#I’m already working on Classic Tangle

[vanillabox]

Might as well do classic designs for all the Diamond cutters, so here’s classic Whisper, she tiny :)

Check out my design for classic Lanolin here.

Check out my design for Classic Tangle here.

[joelsrose]

Tangled in Paradise

my masterlist here!

Ahhhh here is chapter 1 of my new mini-series!! I am so freakin excited for you guys to read it, i've had so much fun writing it - to everyone waiting for my other stories thanks so much for being patient and i promise i will get to them! enjoy and let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in the next chapters xx

The marble counter was cool against under your skin, a welcome relief from the lingering heat of the day. You perched on the edge, scrolling through your phone with one hand, the other holding a burrito that was rapidly becoming your favorite part of the evening. Mimi, your cat, stretched luxuriously beside you, her fluffy tail flicking in idle disinterest as she basked in the low glow of the kitchen light.

Your thumb idly swiped up, Instagram reels flitting past like a mindless parade. A stupid AI-generated meme caught your attention—something ridiculous but hilarious enough to make you snort, burrito in hand.

The sound of a FaceTime notification cut through your laugh, your phone vibrating in your palm. The screen flashed with Maria’s name, her photo—a sunny candid of her grinning at a picnic—lighting up the display.

You swiped to answer.

Her face appeared, as vibrant and glowing as ever, framed by the golden light of her apartment. “Hey, girl!” she chirped, her voice carrying the kind of energy that made you suspicious.

“Hey, you,” you replied, taking a bite of your burrito mid-sentence. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your honeymoon in Hawaii or something?”

“It’s not a honeymoon,” Maria groaned, her eyes rolling so dramatically they could’ve done a full lap.

“Sure,” you drawled, giving her a knowing look. Maria and Tommy had been dating for a year and a half, and if anyone was going to get engaged in an annoyingly picture-perfect way, it was them. “But seriously,” you added, “don’t you leave in, like, two days?”

“Yeah, about that…” Her voice trailed off, her expression shifting to something between sheepish and conspiratorial.

You froze mid-chew. “Oh no. Are you guys okay? Don’t tell me you—”

“No!” she interrupted, waving her hands at the camera as if to swat the idea away. “God, you’re such a cynic.”

“Cynicism comes with being single,” you shot back, gesturing vaguely to your burrito.

She laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Okay, so here’s the thing,” she said, leaning closer to her screen. “I have… a situation.”

“Go on,” you said, intrigued now.

Her sigh was long and theatrical. “For some reason, I let Tommy book our trip.”

“And?” you prompted, taking another bite.

“And the idiot accidentally booked a couples package,” she said, dragging out the words like they physically pained her.

You blinked, unfazed. “I don’t get it. You guys are a couple.”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head so fast her hair whipped around her face. “He booked it for two couples. Four people.”

You nearly choked on your burrito, a laugh bursting from your chest. “Classic Tommy,” you said, grinning. “So? What’s the big deal? You’ve got a million couple friends. Pick one.”

“I’ve been asking around!” she huffed. “But everyone already has New Year’s plans, and the package is non-refundable.” She gave you a pointed look, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“Oh no,” you said immediately, holding up a hand. “If this is going where I think it’s going—”

“Would you want to come?” she asked, her tone overly sweet. “You’re my best friend. You’re legally obligated to say yes.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “Maria, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, I’m single.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why Tommy was going to ask his brother Joel to come along. That makes four people. Problem solved.”

You paused, brow furrowing. “Joel, huh?”

Maria nodded eagerly.

You thought about it for a moment. Joel. You didn’t know much about him—just snippets from Maria here and there. He worked with Tommy in construction, lived in Texas. You didn't even know what he looked like.

“I don’t know…” you hedged.

“Oh, come on,” Maria whined. “You’re not doing anything for New Year’s, and you know it. You’re just gonna sit at home, watch Bridget Jones’s Diary, and drink cheap wine with Mimi like you do every year.”

You glanced at Mimi, who stretched lazily, her tail flicking as if to agree. Maria wasn’t wrong.

“Plus,” she continued, her grin widening, “once we get there, you guys can do whatever you want. Hawaii! Beaches, cocktails, hot guys—live your best life.”

You sighed, the temptation starting to outweigh your resistance. A free trip to Hawaii with your best friend? Sand, sun, and maybe a chance to flirt your way into a memorable New Year’s Eve?

“Prettyyyyy please?” Maria hummed, drawing out the word in a way that made you laugh despite yourself.

“Okay,” you said finally, shaking your head. “I’m in.”

Maria let out a squeal of victory, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re the best! I’ll text you the details. Pack something cute!”

As the call ended, you set your phone down and looked at Mimi, who yawned lazily in response.

“Well,” you said, leaning back on the counter. “Looks like we’re skipping Bridget Jones this year.”

Hawaii, you thought. The idea felt distant, unreal. But as you glanced at the empty corner of your apartment where your suitcase sat gathering dust, you had a feeling this trip might just change more than your New Year’s plans.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Hawaii was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that made you forget how much your neck hurt from the long flight or how unreasonably sweaty you felt in the tropical heat.

You leaned your head against the open window of the taxi, letting the warm wind tangle through your hair as you gazed out at the scenery. Endless shades of green blanketed the mountains in the distance, framed by the electric blue of the ocean stretching out to the horizon. Palm trees lined the road like an army of dancers frozen mid-sway, their fronds whispering in the breeze.

Maria sat beside you, her voice animated as she gave Tommy a play-by-play update on your whereabouts. “Yep, we’re just pulling in now,” she said, twisting her body slightly to look at the approaching hotel. “Alright, bye, love you!”

You turned to her, sticking a finger down your throat in mock disgust.

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

The taxi turned into a long driveway lined with torch-lit paths and vibrant hibiscus flowers in full bloom. As the hotel came into view, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning closer to the window.

It was like something out of a movie—a sprawling, open-air building with white stucco walls, wooden beams, and a terracotta-tiled roof. The entrance was framed by a massive archway, beyond which you could see a lush courtyard with fountains trickling water that sparkled in the sunlight.

A uniformed staff member waved the taxi forward, and your jaw nearly dropped as you took in the full view. The lobby was entirely open, its vaulted ceilings soaring toward the sky. Just beyond it, you could glimpse the infinity pool that seemed to spill directly into the ocean. The smell hit you next—salt air mixed with plumeria and something faintly sweet, like coconut.

“This is insane,” you said under your breath.

Maria beamed. “Right? This is so much better than the photos.”

The taxi slowed to a stop, and the driver hopped out to help you with your luggage. You tipped him generously and offered a polite “Mahalo,” feeling strangely self-conscious about whether you pronounced it right.

“Tommy already checked us in, so we can go straight to our room!” Maria practically bounced on her toes as she grabbed her carry-on. “Eeeeek, I’m so excited!”

“Me too,” you said with a grin, taking it all in. “And to think, you’ll be leaving here engaged.”

“Hey,” she said, giving you a mock glare. “Don’t jinx it.”

As you approached the entrance, a small group of staff members greeted you with warm smiles. A woman wearing a flowy dress in bright tropical prints stepped forward, holding a pair of leis made of fresh flowers. She draped one around Maria’s neck first, then yours, the cool petals brushing your collarbone as she said, “Aloha, and welcome.”

“Aloha,” you replied awkwardly, still feeling like an outsider in this slice of paradise.

Another staff member offered you both chilled glasses of pineapple juice, the condensation slicking your fingers. You took a sip and practically melted. It was fresh and sweet, with just the right amount of tartness.

“This is heaven,” Maria whispered as you followed the bellhop toward the elevator.

You couldn’t argue with her.

Everything about this place felt surreal—the golden light filtering through the palms, the faint hum of ukulele music from somewhere in the distance, and the soft roar of waves crashing against the shore. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, urging you to forget the rest of the world existed.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“So,” Maria began, standing beside you in the elevator, glancing down at her phone. “Since it’s already…” she trailed off, squinting at the screen. “Five o’clock, how about we settle in, freshen up, and then have dinner around 6:30?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, leaning back against the elevator wall, the faint scent of hibiscus and sea salt lingering in the air.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing your arrival at the designated floor.

You followed her as she led the way down the long, carpeted corridor, passing room numbers etched into sleek gold plaques.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, stopping in front of Room 712. “This is us.”

Us? you thought, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. But you let it slide, figuring she meant she and Tommy.

Maria slipped the key card into the slot with a practiced flourish, and the door opened with a soft click. You stepped in behind her, expecting a hotel room. Maybe a nice one—Maria had said Tommy splurged—but this wasn’t a room.

It was a suite.

No, not just a suite—a goddamn palace disguised as a hotel suite.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in. The entryway alone was larger than your living room back home, its polished marble floors gleaming under warm recessed lighting. Beyond it, the suite opened into an expansive living space with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed an unbroken view of the turquoise ocean. Sheer white curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the open balcony doors, where plush loungers and a private hot tub overlooked the horizon.

To your left, an oversized sectional couch sat in front of a sleek flat-screen TV, its armrest stacked with neatly folded, resort-branded towels. To your right, a dining table made of dark, glossy wood was set for four, complete with fresh flowers and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of champagne.

“Shit, Maria,” you breathed, turning to her with wide eyes. “This is insane.”

“I know!” she squealed, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like a kid at Christmas. “We’re gonna have the best time!”

You were about to ask where you’d be staying when a familiar voice cut through the moment.

“Hey, baby,” Tommy called, appearing from one of the adjacent rooms. He grinned as he walked over, pulling Maria into a hug and kissing her lightly on the lips. “I thought I heard you. How was the flight?”

“Good,” she replied, resting her head briefly against his shoulder before pulling back to gesture around the suite. “This is incredible, Tommy.”

“Yeah, guess I didn’t fuck up too bad, huh?” he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile softened.

Tommy’s gaze shifted to you, his grin widening. “Hey, darlin’. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile as he pulled you into a friendly hug, the scent of sunscreen and a hint of aftershave clinging to him.

“Good, Tommy. You?”

“Better now that I’m in fucking Hawaii,” he said with a laugh, gesturing around dramatically.

You laughed, too, feeling some of the tension from the long day begin to melt away. Tommy had always been easy to like—funny, respectful, and completely devoted to Maria. He had that older brother vibe with you, always quick to check in and make you laugh when you needed it.

“So,” you said, glancing around. “Do I have a room key or something?”

Maria and Tommy exchanged a quick glance, his arm still draped casually around her shoulders.

“Oh,” Tommy said, scratching the back of his neck as he turned to Maria. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, the first twinges of unease creeping in.

Tommy gestured around the suite. “This is it. The suite. We’re all staying here. There are two big rooms—come on, I’ll show you!”

Before you could even react, Tommy had slipped his arm around yours, steering you further into the space like an overenthusiastic tour guide.

“Maria—” you started, but he was already pointing things out.

“Look at this place!” Tommy exclaimed, his voice brimming with the kind of excitement that made it hard to stay mad at him. He pointed at the sprawling living room like a proud real estate agent. “Big-ass TV, private balcony, minibar—it’s nuts. And wait ‘til you see the bedrooms. King-sized beds, the works.”

You shot a quick glance over your shoulder, catching Maria hovering by the door. She met your glare with a sheepish shrug, mouthing a silent sorry, her lips curving into an awkward half-smile.

Sorry? That was all she had to say?

Tommy was already leading you deeper into the suite, his arm draped comfortably around yours, blissfully unaware of the rising irritation simmering beneath your polite nods.

“Over here’s the kitchen,” Tommy said, gesturing to a sleek, open-concept area with dark wood cabinets, marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances that gleamed like they’d never been touched. “I mean, not that we’re cooking or anything, but still—pretty sweet, huh?”

You nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation that this wasn’t just their setup—it was your setup, too.

“And here,” Tommy said, stopping in front of a door, “is one of the bedrooms.” He swung it open with a flourish.

The room was absurdly gorgeous. A king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in crisp white linens with a soft, seafoam-green throw draped across the foot. The headboard was made of rich, dark wood, its edges carved with delicate floral patterns that gave the room an understated elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to a private balcony, where you could already hear the gentle crash of waves in the distance.

“Not bad, huh?” Tommy grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not bad?” you echoed, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Tommy, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously awesome,” he corrected, winking.

You let out a breath, forcing a smile as you turned back toward the living room. Maria was still hovering by the door, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

“Maria,” you hissed, your voice low but sharp as you made your way over to her.

She plastered on an innocent smile. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” you whispered, glancing back to make sure Tommy wasn’t listening. “You didn’t think to mention we’re all staying in the same suite?”

She shrugged again, this time with exaggerated nonchalance. “I didn’t think it was a big deal! The place is huge. You’ll hardly even notice.”

“Hardly notice?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly before you caught yourself. You took a calming breath, lowering your tone again. “Maria, I thought I’d have my own room. My own space.”

“You do have your own space!” she insisted, gesturing toward the suite with a grin. “Look around—it’s basically a mansion. And Tommy said the other bedroom is just as nice as this one.”

“Maria,” you started, pinching the bridge of your nose.

She cut you off with a dramatic sigh, stepping closer to loop her arm through yours. “Look, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but come on. It’s Hawaii. The suite is incredible. We’re gonna have an amazing time.”

“I didn’t realize me and Joel would be sharing a fucking room together!” you hissed, keeping your voice low but sharp.

Maria waved a dismissive hand, her expression almost too breezy. “It’s fine. Joel’s a gentleman. He’ll sleep on the couch or something.”

“Oh, so I’ll just be the bitch who forced a man to sleep on a couch during his vacation?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maria winced, but only slightly. “You’re being dramatic.”

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Am I?”

She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her expression softening into the kind of pout that had gotten her out of trouble since you were in college. “Please,” she murmured, drawing out your name like a plea. “It’ll be fine. Joel’s easygoing. And think about it—how much time are you really gonna spend in the room? You’ll barely even notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off again. “Plus,” she added, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m getting engaged this week. You can deal with this, right? For meee?”

Her eyes were wide and imploring, and despite every bone in your body wanting to say no, the guilt crept in like an uninvited guest. You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair.

She was right. You could deal with it. Worst-case scenario, you’d take the damn couch yourself. It was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things… right?

“Okay,” you said finally, the word coming out like a reluctant exhale. “Okay. Yeah. Fine.”

Maria’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re the best! I owe you one,” she said, pulling you into a quick, triumphant hug.

“Oh, you owe me big,” you muttered, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

She pulled back, grinning. “I promise, this is gonna be the best trip ever. You’ll see.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You stepped into the room you’d be sharing with Joel and let out a long sigh. It was gorgeous, of course, just like the rest of the suite—spacious, luxurious, and dripping with the kind of elegance that made you feel like an imposter just by being there.

The centerpiece was a king-sized bed that dominated the room, its crisp white linens layered with soft, seafoam-green pillows that practically begged you to sink into them.

A pair of matching nightstands flanked the bed, each topped with sleek glass lamps that cast a warm, inviting glow. Across from the bed, a low, polished dresser supported a large flat-screen TV, and the far wall was made entirely of glass, leading out to a private balcony. Through the sliding doors, you could see the ocean stretching endlessly, the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance.

It was beautiful. It was serene. And it was yours… and Joel’s.

Sharing a room with a stranger wasn’t exactly how you imagined this trip starting, but it wasn’t like you could back out now.

You smoothed down your clothes and stepped out into the suite’s living room. The evening light poured through the massive windows, painting the space in shades of gold and orange. Maria and Tommy were curled up on the couch together, her head resting on his chest as they laughed softly at something he’d said.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you called, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Hey!” Maria greeted you with a bright smile, sitting up slightly while Tommy offered you a quick nod.

“So, uh…” you began, shifting awkwardly. “Is Joel—?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, interrupting you as he sat up straighter. “The idiot missed his flight.” He shook his head, though there was no real malice in his voice, only amusement. “But he’ll be here soon.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding. “Okay. I think I’m gonna take a shower in the meantime.”

“Alright,” Maria replied, stretching her legs out across Tommy’s lap.

But just as you turned to head back to your room, Tommy’s voice stopped you.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his tone softening as you glanced back. “I think you two will really get along.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he continued, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I know it’s a weird situation—sharing a room and all—but Joel’s… he’s a good guy.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond but unable to stop the flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest.

“Well,” you said finally, “I guess we’ll see.”

Tommy grinned, leaning back into the couch as Maria nestled closer to him.

You turned and headed for your room, the sound of waves and the low murmur of their voices fading behind you. As you closed the door, you couldn’t help but glance at the bed again. Sharing a room might be awkward, sure—but it might also be the most interesting part of this trip.

And something told you that Joel Miller wasn’t the kind of man you could easily forget.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The shower was as luxurious as the rest of the suite, a spa-like haven of sleek stone tiles in earthy tones that stretched from floor to ceiling. The water cascaded from a wide, rain-style showerhead above, warm and steady, like a soothing tropical downpour.

Built-in shelves held miniature bottles of fragrant shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, each scented faintly of coconut and vanilla. Soft recessed lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, and a small, fog-free mirror was cleverly positioned above a polished stainless-steel bench.

You hummed softly, the sound mingling with the rhythmic patter of water as you worked shampoo through your hair. The gentle steam wrapped around you like a cocoon, loosening the knots in your muscles and leaving your skin dewy and warm.

This was paradise, you thought, your hands scrubbing at your scalp. For the first time in months—years, maybe—you felt truly relaxed. No deadlines, no responsibilities, just the soothing rush of water and the faint scent of the ocean wafting through the cracked bathroom window.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice rang out from the living room, muffled by the sound of the shower.

You turned the water pressure down just enough to hear her better. “Yeah?”

“Tommy and I are gonna head out and grab a coffee. Do you want anything?”

“Ooh! An iced vanilla latte please!” you shouted back, your voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls.

“Got it!” she called. “We’ll lock up behind us.”

“Okay!” you yelled, adjusting the temperature slightly.

A soft click of the door signaled their departure, the quiet settling over the suite like a warm blanket. You were alone now, the world outside reduced to the distant hum of waves and the steady rhythm of water hitting the tiles.

You sighed, working conditioner through the ends of your hair, letting the tension in your shoulders melt away. This was perfect. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of peace—a moment entirely yours, untouched by worry or distraction.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The bathroom was warm and hazy with steam, the scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air as you wrapped a fluffy white towel around yourself. Your hair dripped in lazy rivulets down your back, and you ran a hand through it, reveling in the feeling of complete relaxation. This was bliss.

You barely registered the muffled sound of the suite door opening, or the faint, low rumble of a man’s voice calling, “Tommy?” from the living room. Even if you had, it would have been drowned out by your impassioned rendition of Smooth Operator, your voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as you gave yourself over to the moment.

Joel Miller—unknowingly your temporary roommate—entered the shared room with his eyes glued to his phone, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance. His thumb scrolled idly as he typed out a text to Tommy, Where the hell are you? He muttered something to himself under his breath, the deep, low timbre of his voice carrying a faint Texas drawl.

Completely oblivious, he walked toward the bed, not noticing the neatly folded pile of your clothes sitting on top of it, or your travel bag perched on the dresser. His focus was laser-sharp on the glowing screen in his hand, his frustration apparent in the slight clench of his jaw and the furrow of his dark brows.

You didn’t hear him.

He didn’t see you.

Not until you pushed the bathroom door open, a plume of steam rolling out ahead of you as you stepped into the main room.

And there he was.

Standing by the bed, his broad shoulders filling the space as effortlessly as the sunlight spilling in from the balcony. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his scruff-lined jaw shifted as he frowned down at his phone. He was gorgeous.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Joel, still engrossed in whatever was on his screen, didn’t notice you at first. Then, slowly, his head lifted—like he sensed your presence—and his eyes landed on you.

The moment stretched, silent and charged.

And then you screamed.

Like, actually screamed.

Joel jumped, his phone nearly slipping from his hand as his wide eyes shot up to meet yours. “Jesus Christ!” he barked, his voice rough and sharp, like gravel. “What the hell—”

“What the hell?” you shrieked back, clutching your towel tighter as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

Joel held up his hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender, his phone dangling precariously between his fingers. “Hey, easy! I—” His words faltered as his gaze flickered—briefly, too briefly—to the towel clinging to your body before snapping back to your face. His cheeks flushed slightly, though his tone remained gruff. “I didn’t know you were… here.”

“You didn’t know?” you sputtered, taking a defensive step back toward the bathroom door. “What are you even doing in my room?”

Joel frowned, gesturing vaguely at the space around him. “Your room? Pretty sure this is my room too.”

Your jaw dropped, words failing you for a moment as your mind scrambled to process the situation. “You—you’re Joel?”

His brow lifted slightly, his mouth twitching into what might have been a smirk if the situation weren’t so absurd. “That’d be me,” he said, his voice dipping lower.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your damp face. “Of course. Of course this is how I meet you.”

Joel crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the bed as he regarded you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Look, didn’t mean to scare you, alright? Figured this room was empty when I didn’t see Tommy’s stuff.”

“Well, it’s not empty,” you shot back, your cheeks burning. “Clearly.”

“Yeah, I got that now,” he said dryly, his lips quirking into something dangerously close to a smile. His gaze flickered briefly to the bathroom door, then back to you, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “You, uh… wanna put on some clothes before we keep yellin’ at each other?”

Your face burned, heat flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you. You were still standing there, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel, completely exposed in every possible way.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, tightening your grip on the towel.

His eyebrows shot up, and damn it, he looked smug about it. That stupid little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that only made him seem more amused.

Before you could say anything else—or throw something at him—Tommy burst into the room, Maria trailing close behind, both of them wide-eyed and holding coffee cups.

“Hey!” Tommy shouted, his voice loud and panicked. “Are you alright? We heard screaming—”

He froze mid-sentence, his gaze bouncing between you, half-naked and flushed, and Joel, standing entirely too casually by the bed.

