashed, it was powerful, breathtaking, and strong—like no other wave could top this one, no one could top this one of a kind kiss. 

Harry smiled into the kiss, making Luci smile and giggle as well. Her stomach fluttered, hugging him tighter to her as his thumbs gently caressed her soft skin. Nothing could top this feeling. 

Pulling back, Harry breathed out a giddy chuckle before placing a few more pecks on her lips as if he was dreaming the first time. Luci opened her eyes as did he; she looked into his and found an immense amount of adoration within him. 

“I like you…a lot.” 

She leaned her forehead against his chest, cheekily smiling and restricting herself from squealing before she looked back up at him. “I like you too, Harry.” 

Harry flashed her his smile, something that he couldn’t wipe off his face, not like he tried. Nowadays, he was smiling a lot more, and he was one hundred percent sure Luci was the cause of it. 

Kissing her forehead, Harry hugged her to his chest as they watched the sun go down. With her face pressed against his chest, she heard the erratic heartbeat that was pounded heavily; and in that moment, she knew exactly how that felt—to feel so much for one person that your heart could fall out—and she only hoped he could feel hers because it was pounding just the same. 

As they held each other tightly, they both knew that this was going to be something special. 

And they were all in for the ride.

an exciting chapter! come talk to me about your thoughts, feelings, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

[partiallyobscure]

otp questions from this post <3 I just went ahead and did them with David and Michael lmao. it’s mostly my usual headcanons with my fic as the backstory but you don’t necessarily need to read it to understand. cw for light nsfw but it’s mostly tame.

Who is the most affectionate?

David is disgustingly affectionate. he lives to make people uncomfortable so he would be the absolute worst perpetrator of PDA. he and Michael have gotten kicked out of too many establishments all because David is constantly letting his hands wander. I don’t even think he’s aware of it at this point lmao

Big spoon/Little spoon?

they bicker about it a lot, but usually in bed, David ends up being the little spoon. he tries to start off being the big spoon but he always wakes up with Michael’s arms around his chest, specifically covering where the holes from the antlers were, even though the scars are long gone by now.

Most common argument?

usually comes down to who/what/where to eat.

Favorite non-sexual activity?

they love doing tons of stuff together, but they really like racing, watching bad sci-fi movies, and going on haunted tours around the country. they’ll really go the extra mile for the ghost tours and get huge cameras to hang around their neck and everything and act all tourist-y. it’s a great time.

Who is most likely to carry the other?

David fusses but Michael carries him around when he can or requests it. he doesn’t like to do it too often though because it always reminds him of that first time he did so, thinking he was carrying David’s dead body in his arms.

What is their favorite feature of their partner's?

Michael’s favorite feature is David’s mouth, especially when it quirks up into his signature smirk, but he can also tell a lot about what David’s feeling from what he’s doing with his mouth. David hates that Michael can read him so easily (even with their shared mental connection) and asks how the fuck he’s able to do that, and Michael always gives an enigmatic smile and swipes his thumb across David’s lips.

David’s favorite is Michael’s eyes. he could lose a whole night just staring into them. he can’t quite place the color, but they remind him of how the sky would look at noon and he gets a rush of nostalgia every time Michael looks at him. whenever they light up like when they’re with Michael’s family or when he’s talking about the coolest bike that he saw in town that day is David’s absolute favorite. and when only his eyes turn amber, before the rest of his face follows to match David’s, David falls a little bit more in love every time.

What's the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

not much changed on David’s end since he was attracted to Michael at first sight. he couldn’t let it show though so he just found excuses to touch Michael whenever he could, passing him the joint and their fingers brushing when Michael took the bottle and catching him when they fell off the bridge.

when Michael realized he started to share those feelings, he was confused at first considering everything that happened between them. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit David or hit on David when they first met, so those feelings simmered a bit until he could get to know David beyond their history. he doesn’t fully admit it until he realizes he’s the one David is pursuing and he has the ego boost from this combined with knowing there’s more to David than what he allows people to see.

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

David likes how Michael’s name sounds too much to give him a nickname, but will sometimes hit him with a ‘babe’ just to see him flustered. Michael calls him Davey just to make him mad but especially in public.

Who worries the most?

Michael since he still can’t seem to shake the fact that he doesn’t need to worry anymore about human dangers. he still flinches and looks twice before pulling onto the highway and all. but mostly he still worries about his family and their perception of him and whether or not they see him as a bad person, despite their love and support. and of course, he worries about how he’ll be when the day comes that he gets older than them.

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

David knows Michael’s order all too well and specifically chooses restaurants that have at least fifteen kinds of burgers to choose from.

Michael swears David is making stuff up at this point whenever they go to a sushi place or a Thai place and he chooses something new to try every time. he knows David’s bubble tea order by heart, though.

Who tops?

Michael, but they’ll switch whenever David has had enough of Michael being too gentle with him.

Who initiates kisses?

David, but he’ll usually give Michael a look when he wants a kiss and Michael is happy to oblige. otherwise, since David likes gross PDA, he usually steals a kiss whenever he can.

Who reaches for the other's hand first?

David and it’s usually because he has to pull Michael along after he gets lost in his thoughts, more often than not after they feed.

Who kisses the hardest?

Michael. David nipped at his bottom lip once and that’s all it took for his fangs to come out and sometimes, it gets a little bloody.

Who wakes up first?

Michael. he has to practically drag David out of bed most nights because he’s too comfortable.

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

David as stated above lmao. who knows how long dude was batting it up before he could sleep in a bed again.

Who says I love you first?

Michael and it was out of frustration.

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

there’s no one to tell at first since they were keeping it secret, but Star finds out first and is initially upset, mostly about being lied to. grandpa eventually finds out next and then Sam stumbled across them by accident, so...both of them technically spill the beans together each time lmao

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Lucy is supportive and likes David a lot. she knows she should probably resent him for turning Michael, but he really seems like a boy who was in a bad scenario and is making due with what happened to him. she also knows Michael has been a good influence on him and trusts the two of them are doing what they need to to survive. her and David bond over shit talking Max and the best kind of wines.

