#a snippet from their dating years

[annamullemitavaan]

yeah it was a really bad idea to open tiktok before going to bed

[sanctuairee]

i LOVE graffiti and street art ok

[swagging-back-to]

sometimes i truly hate having DID

[foldingfittedsheets]

My nana maternal grandmother who taught me swears had one of the most ridiculous pet names for her cat when I was growing up. For reasons known only to her, she simply called the cat: Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. The creature in question was an absolute love bug and lived to be almost twenty.

When I was dating my last boyfriend Brendan we ended up living with his mom briefly before we moved up north together, and his sister lived at home too. One day I was sitting in the kitchen and heard Brendan call teasingly to his sister, “Okay, Miss Kitty Kitty Meow Meow!”

His sister laughed but my head shot up. “What did you just say?”

Brendan ambled over to me, “Oh, it’s an old inside joke. There was this one day I was riding the bus to Charlie’s house and I heard this girl on the bus say her grandma’s cat was named Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. It was so stupid I rushed home to tell my sister. It’s like naming a dog Doggy Doggy Bark Bark.” He was hysterically giggling just relating this story.

I stared at him.

I said, “Charlie and I were on the same bus route.”

He blinked, his giggles tapering down and slowly started to frown.

“That girl was me. That is the name of my nana’s cat.”

It turned out that while Brendan, a year younger than me, had never met me before we both graduated high school, he had apparently sat behind me once on the bus and turned a brief snippet of my life into a meme with his sister. Then a decade later we met through Charlie in college and went on to date. We were both flabbergasted by this coincidence.

But there was one more twist in store for me. I told my family about the way our paths had crossed before we ever dated and they thought it was hilarious.

Then a few weeks later I got a frantic call from my parents while they were in California visiting my paternal grandmother.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?”

There was weird excited static and thumps as the phone passed around and I heard my dad in the background urging my grandma, “Tell her!”

My grandma said ponderously, “You know my cats name is Kiki.”

“Of course, it’s a really cute name.”

“Your dad wants me to tell you the full thing.”

My eyes widened. I could not believe what was about to happen to me but I knew it was coming.

“Her name is Ki-Ki Meow Meow.”

I got it on both sides. Both my grandmas, in different states, with no contact, had named their cats the same silly ridiculous thing. I immediately ran to tell Brendan who laughed so hard he almost threw up.

[icarusignite]

he leaves you out like a penny in the rain (p.2)

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: I did not expect all the overwhelming love and feedback on part 1, so thank you so much to everyone who read and interacted, you made my day.

There will be a part 3 later to explore them getting even closer, and that will be more fluff (I did say slowburn lmao). I know they don't technically kiss and make up in this one, but that would be unrealistic, and this chapter is essentially Zayne having an existential crisis lmao. Gotta make our man suffer a little. I may also make this a whole series with more snippets of their life together (dates, workplace shenanigans, wedding, etc.) cuz I am rather attached to the concept of Zayne x coworker lmao. As always would love ot hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

"I didn't ask for her kindness. She's not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule."

Zayne regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In his head, they'd sounded like a neutral observation spoken in the abstract. But out loud? They were undeniably brutal.

He didn't even realize how harshly it had come across until he saw Miss Hunter's expression change. The easygoing smile slid off her face, and her eyes narrowed. She began gathering the files strewn across his desk in silence.

Zayne frowned. "What are you doing?"

Miss Hunter scowled without looking up. "Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking to someone with the emotional availability of a brick."

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes as she shoved a folder into her bag. "I do sincerely hope, for your sake, no one else heard you say that. Your colleague may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them. I've never seen anyone work as hard as she does. She bends over backward for her patients, stays longer than anyone else, and still finds time to show basic human decency to the people around her. You don't have to like her, Zayne, but don't you dare belittle her like that."

Zayne opened his mouth to reply, but the woman had already thrown her coat over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Didn't you say you needed my help with the case? That is why you've been coming in, haven't you?"

"I think I have what I need. Someone from the Association will give you a call if we require anything else." Her eyes met his one last time. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Now don't let me waste any more of it."

Then she was gone, and the silence she left behind was deafening. It wasn't like her to walk out like that. Frigid departures were his specialty.

He sat down slowly, but didn't open the file in front of him. Instead, his eyes drifted to the spot on his desk where you used to leave his tea for him.

Miss Hunter was kind. You were, too. He never quite understood why people like that kept finding their way into his life. He seemed terrible at keeping them there. And now, he was starting to understand why.

The words he'd said earlier soured in his stomach, replaying in his mind like a low-grade headache he couldn't medicate away. He didn't even know why he'd said them. It wasn't like him to speak without thinking.

Miss Hunter was one of his oldest friends. She had known him long before he was "Dr. Li." Back when he was just Zayne. She knew his tells better than anyone.

If she had caught him glancing at you every time you entered his office, she would have known immediately. She would have teased him mercilessly, bothered him about something he didn't even fully understand himself.

And she was your friend, too. Which meant she would've told you.

He certainly hadn't wanted that. It would ruin things.

Not that there was anything to ruin, technically. You weren't involved. You weren't his. You weren't anything more than a colleague.

From the early days of med school to the quiet corners of the hospital now, you flitted in and out of his life with a warm drink in one hand and a smile on your face, offering sugar and comfort like it cost you nothing.

Zayne knew better than to believe it was just for him. You were like that with everyone.

You brought donuts for the night shift nurses, slushies for interns melting in the summer heat, and hot cider during the freezing winter. You volunteered to cover holidays and swapped shifts without complaint. You remembered birthdays, favourite snacks, and which residents were allergic to almonds.

You were a kindness machine, and he hated that it still got to him. Sometimes it was hard not to feel like there was something different about the way you smiled at him, and when you slipped out of his office after each delivery, Zayne found it nearly impossible to concentrate afterward.

Your presence left ripples. He had insinuated that you were a distraction, but not because you hindered the hospital. No, you were a distraction to him. When you were gone, he was thinking about you, and when you were near, he couldn't think at all.

So why had he said what he said?

Because he didn't want Miss Hunter to know what he was feeling? Because he didn't want you to know?

Zayne took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. He still didn't have a good answer. The only real explanation was the simplest, and the hardest to admit: He'd been cruel. And now he felt the guilt of it like a stone in his throat.

Zayne wasn't the kind of man who tracked people's comings and goings. He only paid attention to pathology reports, test results, and charts with clear logic. He didn't count footsteps in the hallway or wonder where someone's voice had gone.

At least, not until yours had been missing for three days.

At first, he told himself it was a good thing. You were keeping your distance, finally, after all this time. No more interruptions. No more unsolicited desserts or stickers pressed onto his notes like a child's reward chart.

He had, after all, been pulling away from you, too. Maybe you'd finally taken the hint.

He should've been relieved. This distance was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd convinced himself that if you were gone—if your presence stopped softening the corners of his day—then he'd finally be able to focus again. Be more efficient. More himself.

But to his growing dismay, the effect was the exact opposite. He could focus even less.

He spent too long rereading documents, missed the timing on his own schedule, and found his attention drifting in the middle of patient reports. Every time he turned a corner and didn't see you, he wondered where you were. When he passed the pediatric ward and didn't catch a glimpse of you hunched over a chart or joking with a young patient, he slowed to search without meaning to.

Maybe you were on vacation. That was rational. Doctors took leave all the time, and you of all people deserved one. But when he asked a pediatric nurse in passing, he got an answer that deflated every illusion he'd been holding onto.

"She's still on duty," the nurse explained. "Very busy. You know how she can be."

That was worse. You were close by, and still not coming around. It became harder to ignore.

Occasionally, he'd get a glimpse of your coat disappearing down a hall, or the top of your head as you ducked into the operating theatre, but never your face. And he certainly never saw you in his office again, even when you should have been there.

His desk was cleaner now. No crumbs from lemon cake, and no more paper cups of oolong. During his breaks, he found himself rifling through his drawers, trying not to look at the stack of stickers he kept there. The ones he peeled off and meant to toss, but never did.

There was the glittering, heart-shaped one you'd slapped onto his clipboard months ago. A cartoon cat, a kidney with googly eyes, and a shiny peach. You'd stuck that last one on his stethoscope once, and he hadn't taken it off for days, claiming it made his youngest patients smile.

But really, it was because it made you smile.

By the fifth day of your absence, he found himself looking up every time his office door opened. He dared not say aloud what he was hoping for, but the disappointment in his expression was telling enough when his guest never turned out to be you. He hadn't realized how often you used to cross his path until you didn't anymore.

On the sixth day, he lingered by the pediatric nurses' station, claiming he was checking up on a shared patient, but he didn't find you.

On the seventh, he stopped by the eastern stairwell just before midnight, the one he knew you liked to take instead of the elevator because you were trying to get your daily steps in. It was empty, but he waited for fifteen whole minutes.

By the end of the week, something in his chest felt too tight. The silences were heavy, and his tea never tasted right because he had to make it himself.

It was nearing midnight when Zayne finally finished logging the last of his post-op notes. The hospital had thinned to its late-shift hush, leaving only the occasional overhead call and the low hum of fluorescent lighting that never truly turned off.

The unexpected sound of knocking almost made him flinch, but when the door opened, his shoulders practically slumped in disappointment.

"No need to look so disheartened by my presence," his colleague, Dr. Greyson, teased. "I'm only here to drop off patient files, as you requested."

Zayne didn't respond.

"I really wish you hadn't scared off our caffeine supplier, though," Dr. Greyson continued, unaware of the subtle shift in the man's demeanour at the mention of you.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. The doctor who used to swing by with desserts. She hasn't come by in a whole week. The whole cardiology department is suffering. Morale's at an all-time low."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "I hardly think anyone's suffering."

Greyson tilted his head, watching him with that infuriating look that said I know more than you think I do."Did you scare her off or something? You used to get visits like clockwork. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I find myself missing that 'you-forgot-to-eat-again' look of pity she used to give all of us."

"She is probably busy. As you should be."

Greyson clicked his tongue. "I'm not trying to pry—well, maybe I am, just a little—but I figure if she stopped showing up, and you started passing by pediatrics like you're casing the joint, something must've happened."

"Nothing happened," Zayne muttered stiffly.

"Sure. Except for the part where she's been sending interns to collect your reports instead of coming herself. And the part where you've looked like someone kicked your cat for three days straight. You're not as subtle as you think."

"It's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" his colleague drawled. "Because it's starting to affect your concentration. You missed a detail on that post-op note yesterday. Not like you."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. "It was corrected immediately."

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice." Then he added, more gently, "You know, if she's avoiding you, there's probably a reason."

Dr. Greyson's words echoed long after he departed.

Zayne scoffed at first, but the question refused to dislodge itself, settling under his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite reach.

What had he done? What could he have done?

He turned the thought over again and again, as if studying it from every clinical angle might make it reveal itself.

Yes, perhaps he'd been colder than usual lately, but that wasn't new. You'd known him long enough to recognize the ebb and flow of his moods. You used to tease him about it. "Dr. Li, did your coffee betray you again today?" or "Should I come back when the glacier thaws?"

You always came back because you weren't the type to hold a grudge. And certainly not the type to vanish without a word. If something bothered you, you would have said it.

So, why disappear?

The only thing he'd done differently, the only deviation from the constant rhythm of your companionship, was—

His stomach turned.

No.

There was no way.

Had you heard what he said to Miss Hunter that night? Or worse, had she told you herself?

Miss Hunter wasn't the sort to do that, especially if she knew it would hurt you. But you hadn't been working that night. He'd checked the rota; you weren't even on call.

His voice sounded vindictive in hindsight. He had only meant it as a deflection. A way to keep Miss Hunter from pressing further into places he hadn't yet dared to look himself. He hadn't thought—

He hadn't thought.

His gut twisted. That would explain your absence. You hadn't simply disappeared, you'd withdrawn. And not just from him, but from his whole department.

He'd done something worse than push you too far. He'd made you feel small and irrelevant.

Zayne exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, overcome with guilt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't good with apologies. He wasn't even sure how to begin, but something had to be done.

If not for himself—he still wouldn't allow himself that admission—then at least for the others. For the people who looked to you. For the space you had filled so effortlessly, that now felt so cold and painfully quiet.

Maybe, if he could fix this, you'd look at him again the way you used to. Maybe it was time for him to stop watching his door and finally go knock on yours.

The next week, Zayne finally mustered the courage to approach you. He stood just by your office, waiting for you to arrive, but when you finally did, you were moving too quickly for him to say anything. Your shoulders were tensed as you ducked past him, and without thinking to ask for permission, he followed you inside.