Maria’s hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling a laugh as she took in the scene, her eyes dancing with poorly concealed amusement.

“Maria!” you snapped, your voice a sharp plea as you clutched the towel tighter around you.

Tommy, meanwhile, didn’t miss a beat. He grinned, his worry evaporating in an instant as he stepped toward Joel. “Hey, big bro,” he said, pulling Joel into a quick hug, completely unfazed by the tension in the room.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his voice smooth and easy, like this whole situation wasn’t absolutely mortifying.

“How was your flight?” Tommy asked, stepping back as if this were the most normal reunion in the world.

“Good,” Joel said, shrugging as he turned to Maria. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his tone softening just slightly. “Hey, Maria.”

You stood there, utterly stunned, your mouth slightly open as the three of them exchanged greetings like you weren’t standing there, soaking wet and humiliated in the middle of the room. It was laughable. It was absurd.

Maria caught your desperate look and cleared her throat, nudging Tommy. “We should, uh…”

“Right,” Tommy agreed, glancing at the coffees in his hands. “We should get outta your hair.”

Joel, however, didn’t move right away. His gaze flicked back to you, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes dragging over you in a way that felt both infuriating and electric. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening.

“See you soon, roomie,” he drawled, the emphasis on the word sending a jolt of annoyance through you. He finished with a wink that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t care to analyze.

You barely managed to hold back a growl as he turned and followed Tommy and Maria out of the room, their laughter trailing behind them. The door clicked shut, leaving you standing there, still clutching your towel and feeling like the universe’s favorite punchline.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself, glaring at the door. “This is just great.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring at the crisp white linens like they might hold the answer to your predicament. For thirty long minutes, you debated your options, none of which seemed remotely appealing.

Option one: walk out there and pretend like nothing happened, even though Joel’s smug face was now burned into your memory. Option two: stay in this room for the rest of the vacation, surviving on room service and spite. Option three: book a flight home and disappear into the dead of night, leaving Maria to deal with the fallout of her matchmaking debacle.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

Your phone buzzed, the soft ding breaking the silence. You picked it up, already bracing yourself.

Maria: You gonna come out or stay in there forever?

You sighed heavily, typing back a quick response. You: Maria, this is so embarrassing.

Her reply came almost immediately. Maria: It’s not. Can Joel come and get settled? The poor guy.

Poor guy? Was she kidding? Poor you!

You sighed again, the sound loud and dramatic even to your own ears. Fine. If Joel needed to get into the room so badly, you weren’t going to be the one standing in his way. You: Yes. He can.

Maria’s response came with an infuriating kissy-face emoji that made you want to hurl your phone across the room.

A sharp knock on the door startled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

And then the knock came again. And again. And again.

You rolled your eyes, standing up and calling out, “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s Joel,” his voice came from the other side of the door, deep and slightly muffled. He kept knocking.

Still knocking.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you shouted, exasperated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Are you clothed?”

You threw your hands in the air, your irritation bubbling over. “Jesus Christ!”

He laughed softly through the door, the sound aggravatingly charming.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, ready to let him have it—but the words caught in your throat when you saw him. Joel stood there, hand still raised mid-knock, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was leaning slightly against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space effortlessly, and the playful glint in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Just makin’ sure,” Joel said, his tone easy as his gaze flicked over you, his eyes pausing briefly on your flushed cheeks before settling on yours. There was a teasing glint in his expression, the kind that made your pulse do a little stumble.

You stood there, arms crossed, doing your best to meet his gaze without faltering.

He tilted his head slightly, his brow lifting as he watched you.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharp, defensive.

“You’re, uh…” he gestured toward the doorframe with a small tilt of his chin, “kinda in the way.”

“Oh.” You blinked, flustered, before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Joel stepped past you, his eyes scanning the room with a low whistle. “This place is insane,” he said, his voice warm with genuine awe. “Fuckin’ worlds away from Texas.”

You almost smiled, thankful he didn’t make the whole towel incident more awkward than it already was.

He turned to you then, leaning casually against the edge of the dresser, his arms crossing over his chest. “So,” he began, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to playful. “I see you claimed the right side of the bed.”

“Is that a problem?” you shot back, mirroring his crossed arms with your own.

“Nah.” Joel shook his head, his lips quirking into that same infuriating smirk. “I should be closest to the door anyway.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“In case a murderer comes in,” he said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What the hell?” you asked, staring at him.

“What?” He gave you a look, like you were the one being unreasonable. “Us men gotta think about these things.”

You were about to reply—maybe point out how absurd he sounded—but the words died on your tongue as Joel casually reached behind his neck, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and shrugged it off in one smooth motion.

Your breath caught.

He stood there, completely unbothered, the golden light from the balcony casting shadows across the toned muscles of his chest. His skin was sun-kissed, his shoulders broad and strong, with a faint trail of dark hair running down his stomach. It was like something out of a magazine—effortless, masculine, and almost unbearably unfair.

You gulped, suddenly forgetting how words worked.

Joel caught your stare, his mouth twitching into that damn smirk again. “What’re you doin’?” you managed, your voice higher than you intended.

“What does it look like?” he replied, tossing his shirt onto the back of a chair like he owned the place. “Seriously, if you’re gonna freak out every time I take my shirt off, we’re gonna have a problem.”

You blinked at him, floundering for a response.

“We’re in Hawaii,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the balcony as if to drive his point home.

“I know that,” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter, though the heat rushing to your face wasn’t helping your case.

Joel grinned, shaking his head as he grabbed a towel from the dresser. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said, his tone light, teasing, like this was all some game he was enjoying far too much.

You stood there for a moment after Joel disappeared into the bathroom, the faint click of the door echoing through the room. It was ridiculous how your heart was racing, how the heat lingering in your cheeks wouldn’t budge no matter how many deep breaths you took.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you crossed the room. “Unbelievable. Insufferable.” You tossed a glance at the bathroom door, half-expecting Joel to stick his head out and throw another one of those infuriating comments your way. But all you could hear was the sound of the shower turning on, the steady stream of water muffling whatever he might be saying to himself in there.

You tried to focus on something else, anything else. You unpacked a few things, neatly folding your clothes into the dresser drawers, your movements quick and sharp. But your mind refused to stay on task, wandering back to the way Joel had just… shrugged off his shirt like it was nothing. Like he didn’t notice—or care—how good he looked doing it.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you shoved the last of your shirts into the drawer. You’d met plenty of flirty guys before, but there was something about Joel—something about the way he seemed so at ease, so himself, that made him impossible to ignore.

The bathroom door opened, and Joel stepped out, a cloud of steam following him like it was part of his aura. He was shirtless, of course, a white towel slung casually around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends, darker now that it was wet, and he was rubbing the back of his neck as though he hadn’t just walked out looking like a whole damn Calvin Klein ad.

You froze, your hand still on the drawer handle, and for the briefest second, you considered looking away. But Joel caught your gaze before you could, his lips curving into that easy, teasing grin.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your unpacking,” he said, his tone warm and playful. “Figured you’d need the bathroom soon.”

“I—uh—yeah,” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for how pathetic that sounded.

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’know,” he drawled, “you don’t have to look so nervous. I don’t bite.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Unless you’re into that.”

Your mouth fell open, and you snapped it shut again almost immediately. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him toward the bathroom.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson, its golden light filtering into your room through the slightly ajar door leading to the suite’s main balcony. From outside, you could hear Maria, Tommy, and Joel’s voices carrying on the ocean breeze—easy laughter and teasing banter.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the edge of the bed. The large mirror propped in front of you reflected your half-done makeup, the bronzer brush in your hand hovering mid-air as you muttered a curse under your breath. You were running late—distracted by the events of the afternoon.

Behind you, the bed was a mess of organized chaos: two dresses—one slinky and black, the other vibrant red—lay sprawled across the sheets, along with a carefully chosen collection of jewelry. Your music played softly from your phone on the floor, and you hummed along absentmindedly between swipes of blush.

What you didn’t notice was the sound of the balcony door sliding open, or the way Joel sauntered into the room like he had all the time in the world.

He wore a pale linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, paired with beige shorts that hung low on his hips. The soft golden light of the setting sun kissed his skin, highlighting the faint sheen of the humid evening air. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he’d just run his fingers through it, and he carried two beers in hand, the bottles clinking softly as he moved.

“Hey,” he said casually, his deep drawl breaking through your concentration as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed behind you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

You jumped slightly, your eyes darting to the mirror where you caught his reflection. Your gaze locked with his, and for a moment, the air in the room felt heavier, smaller. “Hey,” you replied, suddenly hyper-aware of the blush brush in your hand and the faint flush already spreading across your cheeks.

Joel leaned back slightly, one elbow propped on the mattress, his expression easy but his eyes sharp as he studied you. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said with a faint grin, holding out one of the beers. “Beer?”

You shook your head quickly, turning back to the mirror and dabbing more blush onto your cheeks, as if that could somehow cool the warmth rising to your face. “Oh, no thank you. Can’t stand the taste of beer.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, twisting the cap off one of the bottles with practiced ease. “Can’t stand it?”

You laughed softly, glancing at him through the mirror. “Nope. I don’t get how anyone likes it.”

He chuckled, taking a swig before setting the untouched bottle on the nightstand. “Guess that means more for me.”

The silence between you settled, not awkward but charged, the kind of silence that felt heavy with words unspoken. Joel’s gaze drifted to the bed beside him, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the red dress before he glanced back at you.

“So,” he began, his tone teasing but gentle. “Which one are you plannin’ on?”

Your hand froze mid-swipe, and you turned to face him fully, your lips parting slightly. “I, uh…” You looked between him and the dresses, suddenly feeling shy under his steady gaze.

Joel tilted his head, his grin shifting into something softer, more crooked. “C’mon, roomie. You gotta pick. Red or black?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I was leaning toward the black one,” you admitted, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to explain.

Joel nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing the fabric of the red dress again before he picked it up, holding it out as though inspecting it more closely. “Black’s classy. Safe,” he said slowly, his voice quieting. “But…” He paused, swallowing hard enough that you noticed. “I think red.” His usual confidence faltered for a fleeting moment, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to the dress. “Red would look, uh… really good.”

Something in his voice—almost awkward, but sincere—made your chest tighten. “Okay,” you said softly, turning back to the mirror before the moment stretched too long. “I’ll think about it.”

Joel nodded, setting the dress back down just as your timer went off on your phone. You swore softly, rushing to finish your blush. “Shit, I swear I’m almost done,” you said, glancing at Joel apologetically.

Joel stayed exactly where he was, his gaze still on you in the mirror, his voice warm and easy. “Hey,” he said. “Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”

You hesitated, meeting his eyes through the reflection. “You sure? I don’t want to hold everyone up.”

Joel shook his head, his grin softening. “We’re in Hawaii. Ain’t no rules about bein’ late here. Besides, worth the wait.”

Your chest tightened again, and this time, you couldn’t quite hide the faint smile pulling at your lips. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” Joel replied, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll, uh, let you get ready.”

His gaze caught on something on the bed, and he reached out, picking up the delicate necklace you’d set aside. “Oh. Did you need help with this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“It’s really no problem,” Joel said, already standing and crouching down behind you.

The warmth of him was immediate, his presence so close that you swore you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your neck. “Here,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Hold still.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted your hair, exposing the back of your neck. Joel’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as he fastened the clasp, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said, his voice soft as his hands dropped back to his sides.

You turned slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. His eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said a word.

“Perfect,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The hotel grounds were even more breathtaking at night. The warm glow of lanterns lined the stone pathways, their soft light spilling onto lush tropical plants and casting flickering shadows on the ground. The air was thick with the mingling scents of saltwater and frangipani, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore carried through the warm breeze.

Maria and Tommy walked ahead of you, their hands interlocked, their laughter soft and easy. Maria wore a flowing emerald-green dress that seemed to shimmer as she moved, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her glowing face. Tommy leaned toward her as she said something, his smile wide and unrestrained as he brushed a kiss against her temple. They looked like something out of a postcard—effortlessly in love and perfectly matched.

You and Joel followed behind, your steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his shorts, the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt revealing the golden tan of his forearms. The easy sway of his stride gave him an air of confidence that felt completely natural, like he didn’t even realize the effect he had on people—or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

As you passed beneath an arch of twinkling string lights, Joel glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching the light for a brief moment before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“So,” he drawled, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You listened to me, huh?”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He nodded subtly toward your dress, the red fabric clinging to your figure in all the right ways. “The red,” he said, his grin turning slightly crooked. “Told you it’d look good.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, the heat crawling up your neck despite the cool evening breeze. You glanced down at the dress, brushing invisible lint off the fabric as you tried to steady your voice. “Thanks,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough to give him a sidelong glance. “Guess you’ll be my fashion advisor for the trip.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a melody you didn’t realize you wanted to hear on repeat.

“Careful now,” he said, leaning closer as his voice dropped just a fraction. “You let me make too many decisions, and next thing you know, I’ll have you in cowboy boots and denim shorts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Never say never, roomie,” he teased, his grin widening as his arm brushed yours for a fleeting moment.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a few beats, your steps in sync as you followed the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the path. Maria and Tommy’s laughter floated back to you from up ahead, their silhouettes framed by the soft flicker of string lights.

“So,” Joel said after a moment, leaning slightly toward you as though he were sharing some grand secret. “Tommy thinks Maria has no clue he’s gonna propose.”

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing. “Seriously?”

Joel nodded, his grin growing more playful. “Yep. Poor guy’s convinced she hasn’t pieced it together.”

“She’s got a hunch,” you said knowingly, the corners of your mouth quirking into a small smile.

Joel let out a warm laugh, the sound easy and genuine. He leaned a little closer, his voice dipping just enough to feel more personal. “So,” he began casually, though the teasing edge in his tone gave him away, “you, uh… got a boyfriend or something?”

Your steps faltered slightly, and you turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow. “Joel,” you said, your voice dry but amused. “If I had a boyfriend, do you think I’d be here on a couples trip, with someone who is not my boyfriend?”

Joel blinked, his lips parting as he realized how ridiculous the question was. “Oh,” he said quickly, his grin softening into something sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you replied, brushing it off with a wave of your hand.

Joel’s smile returned, his gaze flicking over you with an almost curious warmth. “Just find it hard to believe,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, more sincere.

You blinked, caught slightly off guard by the shift in his tone. “Oh, come on,” you said, rolling your eyes to cover the sudden flutter in your chest. “Does that line usually work for you?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his expression turning playfully indignant. “What line?”

“The cheesy pickup lines,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

“I’m being serious,” he said, his tone dipping into something earnest, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained.

“Mhm,” you replied, your voice laced with mock skepticism as you tilted your head at him.

Joel let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as though genuinely disappointed. “Wow. So cynical,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned slightly closer, the heat of his gaze brushing over you. “Bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

Before you could fire back a retort, Maria’s voice called out from ahead, cutting through the night air. “Guys, hurry up! We’re gonna miss the live music!”

Joel turned toward her voice, then glanced back at you with a grin that was all charm and mischief. “Better pick up the pace,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing. “Wouldn’t wanna get left behind and have to serenade you myself. Though, fair warnin’—my singin’ ain’t free.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you quickened your step. “Lucky for you, Joel, I’m not paying to hear whatever cowboy karaoke you’ve got up your sleeve.”

Joel chuckled, falling into stride beside you. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and playful. “Talk like that, and you’re gonna hurt my feelin’s.”

“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” you replied with a grin, your heart skipping as his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

As the two of you caught up with Maria and Tommy, the warm glow of the hotel lights and the faint hum of music ahead set the perfect stage for the night—and for whatever this thing between you and Joel was slowly becoming.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“Holy shit,” Tommy murmured as you all stepped into the restaurant.

And honestly, he wasn’t wrong.

The place was stunning, a picture of understated luxury that somehow felt warm and inviting rather than intimidating. The open-air design let in the salty breeze, while woven lanterns hung from high wooden beams, casting soft, flickering light across the room. The walls were draped with lush greenery, accented by vibrant tropical flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. Somewhere in the background, the faint hum of live music blended seamlessly with the rhythmic crash of waves.

“This place is insane,” Joel murmured beside you, his deep drawl laced with quiet awe as his gaze swept across the space.

You glanced at him, catching the way the soft lighting brushed over the angles of his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes. “Not bad, huh?” you said with a small smile, your voice teasing.

He nodded, his lips curving into a slight grin. “Guess Tommy finally got somethin’ right.”

A waiter appeared, all effortless poise as he greeted you with a warm smile. “Right this way,” he said, motioning for you to follow.

The four of you trailed him through the restaurant, past tables filled with couples leaning into quiet conversations and groups laughing over cocktails. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across polished wood and crisp white tablecloths, giving the whole place a dreamy, golden hue.

The waiter led you outside to a terrace overlooking the ocean, where more lanterns were strung across the open space, their warm light mingling with the silver glow of the moon reflecting off the water. The sound of the waves was louder here, blending with the distant strum of a ukulele from the live band.

Maria and Tommy slid into one side of the table, their fingers already interlocking as they settled in. Joel, without hesitation, pulled out a chair next to yours and gestured for you to sit.

“Ladies first,” he said, his grin softening into something almost gentlemanly.

You gave him a small nod, sinking into the seat. He followed, sitting beside you with the kind of ease that made it seem like he’d been doing this for years.

“Here are the menus,” the waiter said, placing them delicately in front of you. “And the drink menus.” He offered a quick, practiced smile. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

As soon as he disappeared, Tommy leaned forward, flipping open the drink menu with wide eyes. “This place has everything,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Maria laughed, resting her chin on her hand as she glanced at her boyfriend. “Don’t get too excited. You still have to pay for it.”

“Worth it,” Tommy replied, already scanning the cocktails.

Beside you, Joel leaned back in his chair, his arm resting casually along the back of yours. He opened his menu with one hand, but his attention wasn’t on it—it was on you.

“See anything you like?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

You glanced at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “The menu just got here.”

“Not talkin’ about the menu,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening just enough to make your pulse skip.

“Jesus,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head and focusing hard on the menu in front of you.

Joel laughed, the sound warm and rich, as he grabbed a menu for himself. “Relax,” he said, flipping lazily to the drinks page, his eyes scanning the options with a faint smirk.

After a moment, he leaned closer, angling the menu so you could see it too. His shoulder brushed yours, the warmth of his presence impossibly distracting. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing to a section of colorful, overly elaborate cocktails. “These all sound fancy. Perfect for you.”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the names—everything from Tropical Temptation to Hibiscus Bliss. “You think I’m a ‘fancy cocktail’ kind of person?”

Joel’s grin grew wider. “I dunno. Thought you might enjoy somethin’ a little sweeter. Balance out all that sass.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, Joel straightened in his seat, his gaze lighting up with a spark of mischief. “Hey, let’s play a game,” he said, turning to face you more fully.

You frowned, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “What kind of game?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dipping low as though sharing a secret. “Simple. I choose your drink, you choose mine.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “How is that a game?”

Joel chuckled, resting his elbow on the back of your chair as he met your gaze head-on. “Because,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate, “it’s a test of trust.”

“Trust?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, completely unfazed by your skepticism. “Yep. You trust me not to order you somethin’ ridiculous, and I trust you not to screw me over with, I dunno…” He gestured toward the menu. “A Pink Flamingo Paradise or somethin’.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head. “You don’t strike me as a Pink Flamingo Paradise kind of guy.”

Joel smirked, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence. “I’d rock it, though.”

You snorted, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the menu as you debated. “Alright, fine,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But if you pick something gross, I’m holding it against you for the rest of the trip.”

“Fair,” he replied easily, his grin never wavering. “Same rules apply.”

You both turned back to your menus, scanning the options with newfound purpose.

Joel glanced at you, his tone teasing. “What’re you thinkin’? Something with an umbrella in it?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, smirking. “What about you? Something boring like beer?”

“Boring?” Joel placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense as he leaned back in his chair. “You wound me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head as you glanced back at the menu. After a moment, you settled on a drink, pointing it out to the waiter with a confident nod. Joel followed suit, his choice quick and deliberate, though the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let the game end there.

“All right,” Tommy said, leaning forward and slapping the table lightly. “We gotta get serious about this food situation. There’s too many damn things on this menu. What’s everyone thinkin’?”

Maria laughed, nudging his arm. “You’re acting like we’re solving world hunger, babe. Just pick something.”

Joel glanced at his brother with a faint smirk before turning his attention back to you. But this time, his playful demeanor softened, his gaze shifting to something quieter, more thoughtful.

“You got any dietary stuff I should know about?” Joel asked, his voice lower now, almost tender.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His tone was so different from the usual teasing lilt you’d come to expect—gentle, sincere, like he genuinely cared about the answer.

“Uh, no,” you said after a beat, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

Joel nodded, his expression relaxed but still warm. “Good to know,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the menu.

You swallowed hard, the faint warmth of his attention leaving a subtle flutter in your chest.

“Okay,” Tommy said, clearly oblivious to the moment as he squinted at the menu. “What the hell is a coconut lime mahi-mahi? Am I supposed to know what mahi-mahi is?”

“It’s fish, Tommy,” Maria said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’ve had it before. Remember that time we went to the seafood place in Austin?”

“Oh,” Tommy said, nodding. “Right. That was good.”

Joel chuckled, his voice breaking the small bubble of tension that had lingered between you. “Y’know, Maria,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, “you’re gonna have your hands full with him.”

Maria grinned, clearly unfazed. “Already do.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

This was fun, you thought, glancing around the table as laughter spilled into the warm night air. The conversation flowed effortlessly, Maria and Tommy trading playful jabs while Joel chimed in with his dry, easy humor. For the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease, the tension of earlier moments melting into the atmosphere of good company and golden light.