Sam was understandably skeptical at first, but he and David came to an understanding and they’re cool now. they bond over music and David eventually comes around to really enjoying board games because of Sam, mostly because he wins every single game. Sam even refers to him as his brother-in-law.

Star took longer to come around but she mostly listens whenever Sam tells her what they’re up to. she’s also mostly relieved that she dodged both of those bullets and can live her own life how she wants to now, grateful that the boys gave her an escape and that Michael helped get her human life back.

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

both of them suck at dancing, but Michael will spin David every now and then when a cheesy slow song comes on, or Careless Whispers and they both crack up.

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

when they’re back spending time with Michael’s family, David is usually the one helping Lucy in the kitchen. he’s chided Michael before about joining in, especially with the big holiday dinners but Michael is always there to lick whatever spoons and bowls clean when they make dessert.

they vow to take a cooking class or two while they’re out on the road but never do.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Michael. he usually gets them from Sam.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear during inappropriate times?

David, 100%. inappropriate times being at all times because of the whole telepathy thing.

Who needs more assurance?

David, that Michael still wants to be with him and doesn’t resent him for turning him. but also Michael that he isn’t a monster and that he’s only doing what he needs to to survive.

What would be their theme song?

SOOOO MANY but just from my drive to work today: Possum Kingdom by the Toadies fits TOO well. Michael by Franz Ferdinand too obviously. I’m curating a playlist for them here at the moment if anyone’s interested lmao

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

please don’t give these two a child

What do they do when they're away from each other?

they’re not usually too far from each other but David gets a little mopey until he can see Michael again. he’s protective so he doesn’t let Michael too far out of his sight. Michael feels a little part of himself missing when David’s not with him, so he’ll do whatever he needs to do quickly or just take David along with him.

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart:

despite all the time David has had to mourn and grieve, he still misses the other boys every day and sometimes it gets really painful. his only regret in life is not easing Michael into the vampire thing more before turning him, but he was under a time constraint from Max so he didn’t have much of a choice. they still get into shouting matches very rarely about whether or not Michael was the catalyst for the other three’s deaths and David’s very deep, hidden fear is that he’ll never learn how to accept it and one day, his emotions will take him too far and Michael will get sick of his guilt trips.

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it:

Michael does blame himself for David’s grief, because how could he not. he feels like the constant source of David’s sorrow when it comes to the boys but also his ecstatic love and it pulls him in two directions. he listens intently whenever David tells him about his past and his time with the boys and asks what they’d say or do if they were there with them right now, and it continues into the modern era. Michael asks what kind of blog Paul would have (music reviews and fashion), what Marko would name his Instagram account for bird photography (vampigeons), and how many followers Dwayne would get on tiktok for posting thirst traps. David knows Michael cares and is trying to keep the spirit of the lost boys alive.

[spicysoftsweet]

Chrollo x Reader NSFW

Prompt: “First”

As cliche as it was when you thought about it, saying goodbye was the part you hated the most about Chrollo’s visits with you. 

Today was no different.

He had promised to spend more time with you than usual on your special day - you didn’t normally care enough to celebrate your birthday, but any excuse to keep him with you longer would do - and he’d thankfully had made good on that promise. However, even though he had dropped in almost at the crack of dawn, appearing at your door with a suspiciously expensive but trendy necklace and serenading you with his lips, the day was coming to an end.

Regrettably you had to part, and you were not exactly sure the next time he’d be able to come see you. He had a family, albeit a non-traditional one, to take care of after all, and a mission that you unfortunately could not (yet) be a part of.

These things you understood, but the knowledge didn’t prevent you from squeezing his hand just a little tighter as the two of you approached the doorway to your small home, where he would leave you. 

He noticed your shift in emotions as you walked side by side with him, and raised your hand to his lips, kissing you softly on the back of your hand. But despite this, he still said nothing. He wouldn’t open up the discussion of staying with you, becoming more steady, or at least you staying with him for a short period of time. It was dangerous enough as it was to be with you, you who didn’t even know the full extent of his crimes and loved him innocently.

You finally reached the doorway, and now he stood before you, his hands on both of your wrists, caressing softly with his thumbs.

“Did you have a good day today, love?”

You gave him a small nod, your reluctance to let go of him evident with a small bite of your lip. There was a sound in your chest that kept getting faster and louder, telling you not to let go. You wanted something more, but what?

He let go of one of your arms, and handed you the bag of prizes and souvenirs he had been carrying for you on the way back from the boardwalk. 

“Make sure to take good care of Lucy for me,” he said, with a smile, referring to the smallest stuffed red panda in the bag that you had decided to name after him. With that, he then let go of your other arm, and it fell by your side, and he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The simple action, the feel of his lips on your skin, brought on a wave of anxiety over you. In moments, you would be alone again. Waiting. Wanting. Yearning.

You had to make the night longer.

His hands still framed your face as he pulled away, and you set down your bag to place your own hands on his, lightly pressing on his fingers. 

“Please... don’t leave.”

Your voice came out more of a strained whisper than usual, and you could feel tears threatening to well up in your eyes by the telltale sting. You already anticipated the excuse said with kind but patronizing gray eyes and the tender but placating hug before he disappeared into the night. 

Sometimes you wondered if Chrollo was playing the part of a lover rather than living it. How else could you explain the fact that he had never touched you… truly touched you in the way you had yearned for since the days before you met. 

“___, you know I have to leave,” he began, and your heart sank. You let your hands drop to your side.  

“I know.”

You took a moment to steady yourself, staring at the small space between your feet and his. Then making sure to remain grateful that he’d at least spent the day for you, you looked back up at him with a cheerful smile that attempted to disguise the twang of rejection.

“Thank you for staying with me! Be safe on your way home!” you chirped quickly, turning around quickly to unlock the door to your home and fumbling noticeably with the keys.

You expected Chrollo to leave immediately to prevent a further awkward conversation, but to your surprise, you felt the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder from behind. 

Your breath caught as his hands hooked around your waist to clasp together right on your belly.

“Do you want me to stay the night, princess?” He whispered into your ear. His hand now steadied your trembling one, guiding the key into the lock. “I can’t promise that I will be able to control myself once I’m inside.”