You didn't even acknowledge his presence. You were hunched over a drawer, rifling through it with your good hand. The other one—your dominant, he noticed—was clenched in a bloodied fist, a crimson thread trickling from between your fingers and down your wrist.

"You're hurt," he murmured.

You ignored him, yanking open another drawer with more force than necessary. Your good hand trembled as you pulled out the first aid kit, and it clattered onto the desk, spilling slightly.

He took a step forward. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Still no response, and Zayne was forced to watch as you clumsily opened the box, tugging at alcohol wipes and sterile gauze with one hand, fumbling with the bandage roll like it had personally offended you. When the antiseptic hit your wound, you hissed, and that was the last straw.

Zayne reached for your wrist, and you pulled back as if stung, your blood-slicked palm cradled awkwardly against your chest.

"I just want to—"

"Leave me be!" you snapped. "Please. I have work to do."

He didn't raise his voice. "You can't work like this."

"I am working like this."

"You can't take care of your patients if you can't take care of yourself."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Is this your way of calling me incompetent again? Believe me, Dr. Li, I have no time for you right now."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently. "I'm not trying to—look, please, just let me help. You can snap at me all you want afterwards."

Without waiting for your response, he firmly nudged you in the direction of your chair, and you let him because standing suddenly felt too exhausting. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off, or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore. You kept your mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he worked.

Zayne didn't speak either, kneeling beside you tentatively. He did not look at your face as he pried open your fist, his frown deepening as he examined the wound. Then he cleaned it with uncharacteristic tenderness, wiping away the blood and wrapping the gauze, his fingers stalling against your skin a beat too long.

When he finally stood to pack the kit away, you stood too, your anger spilling past your lips in a venomous tumble.

"My apologies for wasting your precious time with personal errands, Dr. Li," you practically sneered. "But you don't have to play nursemaid anymore. You do have a department to run, after all."

His own words thrown back at him. Zayne winced, but met your gaze without faltering. He deserved every bit of your resentment. "That was...certainly warranted."

You scoffed, pressing your wrapped hand into your lap. "Damn right, it was."

He nodded stiffly, absorbing the blow without complaint. He would accept your barbed words because at least you were speaking to him. Anything was better than your silence.

"I..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

When all you could do was glower at him, he adjusted his lab coat just to have something to do with his hands.

"I have no excuse for what I said. Or for what you heard," he continued. "It was... awful. And cruel. And I was wrong. You work harder than anyone else here. You work too hard. And I never should've implied otherwise. I'm sorry."

"I don't accept it," you said simply.

"I—"

"I don't care if that makes me petty. I'm allowed to be angry. You don't get forgiveness just because you decided to feel bad about it now."

Zayne's mouth parted in protest. "I know this is about the conversation you overheard, and I—"

"The one where you called me pathetic? Questioned my competence? You essentially said I've been neglecting my job because I bring my colleagues refreshments every now and then?"

"You must know...I had no intention of hurting you."

"Didn't you?" You stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. "Because I remember every word. Every. Word. And believe me, it wasn't the first time I've been told I'm not good enough to be here. I just never thought you'd be the one to say it."

He flinched, but you didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

You tipped your head toward the door. "Please leave, Dr. Li. As per your earlier suggestions, I am working on managing my time better, and part of that includes not engaging in pointless conversations."

You followed him to the door, closing it in his face with a click. It was worse than if you had slammed it, because this felt too final.

He was just about to leave when he heard the strangled sound from the other side. A whimper and then a quiet sniffle. Zayne stood frozen in place, hand hovering over the doorknob, wishing he could offer more than the hollow apology he had.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "Truly, I am sorry."

For the first time in all the years he had known you, there was nothing else he could say.

Zayne didn't try to speak to you again. You asked him to leave you alone, and he respected your decision enough to resist intruding into your life. But that didn't mean he stopped caring, and he certainly never stopped trying. He just changed the way he did it.

You never ran out of your favourite stationery, a new box appearing on your desk every time you were even close, and it seemed that someone had paid for a lifetime's worth of beverage orders at the cafe across the street where you frequented. Every time you showed up, the barista would grin at you and tell you that your order had been paid for, no matter what hour it was. It was absurd.

The nurses had started noticing, too. How Zayne signed off on consults for your shared patients before you could ask him to. And the fact that the smartboard in your office now auto-updated like clockwork because someone had programmed the algorithm to pull directly from the cardiology logs.

He didn't overstep, of course. He didn't want to do anything that would make you think he was questioning your competence or ability to get things done. He just handled the little things to make your life easier.

For Zayne, it wasn't about being forgiven. He wasn't delusional enough to think that any of this would win you over, but that wasn't the point. He just couldn't stand the thought of you being tired, overworked, or overlooked anymore.

He knew you were angry, and you had every right to be, but this was the only way he could think of to fix things. To anticipate your every need before it arose and solve it before it became a problem.

However, no matter how much he tried to stay out of your way, his eyes were always drawn toward you when he occasionally passed you by, like a reflex he couldn't kill. You never returned the look, and though it killed him, he never stopped refilling the frog stickers when the last sheet disappeared from your drawer, and making sure the lab results for your most critical cases were flagged top priority. He wasn't waiting for your gratitude. He just didn't know what else to do with the ache that sat where your laughter used to echo.

It became unbearable when he began messing with your break room. The one in the pediatric wing was barely even a room, really just a glorified closet with a dying microwave and a fridge that made suspicious humming noises when overfilled. But it had been your domain. A little corner of chaos you liked to keep warm for the interns and residents who rotated through your department, stumbling half-asleep between charts and crying toddlers.

You'd made it a habit to stock the cabinets with snacks. Caffeine bars. Gummy vitamins. Single-serve juice boxes and thermal mugs with weird slogans. It wasn't much, but it made the 2 a.m. shifts bearable. People had started calling it the "Sunshine Station."

But lately, something had shifted.

You didn't notice it at first because you were too busy. But then, one afternoon, you ducked into the room to grab the last apple juice from the mini fridge, only to find that the juice had already been restocked. Not just that, it had been rearranged neatly, the labels facing out. Right next to a new box of cereal bars that no one else even liked, but your most overworked intern swore kept her from fainting.

It was strange. You hadn't placed an order this month because you'd been shamefully distracted by your own indignation. When you checked the other cabinets, they were full too, and not just with generics, either.

The gummy vitamins were the exact kind your other interns liked, the ones shaped like bears instead of those awful chalky tablets. Whoever had placed the order had even remembered to get lactose-free yogurt.

When you asked around later that day, all you received were blank stares. Those who frequented the break room claimed that the items had been simply delivered as they always were, and that they thought you had been the one to handle it like you always did.

It unsettled you. For years, you had been the one to keep things stocked. You took pride in remembering everyone's favourites because you liked showing up for the people who worked under you. It mattered to you. But now it was as if someone had quietly picked up where you left off. Someone had taken the time to learn what your team liked. Someone who was trying very hard to make amends.

You shut the thought down fast. You didn't want to think about him.

But your interns had other ideas, it seemed.

The next evening, you were filling out patient notes at the corner table, half-tuned out, while they squabbled over a nearly empty box of mango pudding cups.

"I swear to god, Nam, that was my last one!"

"First come, first serve, Clara. You've had four already!"

"I'm dessert-loading for morale!"

You didn't intervene. Their bickering was strangely comforting, like white noise after too many days of stifling silence.

Clara finally wrenched the box from Nam's hands, only to gasp dramatically.

"They're gone!" she mourned, rattling the empty cardboard. "My pudding! This is an emergency!"

"Just ask Dr. Li to add them to the supply list," Nam muttered, crouching to inspect the fridge's bottom shelf for apple slices.

You froze. "Ask who?"

Nam's head jerked up, eyes wide. "I—I mean, like. I don't know why I said that. Just—someone else must've added them to the order since you've been so busy lately. That's all I meant."

Clara nodded with a false smile. "We must have a secret supplier in our midst who keeps us stocked. The Snack Phantom. Or maybe... the Nutrition Ninja."

Nam nodded sagely. "The Candy Courier."

"Or the Juicy Justice Man."

"Okay, now you're just being plain ridiculous," you snorted, rubbing your temple. "In case you forgot, I'm the one who places the orders. And I'm sorry I forgot to this month. So what's all this about Dr. Li? He's got nothing to do with us."

Clara's eyes bounced between you and Nam guiltily. "Oh. Uh...it's just that he asked us about our snack preferences."

Nam nodded. Then quickly shook his head. "Well, not all of them. Just like... a few specific ones."

You squinted suspiciously. "Like what?"

Nam hesitated. "Like, which flavour of chips you like. And which brand of protein bars Clara eats when she's on night shifts. And those gummies that Dr. Gao hoards like a dragon."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Dr. Li doesn't believe in vending machines," Clara deadpanned, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. "I swear I've heard him call flavoured chips 'an affront to God' once."

"He's not trying to replace you, of course," Nam added hastily. "He's just taking stuff off your plate. We all know how busy you've been lately. You even have that health outreach drive this weekend."

Your jaw clenched, and you looked back down at your chart, trying to keep your expression unreadable. In your periphery, you saw the two interns nudge each other, mumbling something about a chart they forgot to update before scuttling off.

When the room cleared out a few minutes later, you were left alone with your tepid green tea, staring at a worn sticker someone had left on the edge of the table. The same kind you used to put on Zayne's mugs.

Suddenly, every little thing felt far too overwhelming. You didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Gratitude? Bitterness? Some ugly combination of both?

You were just so tired.

It was past midnight when you finally finished with your tasks of the day, exhaustion making your limbs feel like they belonged to someone else. Your coat was slung over your arm, your bag slumped tiredly against one shoulder, and the charts you'd meant to leave in the admin office tilted in your grip like a collapsing tower.

You cursed under your breath when a few of them slipped loose and tumbled to the floor. When you bent, your back made an uncharacteristic sound, and you winced. You hadn't eaten dinner. Or lunch, or even breakfast, for that matter. Your feet hurt, and you still had a dozen things to do tomorrow, even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Of course, this would happen. Of course—

"Let me help."

You turned sharply, and there stood Dr. Zayne Li, just a few paces away.

His hair was impeccable as always, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, coat draped carelessly over his shoulder. He looked as tired as you felt. More, maybe. The shadows under his eyes had grown darker since the last time you really looked at him.

You hadn't seen him this close in months.

In the time it took for you to scrutinize him, he had already stepped forward to gather your scattered files. When he handed them back to you, his fingers brushed yours tentatively, but you did not thank him.

Nonetheless, he followed you to the nurses' station where you dropped your load off, and then outside toward the exit.

"I didn't think you'd let me help," he remarked.

You shrugged, and that earned the smallest quirk of his lips. Equal parts sad and knowing. He must have sensed some kind of brittle neutrality in your expression. Not forgiveness, but the absence of active malice. The first thaw in a long, punishing winter.

When the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, he held the door open for you. You didn't comment on it, and the silence stretched again.

Zayne cleared his throat. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I checked the roster. I wasn't trying to pry."

You gave him a sideways glance.

"I just—" He adjusted his cufflinks. "I've been trying to apologize. Properly. I know I hurt you. I said things I didn't mean, and I let you believe things that weren't true. That you weren't—"

You turned to face him then, and he stopped talking.

"You did hurt me."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I still don't think I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself. "But holding onto it for this long has been exhausting, so I'm going to let it go. I'm not letting you off the hook. I am just letting myself off it. I simply don't care what you think of me, so you can rest easy, I suppose. I'm not angry anymore."

Strangely enough, you found that you meant it. It had been several months since the incident, and although for a short while it had bruised your ego, you needed to try and move past it. It was a lesson you had learned early in life when everyone around you doubted your abilities. You could not let their opinions of you make you waver. The same applied here. While you admired Zayne's intelligence and abilities, you refused to let his opinion of you affect your work. You had worked too hard for that to happen.

You were letting go more for yourself than for him. You wondered if Zayne knew that too, because he was looking at you with an expression of melancholy resignation, like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or devastated. 

Was indifference any better than fury?

When you stepped past him to head in the direction of the train station, he called out after you. "You shouldn't take the train this late."

You didn't stop walking. "I've done it before."

"You're exhausted."

"Shocking, considering I just completed a 17-hour shift looking after tiny humans with fevers and sticky fingers."

"I'll drive you."