The food arrived before you even realized how much time had passed, the waiter placing each dish with practiced elegance.

Tommy, true to form, had ordered something hearty—a perfectly seared steak topped with garlic butter, its aroma rich and mouthwatering. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing it like it was the centerpiece of a grand feast. “Now this,” he declared, picking up his knife and fork, “is what I’m talkin’ about.”

Maria, ever the balance to his bold choices, had gone for a delicate seafood linguine, the pasta glistening with olive oil and white wine, studded with shrimp and fresh herbs. “You’d better share,” Tommy teased, eyeing her plate, but Maria only swatted his hand away with a laugh.

You had chosen a grilled snapper, its crispy skin drizzled with a tangy mango salsa and paired with a vibrant side of coconut rice. The bright colors and tropical flavors made your plate look like something straight out of a magazine.

Joel’s choice was classic and unfussy—a plate of barbecued ribs slathered in smoky sauce, with a side of roasted potatoes and charred corn on the cob.

He caught your gaze as he picked up a rib, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What?” he asked innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “You were gonna judge me no matter what I got.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I wasn’t judging. Just… admiring your commitment to the messiest thing on the menu.”

“Gotta live a little,” Joel replied, his tone light but his gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart skip.

The laughter continued as everyone dug in, the clinking of silverware and the hum of the nearby live music weaving seamlessly into the scene. Soon after, the waiter returned, a tray balanced expertly in his hands.

“For the lady,” he said with a polite smile, setting a vibrant, colorful cocktail in front of you. It was topped with a slice of fresh pineapple and a tiny pink umbrella, the drink itself a swirl of coral and gold hues.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at it. “Oh my god,” you said, biting back a laugh. “What is this?”

Joel leaned in, his grin widening as he inspected the drink. “That,” he said, his voice full of mock-seriousness, “is a Sunset Paradise.”

You shot him a look, your lips twitching as you tried to hold back your laughter. “Are you kidding me? You picked this?”

“Hey, I thought it suited you,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes dancing with mischief. “Sweet, colorful… a little over the top.”

You shook your head, picking up the glass and taking a small sip. The flavors burst on your tongue—pineapple, passionfruit, a hint of coconut rum. Damn it. It was actually good.

“Alright,” you admitted reluctantly. “Not bad, Miller. Not bad.”

Joel’s grin only widened.

“And for the gentleman,” the waiter continued, placing Joel’s drink in front of him with a subtle flourish.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you as you stared at the delicate martini glass, filled with a pale pink liquid and garnished with a single orchid flower floating on top. “Oh, this is perfect,” you said, barely able to contain yourself. “Joel Miller, enjoying a Hibiscus Bliss.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you, his lips twitching as though he was fighting a laugh of his own. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much,” he muttered, picking up the glass with exaggerated care.

“Go on,” you teased, leaning forward on your elbows. “Take a sip. Let me see you savor that hibiscus.”

Joel held your gaze, his grin slowly breaking through as he raised the glass to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip, setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he said, his tone deadpan. “Real sophisticated.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. “I can’t believe you’re pulling this off.”

“Darlin’,” Joel said, his grin turning cocky as he leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “I could pull off anything.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The four of you sat back in your chairs, the plates cleared and glasses now reduced to condensation-rimmed remnants of colorful cocktails and beer. The warm buzz of good food and drinks settled over the group, and you realized with a start just how comfortable you felt.

Somehow, throughout the course of dinner, you and Joel had drifted closer. His arm rested casually along the back of your chair, and though he wasn’t quite touching you, you could feel the faint pull of his presence—the warmth radiating from him like he was the sun itself.

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice soft and low as he turned to you, his grin creeping in at the edges. “Now you gotta rate the drink I picked for you. Outta ten.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think, though the teasing glint in your eye gave you away. “Hmmm…” you hummed, dragging it out just to watch his brow twitch in anticipation. “I’ll give you a… seven.”

Joel leaned back, letting out a low hum of approval. “Seven, huh? Above average. I’ll take it.”

You smirked, leaning slightly toward him. “And now you?”

He glanced at the remnants of his Hibiscus Bliss, the delicate pink drink looking comically out of place in his hand, then back at you with an exaggerated frown. “Five.”

Your jaw dropped, and you straightened in mock offense. “A five?”

Joel nodded, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he took another sip. “Yeah, and that’s me bein’ generous.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

In front of you, Maria and Tommy were leaning into each other, their voices softer now, heads close as they shared a quick peck. Maria’s laughter was light and sweet, blending with the faint strum of live music in the distance. The two of them were completely in their own world, whispering and exchanging smiles like the honeymoon phase had never ended.

Joel’s voice cut through the moment, low and warm as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing your ear. “Let’s make a bet.”

You turned to him, your brows arching in curiosity. “I’m listening.”

He angled himself toward you, his grin widening just enough to make your heart do an annoying little flip. “Whoever’s right about when Tommy proposes gets to make the other person do whatever they want.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him, skeptical. “That’s not fair,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s your brother. He’s probably told you everything he’s planned.”

Joel raised a hand, his expression softening into something almost boyish. “Swear to God, he hasn’t said a thing. I got no clue when he’s gonna do it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for any hint of deception, but Joel just held your gaze steadily, his grin turning a little smug, like he knew you were about to give in.

“So?” he prompted, his voice a touch lower now, coaxing. “You in?”

You hesitated, glancing back at Maria and Tommy. The way they were leaning into each other, so completely at ease, made you think it had to be soon. And honestly, the thought of beating Joel at his own game was too tempting to pass up.

“Alright,” you said finally, turning back to him. “I’m in.”

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly as he settled into the space between you. “Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, roomie. I’ll go easy on you when I win.”

“You mean if you win,” you corrected, your voice sharp but playful.

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he raised his glass in a mock toast. “To fair play,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing.

You clinked your glass lightly against his, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. Whatever this was—this slow, teasing back-and-forth—it was addictive, pulling you in like a tide you didn’t want to fight.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

When you arrived back at the suite, the quiet hum of the evening enveloped the four of you. The buzz of laughter and conversation from dinner had given way to the heavy weight of exhaustion. Maria and Tommy murmured their goodnights as they veered off to their side of the suite, their soft laughter fading behind the sound of their door closing.

You and Joel walked to your side in silence, the tension between you as palpable as the warmth of the tropical night. You could feel his presence behind you, his steps slow and deliberate, and you swore you could feel his gaze burning into your back. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the cool tiles beneath your bare feet as you reached the bedroom door.

Inside, Joel moved toward the bed, dropping his phone onto his side with a casual thud before sprawling back against the pillows. His arm rested lazily above his head, the glow from his screen illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You grabbed your pajamas and headed toward the bathroom. The cool splash of water on your face was grounding as you scrubbed off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and slipped into something more comfortable. But even as you tried to settle your thoughts, you couldn’t shake the image of Joel, relaxed and at ease, sprawled out on the bed like he owned it.

When you emerged, Joel’s eyes flicked up from his phone immediately, locking on you like you’d just stepped into a spotlight. His gaze traveled over you briefly—too brief to feel invasive but long enough to send heat rushing up your neck.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended as you set your things on the dresser.

“Nothing,” he said easily, his lips curving into a faint smile as he stood, grabbing his own bundle of clothes. “Just didn’t realize bedtime was a fashion show.”

You shot him a glare, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Go brush your teeth, Joel.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Christ,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a long sip.

You settled into bed, plugging your phone into the charger and pulling the covers up to your chest. The clock on the nightstand blinked 11:03, and the suite was quiet except for the faint sound of the ocean outside.

Just as you were starting to relax, the bathroom door swung open, and Joel strolled back into the room like it was nothing—barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair was damp, his skin still warm and golden from the day, and he was entirely, maddeningly unbothered as he crossed to his side of the bed.

Without a word, he threw himself onto the mattress, the springs creaking slightly under his weight as he flopped down with an exaggerated sigh.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, your voice sharp as you stared at him.

“What?” he asked innocently, propping himself up on one elbow to meet your gaze. “I live here too, roomie.”

You gestured vaguely toward him, your eyebrows lifting. “Could you maybe warn someone before… doing that?”

Joel tilted his head, clearly biting back a grin. “Doin’ what?”

You waved your hand in his direction, exasperated. “Showing up half-naked like some—some—”

“Some what?” he interrupted, his voice low and teasing as his grin finally broke free. “Greek god? Movie star? Go on, I’m listenin’.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillows. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm as he turned his head to look at you, his grin teasing but his gaze soft. “And you,” he emphasized, his drawl stretching the words as though savoring them, “are too wound up.” He rested one arm behind his head, the picture of lazy confidence as he continued. “Good thing you’re on vacation, or you might just explode.”

You turned your head to glare at him, though the twitch of your lips betrayed you. “Gee, thanks, Joel.”

“Just statin’ facts,” he said easily, his smirk widening as he stretched out across the bed like he owned it. “Bet you’re one of those people who makes to-do lists for their time off.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I do not.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So you didn’t already plan out tomorrow?”

You hesitated, pressing your lips together, and Joel laughed, the sound rumbling and warm.

“Knew it,” he said, his voice laced with triumph. “C’mon, roomie, you’re supposed to be relaxin’. Let me guess—early morning hike? Sunrise yoga?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it higher up your chest. “For your information, I was thinking about hitting the beach. Maybe snorkeling. Normal vacation stuff.”

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before meeting your eyes again. “So, what time we headin’ out?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” Joel said, his voice casual but his grin edging toward mischievous. “You’re plannin’ it, right? Guess that makes me your plus one.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening slightly before you caught yourself. “You want to come with me?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his tone turning mock-serious. “You expect me to leave you unsupervised in Hawaii? What if you trip over a rock or somethin’?”

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “Fine. But only if you promise not to complain the whole time.”

“Me? Complain?” Joel said, his brows lifting in mock offense. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him, but before you could retort, his gaze shifted, softening as it settled on you.

“Serious question,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make your heart falter for a beat.

Your eyes snapped to his, the teasing grin on your face fading as your breath hitched slightly. “What?” you asked, wary of his tone.

Joel tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment before he said, deadpan, “Do you snore?”

Your heart stopped, then restarted with a kick of disbelief. “Joel.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his brow furrowing like this was some grand existential question. “I can’t do snorin’. It’s a dealbreaker.”

You glared at him, though the faint blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I do not snore.”

“Good,” Joel said, nodding like he was checking something off a list. “Because sometimes… pretty girls do weird things in their sleep.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp but your cheeks betraying you as they burned.

Joel grinned, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long as your blush deepened. “Just sayin’,” he added with a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying himself.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your chest, but before you could respond, Joel’s expression shifted again—his grin fading into something gentler, more serious.

“Also,” he began, his voice quieter now, “if you want, I can, uh, sleep outside. On the couch.” He gestured vaguely toward the suite’s living area, his tone so casual it almost masked the sincerity in his words. “It’s no big deal. I know you weren’t expectin’ this whole… shared bed thing.”

The offer caught you off guard, the sweetness of it pulling you up short. Joel—so cheeky, so infuriatingly confident—was looking at you now with an openness that you hadn’t expected.

You breathed in slowly, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his. “No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Joel raised a brow, his lips curving faintly. “You sure?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed.”

His grin widened, that playful spark returning to his eyes. “Good,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Because, truth is, I really didn’t wanna sleep on the couch. It looked lumpy.”

You laughed softly, your chest loosening as the tension faded. “Wow, such a gentleman.”

Joel leaned back against the pillows, his grin turning smug but somehow still boyish. “Told you. I’m full of surprises.”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh escaping you, though the warmth in your chest betrayed your amusement. Settling back onto your side of the bed, you pulled the blanket up to your shoulders, the faint scent of clean linen and something distinctly Joel filling the air.

The room was quiet now, the low hum of the ocean outside mingling with the soft creaks of the suite as it settled around you. Despite the space between you, the warmth of Joel’s presence lingered, stretching into the silence like something unspoken but understood.

“Night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and a little shy as you closed your eyes.

There was a pause—a small, almost imperceptible beat—and then his voice came, low and warm, carrying the faintest trace of a smile. “Night, roomie’.”

CHAPTER 2 IS OUT HERE

[gilbertscurls]

Pillow Wall ➵ Chris Sturniolo

inspired by

The night had been a blur of whispered conversations, laughter, and movie marathons. You and Chris had always been close, but this—this was new. The boundary between your friendship and something more had been blurring for a while now, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it.

You sat on Chris' bed, surrounded by an avalanche of blankets and pillows. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes darting over to Chris, who was scrolling through Netflix absentmindedly. You were doing your best to ignore the awkward tension that had settled between you the moment you realized the night had gotten late—too late for you to drive home.

“Guess we’re stuck with the classic 'two friends sharing a bed' dilemma,” Chris joked, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. He tossed the remote aside, letting it land somewhere among the chaos of pillows.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to cross any lines, huh?”

Chris smirked, grabbing one of the pillows and dropping it in the middle of the bed. “Easy solution. We build a wall.”

“A pillow wall?” You raised a brow, but the idea made you grin.

“Exactly,” Chris said, already arranging more pillows between you. “That way, no accidental cuddling or whatever.”

“Ah, yes. Brilliant plan,” you teased, adding a few more pillows to the barrier. The wall grew higher, and when it was done, it was a comically lopsided fortress between you.

“Perfect,” Chris declared, lying back on his side of the bed. “Now we’re safe.”

“Totally safe,” you echoed, lying back as well. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence comfortable, but the awareness of each other’s presence just on the other side of the pillow wall was impossible to ignore.

You both tried your best to sleep, but every time you shifted, you could hear Chris doing the same. It was ridiculous, really, how much space you had in the bed, and yet it still felt impossibly small.

Minutes turned into hours, and at some point, your eyes fluttered shut. You fell into a restless sleep, your thoughts still lingering on Chris—how close you were, how easy it would be to reach across the pillows.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth. More specifically, Chris' warmth. The pillow wall, once so carefully constructed, was now half-destroyed, some pillows having fallen to the floor during the night. And somehow, you had both ended up tangled in each other.

Chris’ arm was draped across your waist, and your head rested against his chest. You blinked, your mind slowly registering the fact that you had both gravitated toward each other in your sleep, despite the supposed “barrier.”

For a second, you thought about pulling away, about untangling yourself before Chris woke up. But something stopped you. Lying there, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of him, felt too right.

Just as you were debating what to do, Chris stirred, his grip on you tightening slightly as he woke. He froze for a moment, clearly realizing what had happened, and then he groaned softly, half-amused, half-embarrassed.

“So much for the pillow wall,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, your face still pressed against his chest. “Yeah, it didn’t work out too well, huh?”

He chuckled softly, but neither of you moved. The awkwardness from the night before had disappeared, replaced by something softer—something neither of you had the words for yet.

“You comfortable?” he asked after a moment, his voice gentler than you were used to hearing from him.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” he said, his breath warm against the top of your head. “I’m good.”

You lay there in silence for a little while longer, neither of you feeling the need to break away. Maybe you’d talk about it later—what this meant, what it might turn into—but for now, you were content just being close, pillow wall forgotten.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

[rorysburrow]

NYE

Pairings ➼ Joe Burrow x Reader

Summary ➼ New Years Eve in the burrow household.

Word Count ➼ 1,201

Warnings ➼ None just pure fluff once again

A/N ➼ Hey guys I hope you have been enjoying my writing. My requests are open you can submit them in my bio where it says lets chat!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

New Year's Eve in the Burrow household was nothing like the glitz and glam of red carpets or flashy celebrations. No, tonight was about something entirely different—a low-key, laugh-out-loud evening spent with Joe Burrow, where the only competition was between who could make the other laugh hardest.

It had been a long year for Joe—full of victories, hard work, and the intensity of a football season that demanded everything from him. But now, here he was, relaxing in the living room, wearing an old college t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, as comfortable as you’d ever seen him. The lights in the house were dimmed, save for the soft glow of string lights and the flickering of a TV in the corner where the countdown show was already running.

The clock was ticking toward midnight, but for the moment, Joe was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the coffee table, a stack of board games in front of him. The pile ranged from classic Monopoly to something a little less conventional—a trivia game that you had picked up on a whim.

Joe flashed you a mischievous grin as he picked up a card from the trivia game. “Alright,” he said, holding the card between two fingers, “this one’s easy. What’s the capital of Australia?”

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing a trap. “Canberra,” you said, smiling confidently.

Joe shook his head dramatically, as if you’d just made the biggest mistake of your life. “Wrong!” he said, holding the card up. “It’s Sydney!”

You leaned forward, crossing your arms. “Joe, are you serious? Everyone knows it’s Canberra.”

He just winked at you. “Okay, okay. You’re right. But I had to test you.”

You laughed, throwing a pillow at him. “I’m pretty sure the trivia game isn’t supposed to be about tricking your opponent.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he replied, giving you a playful nudge. “The best games are the ones that have the most twists.”

As you both laughed, the excitement in the room started to build. The countdown show had begun in earnest, and the anticipation was growing. You kept your eyes on the screen, where the cameras were showing people all over the world celebrating, the energy contagious even from the comfort of your couch.

Joe, still trying to act like he wasn’t keeping track of the time, grabbed another card from the trivia game. “Okay, one more. This one’s a good one. Who’s considered the father of modern physics?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Einstein. Easy.”

Joe held the card up to his face and squinted at it. “Hmm, I don’t know. Are you sure?”

You shot him a look. “Joe, I’m very sure.”

He smirked. “Okay, I’m just messing with you. You’re right. But now I’ve learned something important.”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“That you’re unbeatable,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied look. “And now I’m gonna have to find a way to win at something tonight.”

You chuckled, enjoying the easygoing nature of the night. It wasn’t about the trivia game or the board games—it was about the moments, the playful teasing, the way time seemed to slow down when you were with him. The fire crackled in the background, sending a gentle warmth through the room as you both gathered around for the final stretch of the evening.

With the clock ticking closer to midnight, you both took a break from the games and leaned back on the couch, your feet tangled under a blanket. Joe reached for the bottle of champagne sitting on the coffee table, popping the cork with a flourish.

“You ready for this?” he asked, holding the bottle out toward you.

“Definitely,” you replied with a grin. “It’s a Burrow tradition, right?”

He nodded. “Exactly. A tradition of fun, friends, and good times.”

The bubbles fizzed as he poured two glasses, the sound of the champagne flowing adding to the atmosphere of the night. The TV countdown flashed 10... 9... 8..., and Joe turned toward you with a mischievous smile.

“Alright,” he said, raising his glass. “Before the clock strikes midnight, I’ve got one more challenge for you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Another trivia question?”

Joe shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. “Nope. A challenge of the heart.”

You were curious now. “A challenge of the heart?”

He took a sip of his champagne and leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “I want you to make a New Year’s wish. Something real, something you really want for this year. But no wishing for the obvious. No wishing for world peace or to win the lottery. I’m talking about something personal. Something just for you.”

You met his gaze, a bit surprised by the depth of his request. It was rare for Joe to get serious, but when he did, it always carried weight. He was always thinking about the future, but in this moment, he was asking you to think about something even more important: what you truly wanted for the coming year.

You thought for a moment, then smiled and lifted your glass to his. “Alright. My wish is for more moments like this. More laughter, more silly games, and more quiet nights with the people I care about. Because this... this is what makes life good.”

Joe smiled back, his eyes warm and filled with affection. “That’s a good one,” he said softly. “I’ll drink to that.”

As the clock hit 3... 2... 1, you both shouted, “Happy New Year!” in unison, clinking your glasses together just as fireworks lit up the sky outside. The celebration was happening all around you, but in this quiet little corner of the world, it was just you and Joe, laughing together and making memories.

The fireworks outside reflected off the windows, casting colorful light across the room. Joe looked at you, his face lit up with that easy smile you loved. “Okay, now we’ve got a whole year ahead of us. What’s next?”

You nudged him, playfully. “I think we still have some board games to finish. But you better bring your A-game. I’m not going easy on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I think we both know I’m going to crush you in Monopoly.”

“Oh, no chance,” you said, sitting up a little straighter. “You’ve been warned.”

The playful banter continued long into the night, with the two of you casually debating the best way to play the games, each of you trying to find new ways to outwit the other. As the hours passed and the New Year’s festivities continued outside, you both kept the vibe light and fun, basking in the comfort of being together.

Eventually, as the first hours of the new year slipped away, you both collapsed onto the couch, tired but content, your hearts full of the kind of warmth that only comes from spending a night with someone who knows exactly how to make every moment feel like magic.

And as you both drifted off to sleep, with the quiet hum of the world outside, you knew that this was exactly the way you wanted to start the year—full of laughter, love, and the feeling that the best moments were still ahead.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 4 — Christmas Decorations

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 600

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, mild Smut — mild explicit content, light spanking.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

Snow fell gently outside, creating a serene winter wonderland. The outside world embraced the quiet of the night, while inside, your shared home with Bucky was a scene of Christmas chaos filled with smiles and laughter.

After proudly setting up your freshly cut Christmas tree in your living room, you and Bucky embarked on a mission to decorate it with festive magic, creating remarkable and funny memories along the way.

While you were debating the color scheme for this year’s ornaments, your Super Soldier was in an intense wrestling match with the fairy lights.

“So I’m thinking red and green this year, babe. Keep it classic, you know,” you suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds great, doll. Can you… uh… help me, please?” He sounded from the other side of the tree.

Amused, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of Bucky tangled up in the lights, resembling your very own Christmas tree.

“I’m not even gonna ask how,” you chuckled while Bucky scowled.

Before helping him untangle, you snapped a quick pic on your phone.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” He questioned with a sigh.

“Never.”