The double entendre was enough to make you weak in the knees. “Chrollo…”

“Yes or no?” He pushed you to make a decision, and now you could feel his body start to press into yours as your hand still froze in position, key into lock. 

“Y-yes.”

You could feel his lips smile against the back of your neck as he lay soft kisses, then hoisted you up so that you were facing him, and pushed through the door.

Keeping your arms wrapped around his neck to kiss him deeply, you kicked off your shoes, your lips disconnecting so you could let out a laugh.

“My bedroom’s over there,” you pointed, then pressed your lips against his again.

It took mere moments for him to gently kick the door to your bedroom open, and lower you gently onto your bed. You thanked the heavens that you had actually bothered to clean your usually messy room… maybe you were anticipating this all along? The fact that Chrollo slipped off your sundress over your head to reveal matching black lace underwear seemed to suggest this. 

Chrollo was on his knees before you, but paused to smile at you, now exposed and his for the taking.

“You are… a true work of art,” he mused in a soft but authoritative tone that likened you to a prized museum painting. You found your face growing warm, the fire in your belly stoked just a little more by his words, and he took that opportunity to remove his own clothing, giving you just a flash of his forehead tattoo as his hair went up.

“Chrollo, you’re beautiful too,” you replied, your hand reaching out to press on his bare chest and sliding up to his face. His eyes rested on yours and then his hand went south, deep into your panties to locate the soft pink nub of pleasure that lay within. As you started to tremble under his touch, he continued to link eyes with you, his face stoic compared to your shifting expressions. Then he lowered you onto your back, following up his ministrations with the warmth of his tongue.

“C-Chrollo…,” you whispered his name between soft pants and flushes, your back arching and your breath catching with every suck and stroke of his tongue. His hand rested on your belly to keep you still.

“Stay still, my love. Let me paint you with pleasure. It’s only right, as this is our first time.”

You thought just those mere words would tip you into a release, but he had more in store for you.

Now upright again, he positioned himself over you, over your entrance, and gripped you softly on your hips, bending over to land just a few kisses on the soft skin of your belly. 

“Are you ready, beloved?”

You nodded in anticipation, and in one fluid motion, he both plunged deep inside you, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly as you cried out to distract you from the stretch. Once he was inside, and you had adjusted, a coil in your belly now semi-taut and ready to be stretched, he raised his torso with one hand and used the other hand to caress your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he reassured you before kissing you on the lips again and starting to move.

His grunts were soft and his thrusts were sure, and he continued to interlock fingers with you, encouraged by the small utterances of pleasure you let escape your lips. Soon he sped up, and his grip on your hands tightened; then as if he was concerned that your fingers would snap, he let go of your fingers and instead held you close with his hands wrapped around the back of your ribcage. Hearing your pants, his pants, your sweat mixing, and the sounds of your hearts beating together sent the two of you onto cloud nine.

Then, right before you could release and cry out his name, he pulled out, just enough to spill his warm seed all over your quivering stomach.

And now you were riding your own high, your whole body warm and tingling

Still getting over your high and now feeling the fluid slowly seep down the sides of your abdomen, he rolled over beside you, planting a last kiss on your lips. 

“You’re the loveliest canvas, my ______,” he whispered, pulling you close to him. You let yourself snuggle in closer to him. You knew he’d be gone by morning, but whatever you could do to let this moment with your love last was enough. Hopefully it would be the first of many nights.

[love-little-lotte]

Ranking the Bridgerton Books

I know I should write this in my book blog, but frankly, I have no idea how to make another section for it, and I'm too lazy to research. So, I'm writing here. Please bear with me.

Recently, I read the Bridgerton books by Julia Quinn. You might be familiar with the first book since it was adapted into a popular Netflix series by Shonda Rhimes. I binge-watched it back in December, and I have to say... not a fan. I guess I just find it too cheesy and annoying. Plus, the actors who portrayed Daphne and Simon had no romantic chemistry whatsoever.

But I'm not here to talk about the TV show. I'm here to talk about the novels! This is actually not my first time reading the books. Well, not exactly. I've read six out of the eight novels when I was in high school, I believe. I found the books when I was in high school as it was in the library (please don't ask me why my high school library has smutty novels in it, I have no idea who's in charge - they had Fifty Shades of Grey for a week but they eventually removed it from the catalog when they learned what's it about, but I digress). As a fifteen-year-old girl, the series hooked me.

If you're not familiar with the books or the Netflix series, here's a short synopsis: Set in the Regency era, the Bridgertons are one of the most influential families of the ton. The books follow the love stories of the eight Bridgerton siblings, alphabetically named Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth.

I didn't read it in chronological order back then, though. I just borrowed any available Bridgerton book in the library if there's one. You might think I was too young to read a romantic novel like that, but I guess I was mature enough to understand it.

Rereading it now that I'm twenty-two (cue Taylor Swift!), my heart's not in the same place. I was more skeptical with the writing, the story, and, most especially, the characters. But, really, I'm not that heartless, so I will cut the author some slack. Quinn wrote this at a different time for a different audience. It's not that long ago, but you'd be surprised how fast things change.

However, even though I have major criticisms, I cannot stop reading them. There's something about the novels that put me in a chokehold. Despite everything, I was able to enjoy it overall. This series is the definition of "guilty pleasure."

Anyway, here's my ranking of the Bridgerton books! I only read the eight main ones, which means I didn't include novellas of any kind. Also, as a fair warning, I might discuss spoilers and whatnot, so please beware. And do keep in mind that I'm writing my opinion, so if you don't agree, well... tough. I'd like to hear your comments, though, if you have any.

#8 - An Offer From A Gentleman (Book 3)

Honestly, this was probably one of my favorite Bridgerton books when I was younger. A Cinderella retelling? Come on! As someone who loves fairytales and forbidden romances, this was supposed to be heaven. However... it was not.

Benedict may be my least favorite Bridgerton brother. No, scratch that - he is my least favorite Bridgerton out of all of them. He's whiny and creepy and I was plainly annoyed with how he keeps asking Sophie to be his mistress in the novel. This was not the gentleman I imagined when I was younger. I might have liked him more in the first few parts, but as the story progressed, he became too childish and obsessive. Sophie, on the other hand, was all right. She's definitely one of my favorite Bridgerton heroines. She was tough but kind in her own way. I wish she had a better partner than Benedict, but I guess they suit each other in the end.