You glanced at him over your shoulder skeptically. "What, is this some sort of attempt at penance?"

"No," Zayne countered. "It's common sense. You're swaying on your feet."

You opened your mouth for a retort, but he was right, and frankly, you were too tired to protest on principle. So with a small, muttered, "Fine," you followed him to the parking lot.

You said nothing as you slid into the passenger seat and let the warmth of the heater begin to soothe the ache in your muscles.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, five minutes later, the streetlights outside looked wrong.

"This isn't my route."

Zayne didn't look at you. "I'm taking you to dinner."

"I didn't consent to that."

"You got in my car, didn't you?"

You turned fully to glare at him. "Where are we going?"

He disclosed the name of your favourite late-night restaurant, the one with the golden stew and free barley tea.

"How did you—?"

"I know you haven't eaten all day."

"Have you been having my interns spy on me?"

"You can't be both sleep and nutrition deprived. I've bagged up bodies that had more vitality than you."

"Oh, so now we've moved on to insulting my appearance? How novel."

"You're not hideous," Zayne remarked absently. "You just look like a Victorian ghost that's been wandering the moors since 1852."

You made a strangled noise of indignation. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Well, you should start acting like it."

But you lacked your usual fire. Then your stomach betrayed you, growling so loudly it echoed through the silence of the car.

Zayne didn't say anything, but the way he glanced over at you with that annoyingly subtle twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth made your scowl deepen.

"...Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm not thanking you."

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said dryly, pulling into the familiar lot.

You rolled your eyes but stepped out when he opened the door for you, letting the smell of garlic, chilli, and warm rice overpower the urge to strangle him.

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour, only a few lingering patrons tucked into booths, and faint ballads played through the speakers like a lullaby. You sat across from Zayne, not quite looking at him, and the overhead light was dim enough to make everything feel like a dream viewed through steam.

The waitress didn't bother with menus because she knew your order. You'd been coming here ever since your residency days. She simply smiled and said, "The usual?" with a glance at you, then your companion, who gave a silent nod.

You watched her leave, then directed your attention toward him. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."

"You always get the same thing. Unless you've changed your mind in the last several years."

"And if I had?"

"Then I'd offer you mine."

That shut you up for a moment.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he confessed candidly. "To dinner."

"Then why are you trying so hard?"

"Because I miss you." His response startled even him because he immediately avoided your probing gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I miss..." He exhaled. "I miss your bad jokes. Your sugar bribes. The energy you bring into a room just by walking into it. I miss being someone who deserved all of that."

"Dr. Li...Zayne...what are you doing?"

Your use of his first name made his heart convulse in his chest, and he wondered with mild curiosity if he was having a heart attack. You tended to have that effect on him. "I'm trying to make things right."

You didn't have an answer for that, so you picked up your spoon and dipped it into your food that had just arrived. You let the warmth hit your tongue, sink into your bones, and settle somewhere deep inside the ache. This was easier than coming up with a response.

Across from you, Zayne stirred his bowl absently. For someone who dragged you here with such conviction, he wasn't eating much. You caught him glancing at you more than once, and each time, he looked away just as quickly.

Then he cleared his throat. "So, one of my interns fainted in the middle of a laparoscopic demonstration yesterday."

You blinked, surprised he was talking at all, let alone telling you stories.

"She nearly took down the anesthesia tray with her."

"Oh...is she okay?"

"She's fine. She may have forgotten to eat. Or breathe. Possibly both." A beat. "I told her if she ever wants to pull a stunt like that again, she has to warn me first so I can bill cardiology for Greyson's near heart attack."

You gave a reluctant huff of amusement, and he seized it like a drowning man to driftwood.

"And then, today, one of my residents presented a case that was very obviously plagiarized from a House episode. He even kept the ludicrous diagnosis."

"That's... dramatic."

"He said, and I quote, 'It's rare, but not impossible, Dr. Li.'" Zayne took a sip of water. "I told him so is being struck by lightning during a Sudoku competition. That doesn't mean it belongs on a discharge summary."

You snorted into your rice. He seemed pleased by that. As pleased as he ever looked, which wasn't much, but you saw the ease in his shoulders, and the faint wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It was odd, watching him do what you used to do. Filling the silences and stumbling awkwardly over attempts at connection. Sharing things he wouldn't normally bother to say out loud. You tried not to let it affect you.

Tried.

Zayne glanced at you again, then made a visible effort to keep going. "Someone else spilled an entire tray of empty vials. He dropped them while trying to open his pudding cup. I told him that's what he gets for eating like a five-year-old."

You smirked. "Dr. Greyson told me last year that you eat your sandwiches with a knife and fork."

Zayne didn't miss a beat, going along with your story just for the sake of hearing you talk. "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"You... what?"

"It's cleaner. You get an even distribution. No hand residue. Structural integrity is maintained throughout."

"That is the most unhinged thing I've heard in months."

"I'm a surgeon," he replied unapologetically. "I value precision."

"You're a monster."

"Possibly."

Another quiet moment passed, but this time it was companionable, warmed by broth and faint humour.

Zayne stirred his stew with mechanical precision, then said, with no real preamble, "Did I ever tell you about the time one of my interns tried to impress me by diagnosing a nosebleed as a sign of brain-eating amoeba?"

"...Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were."

"And what was your response, Dr. Li?"

"I told her that unless the patient had just returned from a stagnant swamp in the middle of winter, she was catastrophizing. Then I handed her a nasal spray."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You're such a menace."

"She handed in a ten-page write-up on amoebic encephalitis the next morning."

"I'm torn between horror and pride."

"Greyson said I should start charging tuition."

"As if you don't make enough money already."

"They're all chaos." He shook his head. "One of them showed up in inappropriate footwear during an OR rotation and asked if we were doing anything fun today."

You choked on your rice, and Zayne offered you a napkin without comment.

"Inappropriate footwear? Would that be high heels or Crocs?"

"I cannot recall exactly."

"God. That sounds like something you would've done back in school."

Your dinner companion looked offended at the insinuation. "I would never have disgraced myself that way."

"True. You were insufferably by-the-book."

"I still am."

"You are." You chuckled again, reluctantly. You hadn't laughed this much in months.

Worst of all, you didn't hate the way it felt. But you hated that you missed it. You hated how much you'd missed him. You had to remind yourself that he was just trying extra hard to alleviate his own guilt, not because he actually wanted you to feel better. But it was hard to question his sincerity when he looked at you so earnestly. To you, his eyes had always been his most mesmerizing feature, and now, when he trained them on you, unguarded and sincere, you felt your resolve start to crumble.

Despite the distance and the cruelty that still stung at the edges of your memory, the ache hadn't lessened. There was something so familiar about him, the way his stories came out stiff and slightly disjointed, like they'd been rehearsed. The way he glanced up between anecdotes to check if you were still listening.

"I also miss not being verbally assaulted every morning by my ravenous interns asking where the 'sugar fairy' went." He gave you a gentle smile, something a little more than the usual twitch of his lips, and you chugged your glass of water to drown the sudden influx of butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

You groaned. "I knew Dr. Greyson started that name."

"He did. But the students run with it like it's gospel. I overheard one say they were going to sacrifice someone to the snack deity if you didn't come back to our floor soon."

"And would that someone have been you?"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. You tried to smother it, but it bubbled up anyway. "Indeed, I would."

Zayne looked deeply, irritatingly satisfied, and you bit back another smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself enjoy it.

You were too tired to resist the lull of good conversation and an old friend tonight. Tomorrow, you could try to go back to hating him. Tomorrow, you would take your grudge by the hand, but today, you deserved to let go a little.

Eventually, he stopped talking, and you looked up to find him watching you intently. Almost reverently.

"...What?" you asked, warily. "Do I have rice on my face or something?"

He didn't respond.

"Seriously. What are you looking at?"

Zayne hesitated. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"What?"

"That thing I said. About you looking like a Victorian ghost."

"Oh?" Your lips quirked up wryly. "Do I look worse, then? Let me guess. Forest cryptid instead? Decrepit hag?"

Zayne didn't crack a smile or tease you back, and something fragile fluttered just beneath the surface of his gaze.

No. You look beautiful.

Even like this. Even in exhaustion with dark circles under your eyes and your hair messier than you probably realized. You were beautiful in the way late-night hospital lights made you glow. Beautiful in the way you had always cared, even for people like him, who never knew how to deserve it.

He hated that it had taken him this long to notice. Or rather, that it had taken him even longer to admit it to himself, but he would spend the rest of his days trying to find the right moment to say it aloud, to make you believe it. 

Today, however, was not the right moment, so he just wordlessly refilled your cup of water.

You didn't thank him, but you didn't push him away either.

For tonight, that was enough.

Taglist: @floofycookie @heartandeye @lanxianschoenheit @loverindeepspace @treeteaofversailles @ikesimpleton @mysticcauldronspire @69-gojos-wife-69 @nm4565natty @ciexuvia @jeonjenny @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgirlie7 @raethewargeneral @staarflowerr @eolivy @straykidslvr @lemurianmaster @preeyas-world @sillyfreakfanparty

Hope I didn't miss anyone ❤️

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship

genre: established relationship, humour

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 406,409 others

landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm

view all comments

maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?

yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty

user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N

user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead

user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 108,654 others

yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!

view all comments

user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON

user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement

user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh

user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is

landonorris i love you

landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?

yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5

————

a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!

for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!

all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan

[noisilyscreechingsong]

It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

[lowkeyerror]

Key to Your Flat

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Fluff, a bit of angst, pining, lots of acts of service, friends to lovers, au no powers

Summary: Wanda ends her long term relationship with Jarvis after realizing she was a lesbian. You've been her best friend since college, it's only right for you to support her in any way you can.

An: So this was supposed to be a cute little 1-2k fic loosely based on the Doja Cat snippet that says "Does a key to your flat mean girlfriend?" But it has turned into something else lol.

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

From the first day that you met her, you knew that Wanda would be one of the most successful people that you had ever encountered. There was no one more determined to make something of themselves than her. It was more than hard work; it was the way she sacrificed for the things that she wanted to accomplish in life.

You admired her.

How could you not, especially with the lack of direction you had in your own life? When you became her roommate in your sophomore year in college, you were already on your 3rd major. From engineering, to English, to culinary arts; you were all over the place. Yet you didn’t care much about it, figuring things would work out somehow.

You believed that the universe would grant you whatever fate you deserved. Until Wanda told you that was such a ridiculous notion. Who would wait for a handout from the universe when they could simply get what they wanted themselves?

She was a good influence on you. You started taking school and your future a little more seriously after that. You put a lot more stock into your culinary dreams, and they paid off. There was a beaming fulfillment in your chest when you opened your own restaurant. Something that probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t met Wanda.

While you can’t necessarily recall what Wanda does off of the top of your head. You know she’s got some long fancy title at some big industry company. She had taken an internship in college and because of how completely undeniable the woman was, she shot up in the ranks of the company within a 10-year period.

You were both busy people, but you never loss touch as you climbed your respective ladders of success. It was second nature for you to keep in contact with Wanda. It’s not something you thought about as much as something that you did.

Other aspects of your life often slipped through your fingers. You weren’t proud to say you’d forgotten a birthday or two or missed family plans because of work. Even your dating life suffered immensely because of your hectic lifestyle.

You never understood just how Wanda could manage to create enough balance in her life to find someone like Jarvis. He was a good man, clean cut. A little more uptight than you’d thought Wanda would go for, but a charmer, nonetheless.

You remember being skeptical when you first met him. You were the first person that he’d met from Wanda’s life. It was an accident when you ran into him on the way out of Wanda’s flat. He was about to knock when you were exiting. The red head was a little embarrassed to explain as you stared at the tall blonde man. You looked between the two before you shook his hand and sent him a decent enough smile.

She had chased after you when you left, trying to explain herself, but there was nothing to explain. You congratulated her, said you were happy she found someone. She thought you’d be upset with her, but you weren’t. How could you be upset when she was happy?

You had assumed that they had a perfect relationship. That’s how it seemed when you saw them interact with each other. His hand on her waist, her eyes shining into his. They’d seem to compliment each other like the ocean compliments the beach.

Which is why you were confused when Wanda called you in the middle of your shift at work. She hardly ever called, finding texting much more reliable. However, you picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Hey, I know you’re probably working right now but is there any way you can pick me up.”

It sounded like she had been crying.

You were taking your apron off as you spoke into the phone, “Always, just send me your location and I’ll be on my way.”

You hear the relieved sigh she lets out, “Thank you.”