With determined laughter, the two of you freed him from the lights, bringing order to the Christmas chaos. Together, you got all the lights untangled and wrapped around the tree where it belonged.

As the twinkling lights adorned the tree, you went to work strategically placing red and green spheres, spacing them evenly, along with personal ornaments and unique details.

“And the last piece.” Bucky held the shiny star in his hands. “Will you do the honor, doll?”

Cradling the delicate star, it glittered with memories of past Christmases with your loved one.

As you stood on a chair with Bucky’s steadying hands on your hips, you situated the star on the tree’s crown, completing it. The room seemed to hold its breath, acknowledging the significance of the moment.

“It’s perfect,” you declared, and Bucky, wrapping his arms around you, whispered, “It was already perfect to begin with because you’re here, doll.”

Turning in his arms, a tender smile on your lips, you reached up to cup his cheeks. Bucky closed the distance with a soft, lingering kiss.

Breaking the kiss with a smile, Bucky’s eyes reflected the glow of the lights. “I think that added another perfect touch to this place,” he murmured, melting you inside out. His fingers traced a gentle patch along your cheek.

“You need to stop wooing me, mister, or else we’ll never finish decorating this house,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away.

After stealing another searing kiss, a taste and promise of what’s to come later, you continued decorating your home with gusto—bells, reindeer, candles, candy canes, garlands, wreaths, stockings, and figurines. Amidst the decorating, there were sweet kisses and soft touches stolen.

As you positioned the standing Mr. and Mrs. Claus in the foyer, Bucky couldn’t resist a playful swat on your ass. “This house isn’t the only thing getting decorated tonight,” he teased with a wink, lightly tapping your ass again.

Giving him a playful glare, you smirked. “Behave, Santa,” you purred, bumping him away with your hip.

By the time you finished, the house was a festive haven. Collapsing on the couch, surrounded by the warm glow of the tree, you cuddled into Bucky with a content sigh, savoring the afterglow of your decorating adventure.

“This is our masterpiece,” you declared, snuggling further into him.

“This is perfect, doll,” Bucky murmured against your skin, kissing your temple.

“And now,” Bucky laid you down, getting on top, “onto another type of decorating,” he groaned before showering you with hungry and determined kisses.

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[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

a stunning revelation only drives you and ruben closer.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 6212 | 7/8

You shook off your surprise after a beat to give her a hug.

“I had to come and see you at some point.” She squeezed your shoulders. “You haven’t been back in months.”

It was difficult to not feel a bit guilty. Prior to moving to Manchester and because your office wasn’t even half an hour away from your home, you’d frequently go back to visit her. Even though things had been going pretty much nonstop in your new city, you could’ve at least made a weekend trip to drop by.

“I’m sorry, I know Jason must be driving you crazy with his antics.” You tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“Maluco…he misses you too.” Her head shook.

You wheeled the bag she’d brought along with her inside and told her to make herself comfortable. The way your blood was rushing and your heartbeat was pounding felt like you were in danger of passing out.

Your only option was to let her in. What else could you do? Be vague about the situation and tell her to come back later because you had some male company over? Judging by the looks of her, she was fresh from the airport. Also important to note was that your mom definitely expected to stay with you during however long her visit was, so she didn’t have a hotel reservation lined up either.

What would you do about Ruben? Your eyes darted to your phone on the coffee table. If you could distract her for a while, maybe you could successfully sneak him out of here without her noticing. It wouldn’t be the first time you and him had to complete such a mission.

“I’ll put on some of that tea you like.” You swiped the device and took it with you to the kitchen.

Luckily, due to your inability to have dishes lingering around, the two plates and glasses you’d used for dinner had already been thrown into the dishwasher. His shoes were also tucked into the cabinet by your doorway. What other evidence of him…

You bit down on a gasp, eyes widening to turn back to your living room. Where the fuck was his shirt? It wasn’t on the sofa where your mom was sitting as far as you could see. Though it could be tangled in the blanket at the other end. You said a silent prayer that she didn’t get too chilly and worked on brewing her tea even faster to prevent that.

In the meantime, you cracked open your phone to see that Ruben had already sent you a message.

Is that your mom…?

Yes 😭

You jumped at the sound of a faint notification pin. With a deep breath, you steeled your nerves as much as possible. If anything, she’d probably assume it was your device going off and not think anything was awry.

We’re gonna have to whip out Project Switcharoo. You remember it?

Of course, I invented it.

Despite the absolute absurdity of the situation, you managed to crack a smile. Ruben was always a respectful and upstanding person. When two teenagers were in love, though, it was hard to accept things like not having boys in your room after dark.

He came up with a plan that was like the classic method of pickpocketing - a bait and switch scenario. For tonight’s occasion, it would look something like this. While she was occupied, he would sneak his way up to your guest bathroom to clear out the bedroom. You’d then take her to your room to show her around, pulling her to the window where the doorway wasn’t visible and allowing him to swiftly make a break for it.

Don’t forget to fix the bed.

Got it. What about my shirt?

You might have to steal one of my hoodies.

The kettle whistled, starting the timer on your mission. Once the tea was fixed and he saw you cross over from the kitchen to the living room, he’d start making his way to phase one. You did up her cup just the way she liked it, took another steadying breath and made your way over.

“You usually hate taking night flights, why didn’t you come earlier?” Your hands shook slightly as you handed her the beverage.

She took a slow sip of her tea, gaze not meeting yours. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Having lived with your mom for most of your life, you could automatically tell when something was off.

From you saw her at the door and she didn’t greet you half as excitedly as she did on phone calls, you felt it. You tried to battle that notion by rationalizing that you were being extra paranoid because she’d shown up during literally the last moment you’d want her to. It was impossible to ignore now, especially given how long she was taking to answer your question.

“Is everything okay?” You could feel your throat swelling.

“That’s what I came to ask you.” She finally spoke.

Your mom sighed and rested the cup of tea onto the side table. She reached into her purse to pull out her phone. This wasn’t an impromptu drop by driven by your extended absence after all. You knew what it was - an intervention.

Her screen lit up your view as she slid the device onto your lap. There was a screenshot of an Instagram post and in it was a photo of you and Ruben. It was taken on the night of the Nike launch party. You flipped to the next image in her folder. Someone with crazy zoom had caught you two walking towards his car at City’s training grounds.

There were no words. Your mind first went to the conversation Ruben and you had earlier about how much media attention he got, the fact that there was already news out there concerning you two. It was unnerving to actually be staring at the proof of that.

Then came the guilt. The last thing you wanted was for her to find out through the grapevine that you were back together with him. Whether she’d come across it by chance, was sent the post or actively went looking for it didn’t matter. You should’ve been the one to break the news.

And lastly, fear. Her flying out here as soon as she found out meant that she was absolutely not pleased and potentially worried about the state of your mental health. She couldn’t be blamed for that. Any mother that saw their daughter go through what you did after the breakup would have the same reaction to seeing you with the man that put you there.

“Ruben and I are dating again.” You admitted. “We talked it over and decided to give things a chance.”

Your mom scoffed. “See, this is why I had to come. Do you hear yourself? You’re, what, dating him? After everything he put you through?”

Although you anticipated her being upset, you didn’t expect the backlash to be this severe. It honestly took you by surprise. You gave her back her phone and stood, needing some distance from the anger she was radiating.

“I don’t expect you to be happy about it. All I ask is that you trust me and my decision, and not belittle either.” Your voice was even despite everything you felt.

She spoke to you as if you were some thoughtless, naive child. God knows you didn’t just take him back without considering every outcome, especially the worse case scenario. If shit went badly between you two again, you were ready to take accountability.

“I do trust you.” Her tone was less combative. “But do I trust your decision? I can’t…you’ve never been able to think straight when it came to that boy.”

It felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You didn’t think it was unreasonable of you to ask for her not to act as if you were being trivial. The fact that she was speaking to you like you were still the same person that you were seven years ago was hurtful, and quite frankly, insulting.

“My mind is as clear as it’s ever been.” You sighed, growing resigned with this conversation.

She wasn’t though, “No, it isn’t. If you had any common sense left, you wouldn’t be caught dead with him!”

“Mom-“ Your gasp was cut short.

With the unexpected, heated exchange, you’d forgotten all about Ruben still being in the apartment. That was until he made his was out of hiding, clearly having overheard it all. Thankfully he had found your pile of oversized hoodies to cover up. You didn’t know how many more insults you could take tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Ruben made his presence known. “We - I should’ve reached out to you first.”

Your mom spun slowly to look at him. It was a searing, scrutinizing leer that even had you shivering. You’d never seen her take in anyone that way. To his credit, he didn’t cower beneath her glare. He looked like he was ready to accept whatever vitriol she had for him.

“This is exactly what I mean.” She laughed ruefully, pointing between you two.

You were about to tell her to stop when he shook his head.

“Was this your plan all along?” Her question was directed at him. “Were you lying when you promised me you’d-“

Ruben’s eyes were wide with shock and…something you couldn’t quite place. It appeared to be worry, but not for himself. The way she stopped short of her barrage didn’t sit well with you either.

You watched as they seemed to have some nonverbal exchange. At that point, it became obvious that something had happened between them. Something you didn’t know about. Did she confront him after the break up? What promise was she talking about?

“What’s going on?” You asked Ruben directly.

He became a man that was visibly torn, eyes darting between yours and your mom’s. The decision of whether or not he should say anything weighed heavy on his conscience.

You turned to her instead, “Mom, what are you talking about?”

Instead of being met with all the fire you faced before, she bore a similar downcast demeanor as him. Her head hung as she placed her hands to her waist. It was a telltale sign that whatever you were about to find out wasn’t going to look good on her part.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Ruben made his way to leave. “When you’re ready, call me.”

Your head was spinning with how much had happened in such a short period of time. How did your night go from tickle fights, to cooking up an escape plan and now to being on the verge of hearing about a conversation kept hidden from you for nearly a decade?

She sat back down on the sofa, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Instead, you found yourself pacing back and forth while your mom quietly worked through whatever was eating away at her.

“Please just…tell me.” You couldn’t stomach the silence anymore.

Her voice was barely audible as she finally confessed, “The reason Ruben broke up with you is because I asked him to.”

september 15th 2017

Ruben

He was brimming with excitement. All of the sacrifices he’d made, every second of commitment, it was all coming into fruition. His coach told him after practice that he was going to debut for the first team during the match tomorrow.

The first person he wanted to tell was you. You’d been by his side since the literal beginning, when his dream of becoming a footballer was just that - a fantasy. Having you in his life made a journey that broke so many others more than tolerable. He trained and played with your support always at the forefront of his mind.

Ruben bounded his way up the steps to your place and stopped short. Your mom stood with her back facing him, a trail of smoke floating into the air. That was new. Or maybe it was an old habit she indulged in from time to time. When she became aware of being there, the cigarette landed under her shoe.

“I’ve been caught,” Her teeth flashed. “Don’t tell Y/N.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” His fingers zipped across his lips.

She nodded in appreciation. There was clearly something on her mind. He knew that life hadn’t been the easiest for her or you and couldn’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been sometimes. That was why he made himself available to help out as much as he could’ve, if only to lessen the burdens a bit.

“Does she ever talk about her father?” The question she asked confirmed his suspicion.

You never brought him up, in fact. Given that, he didn’t feel as if it was his place to pry. Ruben had heard through the grapevine of neighborhood gossips about his absence and how you didn’t even know who he was.

“She doesn’t.” He replied.

Your mom looked up at the sky, “That’s understandable. You see…”

Ruben found himself listening to the missing pieces that not even you knew. She told him about how they’d met when she was sixteen and that she immediately fell for him - a young, budding football star.

It wasn’t because she was getting attention from someone so coveted, but because he actually saw her the way she’d always craved to be seen. So when he moved to a new team in another country to further pursue his career, she followed along.

She left everything behind. Her family, friends and education. Her dream became seeing his come true. When it did, they were both in the happiest stage of their relationship. And then at nineteen, she found out that she was pregnant with you.

The life she wanted was all coming into place. She thought the next step would be welcoming their baby, getting married and maybe having a few more to fill up their home. What she got instead was abandonment. He didn’t want any of that, or you.

Her parents had warned her that it would happen, but she casted their concerns aside as unfair judgment on his part. They didn’t see her like he did. Moving back in with them after what had happened wasn’t possible given the way they’d left things.

“I see so much of myself in her.” Your mom smiled. “She looks at you the same way I used to look at her dad.” Ruben understood why she was telling him all of this. It was obvious that she was scared you were following the same path and would end up in the same predicament. He didn’t take any offense to her perhaps believing that he was capable of doing the same thing.

“I love her, a lot.” His cheeks rose quickly. “More than I ever knew was possible.”

When he used to think about love, he always tried to rationalize it - to make it make sense. It was only after he realized that he felt that towards you that he came to know the emotion was something that couldn’t be explained. Even saying those words didn’t feel like enough to encompass the spectrum of moments that all combined to make him experience what could only be verbally express in such a limited capacity.

“That’s good because it means you’ll do anything for her.” She nodded.

“Yeah, I would.” He breathed. See, where was the rationale behind something like that?

“I need you to break up with her. She’s too dependent on you and it’ll ruin her in the long run.”

If words could render him speechless and knock him off his feet, those were the ones that would be able to do so. He couldn’t quite believe that was what she said at first. His mind instantly went into denial mode, because surely she was joking. When he stared back at unflinching eyes, he knew that she was being dead serious.

“I…can’t do that, respectfully.” Ruben shook his head.

You might see him in a light that sometimes is admittedly pressuring, making him wonder if he could live up to be that man you painted him out to be in your mind. That didn’t worry him though. If anything, he wanted to keep trying to prove to himself, and you, that he could be.

Beside that, you were strong in your own right. He’d never met anyone who took advantage of every little opportunity they received and made the most out of them. Even in your darkest moments, he saw the determination in you to not want to quit. You inspired him.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch her destroy herself like I did. You’re the only one who can prevent that.” He saw that same persistence in the gaze he got. “The choice is yours. Will it be you or me?”

Ruben thought he understood what this conversation was about in the beginning, but he’d read it all wrong. He only now grasped that she was giving him an ultimatum of sorts. One where there was no real decision for him to make, it was a catch 22.

If he didn’t break up with you, then your mom would abandon you just like your father did to you both. He would have to live with knowing that he was the reason why you had no blood ties left in your life, a notion that was breaking him even in hypotheticals.

Since he quickly realized that he had no choice, he began to reframe it in a way that didn’t hurt as much. The only loser in this situation would be him. You’d be hurt at first, maybe devastated, but you’d have people around you to help you through it. He would just have to figure out a way to deal with his own pain, perhaps starting with taking solace in knowing that he didn’t rob you of your only family.

“Promise me you’ll do the right thing.” Your mom looked back at him as she approached the door.

She lingered there until the words begrudgingly left his lips, “I promise.”

o presente

Everything burned.

Your eyes and nose, your heart itself. Sure, you’d experienced heartbreak before but it was child’s play compared to what was wreaking havoc in your soul - betrayal. Never in a million years did you ever expect the reason behind your breakup to be your own mother.

The person sitting in front of you crying tears of her own was a foreign entity. You failed to recognize the woman that baked you cakes, taught you dance routines and held you at your lowest.

How could she do that to you? Did she think that forcing Ruben to do something so cruel was the way to express the deep love she supposedly had for you? Or was it some fucked up trauma response to the past she never dealt with?

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Your mom sniffed. “I regret all the pain I caused because of that night.”

What you were going through now felt a thousand, a million times worse than then. There was no denial to turn to for even a second of hope. This ugly, soul crushing truth bared its jagged teeth and was ripping away your flesh.

“It shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back.” She continued. “All I could’ve done was to be there for you to help you through it, praying that you came out stronger and you did.”

“Are you serious? How could you even think that was right?” You sobbed.

It was all loud and clear to you. She regretted putting you through hell, but she didn’t regret actually doing it. Despite watching you break down for weeks, she still believed that what she made him do somehow helped you. She wasn’t sorry that she did it, she was sorry that she got caught - that you finally found out the truth.

“I-“ You bit your lip to suppress another snivel. “I need some space. You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow.”

The most messed up part was that saying those words hurt you even more. Even though she was the one who put you both in this situation, you felt like the bad guy for asserting a rightful boundary. Those blissful memories you had of her hadn’t suddenly evaporated into nothing.

You took your phone and keys, and left her in your apartment. An aching uncertainty hung over your head. You were unsure how long you’d need before you could even look at her again without feeling such overwhelming disappointment.

Aki’s blanket slipped from her head as soon as she took in the state of you stood in her doorway. It had to be deja vu all over for her again, how many times have you done this? Why was life continuously throwing blow after blow at your gut?

“Do you have any whiskey?” Your inquiry sprang her into action.

She shuffled over to the kitchen and brought out one of her biggest bottles along with two glasses. You didn’t have the stomach anymore for straight liquor, but you’d needed it to calm the raging sea of emotions.

Her eyes were wiped clean of any traces of slumber once she joined you on the sofa. You immediately poured two fingers and threw it back. And then doubled that.

“Woah, let’s…get to the part where you tell me what brought this on before you black out.” Aki pulled the bottle towards her.

“Seven years ago, my mother made Ruben promise he’d break up with me.” You laughed humorlessly.

It was weird watching her expression go through several shifts within the span of a few seconds. That must’ve been what you looked like from the other perspective too once you found out.

She topped up and threw back her own glass before asking you to shed light on that very stupefying statement. You filled her in starting from the pretext. All about your mom’s past and what your dad did to her.

How she told Ruben all of this on the night prior to issuing him a task so abhorrent that you still were coming to grips with fathoming it. Aki appeared to be just as woeful as you were upon the discovery.

Similar to this wound being repeatedly ripped open for you, it was for her. Your mother was like a her second one. So many days and nights were filled with the three of you laughing, dancing and crying together. She spent so much time lamenting Ruben, more than you by far, for what he’d done. And just as you were now, she felt guilty for it.

“I feel like I’ve brought so much chaos into your life and I’m sorry for it all.” You sipped the alcohol slower this time.

“Don’t do that.” Aki objected. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry that she did this to you, Y/N. God, I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

She pulled you in. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Tears flowed hot and fresh, especially when you felt her own sobs racking through her body. You patted her back, lips trembling as you fought the urge to apologize again.

There was nothing to say. You were all victims of one person’s action born of insecurity. It fucking sucked, but there wasn’t much either of you could do about it now. All that was left was for you to be there for one another, to work through the pile of shit you’d been handed until you could see the ground again.

When you woke up the following day, you found that your request had been met. Your apartment was free and clear as you learned via text. Boarding my flight back. Again, I’m sorry Y/N.

You weren’t in the mood to unpack all of that again right now. The first thing you did was change into some workout clothes to head to the gym for a run. While the activity didn’t entirely clear your mind, your focus did find itself pulled more in the direction of your burning muscles than your stormy mind.

After you showered, you threw a bagel in the toaster and hopped into the shower. You forced yourself to munch on that in between massive gulps of water. The whiskey was fighting back and paired with the emotional exhaustion you felt, it was best to take the day off.

Aki and Cindy told you not to worry about work, they’d hold down the fort. You were more grateful towards them now than you’d ever been. Just don’t drink the last of my favorite coffee pods, you warned in the group chat.

You reclined onto your sofa and put on a random mix of recommended YouTube videos. No media would provide the distraction you truly needed, but it was nice to have some background noise. The cushion under your head wasn’t laying the way you wanted to, so you adjusted and felt the obstruction.

It was Ruben’s shirt. The one you had on was replaced with his before you curled up. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder what this meant now for you and him. Of course, you still wanted to be with Ruben. How did it impact him though?

He must’ve been back in that same headspace he was in when they had that exchange. Was he wondering whether or not she had issued the same choice to you after he left? Even though she didn’t and you were holding off on communicating with her for a while, you didn’t want him to think that you were giving up on a relationship with your mom because of him.

You weren’t completely shutting her out of your life, but at the current moment, you just couldn’t see how you would ever trust her again. The relationship you had with her would never be the same, and fault solely rested on her part.

You couldn’t imagine how awful this whole thing must’ve been for him. He sacrificed being with you and the way others looked at him. Even when he gave you the supposed reason he’d broken up with you, he still protected her. You wanted to be so angry at him for doing that, but it was no fairer than the order he’d received from your mom.

Ruben had never changed. He remained the person you knew that put the wellbeing of those he loved often above his own, the person who shielded them from pain - even if it meant inflicting some and becoming the one they hated. It was all so unfair to him and you refused to spend a second longer without letting him know that.

“Can I come over?” You asked after he picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough.

As soon as you crossed his threshold, you launched yourself at him and hugged him tight. He was stunned at first, but your embrace was returned with the same magnitude. You buried your face deep into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone was muted.

“Don’t apologize.” Ruben stroked your hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I-“

You shushed him. His response was expected, you knew that he was going to tell you not to apologize and that it wasn’t your fault but his. There was nothing he could’ve done about the situation, you didn’t blame him.

“I’m saying that because you deserve to hear it.” You looked into his eyes. “No one should have to be put through that and carry the burden of it for so long.”

Ruben didn’t fight you on that because you both know that you were right. He placed his chin on top of your head again and held you for a moment longer before he pulled you to sit down with him.

“So, you know everything?” His index finger drew circles on your knee.

You nodded, “I do.”

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Ruben left the door open.

A lot had actually crossed your mind while you were left reeling from the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the answers to the things you needed to hear most. There was one thing though.

“What changed?” You bit your lip. “Why did you try to get me back now and not before then?”

The message he’d sent you asking if your number was still the same could’ve came a year, or two, maybe even three ago. You were curious as to what made him want to throw caution to the wind after all this time.