I just detest the climax and the ending of this book. It was too comical - and not in a hilarious way. I guess the same could be said for the entire novel. This was so, so different from the rest, to be honest.

Overall Rating: 3/10

#7 - On The Way To The Wedding (Book 8)

Fun fact: this is the first Bridgerton novel I read. And even then, I wasn't a huge fan of it. Just like An Offer From A Gentleman, the climax was a bit silly but more in a soap opera level than comical.

The biggest factor why I didn't like this was the characters. They were all so bland. Especially our hero and heroine. Gregory is the least featured Bridgerton in the novel, so I don't really know what to make of him at the beginning of the novel. In his book, I learned that he was a good guy - and that's all. Maybe he's too young and naive when it comes to romance (which is endearing, I have to admit), but he has no interesting personality whatsoever. Lucy, the heroine in this novel, was the same. She was described as pragmatic and sensible, which perfectly sums her up. Also, she's a great friend to Hermione (whose last name is Watson, by the way, and you can't tell me otherwise that this isn't a Harry Potter reference - Hermione Granger and Emma Watson? If that's not a reference, well, that's a very crazy coincidence, but I digress again). Gregory and Lucy's story was average - not bad, not good, just so incredibly dull.

The fun parts started way too early. It was difficult to find intrigue in the middle and end bits. The second main conflict, which happened near the end of the book, was truthfully not that good and was just obviously a ploy to keep things longer. You'd think that the Bridgerton novels would end the series with a bang. Alas, it did not.

Overall Rating: 4/10

#6 - To Sir Phillip, With Love (Book 5)

Eloise finally gets her turn in her own love story. She used to be one of my favorite Bridgertons, but when she got her own story, she was reduced into a plain girl. Gone was the feisty and outspoken Eloise we knew from the previous books.

Maybe it's because she's paired up with one of the most insufferable Bridgerton heroes, Sir Phillip. Just an inch away from Benedict, Sir Phillip maybe my next least favorite character. And it annoys me so much that Eloise gets to fall in love with someone like him.

It actually started pretty well. Before the events in the book started, Eloise and Phillip had already been corresponding for a year through letters. Phillip was on the lookout for - not a wife - but a mother for his two unruly children, and he thought Eloise was perfect for the role. He's a terrible father, but the book tries to convince us that it's not his fault because he had a bad upbringing by his own father (a recurring theme in the Bridgerton books - four heroes are plagued with different daddy issues). Eloise tried her best to turn things around, and of course, she eventually did, but I just really hate Phillip's initial intentions for seeking out a wife. He gets better in the end, sure, but I still really don't like him. At least the book wasn't short of excitement, else it would've been rated a bit lower.

Obviously, my favorite part in this book was when the Bridgerton brothers stormed into Phillip's house. He got what he deserved, truly.

Overall Rating: 4/10

#5 - The Duke and I (Book 1)

Now, this is the most well-known story in the Bridgerton literary universe, thanks to the Netflix series. I know I've said that I wasn't a fan of the series, but really, the Netflix writers and producers deserve all the gold in the world because they managed to transform this novel into something exciting.

Daphne and Simon had their moments, that's for sure, but as a couple, they were just so... meh. I liked their relationship at the start when they were still pretending to be courting. But as soon as they got married, everything interesting about the two of them sizzled out. And please don't get me started with how Daphne "took advantage" of drunk Simon. Thank God the show fixed that.

Despite my mixed feelings, this was a decent start to the Bridgerton books. There's really nothing majorly wrong about this novel (except for the aforementioned "taking advantage.") It laid out the future characters well. Lady Whistledown was also great. Thinking about her made me miss her because she wasn't featured in the later novels (you'll soon find out why).

Overall Rating: 5/10

#4 - It's In His Kiss (Book 7)

Since Eloise was stripped away from her feistiness when she got her own love story, I was obviously worried for Hyacinth. Thankfully, she didn't change! She was still the same tactless girl in the previous books. And for that, she gets to be my champion as my favorite Bridgerton.

This is the first time I've read this book, and oh, I'm surprised with how exciting it was. Hyacinth's hero, Gareth, perfectly suited her. Gareth was able to tame her impulsiveness, while also proving to be a good romantic partner for her. I loved that he could match her intellectually, too. It was never a bore whenever they have one of their silly banters. Lady Danbury was also featured more in this novel. She's one of my favorite side characters. As Gareth's grandmother, she was determined to bring him and Hyacinth together.

Maybe the only criticism I have in this novel is Gareth's issues with his father. I find it really weird that most of the heroes' problems are with their fathers. It just seemed lazy writing, in my opinion. But oh well, Gareth was interesting in his own way and that's perfectly fine.

Overall Rating: 6/10

#3 - Romancing Mister Bridgerton (Book 4)

I have a feeling that this is Quinn's favorite Bridgerton book. In this book, it's Colin's turn to find love. Colin is featured in several of his siblings' stories - in fact, in almost all of the books, he had an important role to play.

I love Colin and Penelope's story. Long before this book, they already knew each other. Penelope was Eloise's best friend, and she's almost always in the Bridgerton household. Colin has been forced by his mother for God knows how long to dance with Penelope every time there's a party. But it was only now that they became closer. Unbeknownst to Colin, Penelope had been in love with him for half her life, even though he didn't particularly care for her. Penelope speaks for all of us who know about unrequited love all too well.

Furthermore, this is the novel where they finally reveal who was behind the Lady Whistledown column. Yes, viewers of the Netflix series who are not familiar with the books. This is the part - and not in the first book! I'm so mad that they revealed Penelope as Lady Whistledown in the first season of the series, when in fact it's much later than that.

However, that's also one of the lowest points of this novel for me. Lady Whistledown's identity reveal was a bit anti-climactic. A little bit laughable, even. Also, also, also: I hated Colin's reaction to Penelope's secret. He didn't have to be angry and jealous of her, but ah well, whatever makes for conflict. Nevertheless, I love both Colin and Penelope because they had so much character and depth. Quinn was certainly biased when she wrote this.