You informed your staff of your departure and went to your car.  Wanda sent her location, and you put it into your GPS, before driving off. She was closer than you had expected so getting to her was easy.

She was at a park in the middle of the city. The day was cloudy, and the sun was preparing to set. It was a very grey day to be outdoors.

Once you were out of your car you scanned around for your friend. You found her almost instantly. She was sitting on a bench, her head in her hands.

You’d seen her stressed before, but this felt bigger than that. Her voice on the phone made that very evident to you.

You approached her cautiously and when you got close enough you called her name, “Wanda.”

Her head shot up when she heard you. She was off the bench and in your arms before you had time to react. Her arms were tightly wound around you. It caught you off guard and all you could do was stare down at her for a moment.

Soon you were holding her back just as tight. Your hand cradled the back of her hair, finger tenderly rubbing her scalp.

“What happened?” Your voice is soft when you ask, not trying to provoke her any more than she already is.

It takes her a minute to pull away enough to answer you, but eventually she does, “Jarvis, he proposed.”

Your eyes widen, “These don’t look like happy tears.”

“I was trying to break up with him,” she lets out a deep sigh. “I called him to talk in person, and then I tell him that I think we should break up. He gets on one knee and starts talking, and I- I just…”

“Oh Wands,” you pull her back into your embrace.

You readjust so that you have one arm over her shoulder. She doesn’t protest as you lead her to your car. She climbs in the passenger seat no questions asked as you pull off.

When you arrived at your destination she finally speaks up, “What’re we doing here?”

You’re in and out of the Chinese food spot with a hefty bag of boxes in tow. When you re-enter the car with the food Wanda sends you a small smile.

“Getting takeout,” you answered quickly getting out of the car. “You sit tight.”

“Did you-”

“Of course, I got our favorite and I asked for extra sweet and sour too. I was going to drive to yours, maybe we could eat and indulge in some sitcoms or talk, whatever you want. How does that sound?”

Your eyes raked over her features. She gave you a few small nods, “Sounds better than having an existential breakdown at the park.”

“Well, I guess it’s settled then,” you chuckled a little.

You drove to her house, glancing over at her every few minutes. Her head rested on the window and her eyes were closed, but you knew she wasn’t sleeping. Wanda often closed her eyes when she was trying to ground herself. It was something you had picked up on back in college. You never knew where she went in her head, but it always seemed to help her refocus.

When you got to her flat. You handled the food and the tv, shooing Wanda away to put on some more comfortable clothes. When she came back in her sweatpants and robe the two of you ate as you watched I Dream of Jeannie.

It took about 2 episodes before she said anything to you.

“You’re not going to ask why I wanted to break up with him?”

You leaned back into the couch, “I’m curious, but it didn’t really seem like something I should be asking right now.”

She searched your eyes for something. If you had to guess, you say for security. She needed to know that start she said next was ok to tell you. In truth there was nothing she could say that would deter you from being there for her.

“I think I like women,” she said as she looked into her lap. There were more tears brewing behind her eyes, “Only women.”

There was no hesitation as you moved closer to her. Your thigh brushing against hers, prompting her to meet your gaze.

“That’s not a bad thing Wanda.”

She shakes her head, “It is especially when you have a long-term boyfriend who loves you with everything that he has. You keep wondering when you’re going to love him the way he loves you. When will you stop hating the way he touches you? When will you be able to look at him, the way he looks at you. By the time you realize it can’t be him, it will never be a him… it’s too late. He shows you a ring while you’re trying to break up with him.”

You grab her hand, “You need to be kinder to yourself. This isn’t something you chose to do Wanda. It’s not like you knew the whole time. It sounds like you’re just coming to terms with your sexuality. You did the right thing by breaking up with him.”

“But-"

She ran her free hand through her hair, “Did you think we were a good couple? Jarvis and I.”

“Let me finish. If I’m being honest, getting on one knee and proposing to someone after they tried to break up with you sounds like a manipulation tactic.”

You thought about the question briefly, “I think it looked like you were the perfect couple, but sometimes I didn’t understand it. You’re both so different, not that it was a bad thing. I just… I’ve seen you soar to unimaginable heights. I’ve seen your ambitions become your reality. I just didn’t see that in him. You’re always striving to be the best, to improve. I always thought you’d want someone to do the same with you or someone who was okay with you doing that. It just seemed like all of that went over his head.”

“He was a very traditional man. He always talked about settling down in the future, with firm roots, and kids. He talked about me retiring and letting him take care of me. It was just- not what I wanted.”

“And that’s ok, people break up all the time Wanda. It’s a normal part of life. Yes, it sucks, but it's just a breakup. Think of it as one step closer to finding your person.”

She nods slightly, “When did you get so good at this?”

You smile at her, “I’m not good at this. I’m just good with you. That's what nearly a decade of friendship does to someone.”

She didn’t say anything else. Instead, she rested her head on your shoulder and turned her attention back to the tv. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling her firmly into you.

Wanda would get through this, just like she got through everything else. You’d make sure of it, because she'd do the same for you.

In the coming months, you found yourself carving out more time for Wanda. The busy nature of your schedule died down significantly when you started to entrust the general manager of your restaurant with some more responsibility. It made your workload lighter while allowing your GM to get some more experience.

You used the new free time to support her the best way you could. Sometimes that meant bringing her lunch when she was working. Other times it was coming over after work to make sure the woman wasn’t neglecting her home. You’d go over and check if she had groceries or that she wasn’t letting the flat get too dirty.  She was the kind of woman that threw herself into work when she was trying to avoid something.

You’d even gone as far as helping her set up a dating profile when she was ready to put herself back out there.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

You were once again in her flat. She stood in the kitchen, while you sat on a chair stationed at the island in the middle of the same room.

“Date women,” she was asking sincerely, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

“Well, I don’t really date, but it’s the same as any date. You’re trying to present your best self, get a good foot forward, but while maintaining an authenticity. It’s not like a job interview where only one person is doing the hiring; you both have a say in how it turns out.”

Wanda narrows her eyes, “Why don’t you date?”

You shrug, “Too busy running a very successful restaurant.”

“You’re not as busy as you used to be. Maybe you should set up a profile for yourself. I’m sure any girl would be lucky to have you.”

You shook your head, “Hard pass, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Come on, Y/nn. I know accomplishments can feel empty when you don’t have anyone to share them with,” she tried to persuade you.

“Well good thing I can share it with you then,” you countered.

She let out an irritated sigh, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You smirked, “Why do you want me to sign up so badly anyway? You think we’re going to match?”

You were only joking, yet you can’t help but notice the slight color on your friend’s cheeks.

She scoffed like you expected her to, “Grow up.”

For a moment it felt like you were back in your college dorm. The playful and flirty banter was always present between the two of you. It was easy for you to flirt with her, knowing you never really had a chance. However, now that there was even the slightest of possibility that this could escalate, it felt completely different.

“It’s alright Wanda, nothing to be ashamed of. I’m hot, successful, hardworking, and financially responsible. Hard to ignore the total package.”

She rolled her eyes, “I remember when Ms. ‘Total Package’ couldn’t even finish her college assignments without my help.”

You chuckle when you catch her eyes, “You’ve got me there. If it wasn’t for you, I have no idea where’d I be.”

“Probably still in college on your 95th major change,” she laughed at her own joke.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Very funny.”

 With a smile plastered on her face she strolled over to sit next to you. She spun on the barstool before grabbing your arms and looking into your eyes, “I have something for you actually.”

“What is it?”

She reached into her pocket and sat a key down on the island. You looked at her, then the key, with slight confusion.

“A key?”

Wanda nodded softly, “You’re basically here all the time and I’m getting tired of opening the door for you.”

“I’m using this key to come over and cook in this beautiful kitchen, you hardly use.”

“Hey, I cook,” she defended.

You laughed, “I said hardly, didn’t I?”

When you got home that night, you felt a new weight on your shoulders. Your hand slipped into your pocket to pull out the key. You held it flat in your palm. The small piece of metal was cool against your skin. You stared at it for a long while.

It was just a key. There wasn't anything crazy about it. Your friend gave you a key to her house. Friends do that with each other. Your heart shouldn’t have been fluttering the way it was over such a simple gesture.

You closed your hand around the key trying to ground yourself. Your eyes shut, but as soon as they did her smile etched its way into your sight.

“Shit.”

It was like college all over again. You thought you had gotten over your crush on Wanda many years ago. She was straight, it was never going to happen. That was something you could deal with, something you could work through. However now, that wasn’t the case anymore. Wanda liked women, technically you had a chance.

You shouldn't be thinking like that. She needs you now, to be her friend. You were doing so well. Taking care of her had become an unconscious pattern as easy as breathing. You never thought about it too hard when she needed you. It’s like the moment she put the key in your hand, your mind finally started thinking.

Subconsciously you’d always known it. It’s why you didn't date. It was unfair to be with someone who you could never prioritize over Wanda. She was one of the few people in your life that you’d drop everything for.

Sure, you were a busy woman, but you’d never be too busy for her. Her distress over Jarvis literally made you change the way you worked, just to make sure you were there when she needed you.

“Why would I make her a dating profile?” You asked yourself as you face-planted on to your mattress.

Just as you expected Wanda’s profile was gaining some traction. There were a lot of women interested in someone like her. Soon she was going on more dates than you had been on in years. Most of them weren’t serious, she often said she wouldn’t be seeing them again.

You made a day of finding the freshest ingredients. You drove out to find markets that had authentic food from her home country. There wasn’t a lot locally, but you didn’t mind the hunt.

While you were sad that she wasn’t finding anyone suitable you were also happy for the same reason. You thought you’d attempt to cheer her up after so many bad dates by cooking one of her favorite dishes.

Once you had everything you needed you made your way over to Wanda’s. It was a hassle carrying everything up, but you managed with a little effort.

While you were still conflicted about having a key to her flat, you used it plenty of times. So just like you had done previously you let yourself into Wanda’s home.

“Oh, fuck sorry,” you said as you immediately saw Wanda straddling the lap of an older ( admittedly super attractive) woman on her living room couch.

Wanda looked like a deer in headlights. You were trying to comprehend if you were more mortified or heartbroken. No one spoke for a long while until the older woman cleared her throat.

“Right, uh I’ll just come back tomorrow or something. Enjoy your night, Wanda.”

With the groceries still in your hands, you turned around and closed the door. You only made it down a few steps before you heard someone calling after you.

“Y/n, wait!”

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath trying to mask your feelings before you turned around.

“This stuff is a little heavy Wanda; I want to get it back to the car before the bags break.”

She took a few bags from your hands, “Let me help you.”

“You don’t have to; you looked pretty busy in there. Here I was, bringing stuff to cook for you in light of all your failed dates, but it seems like you’re not doing nearly as bad as I thought,” you tried to joke with her.

“Agatha is definitely the best of the dates I've had so far.”

You had to keep yourself from wincing, “Glad to hear it.”

Wanda helped you load the stuff back into the car.

“I’m really sorry about this. If I would’ve known you were coming-"

You shook your head, “It’s fine Wanda, go back to making out with a hot older woman. They don't like to wait for too long. I’ll just text you next time instead of just barging in.”

“I gave you a key because you’re always welcome.”

You unhooked the key from your key ring and hand it back to her, “I know that, but maybe it’s best if you let me in.”

“Y/n,” she looked at you with confusion.

You smiled through the pain, “If you’re going to have women over, it’s not a good look for another woman to be coming in and out of your house whenever. We’re not related and we’re not roommates. There’s not really a reason for me to have access to you like that.”

“I don’t understand,” she looked between you and the key that was now in her hand.

“Usually, a key to your flat would mean I’m your girlfriend. Me coming over to cook for you as another woman who likes women is bad for your stock. It just doesn't feel like something that's easily explained. I would have a bunch of questions if I was in Agatha’s position, especially since you haven't gone back yet,” you got into your car.

There was a conflicted look on her face, “You’ll stop by tomorrow?”

“I’ve got work, but I'll try to stop by after,” you told her that even though you knew you wouldn't be coming back tomorrow.

“I’ll see later then?” She was searching for something as she surveyed your features.

With what little control you had left, you tried to give her what she was looking for, “Definitely. Now forget about this and go back to your date.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but with a small glance back at her flat, she walked away. You drove home.

The groceries felt eternally heavier when you were bringing them into your house. You wondered how carrying them upstairs to Wanda’s was even possible.

You hurriedly put the food away, showered, and then got in the bed. When your head hit the pillow, you let out a deep sigh. Your jaw started to tremble on its own.