“I tried holding on to the promise I’d made…even when it felt like I was suffocating. It was easy, sometimes, because I justified going along with it through telling myself that I’d chosen the lesser of two evils.” Ruben expressed. “When I moved here, the distance made things somewhat bearable - knowing that there was no chance I’d run into you.”

“Until you nearly did.” A grin flashed across your face as you recalled that rainy evening.

“It all came flooding back to me then.” He smiled too. “Everything that you were to me, everything that you were supposed to be. I felt like I would go mad if I kept ignoring what you meant and still mean to me. I had to at least try.”

If this was a movie, you’d think fate was behind your reunion. Even in reality that was kind of hard to deny. What were the chances that he would see you randomly on the street, or be a part of your first project in some way? Whatever was in charge pulling the strings behind the scenes was more determined than either of you to bring you both here today.

“I’ve got to say, that was a massive gamble on your part.” You cupped his cheek.

Timing was everything. When you thought about it, had he reached out to you via message prior to you seeing him in person, you didn’t think you’d receive it well. The cards had to be played very specifically for you to end up at this moment.

“Not to me. I told you, I loved you then and I never stopped.” Ruben stroked your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

After everything that you’d been through together, hearing him say those words impacted you on a completely different level. They’d always meant so much, but now they contained it all - the entirety of your shared history. Him choosing you from the very first day you’d met, doing the same even when it meant breaking your heart and again as he fought to get you back.

Your brows met, eyes welling as you told him, “I love you too.”

The way he kissed you struck in a whole new way as well. It was adoration unobstructed and unrestrained. His lips moving over and between yours exhibited just how free he felt with the burden of a long kept secret no longer weighing him down.

Every touch was completed with the utmost undertaking. Ruben’s hand splayed over your thighs and stomach, flattening, digging into your skin. Desperate not to miss a single inch. He removed his shirt from your frame and lied you down.

You willed your heavy eyes to stay focused on him, your fingers disappearing into his thick hair. So beautiful, he kissed your navel. So perfect, his teeth grazed your hip bone. All mine, hips lips closed around the skin of your inner thigh.

What came next left the task of keeping him in your sights impossible. Your hand pressed into the cushion, back arching as you writhed beneath his skillful mouth that claimed your cunt. He held you sturdily, one hand caressing your lower back and the other pressing down on your abdomen.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone for him. He knew every direction and angle to take with his tongue to leave you drifting away. Like the anchor he was, Ruben didn’t let you float off too far.

His body molded to yours, heat becoming your own. You always found yourself wanting him endlessly, but that compulsion was stronger than ever. Still, you forced that hunger to subside for as long as possible to indulge in all that he was.

You traced his brow with your thumb and let your finger trail down until it met his lips. The curve of them were reverently memorized to the point where you were certain that you could recreate their image in clay with uncanny accuracy.

Ruben slid a hand between your legs to make your mouth fall open with a moan. It was what he wanted, to have your tongue accessible to his. They moved in tandem that built with intensity the more you shook and whined under his digits circling your clit.

His forehead pressed to yours as he looked down the narrow gap between your bodies. You followed suit and swallowed deeply at the sight. He had you glistening, swollen with readiness while his cock twitched achingly.

When he moved to touch it, your wrist caught him. Let me, you breathed. Your fingers wrapped around his thick, firm shaft and tugged upwards. His drawn out groan floated into your mouth, a slight hiss sucking it back as you swiped your thumb over the opening in his sensitive tip.

You were losing against yourself again. Just as you could no longer force your eyes to remain open, you could no longer hold back the need to have him inside you. Your hips angled, legs spreading even wider for his body to rest flush against yours.

As soon as you’d lined him up with your entrance, his hips pressed forward. You curled one arm around his shoulder and cupped the back of his head with the next. No adjustment was necessary, you ground into him eagerly . A call that was instantly answered.

Ruben thrusted into you deep, testing his limits. When he found that there was none - your legs locking around his waist, eyes rolling back and neck baring itself to him - he withdrew until almost completely out of you and did it again. And again. And again.

Don’t stop.

You like that?

Yes, please, more…

He gave it to you just as you wished. Long, hard, unrelenting strokes that breached your cervix. Tides were moving in quickly, threatening to whisk you away for a blinding moment. You were determined to take as much as you could before they could do so.

Your legs dropped, feet digging into the sofa. You used them for momentum to bring your hips to meet his drives, cunt consuming his cock in its entirety. The point you craved to reached had finally been met - where the pleasure was so overbearing that your mind began playing tricks on you to make you believe it was a fantasy.

But you knew it was real. Even as you succumbed to the waves that dragged you under, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. The cries that ripped their way from your throat and his praises told you so. Ruben’s face buried deep into your neck and his cock twitching as it filled you let you know that you’d climbed that impossible mountain.

In the stillness that followed, you begged him to stay. Your foot ran down the back of his muscled calf and your hands massaged his back while he caged you in his strong arms. For once, there were no afterthoughts.

You didn’t catch your mind wandering off to unknowns and what ifs. A sense of peace shrouded you just like his body was. Whatever tomorrow or the distant future brought no longer filled you with worry or fear. No matter what came along, you were at ease.

All you focused on was what was going on right now. Ruben’s chest rising and falling at a steady pace that matched your own, his hips still joined to yours, the feeling of his lips forming a smile against your cheek.

That was everything you needed.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 8.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: More banter and slight angst! Jayce speaks French, and we are about to even out with AO3 which means I will post chapter 10 in two days :)

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A week had passed since their trip to the Undercity, though the memory of their near-moment lingered like a stubborn ember refusing to die out. Viktor had kept his distance, returning to his meticulous work, while Renly buried herself in testing the formula. She really wanted to make it before the gala on upcoming weekend. The tension between them was not sharp or angry but... unresolved. Words left unsaid.

Now, as she stood at the threshold of his workspace, cradling the first viable test sample in her hands, that tension seemed to knot her throat. She tapped softly on the metal frame of the door, and Viktor turned, his golden eyes catching hers.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice betraying her nerves, “I—um—I wanted to show you something.”

He set aside the intricate mechanism he’d been tinkering with and gave her his full attention. “What is it?”

Renly crossed the room slowly, holding the small vial out like an offering. “The cure… or at least, the first viable iteration of it. It’s ready for testing.”

Viktor’s gaze dropped to the vial in her hands. His expression, as always, was difficult to read, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe even hope. She couldn’t be sure.

“I thought,” Renly continued hesitantly, “that you might—well, you might want to try it. But only if you’re comfortable. I don’t want you to feel like…” She trailed off, suddenly aware of how heavy the moment felt. “Like I’m treating you as some sort of… experiment.”

Viktor took the vial from her with gentle hands, his fingers brushing against hers for a fraction of a second. “You would never,” he said softly, his voice carrying a certainty that made her stomach flip. He studied the vial, the pale, faintly glowing liquid catching the light.

Renly twisted her hands nervously. “I just... I know how much you’ve already risked, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m—”

“Renly,” he interrupted, looking up at her. His eyes, earnest and steady, caught hers and held them. “You are not asking anything I would not willingly give.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The words he’d just said hung between them, weighted with layers of meaning that neither dared unpack.

“You trust me that much?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Viktor’s lips curved into a faint smile, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly higher than the other. “More than you realize.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She wanted to respond, to say something meaningful, but her thoughts tangled together. Instead, she nodded, and handed him a small parchment with dosage instructions, her own tentative smile matching his.

Viktor glanced back at the vial, his expression turning contemplative. “If this works,” he murmured, half to himself, “you will have done something remarkable—not just for me, but for all of Zaun. I hope you see that.”

His words sank in, and for the first time, she felt the enormity of what she was trying to accomplish—the weight of all those counting on her, including Viktor himself.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, attempting a lightness she didn’t quite feel. “It’s only the first trial.”

“Even so,” Viktor replied, his gaze lifting back to hers, “it is a step forward. And for that, I am grateful.”

With that, Viktor pocketed the vial, his movements deliberate, his expression unreadable once more. The moment stretched on before he turned back to his desk. “I will let you know how it goes.”

Renly hesitated for a moment longer, wanting to say something—anything—that might ease the invisible wall that had risen between them since that night in the Undercity. But in the end, she simply nodded and slipped out of the room, her heart heavy with things left unsaid.

***

The grand day had finally arrived. Viktor and Jayce were rehearsing their presentations for the fundraising gala. They knew their work inside and out—every discovery with Hextech had been thoroughly tested and meticulously documented. The primary focus of their practice speeches, however, was to ensure that Piltover's wealthy elite would view their innovations as they did: a beacon of life-changing progress, meant to be harnessed for peaceful purposes.

“She’s late,” Jayce muttered, glancing at the clock. “Renly’s never late. What if she bailed on us?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his notes. “She would not do that. Perhaps she is simply… taking her time.”

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but the creak of the lab door froze him mid-step. Both men turned toward the sound.

Renly stepped inside, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor, their sharp rhythm underscoring the quiet hum of the lab’s machines. But it wasn’t just her entrance that demanded attention—it was everything else.

Gone was the practicality of her work attire, the reliable fabrics stained by chemicals and the scuffs from long hours. In their place was a dress—blood red, sleek, and elegant, a daring statement of confidence and boldness that seemed to make the very air around her shimmer. It hugged her frame tastefully, the neckline hinting at daring but never straying into excess. A delicate silver chain rested against her collarbone, the simple accessory accentuating her sharp features. Her hair was swept back, leaving her face unobscured, framed by the glow of polished poise.

“Sorry I’m late,” Renly said, her voice casual as she set her bag down. “Had to find something that wasn’t covered in stains.”

Viktor stared. His brain, so capable in the realm of logic and science, utterly failed him now. Words tangled in his throat like frayed wires, and after a pause that seemed eternal, he finally managed to stammer, “You look… astonishing.”

The word lingered, weightier than intended. Jayce stopped pacing, eyebrows lifting in shock, his head snapping toward Viktor as if to confirm he’d heard correctly. Viktor stiffened almost immediately, his grip tightening on the cane as he realized what he’d said aloud. He cleared his throat, looking away in a feeble attempt to recover.

Renly, however, didn’t miss a beat. Amusement flickered in her eyes as a slow smile curved her lips. She tilted her head, her tone playful but warm as she responded, “Thank you, Viktor.” A slight pause, and then, with the faintest edge of mischief, “I could say the same about you, but I’m not sure ‘astonishing’ is the right word for a man who insists on wearing a cravat to every occasion.”

Jayce burst into laughter, loud and sudden, while Viktor shot him a withering sidelong glare. His discomfort deepened as Renly took a step closer, her grin widening.

“But it suits you,” she added, her voice softening but still teasing. Her eyes locked on his, glimmering with an energy he didn’t quite know how to place. “Distinguished, refined… and maybe just a little bit pretentious.”

Jayce leaned against the counter, practically doubled over from laughing. Viktor’s composure frayed further, his ears burning crimson at the edges. “I am glad my wardrobe provides such endless entertainment,” he muttered, his voice dry but noticeably tight.

Renly chuckled, the sound light and unbothered. “Alright, boys, let’s get these speeches sorted. I didn’t put on this dress just to make fun of Viktor.” Her gaze lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary before she added, with a smirk, “Though that is a very nice bonus.”

Jayce continued to snicker, but Viktor barely noticed. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on the notes in his hand even as his thoughts refused to follow suit. Renly moved toward the blackboard, her heels clicking against the floor like punctuation marks, commanding attention with every step.

For a fleeting moment, Viktor allowed himself to watch her, unguarded, unrestrained. His equilibrium, so carefully maintained in all other matters, was noticeably absent. But despite the flustered edges of his thoughts, one truth remained clear: whatever chaos Renly brought, he didn’t mind.

“I have to be honest with you guys—I am scared shitless,” Renly said, turning on her heel. She spoke more to the room than to her friends.

“What…? Why?” Jayce snorted at her blunt statement. “You’ve got this. Besides, Renly, you’re the only one of us who has fresh presentation practice. You teach students all the time!”

“I know, I know,” she said with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “But with the students, I know I’m talking to people who at least try to understand what I’m explaining.” She paused, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation. “Here, we’re presenting to people who might not have the slightest clue about the science—and on top of that, we have to… balance it,” she mused, pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.

Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk as he watched her pace, her earlier worry still etched on her face. He decided to step in—not just to own his earlier compliment, but also to draw her focus away from her nerves. “I doubt the poor boy Ezra would survive if you showed up to teach class in this dress,” he remarked, his tone light but teasing.

Renly blinked, caught off guard for a moment before her wit kicked in. “And here I was, thinking it was you who’d be his doom if he ever came near me again.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as though conceding the point. “I think if you simply be yourself tonight, no one will dare to refuse you funding—or misplace your work—for fear of being eviscerated by your words,” he said, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Jayce glanced at the clock and clapped his hands together. “Alright, folks, time to go! Vite, vite!”

Renly grabbed her coat and, as they headed out the door, leaned in just close enough to whisper to Viktor, “By the way, I actually think you look very nice tonight too.”

***

She was right—it was absolutely terrifying. Bright lights, the constant hum of voices and laughter, the clinking of cutlery, the swell of music, and the shuffle of footsteps all blended into one overwhelming cacophony, crashing over Renly’s senses in unrelenting waves. Strangers brushed past her, their hands grazing her bare shoulders or the small of her back as they squeezed through the crowded room. The invasion of personal space only heightened her unease.

This was nothing like her classes. Her students were quiet and predictable in comparison—tame, even. But this… this was—

“You look pale.”

Viktor’s low voice cut through the din, and she felt his presence behind her before she saw him. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, carrying the faint, teasing scent of champagne. The unexpected intimacy of it made her shiver.

“Are you alright?”

“Totally,” she lied, her fingers fidgeting in front of her in a telltale gesture of discomfort.

“I know that ‘totally.’ It is no good,” Viktor said softly, concern shadowing his expression. Gently, he turned her to face him, his hand brushing against hers. “What do you need?”

“Quiet. And, um… a drink, maybe?” Renly raised an eyebrow, half-joking, as if gauging whether Viktor would judge her for indulging in a little liquid courage before the important presentation. “If you don’t think it would be… improper.”

Viktor didn’t hesitate. “Come.” He offered his hand, his tone gentle yet firm.

Renly took it without thinking, letting herself be guided toward the balcony. As they passed a waiter, Viktor paused and gestured toward the tray of champagne flutes. “Will you manage two? My hands are a little… busy,” he said, his smile playful as he raised their intertwined palms toward the view. Of course, the cane. She forgot briefly.

The crisp air of the evening was like a balm, soothing her stressed body with its cool touch. As they stepped out onto the balcony, the noise of the gala dimmed, and Renly found herself breathing more easily, the weight of the chaos inside melting away. She leaned against the railing, letting the quiet settle around her like a protective shield.

Viktor, ever observant, stood beside her for a moment, watching her with a soft intensity. “I know that feeling,” he said quietly. “The world getting too loud, the weight of the eyes on you. If you need some grounding, or maybe just a pep talk before you face the stage…” He trailed off, waiting for her response.

Renly glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the tension still coiling in her stomach. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity mingling with her unease.

Viktor moved closer, propping his cane carefully against the railing. He turned to face her fully, and for a moment, all the noise of the event seemed to fade into the background. His hands landed gently on her shoulders, steadying her. His touch was firm but not controlling, a reminder of his quiet strength, and when his eyes met hers, she saw something rare there—genuine care, but also something deeper.

“You go up on that stage,” Viktor said, his voice low and steady, the words almost like a command. “It’s quiet, there is only you. All those people, they should be scared of you, not you of them. What you are capable of. How wise you are. How strong.”

Renly’s breath caught in her throat as she absorbed his words. His gaze held her, unwavering, as though he were willing her to believe in her own power. She felt the words sink deep, quieting the storm of nerves that had been brewing inside her.

“And now,” he continued, his voice softer but still firm, “drink.”

Renly’s fingers tightened around the champagne flute, her eyes lingering on his face as the brief moment stretched out between them. The warmth of his presence, his steadying touch, and the sheer simplicity of his confidence seemed to wash over her. She took a deep breath, the knot in her chest loosening as she sipped from her glass, the cool liquid running smoothly down her throat.

In that moment, on the balcony under the dim light of the stars, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. The gala, the people, the expectations—everything faded away, leaving only Viktor and his quiet strength. There was no pressure, no judgment, just a calm understanding between them.

Renly let herself relax, letting Viktor’s presence anchor her. She wasn’t alone in this. She had her work. She had her mind. And, in a way she hadn’t fully realized until now, she had Viktor. She gave him a small, grateful smile, the tension in her shoulders melting further as she felt his steady gaze on her.

“Alright,” she murmured, setting the glass down. “I’m ready.”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a smile, though it was subtle. He gave her shoulders a final squeeze, his hands slipping away. “You’ve always been ready.”

***

Renly’s heart still fluttered as the echoes of applause faded away, the weight of the speech finally lifting from her shoulders. The donors had been impressed, their pledges securing two years of funding for her research—a small victory in the grander scheme, but one that felt monumental to her. She spotted Viktor in the crowd as she finished, his gaze steady and approving, but when the applause died down and the crowd shifted, he was nowhere to be found. She felt an odd pang of disappointment, but quickly shook it off, knowing he’d likely retreated to avoid the attention she was receiving.

She was about to step off the stage when Jayce appeared, grinning broadly. “Renly! You did it! I told you, you’d kill it up there.” His voice was warm with pride, and he clapped her on the back before pulling her into a tight hug. Renly laughed, a little breathless.

“You weren’t wrong,” she admitted. “Though I’m sure you just wanted me to do well for the sake of your own ego. You did help me practice a lot.”

“Of course, it was for you,” Jayce teased, “but mostly because now I can say I knew you when you became a star.” His grin grew wider as Mel Medarda approached with her usual effortless elegance.

Renly’s eyes lit up when she saw her. “Mel, you look absolutely beautiful as usual.” The words slipped out naturally, and there was an affectionate tone in her voice. The inside joke between them—how Mel Medarda, despite whatever else might happen, was always beautiful—never grew old.

Mel gave her a teasing glance. “Thank you, Renly,” she said, “though you’re not too bad yourself.” She shot a sideways glance at Jayce, who was still laughing at Renly’s comment. “It’s good to see you so relaxed. You seemed like a completely different person up there. Confident. Powerful.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without Viktor,” Renly replied, before realizing how much that might imply. She quickly added, “You know, his advice. He’s always been the calm in the chaos. You’ve probably noticed.”

Mel raised an eyebrow, but before she could comment, a few other guests approached, eager to congratulate Renly. She graciously accepted their compliments on her work, her mind drifting slightly as more drinks were brought her way. The weight of the evening started to feel more like a pleasant haze as the alcohol began to take effect, loosening her up a little. She could feel herself getting a little warmer, the buzz of the evening mixing with the buzz from the champagne.

When the conversation began to dwindle and the crowd dispersed, Renly found herself slipping back out onto the balcony, craving the quiet again. The cool air welcomed her, and she leaned against the railing, taking a long breath to steady herself. It was then that she heard Viktor’s soft footsteps approaching behind her.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said quietly, standing beside her. He had a glass in his hand, but it seemed he’d had much less to drink than she had. Still, the slight edge of warmth in her words betrayed the effect the alcohol was having on her.

“I’m glad you came,” Renly said, her words a little more slurred than she intended. “I thought you disappeared on me.”

“I’m never far, Renly,” Viktor replied, his voice steady, though his gaze softened as he studied her. “How are you feeling? Your speech was brilliant. I have no idea how you can be so brilliant, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me.”

Renly smiled, though her cheeks flushed slightly from the compliment. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she murmured, her voice dipping into something more sincere. She turned toward him slightly, her words flowing faster than she meant. “You’ve always been the one who steadies me. The one who helps me see things clearly, even when the world’s too loud. I—I wouldn’t be here without your guidance. Your strength. It’s—”

Her words faltered, and she suddenly caught herself. She was bordering on saying too much, on revealing something she wasn’t ready to say. The vulnerability felt too raw. She blinked, clearing her throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Dance with me?” she said suddenly, her voice less steady now but still filled with something unspoken.

Viktor blinked, caught off guard by her request. “I... I don’t dance,” his voice quiet as he fixed his eyes on the floor, shifting uncomfortably.

“I don’t know what else to call what you’ve been doing around me those last couple of months,” she blurted out before she could stop, earning herself a concerned smile from him.

Viktor’s breath hitched, the weight of her words settling on him, both unexpected and revealing. He had hoped his attention to her, the fleeting moments between them, had gone unnoticed. But here she was, calling it out, putting words to the tension that had been building between them. He quickly glanced away, feeling the heat of her gaze lingering, but he couldn’t shake the unease that crept in. He didn't know how to navigate this space they were now in.

“I could offer my assistance in walking you home. It was a long evening,” Viktor said, his voice taking on a more neutral tone as he ignored her comment, though the sting of it lingered. She had noticed. All of those brief, charged exchanges between them.

But now—now she seemed to be asking for something more. And that, more than anything, left him unsure.

Renly saw the hesitation in his eyes, and she felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. She had never been good at reading the signs, but she couldn’t ignore the way Viktor had looked at her, the way he’d touched her, the quiet moments that seemed to speak volumes. It all seemed to point to something, didn’t it? Yet here he was, avoiding it.

“I didn’t mean to...” she trailed off, suddenly unsure of herself. “I’m not asking for anything. I just thought... Maybe I misread things.” Her voice softened, the alcohol having loosened her tongue and her thoughts. “But if that’s not what you want, it’s okay. I’m just...” She paused, biting her lip as she tried to steady herself.

Viktor let the silence hang between them for a moment, his hand resting gently at her waist. He could feel the weight of her uncertainty, but it mirrored his own. He had become used to playing the steady, composed part of the equation, but tonight, that seemed harder than ever. He wanted to reassure her, to say something that would ease the tension, but his mind was clouded, and he didn’t quite know what to say.