Overall Rating: 8/10

#2 - The Viscount Who Loved Me (Book 2)

Remember earlier when I said that I cannot stop reading the books because even though I knew it wasn't that good, it was still highly enjoyable? Well, I'm really talking more about this book, to be specific. I think I've read it in less than 24 hours because of how much I love it. And yes, Anthony and Kate had their obvious flaws, but oh God, they were so perfect together. I can't help but imagine Jonathan Bailey from the Netflix series as Anthony when I was reading it. I swoon, all the time.

This used to be my favorite Bridgerton novel, but that's only because I haven't read my new favorite until recently. Anthony and Kate's story was just oh-so good and intimate and romantic. Kate's also my favorite heroine in the entire Bridgerton literary universe. She was headstrong and loving. She's unafraid to put the happiness of her family first.

In so many ways, Anthony was the same. He assumed the role of Viscount Bridgerton when he was only eighteen when his father unexpectedly died. Since then, he overlooks the family's estates and well-being. Yes, this is one of those "daddy issues" stories I mentioned earlier, but this one was kind of done tastefully. He didn't wish to fall in love but everything changed when he encountered Kate. He didn't mean to be attracted to her, but here we are.

Anthony and Kate had so much understanding between them. I agree Anthony was a bit of a dick when Kate asked if they could have one week to get to know each other before consummating the marriage (worse things have been said by Benedict and Phillip, though), but in the end, I can't deny that I truly love them together.

Overall Rating: 8/10

#1 - When He Was Wicked (Book 6)

*blushing furiously* So what if I put the smuttiest and steamiest novel as my top choice?! What about it? Oh, but really, though, I can't stop reading this. Francesca is one of the least known Bridgertons in the books, just like Gregory. I didn't know anything about her, except that she's quieter than most of her siblings. It was also first mentioned in Romancing Mister Bridgerton that she had already married but was sadly widowed after two years.

Michael was Francesca's late husband's cousin and best friend, which makes him her best friend, too. He has been secretly in love with Francesca since the first moment he laid eyes on her but was unable to pursue her because she's with his cousin John. In addition, I'd like to say that Michael is my favorite hero in the Bridgerton books. He's very charming and wicked, and really, my knees buckle at the thought of him.

Long after John passed away, Francesca and Michael reunited. Francesca was looking for a new husband because she desperately wants a family, while Michael... well, Michael was still in love with her. There was undeniable passion and intimacy between them, and it was hard to stay away from each other. I seriously have a thing for men secretly pining over women they love. That's got to be one of my favorite tropes.

However, the book itself was a bit longer than necessary. While I understand Francesca's hesitations in marrying Michael, it could've been shortened because it felt draggy by the end. Her constant changing of minds was a bit annoying, and yeah, it was probably a ploy to lengthen the novel.

Additionally, I was a bit skeptical at first of how they're going to treat their relationship, especially since Francesca was truly in love with her first husband. But it was done so nicely. Francesca and Michael never forget about John, even in the end. I loved what John's mother said to Michael in a letter at the end, "Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first."

I guess I love their story more than the other couples because both were already mature and experienced. Just like everyone else in this romantic series, Francesca and Michael belonged together. The entirety of Chapter 19 is proof of that.

Overall Rating: 9/10

***

Overall, the Bridgerton books are quite entertaining, despite being a cheesy and sappy series. I admit that I feel quite lonely and bored now that I've finished all eight of them. Ah well, there's always the possibility of rereading them!

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @queenlover05​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​ @some-major-ishues​​​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​​​ @youngpastafanmug​​​​ @simonedk​

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”    

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.  

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”  

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

[itsadamcole]

i wish

fem!reader x tyler breeze

It’s been almost three months since reader last saw her husband, Tyler Breeze. He’s been traveling for wrestling. Reader has a fancy dinner event for her law firm and she wishes that Tyler was there to accompany her. Little does reader know that Tyler has a little surprise up his sleeve ... “i wish you were here”

word count: 4.6k

warning: soft smut, fluff, a scene including sexual harassment, tyler being cute and happy, probably wrong legal stuff but we’re gonna pretend it’s real for the sake of the imagine

— just something i’ve been working on for a while and never posted —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

As you do your makeup for your formal dinner party with your co-workers, your mind wanders off to your husband.

It's been close to three months since you kissed Tyler goodbye and it's gotten harder and harder every day. You miss him. You miss him being around and you miss hearing him yell and scream when he's streaming or playing UNO with DaParty.

The house has been too quiet without him. The only reason you're not feeling lonely is because of Kanga, Tigger, and Roo, the two dogs and the cat you and Tyler parent.

As you're applying your lipstick, you realize that you have a few tears running down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. You groan, frustrated with yourself as you dry the tears and fix your look.

Once your makeup is finally done, you get into the dress you bought for the occasion.

The dinner tonight is a formal event, meaning full-length dresses instead of the usual cocktail dress. You bought a full length dark red satin dress for the occasion. The top of the dress hugs your chest while the skirt has a slight flare to it. The v-neck dips down a little bit and the sleeves are thin as they sit on your shoulders. You pair the dress with dark red heels.

You put in diamond earrings that were gifted to you by Tyler on your first wedding anniversary. They hand down a little bit. To decorate your neck, you wear a necklace that your sister gave you for your birthday two birthdays ago. You put on your engagement and wedding rings on your left ring finger. You rarely ever wear your rings to work, let alone a work event.

As you're putting on your jewelry, your phone starts to go off. You walk over to the ringing device. Tyler is trying to FaceTime you.

You've told him about the dinner tonight and he said that he'd be there if he could. He knows how much you hate any kind of party.

Putting a smile on your face, you answer the FaceTime call. Tyler is looking at his phone, waiting for you to pick up. The second he sees you, a smile lights up his face. "There's my beautiful wife," Tyler says. "I can only see your face but I just know you look stunning."

"Hold on," you say, walking over to the full-length mirror in your bedroom. You turn the camera so the camera is on the mirror. The sunlight coming through the window lights up the room.

Tyler has a look of awe on his face as he looks at you in the mirror via the phone camera. "Baby," he says. "You look like a princess."