You let out a bitter laugh as the tears fell down your face. You didn’t bother to wipe them away.  It felt like a part of you was ripped out of your chest.

This was bound to happen eventually. Wanda would move on from Jarvis and your silly fantasy would be crushed. You felt silly crying over a woman that was never yours.

Yet another part of you was screaming at you for feeling silly. You were doing a lot for Wanda. Even if it was all just friendly, sometimes it felt like more. All the dinners, all the cuddling on the couch, all the late-night talks. She was your better half, but she wasn’t your girl. She’d never be your girl.

It was something you had to accept. You didn’t go to work the next day. You rotted in your bed, not having the energy to get up. Scrolling on your phone was the only thing you wanted to do.

Wanda had texted you a few times, but you ignored the messages. Even the thought of her just made your entire chest burn.

You finally got out of bed when you had to pee. You took the opportunity to brush your teeth as well. On the way back to the bed your doorbell started to ring. Not just once either. Whoever was at the door pressed the button over and over again. It was impossible to ignore.

So, with your bed head, red eyes, and mismatched pajamas you yanked the front door open, “Look, I don’t know what you want but could you just go away and try again tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow’s not going to work for me.”

Your head shot up and you felt face heat. Wanda was standing at your front door with her arms crossed over her chest with an eyebrow raised.

“What’re you doing here?”

Your voice had a softness to it that you reserved for the red head in front of you.

She didn’t answer your question. Instead, she let herself into your home. You closed the door behind her. You followed her to your living room. She sat on your couch while you took a seat on a chair diagonal to it.

“I thought you had work today,” she says.

“I decided not to go.”

“I’ve been texting you.”

You shrugged, “Haven’t been on my phone, sorry.”

Wanda stared at you, “I went to your restaurant looking for you.”

You were looking into your lap, “I’m sorry Wanda.”

She got up from the couch to come completely into your line of sight. She kneeled down in front of you, her hands resting on your knees.

“What’s going on with you, Y/nn?”

The concern in her voice broke you out of your trance. You tried your hardest to feign that you were alright.

“I’m fine. Since you’re here why don't you let me cook something for us?”

“This is for paprikash,” Wanda watched as you began to prepare.

You stood from the chair quickly pushing down the rest of your emotions. She watched as you walked over to the kitchen pulling out some of the ingredients you had bought the day before.

You nod, “Yeah, I got stuff for chicken paprikash, alivenci, and cholent too. The plan was to cook the paprikash and then the alivenci for dessert. I was going to set up the cholent for you before I left so you could have it fresh the next day because it’s got to cook for like 17 hours.”

“You got all of this for me?”

You answered her while chopping up the vegetables, “It was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re using Hungarian bell peppers, where did you even get those?”

You smiled a bit, “I do own a restaurant, Wanda. If there’s anything I’m an expert in, it’s food. I wanted it to be authentic as possible.”

As you began cooking you felt the weight of the situation lift off of your shoulders. Cooking had always been a stress reliever for you, and it wasn’t any different now. You could feel Wanda’s eyes on you, but you never looked away from the meal.

Only when the chicken was simmering in the pot did she attempt to grab your attention.

“After you came by yesterday, I asked Agatha to leave,” Wanda broke the silence.

You finally look at her, “Why would you do something like that?”

She simply placed a key on the counter, “I couldn't stop thinking about you giving me this key back.”

“Wanda,” you tried to stop her, but she cut you off.

“No, I need you to listen. When you put this key in my hand, it felt like you had handed me a live grenade. I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until I went back inside, and Agatha asked me how we knew each other that it clicked. You’re my everything.”

“What are you saying?”

She hesitated, “I’m saying I’ve already found my person.”

“Wanda, you’re my best friend.”

She invaded your personal space, grabbing you gently by the wrist, “And you’re mine, but it’s more than that isn’t it? You’re the person I can rely on for anything at any time. You’re the woman that left her restaurant to put me back together when my ex left. You listened to me, you held me, you cooked for me, made sure I had groceries, and that my house was clean. Friends don't do as much as you've done for me.”

You slowly lifted your gaze to meet her’s, “I just know you appreciate acts of service.”

“Y/n if you don’t want this I’ll leave and we can pretend it never happened; but if you do want this, want me, I’m right here laying it all out for you.”

You drop your gaze again, “I cried myself to sleep last night. I thought I'd lost my chance. When I saw you on top of Agatha, something broke inside of me Wanda.  Back in college I had a crush on, but I thought you were straight, so it was easy to keep it down. When you came out to me, it was like I was at square one all over again.”

Wanda shook her head, “It’s not square one because here I am telling you that I’m in love with you. Please give us a chance Y/n.”

You wished the moment was more glamorous as you kissed the woman in front of you. You hadn’t denied her yet and you never planned to. Her hands locked behind your neck while yours rested on her waist.

Your breath was shaky when the kiss ended. Neither of you moved.

“I love you too,” you pecked her lips again.

Wanda blushed, but you were more focused on the way she looked at you. Her eyes were full of nothing but tenderness.

“Would you take the key back?”

You raised your eyebrow, “Why does it feel like you’re asking me for something else?”

She feigned innocence, “I’m not. Unless you think that what you said yesterday about keys is true.”

“Remind me what I said again?”

Her fingers played with the hairs at the base of your neck, “A key to my flat means girlfriend.”

You pretended to think about it, “Girlfriend?”

She nodded, “Girlfriend.”

“I guess I’ll have to get you a key too then,” you said softly.

This time Wanda leaned in for a kiss. It was supposed to be a peck, but you both got lost in that moment. Neither willingly to part with the other just yet. Lips fitting together to create a soft lullaby of security.

You never thought you’d be lucky enough to have Wanda in this way. She was your best friend, your person, and now your girlfriend. It may have taken years, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda cherished you just as much. She felt like an idiot for not realizing her feelings sooner, but she was just happy to call you, her girl.

And one day, she would be ecstatic to call you, her wife.

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah Cog?” 

Despite having been the one to break the silence, Cog is quiet for several moments. She picks at a loose thread dangling from hem of her shorts, weighs her words carefully, leans over to rest her head on Ace’s shoulder. “I’m gonna fix it,” she promises softly. “Your magic. I don’t know how, not yet, but... I’m gonna make this right. As soon as I’m strong enough.” Her hands curl into fists in her lap, and she turns to look up at him. “I’m close, I can feel it. I just- I need a little more time. But I promise, Ace. I’ll fix this.”

“I don’t know what ‘strong enough’ looks like yet,” she doesn’t say. “I don’t know if that means borrowing more power from Azrael, or waiting until I’m strong enough on my own. I don’t know if it means figuring out how to reverse what they did to you myself, or storming New Alexandria and forcing the Headmaster to fix it. I’d do any of that for you, you know. In a heartbeat. Please, don’t be too stubborn to let me do this for you.”

Ace’s expression is unreadable for several seconds longer than Cog is comfortable with, but when she opens her mouth to stumble her way through an apology or explanation he reaches up to rest a hand on the back of her head, pulls her in tight against his chest, and wraps his other arm around her in a hug so tight she can barely breathe. “...nah. Nah, kid. Don’t waste all that time worrying about me,” he says, resting his chin on top of her head. But his voice is soft, and he’s not letting her pull away, and Cog knows this man almost as well as she knows herself. She knows what that means. “You got a world to save. Don’t add more to your plate on my account,” he says, as though he isn’t her world. As though she wouldn’t leave the Wasteland to fend for itself if he asked her to stay here with him. 

Hidden against Ace’s shirt, Cog’s expression crumples. Even as she’s wrapping her arms around his middle she’s shaking her head well before he finishes speaking. “No. No, I- Let me call it selfish. If you feel like you can’t say yes for yourself, let me call it selfish. I want to be able to talk to you whenever I want, I want to know that I can heal you if you get hurt. I want you to be able to travel with us, so that I can show you everything wonderful about the world you let me see. Ace, I-- I’ve built my magic up so much around being able to use it to help, to protect, and you- I can’t protect you right now. I can’t touch you. If something were to happen, I--” Her voice breaks, and Ace pulls her closer. 

“...that bleeding heart of yours,” he murmurs after a second, shaking his head but leaning down to press a kiss to Cog’s hair. “You gotta be careful that you don’t bleed yourself dry, kid. You’re more than just what you can give people, you know? You matter ‘cause you’re you. Not because you’re chock full of magic.”

Cog doesn’t have an answer for that. She squeezes him tighter instead, and feels Ace return the gesture in kind.

They sit like that for a long time, quiet, together, taking comfort in one another. When Ace finally lets go enough for Cog to sit up and look at him, they’ve both largely regained their composure. “...There’s no point trying to talk you out of this, is there?” Ace asks. When Cog holds his gaze and resolutely shakes her head, he can’t help but smile. “I’ve been a terrible influence. Look at you, you’ve gotten as stubborn as I am, and almost as bad about picking fights without knowing if you’ll win them.”

Cog laughs with him while he says it, but as Ace stands and reaches down to pull her up too there’s a determination in her eyes that says, while Ace may be teasing, she most certainly is not. “I know I’ll win this one.” She says, resolute. “It’s just rewriting a fundamental law of magic. How hard could it be, anyway?”

The deep, belly laugh that earns her has Cog beaming. And, despite the circumstances that brought them here, the world feels just a little bit brighter as she loops her arm through her brother’s. And, despite the odds they’re facing now seeming insurmountable, Cog knows without a shadow of a doubt that there is nothing in this world they can’t face together.

[kieranduffysgirl]

simon 'ghost' riley x price's daughter ˚ ۪ ୨୧⊹

wc: 0.8k

warnings: petnames (love, lovie, little missy, missus, baby), kissing, cuddling, physical affection, mention of intimacy, inexperienced!simon, soft!simon, sweet!simon, soap cameo (and he's a bit cocky soz guys), gaz cameo (anxious gaz 4 life)

a/n: I love sweet and shy simon, this man is definitely quiet and awkward with girls but I can imagine hin being all cute and gentle in a secret relationship, also he would be the best son in law Price could ask for lets be honest - a snippet from an upcoming collection!

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"You pair need to remember she's my daughter, we're not in a pub and you're not to try anything with her...she's my little girl." John huffed in exhaustion as he sipped his bottle of beer on the decking of his rural cabin by the English coast. An anxious Gaz and a an unbothered Soap sat in from of him.

"Of course...I'm sure there's plenty of other girls around, Captain..." Gaz mumbled anxiously as he fiddled with his empty bottle of beer. He had no intention of trying anything on with Price's daughter, but the idea of disappointing him was nerve wracking for him.

Soap on the other hand didn't give a single shit.

"Dinnae get why not, she's a wee bonnie lassie...aye, I'd be a stella son-in-law too," He rambled on as he took a swig of his beer, "Why y'not givin' ole Riley this lecture too, Cap?"

John sighed and rolled his eyes, "Simon hasn't even spoken to a girl on our nights out, never been on a real date...don't think he's ever been near a girl...and whenever little missy walks into the room he's quieter than ever." He explained casually, it was known that Simon was inexperienced and lacked any female interaction.

But, what they failed to notice was that Simon had turned up to the cottage already, but was still tucked away inside the kitchen.

His arms were tightly around Price's daughter as he mumbled, "Missed you lovie...love you so much...you putting the kettle on for me, love?"

His lips were all over her cheek and neck as he gripped her tightly, her giggles filled the kitchen as she wiggled and tried to kiss him back whilst making him a cup of tea. Her smile was brighter than the sun itself and she was warm, loving and gentle. Her patience with him was something he had never experienced before, she made him feel loved in a way no one ever had before and it made his heart ache.

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They had fallen in love nearly a year ago, when Price had bought the boys to the same coastal cottage for a summer break after a rough mission. One that had Simon reliving his childhood trauma and battling his ptsd, but she cared for him like no one else did...she almost understood him in a way.

Simon had spent his nights on the deck, holding her hand and listening to her story, she always did the same in return. She always helped him piece together his own story. He didn't see when, but at some point his arms wrapped around her and drew her close to him, closer than anyone had ever been. His lips brushed against hers as he whispered, "Please..." a plea for her love, her affection, her attention and her hand in courting.

He hadn't ever had someone.

And neither had she.

They were so deeply in love, but no one else could even see it. It was as if it was a secret so well kept that only the stars that shone that night could remember their confessions and kisses that were the catalyst to this sweet romance. He began to avoid all women at the bars and barely spoke to any other girl when he was out because he knew his sweet birdie was waiting for him to come home, but the boys put it down to his lack of experience and social skills.