Instead, he took a step closer, his hand slightly tightening around her waist. “You’ve had quite the night, Renly,” he said quietly. “I can see it in your eyes. But if you need to talk about any of this… I will listen.”

Renly met his gaze, her eyes soft and searching, but it was clear she was still a little lost in her own thoughts. She sighed and, without thinking, rested her forehead against his chest. She felt a small sense of comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her.

“I don’t know how to be around you anymore, Viktor,” she murmured, her voice almost too soft to hear. “But maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel it. Whatever this is between us.”

Viktor’s throat tightened as he looked down at her, his own feelings echoing hers. He had always been a master of keeping his emotions in check, but there was something about Renly that disarmed him. Something about her presence, the way she made him feel both grounded and entirely lost at the same time.

His greatest fear still stood unshaken, though: the fear of anyone, of her, seeing how incomplete he was, how damaged. He did feel slightly better since he started taking her formula, but it was too early to tell. Still, this would only solve one of his problems. Admittedly, that problem was imminent death, but the liability of his spine, of his leg, would remain with him forever. He never allowed anyone to stay with him on this journey for longer than a flicker of time—fleeting affairs, singular events, neither forgotten nor remembered in much detail. He feared dependency. His entire body feared her and screamed for her at the same time.

“I’m not pretending,” he whispered, his voice low, the words coming more easily now that they were alone in the quiet of the night. He paused, as if searching for the right words. “But sometimes it’s easier to stay silent than to risk... changing things.”

Renly pulled back just slightly, lifting her head to meet his eyes, and in that moment, she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the uncertainty that had always been there but that he kept hidden so well.

“I don’t want to change things,” she said quietly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I just want to know if you feel it too.”

The question hung between them, and for the first time that evening, Viktor didn’t have the answer ready. The words came from the part of him that was strongest—the one that was protecting him from himself. “I don’t have an answer, Renly. But I think… maybe we should get back to this when we are both… rested.” He really wanted to avoid using the word ‘drunk.’ He felt her face wrinkle on his chest as she turned away, trying to hide her expression.

“Yes, that’s fair. I’ll get home by myself just fine,” Renly threw over her shoulder, her voice straining.

“Are you—” Before Viktor could finish his question, she cut him off. “Please. I’ll see you on Monday.”

[yoomiwrites]

Sugar Rush¹⁰

Summary: Reader has been working directly under the Admirals, Kuzan, Kizaru and Akainu for years. Little by little, the dynamic changes and friendship (and more) develops. These are all small stories that build on each other. The work is from 2017, not revised and the prologue of Aromatic Rush & Salty Rush.

Note: I was sick, or well, I am sick, so I forgot to post em 3 chapters yesterday.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over my room as I lay sprawled out on the bed, feeling more like a lump than a person. My hair was a mess, and my bandages peeked out from under the sleeves of my old, oversized shirt, a clear indicator that I was far from my best. Despite the comfort of my cozy space, the remnants of my vacation disaster weighed heavily on me.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling in a haze of fatigue and disappointment. It was hard to shake the feeling that I had let everyone down, especially my brother, who was still tangled in the mess I had tried to escape. Just as I was about to sink deeper into my melancholy, a soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

“(F/N)~!” came the cheerful voice of Kizaru, unmistakably bright even through the wood. “Are you in there?”

I winced, debating whether to ignore him or fess up to my current state. But even as I considered shutting him out, I could already hear the doorknob turning.

With a soft click, the door swung open, and Kizaru stepped inside, his usual carefree demeanor shining through. His gaze landed on me, and for a moment, he paused, taking in the sight of my disheveled appearance.

“Wow, you really do look like you’ve been through hell,” he remarked, his voice teasing but his eyes held a flicker of concern. “Did I interrupt a beauty sleep session?”

“More like a disaster nap,” I replied, attempting a smile but feeling it falter. “What are you doing here, Kizaru? I’m not really in the mood.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He dismissed my protests with a wave of his hand. “I came to check on you. And since I heard you were a little under the weather, I thought I’d whip up something special.”

“Whip up what? I can barely look at food right now,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my pillows.

He crossed the room effortlessly, his presence filling the space with a strange sense of warmth. “Hnnnn, well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m a master in the kitchen, you know. Just wait and see.”

I couldn’t help but let out a half-hearted laugh as he turned toward my tiny kitchen, already rummaging through cabinets and drawers like he owned the place. It was absurd to think of him as a chef, but there was something oddly comforting about his energy.

“Do you even know where anything is?” I asked, still half-hidden beneath the covers.

“Of course, I do,” he replied, flashing a smirk over his shoulder. “Besides, I might not be a gourmet cook, but I make a mean grilled cheese.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips despite my best efforts. “You mean you’ve perfected the art of toasting bread with cheese? How impressive.”

“Hey, it’s a classic.” He shot back playfully, moving about the kitchen with the grace of a dancer. “And everyone needs comfort food when they’re feeling down.”

I watched him with a mix of disbelief and amusement as he began pulling out ingredients. The scene felt almost surreal—here was one of the most powerful admirals, known for his prowess in battle, happily buzzing around my tiny kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Are you sure you know how to work that stove?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I wouldn’t want you to set my place on fire.”

Kizaru chuckled, a warm, soothing sound that wrapped around me like a soft blanket. “You wound me! I may have a reputation for being a bit fiery in battle, but I’m not a complete disaster. Now, sit tight. I’ll have this ready in no time.”

I finally relented, pushing myself upright against the headboard, feeling a little more alive as I watched him move. He worked quickly, his movements fluid and confident. It felt nice to see someone so carefree, even in a situation like this.

As he expertly melted cheese on the bread, the inviting aroma wafted through the air, cutting through the fog of my earlier despair. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having someone around, how nice it felt to have company—even if it was just Kizaru acting like he owned the kitchen.

Moments later, he turned back to me with two perfectly toasted sandwiches, looking immensely proud of his culinary creation. “Voilà! Grilled cheese, just like your mom used to make—if your mom was a laid-back admiral with a penchant for lazing about.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound brightening the room. “You know, I think you’ve just elevated my expectations for a ‘laid-back admiral.’”

He settled down on the edge of my bed, handing me one of the sandwiches with a flourish. “And here I thought I was just your average friend.”

“Average? Please,” I shot back playfully, taking a bite. The warm, gooey cheese melted in my mouth, and I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to dissipate. “This is surprisingly good.”

“See? I told you I had skills,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

I rolled my eyes, though warmth spread through my chest at his confidence. The atmosphere shifted slightly as we both settled into a comfortable silence, eating and just being present with one another.

“Thanks for coming over,” I said quietly after a moment, genuinely grateful. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

He shrugged, still casual, but his expression softened. “That’s what friends are for, right? Besides, you looked like you needed someone to pull you out of that funk. And if I can do that by cooking grilled cheese, then it’s a win-win.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of ease that I hadn’t anticipated. Having him here felt right, like a piece of home that I had been missing. The stress of the past few days began to melt away, and I finally felt a flicker of light in the dark haze that had surrounded me.

With Kizaru beside me, laughter and warmth gradually filled the room, making it feel like a sanctuary against the chaos of the world outside. In that moment, I realized that maybe I wasn’t just back in my apartment—I was back home.

[pearlescent-poppies]

Hello!

And Welcome to Day 5!!!!

Today’s is short and silly but I’m more than happy with it!

Not much to say today so enjoy:

Day 5: Mumscott, Hot Chocolate and Christmas Movies

For: @starrysilv3rse

MumScott is so silly!!!! I’m glad I got a chance to write them for this! Watch out for an Easter Egg in the fic! Let me know if you caught it ;)

Today’s songs are: Winterlude, A Marshmallow World, and Snow In California

Please enjoy! And if you did, leave a reblog/kudos or a comment! I love to hear y’all’s thoughts!

(Fic under the cut)

Scott giggles and bundles under the many blankets that had been put on the couch. “Mumbooo, come back! It’s so cold without you love,” he pouts and calls into the kitchen.

“J- just a minute! Goodness Scott,” he laughs. She’d been calling for him to come back every five seconds it seemed. The moustached man continued his work despite the protests of his boyfriend, this was something for him after all. She’d just have to be patient.

Scott sighs, but smiles anyway. It’s been a perfect day so far. Mumbo had finally come to visit his and Jimmy’s private server; and with his husband gone to see some of their other partners, she and Mumbo were blissfully alone. With it being winter, it’s far too cold to go outside so their chosen activity of the day was staying in their pajamas and watching cheesy romantic Christmas movies.

Finally, after ten very long minutes, Mumbo reappears holding two mugs of hot chocolate. His own has little fanfare to it, simply topped with marshmallows; a classic hot cocoa. Scott’s on the other hand, is this crazy abomination of just about all things sweet you could pack in. A peppermint hot chocolate topped with regular marshmallows, flavoured marshmallows, whip cream (and even that has crushed peppermint and sprinkles), finished off with the ridiculous garnish of a cookie. It makes Mumbo’s teeth hurt just looking at it, but the sticky note of directions Jimmy had left him were very specific so he figures this must be it.

Scott outright squeals as he sees what his partner is carrying, a soft lovestruck smile painting his features. “Oh darling, you didn’t have to!” He exclaims and takes the offered cup. The elf hums pleasantly at the warmth on his hands and scoots forward so Mumbo can sit behind her in the cuddled up position they’d been in before he’d gone to the kitchen.

“W- well I um, I just figured it would be nice so-” he begins flusteredly, not used to just how domestic Scott always is.

He sighs and settles into the arm the vampire wraps around his waist. “It’s wonderful, thank you love,” her smile, already soft, softens further as he presses a warm kiss to Mumbo’s cheek.

“Oh! Scott you-” he sighs and kisses her cheek back, “you’re welcome sweetheart. Now, I believe it’s your choice?” He deflects from the affection and hands her the TV remote. Their limbs tangle together and he relaxes. It’s nice.

“Good thing I already looked!” Scott grins and presses play on the movie. She takes a sip of her hot chocolate and her eyes crinkle in delight at the taste. “This is perfect. Thank you,” he giggles then adds, “perfect like you.”

———

The movie had left Scott sniffly, tears coursing down his cheeks. It had been the story of an ex competitive figure skater who had been searching all his life to find a place he belongs, and finds it with a (rather pathetic) video game designer looking for something exciting and stable in his crazy life. It was adorable and ended in a sappy wedding scene which always pulled at Scott’s heartstrings.

“Oh- oh goodness! Scott, are you crying? Are you okay? Oh I’m pants at this I don’t do well with people crying,” he rambles, and then is promptly cut off by Scott turning to bury his face in Mumbo’s silk (suit-like much to her amusement) sleep shirt. He then picks up his hand not her waist and drops it on her head.

Thank goodness he’s so forward about things, Mumbo thinks to himself as he runs a hand through her long cyan curls. One of the best things, arguably, about being with Scott was that he never gave him time to panic. He always knew what he wanted and how he wanted it; which was absolutely fantastic for himself, ever the chronic panicker.

“Yes I’m crying,” he giggles, “Good tears, promise. Your turn to choose.”

They spend the rest of the day and well into the night taking turns with movies. They have more hot chocolate and of course a simple dinner. A delicious chicken roast prepared by Scott. The best way to spend an entire day.

And if they’re too tired by the halfway mark of the final movie to go sleep in an actual bed, lulled by the ever present crackle of the fireplace and the four blankets that cover them; well, the couch and each other’s arms are more than enough to keep them both comfortable.

[tightjeansjavi]

i think joel deserves a picture of someone he really loves. like maybe ellie finds a polaroid camera or something and begs maria to take a pic of her and tommy to give to joel

Nonnie, thank you for sending this in ♡ I absolutely agree that Joel deserves a picture of someone he really loves!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Photograph

Summary: Ellie gifts Joel a present worth more than a million words.

word count: 1.2k

pairing | Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller

Warnings: some angst, allusions to child loss, holiday blues, domestic fluff, Christmas traditions, Joel is just a big ole softy, Ellie wants to make sure Joel feels loved this holiday season, post!outbreak Joel, Jackson!era Joel, peepaw! Joel, no reader in this one, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller feels indifferent around this time of the year. The season of giving, joy, Yule-tide Carols, the whole shabam wrapped up in a pretty velvet red bow; Christmas time. Her favorite time of the year. A sore spot on his tender felt heartstrings. Like a scab that never quite was given the opportunity to properly heal. Picked at by grime stained nails tearing at the flesh till it bleeds once more. Tissue scarred. An ugly reminder that she was never coming home. She was thousands of miles away, buried beneath the earth.

This time of the year makes him feel like Scrooge, or like the Grinch. Except, he doesn’t want to steal Christmas, and his heart's too big for his ribcage to carry.

The cold doesn’t bother him, not really anyway. He thinks freshly fallen snow along twisting tree branches is beautiful. He loves the aroma of fresh pine needles, oozing tree sap, mulled wine. A simmer pot bubbling on Maria’s stove reminds him of a simpler time.

He loves hot cocoa, the rich kind that tastes like a warm hug doused in sugar. He loves the twinkling lights adorned on the evergreens in Jackson, and the way that the eyes of innocence twinkle beneath them. He sees her eyes in the golden flickering lights too.

His favorite Christmas movie is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. A family classic, one that never fails to make him chuckle. With a mug of spiked hot cocoa in hand, and Tommy standing beside him, he leans over, “I think this year I want to get a Christmas tree. I—want to make the season special for Ellie. Will you help me, Tommy?”

He rasps in a half whisper. Clark Griswold had just cut down a tree to replace the one that uncle Lewis had accidentally burned down with his cigar. Laughter echoed through the expanse of the room when the unsuspecting squirrel leapt from the tree.

“Course I can, Joel. We’ll cut one down tomorrow, okay? The finest one that we can find. Ellie will love it.” He nodded with a smile tugging on his lips. He brought his arm around Joel’s shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze. He knew his brother was trying.

And so the following morning, before patrol would head out, he and Tommy set out on horseback to find the perfect tree. It didn’t take the brothers an awfully long time to locate one. It would fit nicely in Joel’s living room. They sawed it down together, working side by side before tying it to the horns of their saddles to drag it back to town.

In the evening hours, Ellie returned home to a sight most surprising and pleasant. Joel in the living room, a strand of twinkle lights wrapped around his forearm. He’s maneuvering himself around the evergreen. Moving by long since dormant muscle memory.

“Joel? What’re you doin?’” Ellie asks from the mouth of their shared living space. Her cheeks have already begun to ache from how hard she was smiling. She never thought she’d witness the day that Joel would give into the holiday times.

“Wrappin’ the tree with lights. What’s it look like I’m doin’, baby girl?” He asks with a grin. His dimples make a rare occurrence that Ellie treasures every moment of its presence.

“No shit, old man.” She giggles. “Need some help?”

“Would love some, kiddo. Before your old man gets himself all tangled up here.”

They don’t have many ornaments to hang outside of some that Maria and Tommy lent them, and wooden animals Joel carved himself. Joel was a firm believer in quality over quantity. When it’s time to place the star on the very top of the tree, Joel offers Ellie his shoulders. She declines out purely from the fear of hurting his old man back.

He doesn’t argue when she returns with a step ladder. He’s there at her side, of course, making sure the ladder is steady as she climbs up the steps. He cherishes these moments too.

When the star was placed perfectly in the center. Father and daughter step back to admire their work with their heads resting against one another’s. He was reminded just how much he loved a decorated Christmas tree.

Time ceases to exist when Joel spends it with his baby girl. They bake cookies, string up garland and hum Christmas songs of the past, side by side.

It's Christmas Eve, and Ellie is frustrated with herself. She doesn’t want to let Joel down this Christmas. She wants to give him something special, because he deserves it. After everything he has done for her, he deserves the world even when it failed him. No amount of presents could possibly explain the love she felt for her father, but she knew that he held sentiments dear to his heart, and it didn’t take much to convince Tommy to help her out either.

A photograph, after all, was worth a million words.

On Christmas morning, Joel slept in. Something that he usually didn’t grant himself the pleasure of indulging in. Even in domesticity, he struggled. The house was still and quiet as he rose from his slumber. Freshly fallen snow greeted him from the frosted window panes. Children outside, throwing snowballs, making snow Angels while the adults chattered about life, and how precious these moments were.

He stuffed his chilled bare feet in a worn pair of slippers that had seen far better days. He let out a yawn, a quick scratch to his covered stomach followed by a deep stretch. A subconscious reach to his left for his gun; forced habit that he couldn’t quite break.

He dragged his feet across the creaking floorboards as he descended down the stairs. He peeked around the corner in search of Ellie’s presence, but she must have already gone out.

In the kitchen he stumbled upon a steaming mug of coffee and a single photograph. His brows knitted together. Fingers traced across the seams of the film before it was gingerly picked up. He studied the image with a softened look, eyes turning glassy when he flipped the photograph over.

Scribbled in red ink that was unmistakably Ellie’s penmanship,

Joel, I wanted to get you something special this year because you deserve it, even though I know you believe that you don’t. Now you get to carry Tommy and I with you everywhere you go. (Or you can pin us on the fridge) Merry Christmas, Dad. I love you so much.

-Ellie

“Oh.” He whispered, brushing away a few tears that slipped past down his cheeks with his thumb.

The front door squeaked open before shutting softly. Ellie kicked off a bit of snow on her boots before she made her way into the kitchen. Her cheeks were rosy from the nipping cold air as Joel’s warm brown eyes met hers across the expanse of the counter top.

“Baby girl..” he started, unable to get his emotions conveyed the way he wanted.

“Those better be happy tears, old man. Y’know how many times we had to take that photo? Tommy kept blinking every time the damn camera flashed.” She laughed.

Joel laughed through his tears as he set the photograph down. He padded around the side of the counter before his strong arms wrapped around his baby girl, hugging her tight. His fingers gently stroked her hair, holding her close. “The happiest tears this old man can possibly weep. I love you so much, baby girl.” He sniffled.

Ellie’s own tears couldn’t be held at bay any longer. She threw her arms around his neck hugging him close with her cheek buried against the crook of his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He murmured with a warmth spreading throughout his heart.

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[justsomeclintasha]

His arm wraps around her as she curls next to him on the couch, pulling her just a tiny bit closer.

“You’re a blanket hog,” Clint mumbles, kissing the top of her head with a smile. Still, as he says it, he’s already shifting more fabric over to her lap.

“You complaining?”

“Nah. I love it.”

“What are we watching?”

“Lava Spiders.”

“A classic.”

The opening scene plays, but her mind is already drifting. Calloused fingers rub circles in her shoulder, as if he’s not even aware he’s doing it. Could it really be so simple?

No.

Everyone wants something.

They haven’t been together very long, but she’s seen the way he looks at her. She’s caught his eyes wandering.

She knows what he wants.

And she can give it.

Slowly, she leans up to kiss his cheek, then his jaw. A sigh leaves his lips as she works lower to his neck.

“Nat?”

His lips capture hers as he tangles a hand in her hair, and she slings a leg over his lap to straddle him. This time he groans as her tongue slides into his mouth.

She knows what he wants.

And she can be good at this.

He’s too delicate. Too careful not to pull her hair, hands cautiously staying above her clothes even as she grinds down against him.

It bothers her.

She knows what he wants.

Hell, she can feel it.

So why doesn’t he take it?

Breathless, he draws back.

“Hey, slow down, Tasha.”

She grabs his hand, pressing it against her breast, trying to ignore the way her fingers tremble. Why is she shaking?

“Nat, stop.”

He pulls his hand away and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t do the same. Her chest is too tight and her stomach is ice.

It’s just sex.

It’s just sex

She’s done this a hundred times.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “Come on. In. Out.”

She tries to move off his lap, but he stops her with a hand on each shoulder, tilting his head down to meet her eyes. She squeezes them shut. “In. Out.”

After a few rounds, she feels steady enough. This time he does let her move. Her cheeks are on fire. She moves to the far end of the couch, leaving a space between them, and he sits to face her.

“I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“You’re not. But it’s okay, neither am I. This isn’t a rush.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Of course I want you. But I want you for more than sex. I want to wake up with you in the morning, freezing cold because you stole all the blankets. I want to smell your shampoo after you shower. I want to make breakfast with you.”

“You burn the toast,” she murmurs, a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I want to eat burnt toast with you. I want to take Lucky on walks and hold your hand. I want to go to the bookstore with you and watch how your eyes light up, and get coffee after, I want to fall asleep with you every night.”

She swallows, a lump in her throat. Slowly he reaches over to brush a thumb across her cheek, and she’s as surprised as he is to find tears there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“There are so many things to love about you,” he whispers back, moving closer. His lips press lightly against her forehead. “And I’m going to show you every single one, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer, Issue #59: Urban Warfare (Part 3)

Finally, it’s here! You guys have no idea how much I had been looking forward to this Issue, and for a good reason, but let’s first admire the art by Nathalie Haines, which was actually drawn like a classical painting. It’s magnificent!

*clasps hands*

Anyways, Urban Warfare (Part 3); what is there to say about it? Holy Hell, what isn’t there to say about it? Honestly, I had been losing my mind the moment I read the summary for it, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. But, before I start, a little recap since it has been a while.

Sonic and the Diamond Cutters (Tangle, Whisper and Lanolin) arrived at Eggperial City to figure out what is going on, and have found out that the city is expanding by itself. As they plan their next move, the Diamond Cutters end up in a different dimension due to one of Eggman’s portals featured in The Test Run Arc, while Sonic calls for reinforcements. Tails, Amy, Blaze and Silver show up and as they progress through the city, they run into Team Dark destroying Badniks left and right.

So, I’m not even one page into the story and I’m already picking up Sonadow energy from this moment. Trust me, I had a field day with this one.