You smile and say, "I just need a little tiara."

Your husband says, "You don't need a tiara to be a princess, baby. This right here proves it."

You giggle and turn the camera back to your face. "I wish you were here," you say. "I hate going to these things alone."

Tyler says, "I know. I wish I was too. I'll be home for the next event though and we can kill it together. I promise."

"I can't wait," you say, glancing at the time. "Okay, I have to get going. It's going to take me years to drive to the place where this event is going to be because I'm in a gown and heels."

Your husband laughs over the phone and he asks, "Is it at The Oak again?"

Nodding, you say, "Of course it is because the partners always have this stupid dinner at the same exact place every few months."

Both you and Tyler laugh before he says, "Well, then, I'll let you go. You look beautiful, baby. I love you."

"And I love you," you say, blowing him kisses through the phone. "I'll see you when you come home."

Tyler smiles and says, "I'll be home before you know it. It'll go by quickly."

You smile as you both say your goodbyes. You grab your clutch and walk downstairs, phone already in hand from having just been on it when Tyler called.

You get into your car. You turn it on and start the half-hour ride to The Oak.

The Oak is a fancy hotel with a large ballroom area that the partners at your law firm always use for these events. There's one every four to six weeks. You've been working at Dolan and Reid's law firm for close to ten years so these get kind of boring after a while. You're required to be at each one though because of your position in the firm. You're a junior partner. You were promoted late last year and you were ecstatic.

You've been with Tyler since you were just starting out in the law firm. You got married four years ago. It's been an amazing four years.

As you pull up, you see several of your co-workers walking into the hotel. They're laughing and already having a good time. You park in the parking lot before you walk into the hotel yourself.

You've been here so many times, the hotel employees know your name and you know most of theirs. You don't have to ask where the bar is because you've been here so often.

When you walk up to the bar, the bartender, whose name is Lucy, asks, "What can I get for you, Y/N?"

You sigh, "A glass of your best whiskey, Lucy. Thank you."

She nods and gets your drink ready.

"This drink is on me," a male voice says beside you. You look over and see one of the other junior partners standing next to you. Danny Watson. You roll your eyes as you're handed your drink. "What? No 'hello'? Or what about 'hi, Danny. How are you'?"

You sip your drink and hold up your left ring finger with your wedding ring on it. "I'm married, remember?" you say coldly. "I'm not interested for the hundredth time."

Danny says, "I know for a fact that your husband is out of town for some wrestling bullshit so let me take you home, baby. Let me show you what I could do if you dumped that husband of yours that's never home."

You stay calm as you say, "Listen here, Daniel. Don't you insult my husband's work by calling it bullshit. And don't you dare even ask me to go home with you. I'm tired of you and your sexual harassment. Do it one more time and I'll talk to the partners about it."

He laughs and says, "You think they're gonna do anything about it? They have more important things to deal with than an allegation of sexual harassment."

"You forget that I'm a lawyer that handles sex cases or cases involving harassment and assault," you spit at him. "I'll sue you and represent myself."

Danny rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever, Y/N. You're not worth my time anymore."

You get angry and you say, "Fuck you, Danny. I was never worth your time because I am not going to cheat on my husband with anyone, let alone someone as low as you."

Someone walks over and stands beside you. "Y/N, is Danny bothering you again?" You look over and see that it's your best friend from work, Y/WBF/N. You sigh with relief and nod. "Go the fuck away, Danny. Stop harassing the poor girl when she's already upset enough."

Danny rolls his eyes and walks off. You thank Y/WBF/N and say, "My hero."

She hooks her arm with yours and says, "Let's head into the main room and dance a little bit. We both need to let off a little steam after that."

You finish your drink and say, "I couldn't agree more." The two of you walk into the ballroom area and walk to the dance floor.

Y/WBF/N is wearing a full-length form-fitting black dress. It looks beautiful on her. Her jet black curls bounce up and down as she moves.

You and your work best friend both dance for about 30 minutes before the DJ says, "Let's slow it down a little bit so the couples in the room can dance together."

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri plays and you leave the dance floor area with Y/WBF/N, finding a seat at one of the round tables. You sip the water that's provided for you and you notice Y/WBF/N glance behind you and smile a bit.

Before you can react or say anything, you hear a familiar voice behind you say, "Excuse me, Mrs. Breeze. I believe that you should be on the dance floor with your husband." You quickly turn around in your seat and look behind you to see your husband, Tyler Breeze, standing behind you. He's fully dressed in a black and white suit with a red tie.

Quickly, you get up and wrap your arms around Tyler's neck. You're on your tiptoes as you hug him. You're hugging your husband for the first time in months. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck.

Tyler takes your hand and leads you over to the dance floor, where about twenty or so couples are dancing together to the slow song. You haven't been able to stop smiling since you turned around in your seat.

Your husband takes you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and sway to the music. You stare up at Tyler, meeting his pretty brown eyes for the first time since he left three months ago.

"How did you get here?" you ask. "Last time I checked, you were supposed to be in Seattle for NXT Takeover."

He smiles and says, "That's not until Saturday and I decided to come by for the next four days and spend time with my wife. Dango is covering for me in Seattle while I'm here with you. It wasn't worth spending four days in Seattle with nothing to do so I decided to come and surprise you."

You smile and pull yourself closer to Tyler. Your cheek is now on his chest and you listen to the sound of his heart beating. You say, "I'm so happy you're home for a few days. I've missed you so much, so have Kanga, Tigger, and Roo."

Tyler laughs and says, "I said hi to them when I stopped by the house to grab this tie so I can somewhat match you."

Laughing, you look back up at Tyler. A smile is on your lips as you sigh, "I've missed you, Tyler. So much."

Your husband says, "I've missed you too, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning and I am so glad that I got to see you in the dress."

You smile and wrap your arms tighter around Tyler's neck, pressing your cheek to his chest again. Tyler kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes as the song ends but changed to One Direction's If I Could Fly.

Tyler wraps his arms tighter around your waist and you both continue to sway to the music.