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"Missed you lots and lots..." She mumbled softly against his, chapped and scarred, lips as she let him lift her up to the counter to be at his height. His large, callous, worn hands were gently running over her plush stomach and around her freckled back to cuddle her so close it was almost suffocating.

"My missus...Mrs Riley..."He whispered tenderly into her ear as he held her tightly, as if scared she would be taken from him. Like someone would swoop in and steal her away. His insecurities were the bane of his life, always in the forefront of his mind, it made him sick to think of losing her in any way.

She giggled softly, like an angel, and whispered, "Need to ask good old Captain Price for his blessing first, baby..." as she quietly slipped down from the counter to finish making tea for her loving, gentle and slightly anxious boyfriend.

His heavy arms settled around her plush waist and he hunched down to her shorter height to rest his scrapped, scarred and stubbled chin on her head. "Mhm...soon..." He mumbled into her silky tresses as he pressed gentle, butterfly-like kisses to her parting of her locks.

The loving reunion occurred under the soft glow of the sunset in the rustic kitchen, as Price sat outside with Gaz and Soap completing oblivious to the gentle lovers inside.

Completely oblivious to the connection between the two broken people, a connection built on love, trust and respect.

Maybe soon it would grow harder to conceal, or maybe Simon would finally ask for Price's blessing to marry his daughter. The little, vintage engagement ring in his pocket was quietly praying for the latter result to happen, in order to grace her finger and portray their love outwardly.

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[lanabuckybarnes]

| Heating Up |

18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing(s): Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Steve Rogers

Warnings: A/B/O Themes, Heat, Polyamory, Oral (F), PinV Sex, Knotting, Two sickly sweet alphas who adore their baby — if I’ve missed any let me know.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: Well hello enjoyers of my work I’m so sorry I abandoned you but life came at me fast. Having a puppy is hard work and before I knew it he was almost a year old and I hadn’t posted in a long time. I had surgery also so with everything going on I haven’t had time to write but hopefully I’ll get back to it. For now please enjoy a lil snippet from my drafts you beautiful souls.

This has not been looked over thoroughly forgive my mistakes!!

Your mates were concerned to say the least. You’d spent all but the better half of this week avoiding them, choosing to spend most of your waking hours cooped up in your room instead—only leaving to eat when both men had vacated the house or were tucked up in the much larger bed in the master bedroom.

“Steve have you seen my shirt?” A half naked Bucky stomps in, a scowl marring his perfect features. His bonding mark on perfect display above ropes of muscle that rippled and stretched at each little movement he made.

Steve only hummed, jutting his chin out in the direction of the closed door, your separate little bedroom.

“Thought I couldn’t hear her sneaking out while you were showering, I saw her come back with it not even five minutes ago.” Steve tossed the contents of his frying pan into the air, making sure to catch everything again effortlessly.

This hadn’t been the first time Bucky or Steve’s clothing had vanished into thin air this week. Just the other day Steve and Bucky had gone to training, each of them discarding their clothing in a pile before showering. When they finished the pile was nowhere to be found. They’d tried to question you, Steve pulling on the handle of the closed door but it was locked.

They both had a sneaky suspicion about what was up but you hadn’t had anything since dating the Alphas. It would be strange for it to happen now, right?

They let your strange behaviour continue, you weren’t harming anyone but Bucky was chomping at the bit to see you again. The more reserved of the two had become quite smitten with you, his bonding mark itched when you weren’t joined at the hip and the itch was becoming too much to bear. He waited until Steve was distracted before picking the lock of your room and stepping in.

The first thing that hit him was your scent, heavy in the air, its cherry undertones strong and almost overpowering, he could almost taste it. His alpha brain clicked instantly and told him to leave you alone but his human side craved your contact.

You weren’t in the bed, the shower running let him know exactly where you were. The perfect cover for him. The white sheets had been thrown on the floor, the bed littered in Steve and his shirts and other discarded clothing. It took him only a second to realise that the arrangement was intricate and thought out. A nest.

“What? Get out!” You snarled from behind him, teeth bared and eyes crazy, your body wrapped in a little towel. He blinked at you for a second before promptly apologising for the intrusion and slinked out of the room, jumping lightly at the loud slam and click of the lock.

“She’s in heat.” Steve groaned from his spot in the hall. Your sweet scent had wafted throughout the house, alerting Steve of your vulnerability. His cock hardened in his pants as his pupils dilated, matching the same look Bucky had.

Both of your poor alphas went to bed painfully hard, trying to ignore your soft yowls from the other room. You tried to hold off, deal with the feeling on your own but you couldn’t, you needed them.

-

Steve awoke instantly at the creak of their door, his nose twitching at your smell. He glanced over to Bucky who clutched your pillow, still fast asleep.

Your whimpers grew closer, the bed dipping under your weight as you crawled onto the mattress, until you straddled Steve.

“Stevieee,” you moaned weakly, your hips grinding into his brief covered crotch, your pussy hot against him. You whined as his length twitched against you, hardening easily.

“Oh angel, you’re in heat?” He asked, his large hands helping you move. When you nodded he snarled, flipping you both over until your head made contact with the pillow in Bucky’s arms, Steve’s head nuzzling into your neck, his teeth nipping and licking at your bonding mark. The ministrations had your sweet scent flowing from you in waves. The scent woke Bucky up, his hot breath on the side of your face as he growled lowly.

“Babygirl, you finally come around?” He chuckled at the pathetic sound that fell from your lips, your hand carding through Steve’s dirty blonde locks as he kissed down your almost naked body. Your panties clung to you as another wave of slick fell from you.

“Don’t k-know why…mm Stevie…just felt hot and needy,” you babbled, tears pooling in your water line as you looked up at Bucky. He thought you looked absolutely ravishing, your lip petted and swollen from your lip biting, your body flushed and glistening already.

“You shouldn’t have held back from us omega, you know we live to serve you.” You cried out at his words, nodding before leaning up slightly to slot his lips with yours.

Steve’s chuckle vibrated against your core as he watched how desperate you were. Steve didn’t mind that you and Bucky had such a close relationship, you were his first after all, but he knew you loved him too. Especially when he suckled on your sweet scent through your cotton panties.

“Mmm Stevieee,” your head fell back onto the sheets, your mouth gaping as your eyes fell shut, the fingers in his hair tugging tightly.

“You like that angel? Like your Alpha tasting you? Taste so sweet omega, so fucking sweet.” He growled, hooking a finger into the gusset of your panties before devouring your pussy.

Your sweet moans and whines were like music to your Alphas ears, your hips grinding up and practically riding Steve’s bearded face. You came undone when his nose nudged your sensitive little bud, your cunt gushing over his bearded face. You didn’t even know you could leak that much.

“Oh pleasepleaseplease Alpha, need your knot so bad, so so so bad,” you sobbed, uncaring of who’s knot you got, you just needed to be filled.

“Ok babygirl, alphas got you ok? We’ll let Stevie fuck that weeping cunt first alright, since he was such a good boy and made you cum” Bucky moved so he was sitting behind you, his arms holding your hips while Steve slipped your panties off before moving each of your feet to rest on his bulging thighs, spreading you out for the blonde haired man.

You keened at the sight of Steve’s long length, the curve of his cock decorated in thick, rope like veins leading to a fat tip. He might not have been as thick as Bucky but he still stretched you out nice.

You both moaned in tandem with each other as Steve sunk into you, his head grazing the rigid skin of your sweet spot making you clench around him almost painfully.

“Ohh fuck angel so tight, mmm relax lemme breed that sweet pussy ‘mega” he was panting already, balls slapping against you as he fucked you deeply, making sure you could feel everything. Your soft noises mixed with the slick slapping sound and wet squelching filled the room, your pussy gushing all over the sheets. You must’ve looked pathetic, wailing for your alphas cock to breed you full.

To both of them though, you were the sexiest fucking thing ever. Bucky lipsed down your neck, whispering sweet nothings to you as Steve picked up his pace.

“Ohh there we go babygirl, taking it like a fucking champ. Stevie gonna breed you full of his pups yeah? Look at how soaked you’ve got him, such a good little omega”

Bucky’s filthy words paired with Steve’s swelling knot sent you over the edge, your screams reverberating off the walls—neighbours be damned. Steve followed suit, pressing as deep as he could into you before spilling his seed, his knot swollen to full size to prevent anything from slipping out.

You might’ve blacked out, you don’t know, the only thing you could vaguely register was Steve’s teeth biting down on your dark mark, causing another shockwave of your orgasm to shoot through you.

“There we go babygirl that’s it took it so well, ohh my fucking god” Steve’s chest rumbled with laughter as he settled, grabbing the water Bucky handed him and gulping down gratefully before helping you take a drink yourself.

Both of them moved so that you lay on top of Steve, waiting for the swell of his knot to settle. Bucky’s fingers brushed through your locks, his head laying on Steve’s other pec so he could kiss you gently.

“Take a little nap babygirl ‘cause once Stevie’s knot is gone I’m gonna fucking ruin that cunt, ok?” Despite the sweet way he spoke you knew Bucky meant every single word of it. And your pussy throbbed with excitement.

“We are never gonna survive this” Steve joked after you’d fallen asleep, his hand running up and down your bare arm. Bucky laughed in agreement before speaking,

“We’ll give it our best shot.”

-

[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

[tobiosbbyghorl]

- works ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

psh

- Undercover Hearts

⤿ In a world of crisp suits and unspoken rules, you and Sunghoon danced on the edge of secrecy—love woven between stolen glances and whispered midnight promises.

- The Things I Never Said

⤿ loving him was never the problem—pretending I was okay when he loved someone else was.

small things

⤿ snippets of moments she cherished most from “the things i never said.”

More Than Okay part 2

⤿ As time passes, the distance between Sunghoon and Y/N grows, turning laughter into silence and familiarity into something distant.

Everything Comes Back | Finale

⤿ Three years after going their separate ways, Y/N and Sunghoon reunite by chance, leading to a week-long bachelor reunion at a villa. Forced to travel together and share adjacent rooms, lingering tension, jealousy, and old feelings resurface.

- If He’s the One coming soon

⤿ Where in Sunghoon watches the love of his life choose someone else, silently wishing for her happiness while carrying the pain of letting go.

- Hyper & Chill

⤿ a series of happenings between your dynamic relationship.

- act 1 ⤿ just a normal day between a chill bfhoon! and dramatic gf!reader

- act 2 ⤿ Love at First Annoyance

- act 3 ⤿ accidental fiends

- act 4 ⤿ Oh.

- act 5 ⤿ His actions

- act 6 ⤿ Oh..He likes me.

- act 7 ⤿ same minds

- act 8 ⤿ the first time dating awkwardness

- act 9 ⤿ sick

- act 10 ⤿ stuck for the night

act 10.2 ⤿ Disaster

- act 11 ⤿ weird things

- act 12 ⤿ first time fighting

- act 13 ⤿ getting hurt

- act 14 ⤿ matching?

- act 15 ⤿ bf approve

- act 16 ⤿ caught on act

- act 17 ⤿ too hot to handle

- act 18

- act 19

- act 20

- act 21

- act 22

- act 23

- act 24

- act 25

check #hyper&chill tags for more parts!

- Bounded by Fate (most popular)

⤿ When CEO Park Sunghoon needs a date for his friend's wedding, he unexpectedly asks you-his dedicated secretary-to accompany him on a three-day trip. What starts as a professional arrangement quickly shifts into something more as unforeseen circumstances bring you closer together.

- Entagled coming soon

⤿ Caught between two brothers—one cold and distant, the other warm and familiar—she mistakes infatuation for love, only to realize that the heart she truly longs for has been beside her all along.

- Caught on Camera: Falling for You

⤿ When a casual vlog at her favorite cafe captures more than just pastries-namely, a ridiculously attractive stranger-her life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a playful internet crush soon spirals into a viral sensation, drawing the attention of none other than Sunghoon, the gym influencer himself. To her shock, he not only sees the video but slides into her DMs, sparking a whirlwind of flirtation, laughter, and unexpected feelings.

-moments with you ( bonus)

- Oddly Attractive

- collegehoon!xreader

idea from hoon chewing a gum😩

- Only For You

- Scoring Points with You

- the man who waited

⤿ As a dedicated student leader, Y/N never expected Park Sunghoon, the school’s star basketball player, to turn his playful pursuit into something deeper. Between late-night practices, unexpected gestures, and growing tensions before the championship, their connection becomes impossible to ignore. With the biggest game of the season approaching, one thing is certain—win or lose, everything is about to change.