Sonic is genuinely shocked to see Shadow... and only Shadow. I can’t blame him though, considering how their last encounter went.

Yeah, I’m not sure how many of you remember, but Shadow’s last appearance was in The Chao Races and Badnik Bases Arc, where he made some rather questionable decisions, but not as bad as what happened during The Crisis City Arc (aka the Zombot Fiasco), based on how SEGA wanted him to be written in the story. Fortunately, regarding the writing, we had actually gotten some good news in the weeks leading up to Team Dark’s, and especially Shadow’s, reintroduction to the comics.

To keep it short, all that talk about Shadow having a bunch of locks and chains placed on him to keep him in line with their vision... well, they started to break. From what I understood, SEGA gave more workable guidelines for him that allow for more liberties with writing his character - or in other words, Vegeta!Shadow is finally gone!!! As a matter of fact, while reading through the story, the improvement in his character was remarkable. Admittedly, it might not be for everyone, but goddamn, I’m loving it!

Not to mention, this is the first time since The Crisis City Arc that we see Team Dark working together once again. Also, Rouge, why are you calling everyone else kids when you’re only 18? (And yeah, I know SEGA removed the ages for all the characters, but let’s be honest, who pays attention to that?).

Sonic quips how he’s flattered that they’re here to rescue him, but they’re late to the party and... Silver, what the hell are you doing with Blaze?

*laughs* Even Tails and Amy have noticed that Silver is holding Blaze upside down, while he didn’t register any of it. I suppose Silver is too focused on Team Dark’s reappearance to realize what he’s doing.

Shadow just leaps off the scrapped Badniks, replying to Sonic how he has no idea what he’s talking about, nor does he care. Sonic, on the other hand, looks a little disappointed with that answer. I suppose he had been hoping for some banter.

Rouge then quickly brings him up to speed, explaining how she called in “her boys” (I see this as another win for everyone who say Team Dark are friends!) to see what they could do about Eggperial City - aka destroy everything in their path, foil Eggman’s plans and maybe steal some kind of treasure.

Sonic figures that makes sense, but I’m still convinced he’s disappointed they (or rather Shadow) weren’t here to help him out.

Cue Amy shoving Sonic away to talk to Rouge. I saw people saying how she’s just being overprotective of her crush, but I was questioning where Amy’s line of sight is. Amy notes how this is awfully altruistic of Rouge, but as I said above, she’s in because she wants to raid Eggman’s private vaults for a handsome reward.

Tails and Silver are hyped up to work with them to destroy the city though.

Omega notes how the conversation is irrelevant to their mission, and Rouge notes how Team Sonic would just slow Team Dark down and they’d be going off on their own, with Omega also promising to not hit anyone in the crossfire. Honestly, I think this is the nicest thing Omega could tell them.

Meanwhile, Sonic looks so done with everything. We don’t get annoyed Sonic often, so it’s neat to see him like that, and it makes sense, considering how in a (I assume) very short time-span (depending on when Scrapnik Island takes place), he had discovered Eggperial City and was chased by Metal Sonic while keeping Tails, Kit and Belle safe and having his leg injured, fought Surge at least three times, discovered what Starline had done to them, got separated from the Diamond Cutters and is now trying to foil another of Eggman’s plans while being on his territory and having to deal with Badniks.

That, and Rouge said they were slowing Team Dark down.

Never tell Sonic he’s slowing you down. Never.

Oh, and as the cherry on top, Eggman decides to make an announcement. But instead of talking about how he’s gonna blow up the moon, he decides to explain to everyone how the Eggperial City works. It is a self-replicating and self-repairing metropolis. Anything they destroy, dozens more will rise to take its place. Eggman also figures that this would be a nice time to rise the stakes a little, so he calls in for a little surprise.

IT’S THE SHADOW ANDROIDS!!!

To note, we haven’t seen these guys since Whisper’s backstory way back in the Tangle and Whisper Miniseries and before that, we haven’t seen them since Sonic Heroes and Shadow the Hedgehog.

Going by Shadow’s reaction, he’s clearly shocked to see them again, and Eggman’s obviously going to use the Shadow Androids to their fullest potential.

Hell, Eggman has already the popcorn ready, all to happy to watch the carnage unfold. He calls it a stroke of genius in regards of building robots that mimic Shadow’s skills and holding onto them for the right moment (and that’s not even accounting for the mindscrew Shadow had to deal with when he encountered one for the first time).

Metal Sonic, though, is not happy about the Shadow Androids being dispatched. I’m certain that he wants to be the one on the battlefield.

While this is happening, the Diamond Cutters have infiltrated the control room, Lanolin and Whisper sneaking in, while Tangle just strolls inside like she owns the place, much to Lanolin’s chagrin, and points out how no one’s gonna spot them as she places her hand through Metal’s head. Lanolin just sighs, figuring this should make checking the room out easier, while Whisper stares in the screen in pure shock, realizing that the past is about to repeat itself.

She breaks down, and honestly, I really love the backgrounds in this page. We can see the darkness surrounding Whisper as she tells them how everyone’s going to die. However, the moment Tangle reaches for her and comforts her, the darkness slowly fades away, replaced by a ray of light. Tangle hugs Whisper, promising her how things will be fine, and even Lanolin joins in on comforting Whisper. While these three are still learning, they do make a great team.

Speaking of the Shadow Androids, we see Team Sonic fighting them, everyone being clearly in shock to what they are, with Tails being unable to get clear readings about them as they’re too fast. Even Blaze’s fire is not enough to keep them back and they’re strong enough to deal with Amy’s hammer.

Now, I’ll stop here to put a reminder. On the heroes side, no one but Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Whisper and Tangle here knows about the Shadow Androids. Whisper’s encounter with them is obvious, and Tangle saw footage of that, while Shadow, Rouge and Omega ran into them in Sonic Heroes, and Shadow had another (dubiously canonical) encounter with them in Shadow the Hedgehog.

Realizing just how dire the situation is, Sonic calls Silver for help so they can escape. Silver, being the awesome psychic he is, lifts the ground into a ramp and with Blaze frying the Shadow Androids that are after them, Sonic grabs everyone to get away from the robots in pursuit (also, nice Sonamy moment with that little blush).

Team Sonic finds Team Dark after the groups have been briefly separated, with Blaze grabbing Sonic and Amy’s hands and rushing over to help Team Dark. Yeah, there is an error in the panels, as both show Blaze grabbing hands with rings around them, suggesting she was grabbing only Amy’s hand. I suppose the artist forgot to erase the ring to make it clear she was also grabbing Sonic.

Back with Team Dark, Shadow assesses how Eggman’s trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers and how there’s no strategy to their movements, meaning they can be easily manipulated. He figures that, once they move to a better position, they can take them out.

Cue Blaze throwing Sonic and Amy (another error, both are blue instead of being blue and pink) with Sonic spin-dashing and Amy smashing the Shadow Androids that were about to attack Shadow.

With a nose flick, Sonic is right back to quipping, asking Shadow whether he had some cousins he never told them about, while Shadow responds with “Please. These cheap copies don’t deserve to wear my place.”

Have I told you how much I love these two together? (≧◡≦)

As the battle continues, Shadow explains how the Shadow Androids are cheap copies created by Eggman, and how he’ll pay dearly for this insult. Unfortunately, Omega loses his footing and is being brought down by the Shadow Androids, but he keeps on fighting. Realizing how things are getting dire, Rouge asks Shadow to use his own powers against the Shadow Androids, but he responds how it is impossible without a Chaos Emerald (makes me wonder what happened to the Chaos Emerald Rouge stole in the Sonic Annual).

Tails rushes in, telling Shadow how the crystals are also generating Chaos Energy, with Shadow agreeing, but notes how the energy is distorted.

“Fake Emeralds... I hate to stoop to using such a pale substitute, but... it will do.”

Okay, can I say that this panel is absolutely amazing, and what’s about to happen is jaw-dropping!

I swear, this was my reaction to seeing this page:

Not only is the art absolutely gorgeous, but it finally shows Shadow as a pure badass who has the skills to support his title of The Ultimate Lifeform! Honestly, words cannot describe how much I love this! Bow your heads low, all hail Shadow!

And to add a cherry to the top of this moment of awesomeness:

Absolutely badass! It’s really great to see Shadow let loose from time to time. Hell, even Team Sonic is amazed!

Tails, Amy and Silver are starstruck, Rouge is proud of her boy, Blaze is... stunned, to say the least (I suppose she never saw what Shadow was truly capable of), while Sonic figures he should too give it a try.

And yeah, I saw the Dark Sonic jokes floating around. Are you guys forgetting that Sonic was the first to use a Fake Chaos Emerald for Chaos Control back in Sonic Adventure 2? He knows how to handle them.

Shadow then points out that they’re not done yet and goes for another Chaos Control, only for something to happen...

A giant crystal shoots out of the ground, throwing everyone off, while Rouge asks Shadow what’s happening. Shadow is crackling with Chaos Energy, warning her that it’s too much and...

Holy frigging Hell! Shadow unleashes a blast of Chaos Energy, nuking everything surrounding him. Everyone escapes, and when Rouge tries to get back to Shadow and Omega, she’s stopped by the crystals, which are now shooting out from everywhere.

Eggman quickly attempts to regain control of the situation, figuring Shadow would cause trouble. Tangle wonders what happened, with Whisper answering how it was Chaos Overload (how does she know that?). I suppose Shadow used to much of the surrounding Chaos Energy and it was too much for him to handle since the Fake Chaos Emeralds were spread out all over the city. He may be a Master of Chaos Control, but even this would overwhelm someone like him.

Eggman activates the emergency limiter, rebooting the system, noting how it’ll take more to take out his city.

Team Sonic and Rouge observe the destruction Shadow had caused, with Tails figuring it was some runaway feedback loop. Rouge is worried about Shadow and Omega, but Sonic, Silver and Blaze assure her that not only are the two tough, they also know what they’re up against and they can deal with Eggman. Rouge is cheered up, while Sonic looks forward to Shadow’s expression when he saves him.

Yeah, Sonic will never let Shadow live that down.

Back with Eggman, the power has returned, the system got rebooted... and Eggman lost Sonic and co. Lanolin points out how the power surge nearly crippled the entire city, so if they trigger another bigger one, this should destroy it. But in that moment, all three of them become suddenly visible, with Eggman spotting them.

In two magnificent panels, we get an Eggman obscured by shadows, really creeping me out, as he figures they ran into his spatial-displacement trap. He explains how they almost got out when the power dipped, but he has a way of dealing with them, summoning another model of the portal and telling them how this will scatter their atoms into oblivion.

Whisper takes the shot, and honestly, if she still hadn’t been trapped in that other dimension, she would’ve killed Eggman then and there. The blast went right through his chest. Like, this was probably the fourth time she attempted to kill someone in cold blood (first Mimic, followed by another attempt at Eggman’s life, then Surge and now Eggman again).

What’s even more chilling is how calm Eggman is, well aware what his trap had done. It then surrounds Whisper.

Tangle screams for her as Whisper is trapped inside the device, and then spots another one flying for her, only for Lanolin to ram her out of the way and tell her to tell everyone what happened and what to do before getting captured herself.

Tangle is cornered, but she suddenly phases through the window, falling out of the command tower. The story ends on a literal cliffhanger.

Holy Hell, I absolutely loved this Issue! It was beyond awesome for all the reasons I already talked above, but there is one specific thing I wanted to discuss in the ending of this analysis - Shadow’s portrayal.

Honestly, I had absolutely no complaint with how he was written in this Issue. People might not agree with me, but I think Urban Warfare really redeemed him, as rather than being prideful and arrogant, he was more business-like and focused on the mission, pragmatic and patient in explaining to everyone what is going on, as well as having his moments of banter with Sonic.

As for him being taken out of the battle, alongside Omega, I’m actually fine with it, as it’s the manner with how he was put out of commission.

Seriously, compare this:

To this:

It’s not about pride, it’s about saving everyone with his own power, and that’s what I had been missing from IDW!Shadow for so long.

I really hope we’ll see more of this in the future.

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[fuqnia]

Underneath Evergreen Lights

stan marsh x wendy testaburger

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my ninth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! i rlly love stan and wendy, and i want to get better at writing their dynamic and characterization! sorry if this isn't very good ahhh ❤️❄️🎄 this is also on ao3!

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : none

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Stan and Wendy share a kiss at the town’s Christmas tree lighting, solidifying their long-standing holiday tradition.

The snow crunched under their boots as Stan and Wendy walked side by side toward the glowing center of town. The air was cold enough to nip at their noses, but the kind of cold that felt festive instead of miserable. The square ahead was already bustling, filled with families bundled up in thick coats and scarves, kids laughing as they threw snowballs or chased each other around. The massive Christmas tree stood at the heart of it all, towering over the square with its branches heavy with ornaments and garlands, waiting for the lights to bring it to life.

Stan jammed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, his fingers brushing against the small locket he’d been carrying all night. It was smooth and cold against his gloves, and just feeling it made his heart race. He glanced at Wendy, walking calmly beside him, and he wished he could feel even a fraction of her ease. Her scarf was pulled up to her chin, her cheeks pink from the cold, and she had that small, thoughtful smile on her face, the one that always made her look like she was perfectly in control. She didn’t look nervous at all.

“So,” Wendy said, tilting her head slightly as they walked. “What are the odds Cartman tries to turn this into some big scam again?”

Stan snorted, grateful for the distraction. “Pretty high. I think last year he tried to sell ‘authentic reindeer droppings’ as Christmas ornaments.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that,” Wendy said with a laugh. “Didn’t he convince Butters to help him collect them from his backyard?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, shaking his head. “And then Butters got grounded for a week when his parents found out.”

“Classic Cartman,” Wendy said with a smile. “It’s almost comforting, in a weird way.”

Stan laughed, but his stomach was still doing flips. His fingers tightened around the locket in his pocket. He had no idea how she could just casually talk like this, like it was any other night. To him, tonight felt enormous. Monumental. He’d been working up the courage for weeks to give her the gift he’d been carrying, and now that the moment was close, he felt like every step was harder than the last.

When they reached the square, the Christmas tree came into full view. It was decorated in the same over-the-top way it always was—strings of garlands and oversized ornaments that probably shouldn’t have been left out in a town full of kids with slingshots. A large banner reading “HAPPY HOLIDAYS!” was stretched across the base, and lights twinkled faintly in the snow around it, waiting for their big moment.

“Looks smaller than last year,” Wendy said, tilting her head as she studied the tree. “Doesn’t it?”

Stan shrugged. “I think we’re just taller now.”

Wendy laughed softly, her breath puffing out in a little white cloud. “Yeah, maybe. It’s kind of nice, though. Like, no matter how messy this town gets, they always pull this together. It’s… comforting.”

Stan swallowed hard. His stomach twisted as he glanced at her again, at the way the soft light reflected in her dark eyes. She looked happy. Peaceful. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words were tangled up in his chest, and the weight of the locket in his pocket felt heavier than ever.

“You okay?” Wendy asked, glancing at him. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah,” Stan said quickly, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m good. Just, uh, taking it all in.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow but didn’t press him. Instead, she smiled again, turning her gaze back toward the tree. “I love this, you know? Just being here, with everyone, right before the lights come on. It’s like everything’s paused for a second, and all that matters is this one moment.”

Stan’s chest tightened. This was why he’d chosen tonight, this stupid little tradition they’d been coming to for years. It was because of her, the way she could see the good in even the most chaotic situations, the way she could make the whole world feel smaller, quieter, just by being in it.

He felt the locket pressing against his palm again, and he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. His heart pounded as he tried to steady his breathing. “Wendy, I—”

She looked at him again, and his words caught in his throat. Her expression was soft, patient, the kind of look that always made him feel like she could see right through him. It was terrifying and reassuring at the same time.

“What is it?” she asked gently.

Stan swallowed hard. “Nothing. Just… I’m glad we’re here. Together.”

Her smile widened, and for a moment, everything else—the cold, the crowd, the looming tree—faded into the background.

“Me too,” she said.

The moment stretched between them, warm and quiet, even with the noise of the square around them. Stan felt the locket pressing into his palm again, and his chest tightened. He opened his mouth, the words so close to tumbling out, but then a sudden burst of laughter from a nearby group jolted him back to reality. The world rushed in again—the chatter of the crowd, the music spilling from the vendor stalls, the rustling of coats and scarves as people jostled closer to the tree.

Stan blinked, momentarily overwhelmed. “Uh, we should probably, you know, get closer. Before all the good spots are taken.”

Wendy’s smile lingered as she glanced at the tree. “Good call.”

They wove their way into the growing crowd, squeezing into a spot near the front. The air buzzed with anticipation, the kind that made everything feel a little brighter, a little sharper. The tree stood tall above them, its ornaments gleaming faintly in the glow of the streetlights. A hush started to fall over the square as more and more people turned their attention to the podium set up near the base of the tree.

Stan’s heart was pounding again, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the excitement of the crowd or the sheer weight of what he was about to do. Wendy, of course, looked perfectly calm. She adjusted her scarf, tucking a stray strand of hair back under her hat, and glanced at him with a smile that felt so easy, so sure.

Mr. Mackey’s voice crackled through the speakers. “A-alright, everyone, gather around, mmkay? It’s time for the annual South Park tree lighting ceremony!”

A cheer rippled through the crowd, and Stan’s stomach flipped. He glanced at Wendy again, watching the way her eyes lit up as she turned her gaze to the tree. She wasn’t even thinking about him. She was just… there, caught in the moment, her breath visible in the cold air as she smiled faintly to herself.

Stan felt the locket pressing against his palm again, a constant reminder of what he needed to do. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his heart was racing so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. The lights from the vendor stalls flickered in his peripheral vision, and the sound of laughter and chatter blended into a blur around him.

“Ten!” the crowd began to count, their voices rising together.

Wendy tilted her head slightly, her smile widening. “I love this part,” she said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. “The waiting. It’s always the best, don’t you think?”

Stan’s throat tightened, and all he could do was nod. His mouth was dry, and the words he wanted to say were stuck somewhere between his chest and his brain. He could feel the crowd’s energy building, could hear their voices getting louder as the countdown continued, but it all felt distant.

“Nine! Eight!”

The locket felt impossibly heavy now. He stole another glance at Wendy, her face glowing in the faint light of the square. She looked so happy, so at peace, and all Stan could think about was how badly he didn’t want to ruin this for her. But he also couldn’t keep waiting. He had to say something. Do something.

“Seven! Six!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Wendy turned to him first, her expression calm, patient. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes was enough to make his chest ache. She was steady, like always. Steady in a way he never felt.

“Five! Four!”

The crowd was roaring now, their excitement filling the square. Wendy turned back to the tree, her gaze softening again as she watched the lights flicker faintly, waiting for their moment. “It’s always so pretty when it’s lit up,” she said. “I’ve never gotten tired of it.”

Stan swallowed hard. This was it. He had to do it now, before the lights came on, before the moment passed him by.

“Three! Two!”

“Wendy,” he said, his voice barely audible over the crowd.

She turned to him, her brow lifting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Can we—uh…” He faltered, the words catching in his throat. “Can we talk? Just for a second?”

“One!”

Her expression shifted slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she nodded. “Sure.”

Before he could say anything else, the tree exploded into light. Strings of gold, red, and green raced up its branches, spreading out like fireworks, and the star at the top glowed brilliantly against the night sky. The crowd burst into cheers and applause, the sound echoing through the square, but Stan barely noticed. All he could see was Wendy, the way her face lit up as she looked at the tree, the way her eyes sparkled like she’d been waiting for this moment all year.

And all he could think was how much he wanted to tell her.

The crowd’s cheers faded into a distant hum as Stan’s gaze lingered on Wendy. The glow of the tree lights framed her face, and for a moment, she looked more radiant than anything else in the square. His chest tightened. If he waited any longer, he was sure he’d lose his nerve.

He reached out, his gloved hand brushing lightly against her arm. “Wendy,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Can we… I need to talk to you. Just for a second.”

She turned to him, her brow furrowing just a little, curiosity sparking in her expression. “Sure,” she said easily, like he hadn’t just felt his stomach do a backflip. “What’s up?”

“Uh, not here,” Stan said quickly, glancing nervously at the crowd around them. “Can we go somewhere quieter?”

She didn’t question him, didn’t hesitate. She just nodded, her scarf shifting slightly as she smiled. “Lead the way.”

Stan’s pulse hammered in his ears as they stepped out of the thick of the crowd, moving toward a quieter corner of the square near the vendor stalls. The smells of roasted chestnuts and hot cocoa hung in the air, mingling with the crisp bite of winter. The tree lights still bathed everything in their warm glow, but here, away from the cheering and the laughter, the atmosphere felt more intimate. More vulnerable.

Wendy adjusted her scarf, pulling it down just slightly so her voice wouldn’t be muffled. “Okay,” she said, tilting her head at him. “What’s going on, Stan? You’re being… kind of mysterious.”

Stan let out a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a nervous wheeze. His hands fumbled in his coat pocket, wrapping around the locket. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I just—I needed to do this. Now. Before I freak myself out any more than I already have.”

Her brows lifted slightly, but her expression stayed calm. Steady. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft, encouraging. “Take your time.”

Stan swallowed hard, his heart thundering in his chest. His fingers curled around the locket as he pulled it out, holding it in his palm like it was the most fragile thing in the world. The small silver heart caught the light from the tree, glinting faintly in the dim glow. He took a deep breath and held it out to her.

“This,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “This is for you.”

Wendy looked at the locket, then back at him. Her eyes softened, her expression shifting into something unreadable but warm. “Stan,” she said quietly, reaching out to take it from his hand. Her gloved fingers brushed against his, and he thought for a second his heart might stop.