As you dance with your husband, you wish that this moment would never end that way he wouldn't have to leave in four days to fly across the country from you. You wish you could stay in his arms forever. You don't want him to leave and you can't go with him because you have an important case to prep for. The trial starts on Monday.

"Hey," Tyler says, looking down at you. "Y/N, what's wrong? You're crying."

You hadn't noticed that you started crying. You wipe your mascara filled tears away and you say, "I wish you didn't have to leave in a few days. I hate it when you leave for so long. I wish you could stay with me for a while."

Tyler smiles and says, "I was going to surprise you with this later but after Takeover, I'm home for nine weeks. No more touring until after the holidays. The next Takeover is in Orlando so I don't have to go very far."

The news makes you smile wide. You say, "Really? You're going to be home for nine weeks straight?"

Your husband nods and says, "I am. I'm all yours for the next nine weeks after Takeover. I also told Dango to stay away for the first week or so since I have a lot of time to make up for." Tyler winks at you. You lightly kick Tyler's shin.

"Tyler!" you scold. "I'm at a work event. You can't be saying these things when my co-workers are around."

He laughs and asks, "Am I not allowed to touch you then since your co-workers are around?" He lets you go and you pout.

You say, "I never said that." Tyler smiles and puts his hands back on your waist. "You're mean."

Tyler smiles and says, "But you love me."

You giggle and say, "Yes. I do love you."

"Am I allowed to kiss you or no?" your husband teases. "Since your co-workers are around."

Rolling your eyes, you say, "I don't care if my co-workers are around. I haven't kissed you in close to three months."

Tyler laughs and brings his lips down to yours. They move against yours slowly and your eyes flutter closed as you kiss your husband for the first time in three months. The kiss is very soft and passionate from the start. Your hands slide to Tyler's cheeks, holding his face between your hands.

The song changes and everyone comes back into the dance floor. Tyler pulls back from the kiss and looks down at you.

"Y/N," one of the partners calls, walking toward you. Mr. Reid is the partner walking toward you. "May I have a few words outside with you?"

You nod and look at Tyler. "I'll be right back," you say to your husband. "Y/WBF/N is still at the table you found me at."

Tyler nods and you walk away with Mr. Reid, leaving the large ballroom and loud music. You find yourself in the lobby of the hotel with not only Mr. Reid but Mr. Dolan and Danny.

That bitch, you think to yourself.

Mr. Dolan says, "Mr. Watson here has told us you have been harassing him for a few weeks. He's been saying you've been wanting to, and I quote, 'take him to bed'."

Your eyes widen and you say, "That is not how it went down, Mr. Dolan. It's been the opposite actually. My husband has been away for a few weeks for his job and Daniel has been harassing me the entire time my husband has been gone." Panic rises in your voice. "I've never once asked if Daniel could take me to bed. As a matter of fact, I've never approached Daniel for anything outside of work."

Mr. Reid looks at Danny and says, "You omitted the part where she had a husband, Mr. Watson."

You've rarely ever told anyone that you have a husband let alone that Tyler Breeze is your husband because of his status. NXT Tag Team Champion and WWE superstar. He's well known, and you never know who is or isn't a wrestling fan.

The partners never asked for your marital status so you never told them. You were single when you started working at the firm. You've been going by your maiden name at work, not your married last name since you never legally changed your name to Y/N Breeze after you married Tyler.

Between your friends and family, you are Mrs. Breeze. Legally, you're still Y/N L/N so you're not obligated to tell anyone you're married. You've only told Danny and Y/WBF/N because of Danny's harassment and because Y/WBF/N is your best friend.

Daniel says, "I didn't think that was an important subject."

Mr. Dolan says, "Miss L/N, we did check the footage from tonight at the bar before we came to get you and we did see that Mr. Watson came up to you and you did seem agitated that he was there. You held up your left hand as well. We just wanted to confirm that it has been Mr. Watson harassing you since we did have visual evidence."

You sigh with relief that the partners didn't believe Danny.

Danny on the other hand looks pissed that he's been caught in a lie. Mr. Reid says, "Now, Mr. Watson, next time you lie, you might not want to lie to lawyers. As of this moment, you have been demoted to associate, and associate you will stay for a while. If we get any more reports of harassment coming from you, you will be terminated. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Danny mumbles.

Mr. Reid says, "You're dismissed, Mr. Watson."

Danny walks away and you look at the partners. Mr. Dolan asks, "Miss L/N, is your last name legally L/N, or do you share your husband's last name?"

You say, "It's legally still L/N. I've been thinking of legally changing it to my husband's last name for a little bit."

"What's been stopping you?" Mr. Dolan asks.

You play with your thumbs and say, "My husband is a professional wrestler. A pretty well-known professional wrestler and I've been trying to keep my marriage on the quiet side because of his job."

Mr. Reid says, "You don't have to use your husband's last name on your cards for work if you want to change it to his last name. You can still be Y/N L/N since it is your maiden name."

You blink and say, "In that case, I might legally change my last name to my husband's. I was lead to believe that I had to use my legal name."

Mr. Reid says, "You can go by your birth name or your married name, Miss L/N. We have a few documents upstairs that will help you begin the process of changing your last name tonight. I can retrieve them quickly. All you have to do is provide some information and sign a few papers and then it's done."

You nod and say, "Let's do it."

The partners go and get the documents. Tyler texts you in the meantime.

11:27 pm

tyler bby: everything okay? you’ve been gone for a little bit

11:28 pm

you: everything's okay. we're talking over a case that starts monday. i'll be back in a few minutes

Tyler writes back an "okay see you in a few" and you sigh.

He surprised you and now you're going to surprise him. He's been wanting you to change your last name so he'll be happy about this.

With Mr. Reid and Mr. Dolan's help, the documents are all signed after you provide the information. It takes about fifteen minutes once they come back with the papers.

Mr. Reid hands you a document with your new legal name and says, "Congratulations, Mrs. Breeze."

You smile and say, "Thank you."

You walk off back toward the dinner party and walk to Tyler.

When you get to Tyler, you lower the paper in front of his face from behind him and you say, "Surprise."

Tyler looks up at you and asks, "You changed your last name?"