- Chicken.Cheeks.Chaos.

- Let Your Body Loose 🔞

- Paid in Full 🔞

- Hoodie Thief🔞

- Language of Touch🔞

more…

Enhypen Reaction The Series

- Smelling their Armpits

- Wearing Sabrina Carpenter Body Suit hyung line

©️tobiosbbhghorl - all rights reserved

[writinginpinkpink]

a wish come true.

dad'sbestfriend!jim hopper x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and Hopper is in his 30s-40s), cheating, masturbation, low smut, just yearning for a big bearded man.

author's note: in my journey of trying to write smut, still don't like what i got so i just showed a snippet.

masterlist. | requests opened! | one shot!

You wanted him. You yearned for him. For the past three years, the chief of the police department had been your last thought before sleep and the first when you woke up. For three long years, he was the one you thought about when your hands slipped between your thighs.

But he would never want you. Maybe that was what made you want him even more. The forbidden nature of it—the fact that he was your dad's best friend. The secrecy, the dirtiness—it only fueled the fire.

But enough was enough. You couldn’t spend another summer pining after a man who probably still saw you as a little girl.

That’s why you decided to date Tommy Thompson. He was quiet, shy, and gentle. He probably loved you, and you might’ve loved him back—if your heart wasn’t already consumed by someone else.

Tommy was sweet, with his crooked glasses and nervous smile. He said he didn’t want to take your purity away. But right now, you couldn’t care less about that as you pushed him toward the outdoor bathroom, letting your towel fall to reveal a white bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination.

He froze like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth agape and his wide eyes fixed on you.

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered, standing up straighter and fumbling to adjust his glasses.

"What do you think I’m doing?" you teased, a sheepish smile curling your lips as your finger trailed down his chest, tracing his abdomen and stopping at the hem of his shorts.

"Wait," Tommy said, grabbing your hands, his breath already shaky. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, baby," you murmured, biting his earlobe, your hands moving downward with intent.

But then, he stopped you again, his grip firmer this time.

"I can’t," he said, gently pushing you away.

"What do you mean?" you asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror behind him. Doubt crept in. "Is it me?"

"No, no, no!" he blurted, shaking his head frantically. "It’s not you, I swear. I’m just...nervous. I can’t," he admitted, looking down. "Literally."

You followed his gaze. "Oh."

Wrapping your towel back around yourself, you turned away, a mix of frustration and pity swirling inside you. Maybe this was the reality of dating boys, you thought, stepping out of the bathroom and leaving Tommy behind.

As you walked past Hopper, deep in conversation with your dad, your mind wandered to him—how he would’ve reacted. You imagined him pushing you against the sink, his hands rough, his voice dark and teasing. "Dirty girl," he’d growl in your ear. "Dirty, dirty girl...moaning my name while your dad’s just outside the door."

The fantasy sent a shiver down your spine, snapping you back to reality just as Tommy emerged from the bathroom, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"I think I’m gonna go," he said quietly, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, standing up to walk him out. You didn’t blame him for wanting to leave.

"Don’t be too hard on yourself," you added softly, your tone gentle as you kissed him lightly on the lips. "It’s totally normal."

And with that, he left, leaving you alone with thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be having—but couldn’t seem to shake.

-

Those stupid blue jeans, so tight around his thick thighs. You couldn't help but notice how they clung to him, every curve visible.

I wish they'd squeeze my neck, you thought, taking a slow sip of your grape juice. Funny how, even at 21, your dad still refused to let you drink wine at dinner.

To him, you're still his precious little girl. And you might look the part—perfectly curled hair, a touch of light lip gloss, eyes wide and innocent as ever. With your appearance, Daddy would never suspect how his darling princess would cry herself to sleep, longing for just one moment with his best friend.

Just once. He'd be your first. How romantic, under the moonlight, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as his hands moved across your body—

"Isn't that right, Y/N?" your mother suddenly chimed in, laughing as she tossed her head back. Hopper grinned behind his glass, taking a slow sip of his wine.

"Oh, yes..." you murmured, offering a small smile, unsure of what you had just agreed to.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me," Hopper said, placing his napkin atop his empty plate after lightly dabbing it against his lips—his gorgeous lips. "It’s getting late, and a storm seems to be rolling in. Best I hit the road before it gets worse."

"Oh, please, no!" your mother protested, rising to her feet and motioning for him to sit back down. "We couldn’t possibly let you leave with a storm on the way—not when we have a perfectly good room to spare!"

"The woman’s got a point, man," your father added, standing as well and placing his hands on your mother’s waist. "Come on, it’s not like you’ve never stayed over before," he said with a warm smile.

You swallowed hard, clasping your thighs together as the thought crept in: How will I sleep tonight knowing he’s just a room away? You could already feel the heat spreading, imagining him so close. Would he hear you? Those little gasps as you touched yourself under the covers, whispering his name over and over again. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d even like it.

"I don’t know..." he muttered, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the room. Then, his gaze landed on you. "Maybe you’re right," he said with a soft smile. "Maybe I should stay over."

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, you were sure he’d changed his mind because of you. The thought sent a thrill through your chest, almost enough to propel you upstairs to dial Beth's number, ready to spend the night analyzing every possible meaning behind his decision.

But you didn’t. Instead, you rose from the table with a calmness you didn’t feel. "Good choice," you said with a quick smile, before turning toward your mother. "Mom, I think I’ll get ready for bed," you added, stifling a fake yawn. "I’m so, so tired."

Your parents practically tripped over themselves to send their little princess off to rest, showering you with affection as you headed toward the stairs. But Hopper didn’t move. His eyes stayed on you, different from the doting gaze of your parents. It was sharper, probing, as if he saw through your sweet, innocent act.

And you wondered: Would he like what he’d find underneath? The dirty, deprived version of you?

When you entered your room, it felt like stepping back in time. Not much had changed since you were a kid—the same plushies neatly arranged on the shelves, the same faded wallpaper, the same dresser with its slightly chipped paint.

Your eyes landed on a framed picture resting atop the dresser: you and Tommy at the county fair. He was grinning from ear to ear, a cotton candy stick in his hand, while you offered a polite smile, a lollipop clasped between your fingers.

You remembered that day vividly. You’d sucked on that lollipop with all the exaggerated intention you could muster, one of many futile attempts to push Tommy into breaking his shy shell. It hadn’t worked—of course it hadn’t.

But the thought made you wonder: Would it have worked with Hopper?

Would he have roughly told you to stop? Or maybe grabbed you, dragging you into some dirty, hidden spot to take you right then and there? Perhaps he’d wait until you were in his car, his large hands slowly unknotting the delicate strap at the back of your dress, unraveling you bit by bit.

You exhaled shakily, your hands moving almost instinctively, mimicking the imagined actions of Hopper. Your fingertips ghosted over your collarbone, tracing downward.

Maybe he’d have made you suck his thumb instead, you thought, biting your lip as your hands brushed over your chest, teasing yourself. Maybe he’d play with your nipples, his touch rough and claiming.

You stumbled backward, your knees hitting the edge of the bed before you fell onto the mattress, legs instinctively parting toward the door.

The door wasn’t locked. Anyone could walk in. He could walk in.

You closed your eyes, the fantasy consuming you. He’d slap your ass and your pussy, growling, "How dare you touch what’s mine?"

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost missed the soft knock at the door. But the sound of a forced cough snapped you out of it. Panicked, you scrambled to cover yourself, your hands darting to shield your exposed body.

“No need to stop what you’re doing, sweetie,” Hopper said with a sly smile, casually running a hand through his hair. “Just came to tell you your mother’s asking if you want dessert... but it looks like you’re already preoccupied with something else.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying your sudden, flustered reaction.

“It’s not what you think!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, quietly closing the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, sending a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head, his eyes roaming your body as he slowly moved closer. “Because I’m thinking someone’s little princess isn’t quite as innocent as she seems.”

“I was just... changing,” you stammered, frozen in place as he stepped nearer. His presence loomed over you, his knee pressing into the mattress beside you as he leaned down, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “I wasn’t doing... you know... that.”

He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you tell me?”

Your breath hitched as he licked his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. His hands slid behind your back, firm but deliberate, pulling you closer as he gently eased you down onto the bed.

Hopper hovered above you, his weight pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. His hand trailed along your side, deliberate and slow, making your breath hitch. You didn’t dare move, unsure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

“You’re shaking, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“I-I’m not,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but you knew he could feel the tremble in your body beneath his touch.

“Oh, I think you are.” His grin widened, his thumb brushing along your jawline as he tilted your face up to meet his. “And I think I know why.”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. His lips hovered near yours, just close enough for you to feel their warmth.

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? All those little thoughts you’ve been hiding, all those things you want me to do to you.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t deny it. The truth was written all over your face.

“I bet you think about it all the time,” he continued, his tone taunting as his hand slid lower, grazing your hip. “When you’re lying in bed, pretending to be so sweet and innocent. But we both know better, don’t we?”

His words made your head spin, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you.

“Hopper, I...” you started, but your voice faltered.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to say a word, sweetie. I already know everything.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Now, why don’t you show me just how innocent you really are?”

As Hopper leaned in closer, his eyes flickered to the bedside table. A picture of you and Tommy stared back at him—his arm around your shoulders, his awkward grin almost painfully sweet. Hopper’s expression darkened as he reached out, grabbing the frame and turning it facedown without a second thought.

“That kid?” he scoffed, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to you. “You think he’s a man?” His lips curled into a smirk, his voice low and dripping with disdain.

“Hopper, he’s—” you tried to defend, but he cut you off with a sharp laugh, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear about him,” he said firmly, leaning in so close that his nose brushed yours. “Because after tonight, you’re going to understand what it means to have a real man.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, their weight sending heat coursing through your body. Hopper’s hands, strong and rough, slid to your hips, gripping you firmly as he towered over you.

“That boy couldn’t even begin to handle you,” he continued, his tone taunting, but there was an edge of something darker—something possessive. “But me?” His thumb brushed the bare skin just above your waistband, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that followed. “I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

[55sturn]

wedding date!chris

ib: anyone who has written this trope! pls reply w their users so i can tag!

he was desperate to see you after months of no contact. the two of you had been the best of friends. from the age of seven, the two of you were nearly impossible to separate. you did everything together, wherever one went, the other was right beside them. and chris was absolutely enamoured by you from day one, which is why no one in his family could fathom how easily he let you walk away.

when the two of you began experimenting with one another sexually, chris blatantly ignored the warning signs going off on his brain. he just wanted you so incredibly bad, that he’d take you in whatever way you gave yourself to him. he didn’t care that he was putting almost seventeen years of friendship on the line. he was in love with you, but there were so many thoughts, doubts, fears, and insecurities firing off deep inside his mind that prevented him for telling you how he felt.

you weren’t stupid, you saw the way chris looked at you like you were the only person in the room that mattered. you saw the way he treated you, he treated you like you were more important than everyone else, the same way he treats his momma. you were, and still are, everything to chris. you saw the way he felt, he didn’t need words to say it, and the only reason you noticed it, is because it mirrored your own feelings. but you were waiting for chris to say something, to do something that didn’t end with you laying between his sheets.

and you got tired of waiting. the ball was in his court, and you had expected him to make the next move after you used the idea of sleeping together causally as a potential gateway to something more. but he never did anything. and it killed you.

you were a big believer in “if they want to, they will.” and you so badly wanted to believe that chris wanted you in the same way you wanted him. you really thought that he was going to take it to a serious level with you, and when you realized that he was treating less like you were the only thing that mattered, and more like every girl he’s been with before, you took your leave. you knew you deserved more than to be stuck waiting for a guy, even if he was your best friend, to decide if he wanted you.

and when you received a text from chris, your heart dropped. you didn’t know how to respond. because let’s be honest, how the fuck were you supposed to respond to the guy you fell in love with at the age of thirteen asking you to be his date to a family friend’s wedding after six months of no contact whatsoever? how the fuck were you supposed to respond after going from being apart of every milestone, big and small, to watching his life through videos and pictures on the internet, only getting updates through the small snippets he shared with his fans? and that’s what hit you the hardest, you were no longer someone that got a closer look at the inner workings of his life, private and public, but rather, you were living the same life as his fans. and you weren’t a fan, you couldn’t, and would not, let yourself live like that anymore.

not when you knew what songs he preferred when he was sad and driving around to clear his head, not when you knew that he’d make and eat his mom’s homemade soup when he was homesick, or that he always sent pictures of your favourite things to his mom when you were busy, or how he looked and sounded during his most intimate and vulnerable moments.

so, you took the time to carefully craft your response. agreeing to be his date, but only if the two of you could meet up somewhere and actually talk about what went wrong before you showed up to the wedding as his plus one.

and chris’ head was spinning as he read the text, he agreed without even knowing if you were still living in the same slightly run-down apartment complex just a few blocks away, and if you were, he was going to kick his own ass. because how could he let things get so bad between the two of you, how could he let you go, and remained unbothered by him for six months while being a ten minute walk away from him half the time? and when he found out that you were only ten minutes away from him, he was quick to show up at your apartment the next night at a quarter to midnight.

you were in the middle of drying your hair and getting your work uniform ready when a hefty series of knocks rattled against your door, it startled you slightly but your nerves calmed when you figured it was just your neighbour asking you to watch her sick cat while she ran to the corner store again, but as you opened the door, your heart rate spiked as you met the eyes of the very man that haunted your thoughts and dreams every night.