“It’s… it’s a locket,” he said, stumbling over his words. “But, um, there’s a letter inside. I—I wrote it. For you. I’ve been working on it for weeks, and I—” He stopped himself, biting his lip as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “Just… open it. Please.”

Wendy’s gaze flickered between him and the locket, her lips parting slightly. “You wrote me a letter?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, his throat tight. “It’s… it’s kind of hard to explain. But it says everything I wanted to tell you. Everything I’ve been trying to say for, like… forever.”

Wendy’s expression softened further as she carefully popped open the locket, revealing the tiny folded note inside. She glanced at him once more before unfolding it, her fingers delicate as she smoothed out the paper. The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Stan felt like every second stretched into an eternity as she read the words he’d poured his heart into.

Her eyes moved slowly over the letter, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. Stan couldn’t read her expression—it wasn’t shock or confusion or anything he could name. It was just Wendy, steady and calm, taking it all in. The kind of patience that made her… well, her.

When she finally looked up, her eyes were soft, her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. She held the letter in one hand, the locket in the other, and for a moment, she just looked at him.

“Stan,” she said quietly, her voice filled with something he couldn’t quite place.

His stomach flipped, but he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

“This is…” She trailed off, glancing down at the letter again before looking back at him. “This is really thoughtful. I don’t even know what to say.”

Stan’s chest tightened, his hands gripping his gloves to keep them from shaking. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, his voice cracking a little. “I just—I wanted you to know. That’s all. And if it’s too much, or if you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally—”

“Stan,” Wendy interrupted, her voice gentle but firm.

He stopped, his words evaporating into the cold air. She stepped closer, just a little, her presence warm despite the chill. The look in her eyes was something he couldn’t quite describe—calm, sure, but also bright, almost shining in the faint light of the square.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak, but instead, she glanced down at the locket again. “Can we… walk for a minute?” she asked softly.

Stan blinked. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She slipped the letter back into the locket and closed it gently, tucking it into her pocket. Then she looked back at him, her smile small but warm. “Come on,” she said, turning toward the snow-dusted path that circled the square.

Stan hesitated for half a second before following her. His boots crunched softly in the snow as they moved away from the noise and glow of the crowd, the muffled hum of voices fading into the background. The path was quieter here, lined with snow-covered benches and lit by soft, twinkling string lights strung through the trees. It was the kind of scene he’d never really stopped to notice before, but tonight, it felt… perfect.

Wendy walked ahead of him for a few steps, then slowed, falling into step beside him. Her hands were tucked into her coat pockets, her scarf snug around her neck, and even though she hadn’t said much since she read his letter, her presence was steady, like it always was. It was comforting in a way Stan couldn’t quite describe, like the world wasn’t so scary when she was there.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Stan’s heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t the chaotic, panicked rhythm it had been earlier. It was quieter now, softer. There was still tension in the air, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was the kind that made his chest ache in a good way, the kind that made him want to hold onto this moment forever.

“You know,” Wendy said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence, “this feels kind of like when we were kids. Just… walking around after stuff like this. Like we didn’t have anywhere else to be.”

Stan blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, it does.”

She glanced at him, her smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Do you remember the first time we came to the tree lighting without our parents? I think we were, what, ten?”

Stan let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. You made me try that weird peppermint cocoa, and I hated it.”

“You didn’t just hate it—you spit it out all over the sidewalk,” Wendy said, her laughter bubbling up, light and musical. “I think the guy at the cocoa stand still remembers you.”

Stan chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t eat it on the ice rink like you did.”

Wendy gasped, mock-offended, but her grin widened. “Okay, that wasn’t my fault! The ice was uneven.”

“Sure,” Stan teased, his nerves melting away bit by bit. “Whatever you say.”

They both laughed, their voices carrying softly through the quiet of the snow-covered path. The nostalgia of it all settled over Stan like a warm blanket, pulling him back to all those nights they’d spent together over the years—laughing, teasing, just… being. And tonight, it felt different, but in the best way. Like something was shifting between them, but instead of it being scary, it felt inevitable. Like this was where they’d always been headed.

Wendy slowed to a stop near one of the benches, turning to face him. The glow of the tree lights from the square cast a soft halo around her, and the twinkling string lights above added a gentle sparkle to the air. She looked up at him, her dark eyes warm and searching, and for a moment, all Stan could do was stare back, completely captivated.

“Stan,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Y-yeah?” he managed, his breath fogging in the cold air.

She reached up then, her gloved fingers brushing lightly against his coat sleeve. The gesture was so small, so simple, but it sent a warm rush through him, melting away the last of his nerves.

“That letter,” she said, her lips curving into the softest smile. “It was really beautiful. Like, really.”

Stan’s heart thudded in his chest, and he swallowed hard. “I—I meant every word,” he said, his voice trembling but steady enough to be heard. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, I just… I didn’t know how.”

Her smile widened just a little, her eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t have to try so hard, you know. I’ve always known, Stan.”

His breath caught, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and disbelief. “You have?”

Wendy nodded, stepping just a little closer. “Yeah,” she said softly. “But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

The air between them felt electric, charged with something that had been building for years. Wendy tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping to his lips for the briefest of moments before flicking back to his eyes. And then, so naturally it almost surprised him, she leaned in.

Stan froze for a split second, his heart practically leaping out of his chest, before he met her halfway. Their lips brushed, soft and hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long for the moment to settle, for the warmth of her kiss to chase away the cold. It was everything he’d imagined and nothing he could have prepared for—a perfect mix of nostalgia and something entirely new, like stepping into a memory he didn’t know he’d been waiting to make.

The world around them seemed to fall away. The sound of the crowd in the square, the faint music drifting from the vendor stalls, even the cold—all of it faded into nothing. There was only her, only this, and for the first time all night, Stan felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

When they finally pulled apart, Wendy was smiling, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling in the faint light. “Merry Christmas, Stan.”

Stan let out a breathless laugh, his own smile breaking across his face. “Merry Christmas, Wendy.”

And as they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the lights, with the snow falling gently around them, Stan knew that this was a moment he’d carry with him forever.

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #21: Andrew Mbaruk

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

I’m Andrew Mbaruk, a Black poet living in Vancouver, Canada. I make "literary lo-fi rock rap," drawing from my diverse reading of poetry and classic literature for the "literary" aspect; – it’s "lo-fi" due to the imperfect sound quality, "rock" as the music predominantly features electric guitars, and "rap" because, if I had to use just one genre to categorize it, it’d be rap–I’m obviously rapping in the songs.

On one of my songs I describe my style as “assistant-professorial and janitorial”--it’s a blend of literary, academic, and philosophical elements with a touch of real-life experiences, viewed through my postmodern/modernist collage aesthetic.

Some of my recent albums are Why I Am Not a Painter (a 2023 song anthology), Black Squirrel: A Memoir (an autobiographical album through Extraordinary Rap), and Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album (centered around birds). Collaborations include Affect Theory and the Text-to-Speech Grandiloquence with Rhys Langston, Papier-Mache Chalet with Th’ Mole, Ultraviolet Flamingo with Vellum Bristol or Jouquin Fox, and Hip-Hop, With a Twist of Lemon with Mantis the Miasma.

Currently, I’m working on a series of lo-fi rock rap albums, each titled Abolish Canada. Abolish Canada [1] and Abolish Canada [2] are already available on my Bandcamp page.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I write whenever I’m awake and in the mood, which is often at home. This could be in the middle of the night or just as frequently in the afternoon. Currently, I find myself in the writing room...surrounded by books... On my desk are three old dictionaries and a book of selected poems by Wallace Stevens, alongside an energy drink can and crumpled papers... Scattered throughout the room are various poetry books, and books on theory and philosophy, from Marx and Hegel to Frank B. Wilderson III and David Marriott... These books are mostly on a couch doubling as a larger desk, and atop an old synthesizer from the 1980s... On the floor stand an electric guitar and amp, alongside pedals and tangled cords at my feet... Two walls are giant windows, one of which is usually open even in winter (I’m often smoking). I’m undisciplined, though I still write almost daily – though there’s the occasional lapse, like these past few days...

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

During 2017-2018, I primarily used pen and paper for my writing. But, since then, I’ve transitioned to typing most of my raps on a computer. Occasionally I’ll compose a verse while walking, relying on my Android. The inconvenience of keeping verses in my head until I can write them down...that’s a problem I face during work shifts – cleaning Vancouver’s streets, e.g....and one song I crafted mentally while washing dishes at a burger bar. Using a recording medium like paper or a word processor is best though – it allows me to carefully consider connections between different parts of a verse, because I have the entire composition visible on a page or on a screen.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I used to have a more disorganized writing style, especially in the first few years of this rapping project... Initially, I didn't even see my work as a part of rap. It was only when I started collaborating with other rappers and producers that I began to structure my writing in bars.

While there are still moments when I write in a more formless manner, I stick to a more regular form these days, lines that last four beats. Typically, I'll create four lines that rhyme (using slant rhymes) entirely parallel to each other:

(e.g., “abnegating dactylic hexameter his vacation, a trip with dead passengers the Latin pages of literate Sapphic verse as the painting's acrylic red flags ablur”),

followed by another set of four, or maybe a couplet or two

(in this case, “as heroin mixed with the China White terror, his literary dynamite exposing the Pindaric champion; explosions, the thin shards of glass in him”),

and then another quatrain or couplet, or sometimes a set of six or eight rhyming lines, or sometimes more...and so on.

I never thought I'd become so formal or strict in my approach. I've always been inclined towards poetry that adheres to (for example) Charles Olson’s "projective verse", but surprisingly, weirdly, this structured approach is working for me now.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

It’s different with every verse and song. Sometimes I’ll finish the entire thing and throw it out/delete it. Usually some part of the aborted material returns in a new form. I work in a "collage" style and see my rhymes as Deleuzian rhizomes, so I can easily connect my rhymes like Lego... It’s totally acceptable within my project to incorporate disparate fragments – unless the lyrics are focused by a constraint, as on my album about birds (Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album) or the one about the Iran-Contra scandal (The Iran-Contra Project).

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I’ve written poetry, fiction, a screenplay... The rapping basically grew out of my experiments with print poetry – I started making poems called "phonotexts," recorded poems, in 2014... I made a spoken word album called Phono=textual: a novel in mono... It took about three years for these "phonotexts" to become rap songs.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

I try to edit as I write, then I'll record the thing, sometimes using some instrumental that I'm not actually going to use – just to hear it, so I can edit it some more. Then I record the song immediately. It usually takes a few hours or an evening.

Sometimes I work on a song for a few days.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

I begin with the words and a rhythm usually... I write lyrics, then I make the drums, then I record the verse or verses, then finally I'll add guitars and synthesizer and whatnot.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

I usually begin with one small idea, just a line or a few words, and I grow a verse or verses from the one idea through free association, playing with meaning and rhyme. I’m often propelled by chance, but just as often propelled by a thematic goal, and this can change midway through writing.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I’ve sneaked sonnets into my raps, and I’ve invented something called “rhyme chiasmus” (a rhyme scheme where two rhyming sounds are repeated in a chiastic pattern for many bars) but I’m usually freer.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

The song "Electrons," track 01 of Abolish Canada [1]...though it goes on a bit too long I think, the bit right at the beginning is very good maybe. That song, and in fact the entirety of Abolish Canada [1]... That’s where I’ve most closely achieved much of what I intend with my words.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

My lines make their meaning through the relation to other lines. So, my favourite passage in my writing – "the human soul stuck in your body / fluent in post-structural ornithology” – is shaped by what surrounds it.

The song is called "Under the Oiseau=text." It’s about reading and about birds. And about reading birds as signs, an ancient practice.

I thought of these words because a bird, a pigeon, rose flapping before me as I walked along Commercial Drive in Vancouver. I decided to make an album about birds in that moment, and began writing "Under the Oiseau=text" as soon as I got home. Here’s the lyric in its context:

sans serif, these words upon my gravestone bearing the withered flower tossed - the Baudelairean inner albatross, the human soul stuck in your body fluent in post-structural ornithology . . .  . . .his words draw you a map of the geographer perched upon a branch in the binoculars, this scholar of math as it pertains to flight, the neurographer mapping the brain with light

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I shorten lines and always try to do verses in a single take.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Afropessimism, John Ashbery’s poetry, nature, the congressional report on the Iran-Contra scandal, and the letter N. Also, I collect and read dictionaries.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Some of my stuff I dig especially, other stuff I’m okay with, most of the stuff I don’t like no one can hear anywhere. Grand Lunatic I’m not crazy about, Andra Mbalimbali I’m not crazy about, Neuro=textual: a novel of ideas is not my favourite of my albums. From late in 2022 and throughout 2023, that stuff I like – though I’m on the fence about some projects like Black Squirrel and The Iran-Contra Project. The earlier stuff evinces potential realized by Oiseau=textual: the flying rap album and Abolish Canada [1]... That’s how I see things.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Rappers who depend less on rhyme and just say really interesting shit, like AKAI SOLO or my friend Jouquin Fox, I can’t do that. I tried using a little less rhyme on The Iran-Contra Project, my concept album about Iran-Contra, and I’m sure I can’t do that. The constraint of rhyme is essential to my style.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

Yes, I am trying to communicate many things to the listener. I am saying nothing specifically, and consequently saying many different things. (Any one of these different things I could write about at length, but it has been recommended to me that I just leave it at “I am saying nothing specifically, and consequently saying many different things” – nice and succinct.)

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: unknown (hit me up)

[philzokman]

also guess who’s travelling and needs fic recs again 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

omgomgogm IM SO GLAD U ASKED :D i haven’t been reading much fanfic due to exams and illness and also bc i got Reallt into classical literature for a while shit is so hype but i have a few :D

purple - skk

pink - sskk

red - death note

1. the irreplaceable things by blowingyourmind

‘Dazai was introduced to two very important figures in his life that night, One being the dog he nearly ran over, and the other being the fiery redheaded veterinarian who coddled said dog’

THIS SHIT IS INSANE !!! INSANE I TELL U!!!!! au where dazai (pm boss) falls in love desperate hatred!!! for vet chuuya and it’s so ☹️☹️ like the main romance is adorable the side plots are fucking insane (there’s a dog ring ???????) (atsushi does stand up comedy for about three paragraphs KFHAKDHD) it’s genuinely a fucking ride. the authors also really good like even when there are the occasional mistakes it’s Very clear what they mean and i definitely wouldn’t say it removes anything from the story at all HIGHLY recommend KFHSJSHD

2. He’s got a dream by blowingyourmind

‘soukoku tangled au’

i…havent read this yet (a very common theme on this list KDHSH) BUT !!! it’s i think going to be the next fic i read :D it’s a tangled au. A TANGLED AU. SOBS. BREAKS DOWN. THEOWS MYSELF OFF A CLIFF !!!!!!! and it’s written by the same author as rec one who i already love sososo much it looks very cool KFHAKDHD

3. yokohama public high school - almost as crazy as their pep rallies by blowingyourmind (SIDE NOTE: i did not realise all of these were by the same person LFMAODJSH WHOOPSIES (ive been very out of the fanfic loop recently </3))

‘The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.’

again i. haven’t actually read this BUT ITS A TEACHER X TEACHER AU. SOBS ONCE MORE. BREAKS DOWN ONCE MORE. THROWS MUSELF OFF A CLIFF ONCE MORE !!!!!!!!! i fucking love teacher x teacher aus they’re so hype oml KFHSJSH same author as the other two which i. didn’t realise. BUT. i mean it’s a good author what can i say LMFAOHDHSSH anywho it looks sick

4. would kira have gay sex? by itiaskia

no description needed KDHAKSH fun fact! this fic was the catalyst for me pursuing an english lit degree. take that in for a moment LFNAKDHDHSH it’s like 200 words long and idk i think most ppl have read it by now but it makes me giggle FJSHJDDH

5. collide by onizenmaru

‘All it takes is one chance meeting and Atsushi's life slowly becomes tangled up in Akutagawa Ryuunosuke's.

‘This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.’

i haven’t read this fic either😔 but it seems good !!!! it’s also on my reading list but it seems really really sick :D i’m pretty sure i’ve read some of the authors other works too but i might be wrong KDHSJSDH within the like two paragraphs of scanning i did i also saw an ‘oh. oh’ moment but idk what it was about LFMAODJSHDH but the writing seems really good from what i’ve seen :D

anywho!! hope u enjoy so sorry the list is predominantly fics i haven’t read + one crack fic that’s like 2 words long LMFAODJDH this is more of a ‘what am i reading now + what am i going to read!’ list rather than recs but i hope u enjoy them anyways :D if u read any please keep me updated omg i love talking about fics AND TALKING TO U :D KFJAKDHDH i’m going to sleep now (i’m not) BUT ENJOY :D

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Introducing another OC to the team today!

Detective Akela Carpenter has worked her fair share of supernatural crime. Being gifted with what her Hawaiian grandmother called “One eye in the land of the spirits” (quite literally; she wore a brown contact for years after she moved to LA, trying to pretend she was normal and hide the single shifting sea-green iris) made her an instant recruit to the city’s fae enforcement task force. She'd hated the Codes and what they did to the city's already vulnerable fae, but she’d found a place she felt like she was actually helping them, working drug busts on Damiana smugglers and dealers.

Getting abruptly reassigned after the biggest bust of her career has been a slap in the face. She’s been fighting her way through the ranks for a decade and a half. And now, instead of receiving a commendation for her success, she’s been transferred.

It’s hard not to be bitter about it. To wonder if she’s being shunted off so she can’t point the finger at whoever on her team was skimming evidence. If she had to guess, it’s Archer. His mother is a senator’s sister in law. He has protection. And powerful friends who can make a problem like her go away. 

Her new assignment is disconcertingly vague. She’s being assigned liaison to a hunter agency strike team code named “Polaris”. She knows nothing about it other than that.

She’d sort of like to strangle someone in the personnel office. Just because she’s worked fae crime for years does not mean she’s qualified to deal with vampires. People somehow seem to assume the two are similar just because they’re supernatural beings. 

She pulls her clunky ancient Crown Vic out of the detectives’ parking line. She can’t quite bring herself to give up the car that belonged to her mentor. Carlos has been gone for eight years, but she still feels like it’s her responsibility to take care of that old beater. After all, he left it to her. Specifically. In his will. She feels like that has to mean something. 

Her radio crackles, a re-direct from her original destination, the Chimera agency itself. Apparently ‘her’ strike team was scrambled to deal with a blood harvesting ring, and she’s being asked to help coordinate the arrest since that’s a crime that falls in the grey area between human and vampire justice systems. 

When she pulls into the warehouse lot, it looks like pretty much every other arrest she’s ever worked. Minus all the flashing lights and black-and-white cars. 

There’s a matte-black van, an older model with a battered left side panel, parked next to a silver classic. She can’t ID it on sight, vehicles have never really been her thing, but it’s definitely a few decades older than the usual commuter car.

A string of cuffed people are standing in a line against the van, being watched by a petite woman with long dark hair that appears to have escaped a ponytail at some point in the scuffle. She turns around when Akela pulls into the lot, the gun in her hand coming up from against her leg to train on the car. 

Akela steps out of the car, slams the door hard enough the temperamental latch will actually catch, and holds out her badge. “Detective Akela Carpenter, LAPD.”

The woman holsters her gun and takes Akela’s hand with the slightly less bloody of her own, wincing. It looks like she fell onto shattered glass and caught herself on her hands. “Sierra Aguirre-Stoker.”

She gestures to the others. “Pete Jemison.” A blond man with wire-rimmed glasses and a bruised cheek waves shyly before turning a notebook so the woman next to him, her brown skin mottled with pale scars, her dark hair tangled, can see it. “He and Saanvi Desai are our accountants.” 

“Hi, I’m Vi,” The woman says. She waves, then turns back to the paper, pointing to something and talking animatedly to Pete.

A woman steps away from the van and walks toward them, sheathing what appears to be a collapsible bo staff at her back. “This is Wren.” The name is a dead giveaway she’s fae. So are the thorn vines curling over the staff. Her silver-blond braid is also studded with fragments of glass and plaster. There’s a deep gash on her cheek and she’s limping slightly on her left side, as if she’s turned an ankle.

Maybe this is why Akela is here. Someone wants her dealing with a team with a fae on it.

“Sierra?” Someone steps out of the building, then leans against the silver car with an air of familiarity. He’s big, skin pale, almost too pale, and his eyes don’t look human. 

“And that’s Shay.”

He’s not fae. But Sierra is being as cagey with his name as she was with Wren’s. 

All of them are wearing leather jackets, with varying patches and logos, but they all have the Chimera’s three-headed emblem on the left chest, and a patch with a white four-pointed star, like a compass rose center, with the words “Polaris” below it, on the right shoulder. Well. Almost all.

Shay only has the “Polaris” patch. Not the Chimera. 

Maybe he’s some other liaison. LAPD can’t be the only one who wants a finger in the pie of a new hunter strike team. But he doesn’t give her the sense of being FBI or DEA or any other law enforcement. Especially not with how often he’s glancing over at her with vague apprehension. 

He does look familiar. But like…wanted poster on the wall familiar. 

A second van pulls up, and a short woman steps out, flanked by two burly-looking men, all of them also wearing leather jackets with the Chimera logo. 

“Stoker. Barrett.” Sierra and Shay both snap around to look at her. “Want to tell me why you disobeyed a direct order not to engage?”

Barrett?

Shay. Shane Barrett.

Ho-ly shit.

No wonder LAPD wants someone watching out for this team. 

Akela slips her badge back into her pocket. She can see what the play is here. If this team succeeds, LAPD can claim they have partial responsibility, putting a rising star like Akela on the job. If it fails, they’re perfectly fine with sending her career down in flames.

So she’s going to make damn well sure that this succeeds.

You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!

@nade2308 @catwingsathena @whumptober