You nod and say, "It'll take some time and some processing before it's officially legal but yes, I changed my last name. I am now unofficially Mrs. Y/N Breeze. I'm still going to use my maiden name at work and it's what my clients will call me but my legal name will be Y/N Breeze."

Your husband stands up and kisses you. You giggle into the kiss and he mumbles, "Mrs. Breeze sounds so hot."

"It was your last name before it was mine," you say against Tyler's lips.

Tyler smiles against your lips before he pulls back. "Tonight's just full of surprises for both of us," he says.

You peck his lips and say, "Take me upstairs to see another surprise that will give you a preview of what our week will look like once you're back from Takeover this weekend."

Tyler's eyes widen and he takes your hand. He walks to the receptionist's desk and says, "We'd like a room. Any room that you have available."

The woman behind the desk says, "Room 1118 is available."

Your husband says, "We'll take it."

Tyler pays for the room and is given the key. Excited, he takes your hand again and walks to the elevator. He steps on and pulls you into his arms. As the doors shut, Tyler kisses you passionately. You giggle against his lips and mumble, "Someone's antsy."

"I haven't been intimate with my wife in three months," he says, pulling back from the kiss and undoing his tie. "Excuse me if I'm a little excited to have sex tonight."

You smile and pull Tyler back to you by pulling his jacket. Your lips crash to his and the intense kiss continues as Tyler presses you against the wall of the elevator.

Luckily no one is on the elevator as you ascend to the 11th floor. The trip takes what feels like forever before you reach the 11th floor.

Once the doors open, you take Tyler's hand and walk down the hallway quickly until you get to room 1118.

Tyler unlocked the door with the keycard and pulls you inside. The door closes and automatically locks behind you as Tyler presses you against the door.

You stare up at Tyler and see his brown eyes dark with lust and need, for you. Your core begins to ache at the thought of what Tyler's going to do to you tonight after he sees the underwear you're wearing.

It's been three long months since you last had sex. Three months too long.

Your need for Tyler overwhelms you and you lean your head up, kissing Tyler hard.

As your lips move against Tyler's, you push off his suit jacket. It drops to the floor. His tie joins the jacket before the two of you stumble toward the bed.

It's mostly dark in the room, except for the moonlight and bright lights of Orlando shining into the room from the window and glass doors that lead to the balcony.

You've done this so many times with Tyler that the two of you know each other like the back of your hands. You don't need light.

Tyler's fingers work on the zipper on the back of your dress as yours work on unbuttoning his shirt. Your lips move feverishly against each other. You eventually get Tyler's shirt unbuttoned and you pull it off of him.

He gets your dress unzipped and you let it fall off your body, pooling at your feet. You step out of your heels and Tyler pulls back from the kiss. He looks down at you. You're not wearing a bra but you're wearing a pair of red lacy panties.

Your husband licks his bottom lip and says, "Now that's a surprise."

You giggle and start to unbutton his pants as he spins you around and pushing you back onto the bed. He leans over the bed with his hands on either side of you, holding himself up. Tyler kisses you softly, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him back.

Tyler pushes you onto your back, breaking the kiss. His lips are on your chest and slowly trail down your body. You've missed this feeling. His lips on your body, his fingers touching your skin. It's been three months since you've been with Tyler like this.

He pushes your panties to the side and starts to kiss and suck on your sensitive clit. You let out a soft moan and bite your lip. Tyler hums softly and runs his tongue through your folds. "Tyler," you sigh. "Please. No teasing tonight."

Your husband smirks and pulls off your panties before slipping two fingers into you. You moan a little louder and your back arches off the bed as Tyler moves his fingers quickly.

You grasp onto the bedsheets and let out a loud moan as he adds a third finger. Loud moans escape your lips with every flick of Tyler's wrist. Your body jerks beneath Tyler's touch and he looks up at you with his eyes.

It takes maybe five minutes before you're pulled to the edge of an orgasm. Your legs shake a bit as you get closer and closer, then Tyler pulls his fingers out of you. You whine and look at him.

"Baby," you say, pouting. "Not fair."

Tyler stands at the foot of the bed in front of you. You watch as he pulls off his pants and his boxers. You gently bite your lip and Tyler crawls onto you, hovering over you between your legs. His lips are on yours within a few seconds and they move against yours intensely. Your fingers are in his hair, holding Tyler close to you.

The two of you share the passionate kiss for a few moments before Tyler begins to push himself into you, making you moan and gasp softly against Tyler's lips.

Tyler pulls back and his lips attach to your neck. Your hands slide down to the back of Tyler's neck and he starts to thrust his hips into you gently. Your eyes flutter closed and you enjoy the feeling of Tyler inside you. "God, Tyler," you moan. "I've missed this."

Your husband smiles against your neck as he moves harder into you, his tip grazes your g-spot and you moan his name loudly.

He props himself up on his arms, pulling away from your neck. Your eyes meet his as you wrap your legs around his waist tightly. His thrusts are harder and he's so deep inside you that his hips are now flush against yours.

As you're pulled closer and closer to your orgasm again, your legs begin to shake. You're gasping and moaning. The sound of skin slapping and your moans fill the small room.

"I'm close, baby," Tyler groans as he's pulled closer to his climax.

Your hands cup his face and you say, "Come, baby."

Tyler thrusts a few more times into you before you both release. You around him and him inside you. He helps you ride out your high. You come down, whining and sighing. You pull Tyler's face down to yours and kiss him lightly.

Both of you are out of breath as Tyler rolls off of you and walking to the bathroom to grab something to clean everything up. You crawl under the blankets and once Tyler's done cleaning up, he joins you. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heart beat in his chest. You smile and say, "Your heart is beating so fast."

He lets out a breathy laugh and he says, "It's beating that fast for you."

You move so you're laying onto your stomach. Your breasts are presses against Tyler's side and you rest your chin on your hands, which rest on his chest. Tyler smiles at you and you say, "You're so cheesy, but I love it."

Tyler kisses your nose and says, "I can't wait until after Takeover now if that's what our week is going to look like as soon as I get back."

Laughing, you say, "It's going to look like that and so much more. Expect some new outfits too, Mr. Breeze."

Your husband smiles and says, "Oh, I'm excited about these new outfits, Mrs. Breeze."