“chris, why are you here?”

STAR’S CORNER i started texting vi abt this idea and i needed to get it out rq, so let me know if u want me to keep building on this lil blurb !! also chapter one of SHUT UP MY MOM’S CALLING is possibly dropping late saturday night <3

© 55STURN 2025 ! REBLOGS OF MY WORK ARE NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[wipbigbang]

WIPBB Big Bang/Reverse Bang 2025 - Schedule & FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Big Bang/Reverse Bang Sign-ups- April 1st- May 2st Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #1- May 22nd - May 29th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #2- June 15th - June 22nd Big Bang/Reverse Bang Snippets Due- July 1st - July 11th Big Bang Art Claims/Reverse Bang Fic Claims- July 17th - August 14th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #3- July 22nd - July 29th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Check In #4- August 6th - August 13th Big Bang/Reverse Bang Rough Drafts Due- August 15th - 22nd Big Bang/Reverse Bang Posting Claims- August 23rd - September 1st Big Bang/Reverse Bang Final Drafts/Art & Fic Due- September 7th Official Big Bang/Reverse Bang Postings- September 8th - November 30th Emergency Big Bang/Reverse Bang Postings- December 1st - December 31st

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang?

Good question! This is a Big Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder. These are stories that were unfinished for whatever reason, that authors returned to and completed, and the art that goes with them!

What is the WIP Reverse Bang?

It’s similar to the regular Big Bang, except it’s for artists to finish WIP artwork (either traditional art, digital art, fanvideos, fanmixes or filk) and get a fic in exchange of at least 2000 words.

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate?

No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics/art pieces can we sign up for?

We absolutely don’t mind multiple sign-ups; I know one year someone submitted 50 fics to finish, and got at least half of them done. We just ask that when you sign up with more than one fic/art piece you give each fic/art piece a unique user ID (please do not use the same ID for all your fics/art pieces...it’s important to have different IDs for the check-ins).

Will I get emails about the bang?

We do send out some emails, mostly for fic snippets and art/fic claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

If you need a reminder about due dates, the FAQ/Schedule is pinned on top of the Tumblr and we use the Discord (which anyone can join) to remind participants of important dates.

What do you mean by minimum word count to enter the WIP Big Bang?

This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter.

Can an outline count towards those first 500 words that are needed at sign up?

We have admitted work on an outline before so yes, if your outline is fleshed out enough to cover a 7,500 word+ fic, we’ll allow it.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed?

Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed and even more so encouraged if your fic is lengthy.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang?

It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until September 1st (or August 1st with the mod’s okay). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

Is there a minimum word count?

7,500 words for each finished fic, but the sky's the limit, right?

I see that the fic minimum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? Is the expectation to add an additional 7500 to it?

No. You can add as much or as little as you need to finish the story, though we do expect at least 1,000 or so new words if your WIP already meets the word count.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s less than 7,500 words? The intent was to go over the minimum but once they got into it the story was shorter than they thought and stretching it out would make it less good. Do they have to drop out at that point?

By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s under 7,500 words you may have two options:

1 - Drop the fic for the main BB event, post it now, and wait to post it to our AO3 collection in February when we run our International Fanworks Day celebration of finishing fics that are less than 7,500 words when finished. There’s no art for the fic, but bragging rights are posted to the communities for a week.

2 - If there are enough fics that fit that category, we can do a special day of posting the fics, but you’ll have to forgo art for the fic. I, as a mod, would probably pick November 30th for the posting day, as it’s the last day of posting for the bang and I don’t think anyone will mind more than one fic that day. You can post bragging rights to the community and share the fic with everyone.

I have a fic I wrote a few years ago, but only the first couple chapters are posted on AO3 because I was never happy with the rest of it and knew it needed major revision. Is that something I could use for WIP Big Bang? The entire fic has been posted, but only on one platform, and it would be rewritten for AO3 and WIPBB.

I think revising a fic for posting would work, as long as you have at least 500 words done, will have 7,500 words at a minimum when it’s done, and are planning to add more to the fic. Simply rewriting what you have would be a gray area, but if you’re going to take stuff out and add new scenes, either in the old scenes place or on its own, you should be fine.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine?

Based on my own personal experience making art for a story that had a heavy OC presence, it’s not something we discourage at all, but be forewarned when it comes to the art accompanying your fic your artist may not be able to incorporate the OCs into your art. Not everyone makes art of a hand-drawn or digitally drawn nature, so it helps if you have people for face claims ahead of art submissions, and you and your artist communicate regularly. You can also end up with art not featuring the OCs at all, just the canon characters, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Your other options are to bring in an artist you trust with your vision of your OC or to make your own art (we do allow that, we just need to be told during the check-in before art that you’re bringing in your own artist if you go that route, or that you’re doing your own art…there will not be a need to sign up in the artist’s sign up, however), or to opt-out of art entirely. So there’s plenty of options to call on when it comes time for art.

What is the minimum requirement for the WIP Reverse Bang?

We’ll allow an outline of what you want to create or a rough sketch if you have it for digital/traditional art, and at least 15 seconds of fanvideos or filk (fic songs) recorded, or an outline and notes. Fanmixes can be partially finished with either some of the music picked or some of the art made/a combination of the above.

What do finished products for the WIP Reverse Bang look like to be considered complete?

Art must be fully drawn and at least shaded, if not fully colored. Filk and fanvideos must be at least one minute long and fully finished to the fanartist’s vision. Fanmixes must have a front and back cover and at least 8 songs picked out, and there must be an available playlist on Spotify, YouTube or for download.

Is there anything not allowed?

As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. Original fic is allowed (though it is harder to pair an artist with). We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic. Just bear in mind that while original work is allowed you may not get art for it.

What are 'check-ins’?

These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory. Basically a form is posted that you fill out with your user ID (unique for each fic) and a checkbox to let us know you’re still participating, plus a section for any notes for the mods.

How are the check in IDs used?

They are solely for the mods organizational purposes. Each ID being for a separate story allows us to keep all the information you submit during check-ins and for snippets in one line on our spreadsheet. You don’t have to share your check in IDs with anyone else if you don’t want to.

How much progress should authors be making between each checkpoint? (Percentage-wise from our estimated total wc, I guess?)

Ideally, with each check-in, you should be at least 25% closer to finishing. The end word count for fic only really matters in that the fic needs to be at least 7,500 words when done, so it’s more your progress towards finishing that should be measured, not so much the word count.

What are the snippets requirements?

This is for the WIP Big Bang only! In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like.

WIP Reverse Bang snippets is the art (at whatever level of completion you are at) uploaded to an image hosting site/YouTube/an audio steaming site and you only need to upload one piece of it. We’ll link to the site in the claiming post that you use so art will be thumbnailed/snippets of video or audio will be used. If you’re submitting a fanmix, we ask for at least the back cover graphic with the song listing.

What are the rough drafts requirements?

For the rough drafts, stories or art should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap.

What is, and do I need, a beta?

A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try this post.

Where can I post my fic/art?

Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible.

For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start in September and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by your posting date (and posting dates go from September 8th to November 15th with two weeks for emergency posting and one month of non-assigned posting). However, you can send us an ask/e-mail about posting as early as August if you have an extremely long fic/something with a long posting schedule. Mostly what we want is the fic to be completely up on the website of your choice by your posting date, and I know some people don’t want to overwhelm their readers. So we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you get to choose which day your link to the story and bragging rights are posted, and as I said, we have a range of dates from September 8th to November 15th with two to three stories posting a day. If for some reason you miss your posting date, you have until December 31st to post to the community, during the two weeks of emergency posting and the non-assigned posting dates. So hopefully there should be plenty of time to get a longfic up and posted to the website of your choice and our BB.

Art for WIPBB and WIPRB should be posted to YouTube/Soundcloud/Spotify/Tumblr/Dreamwidth on the day of our posting using the Bragging Rights form. If you want to embed it into an AO3 post, ou can do that as well and add it to the AO3 collection we start just around posting day.

Will the three snippets per story we have to send in be the ones we want the artist to make art for? Or can it just be random snippets and then later the artist and I can check together to see which scenes would work best for art?

Ideally, you and the artist will be communicating once you’re each sent each other’s contact information, and you’ll give your artist a chance to read all that you’ve written at that point. That’s what happens in most cases. If your fic gets picked by an artist and they don’t work with you, then the snippets you sent will be what the artwork will be based on. It’s a good idea to know that, while most of the time the artists work closely with the authors, there are a few exceptions to that.

How do I know when to post?

Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be four fics, plus art, posting per day between September 8th and November 30th. The post with date claims will go up on August 23rd and you'll have to choose your date by September 1st.

Posting of chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post) generally starts September 1st, but you can post earlier (as early as August 1st) if you let us know you have a long story. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post your bragging rights to the communities on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked or you can email us your bragging rights and we can post by proxy for you. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm.

WIPBB and WIPRB post on the same timeframe, and some days we may have a Reverse Bang post among the Big Bang posts, and both art and fic should be posted the same day for both WIPBB posts and WIPRB posts to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth with the bragging rights.

What am I posting to the Livejournal/Dreamwidth/Tumblr community if I’m posting the fic elsewhere?

You’ll be posting what we call bragging rights. It’s a small form you fill out and post to the community with a link to your fic (we’ll enable moderated posting to the Tumblr, Livejournal and Dreamwidth communities for members on August 8th). We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date.

Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art for WIPBB?

There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 8 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt!

What are 'art claims' and ‘fic claims’?

The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from for WIPBB and fic writers to claim for WIPRB. Artists sign-ups and art claims are the same thing, as are fic claims for WIPRB; we use one form each for both things, and that way the artists and authors don’t have to sign up for an event they may not end up participating in. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists/authors may choose up to three potential stories/pieces of art (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with, and on until all stories are claimed for art. Same goes for fic claims; we’ll do multiple claiming periods until everything is claimed.

If a fic or piee of art up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors and artists may be uncomfortable working with underage artists or authors on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system.

What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist?

Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang!

If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you.

Can I get an extension?

Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by July 13th.

Can I swap out a fic/piece of art if my muse abandons it again?

When you sign up, you give us the information on the potential fic(s)/art piece(s) you want to finish. If, say, one piece isn’t working but one you didn’t sign up for is, you can switch them out while letting the mods know if you need to change a user ID you used. It is absolutely okay to switch fics all the way up until snippets are due. By then, we hope you’ll have however many fics you plan on doing to at least 80% completion since rough drafts are due not much later. Just drop an email to the mods at wipbigbang@gmail.com with the new information (title, fandom, etc) and if you want a new sign in ID or plan to use the same one for the fic you’re replacing it with.

Can I drop out?

We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by August 13th (if at all possible).

Is it possible to be banned?

We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you.

Bans will last one round or until the issue is resolved, whichever comes first. To resolve a ban, authors will have to finish and post the story they signed up with and artists will have to finish and post the art for the story they claimed. Three bans will result in a permanent ban from the bang.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord?

Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something?

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post on your posting day, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world?

No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve signed up (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least July 1st)! We will be running Word Wars, where you can add more to a fic in a certain amount of time, and Whine Bars, where you can complain or ask for help or whatever else you feel like talking about when it comes to struggling with a fic, all after sign-ups end on a weekly basis, plus there’s the Discord server for chatting with your fellow authors and artists.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here.

If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, wipbigbang@gmail.com.