as many of you are already aware, several accounts on here have faced consistent, ongoing harassment regarding a number of wrestlers, primarily members of the bloodline. this harassment usually takes place in the form of anonymous asks, but it has also been received by several people, including myself, via dm's from blank/fake pages.
there have most definitely been several people responsible for this cyberbullying, but as of recently, and perhaps longer, it's been one individual.
they've used several different accounts. the following list are the names of this person's very many accounts that i, personally, have encountered:
melodicecstatic
shortybookishlady
kitchendegreestamps
jollyalpacacoffee
extradependentonme (one of the most recent)
i suspect that this individual, on top of having several side blogs that they use to dm, has multiple tumblr accounts as well under different emails. or, they will eventually delete one account and then create a new one under a different name/same email. i first started being harassed by this person back in october, 2024 and since then, they have continued to bully and target accounts, so much so that several people have deactivated altogether.
this person has an m.o. where they will send anonymous asks that are hateful, accusatory, and downright malicious. it might be short sentences but usually consists of well-written paragraphs. their writing style is polished and grammatically correct. following the asks, usually if you post them, they will then dm you and either go back and forth with you or block you altogether.
they play both sides where in the same breath they will judge you for having any sort of constructive criticism or dislike for a wrestler only to do a 180 and condemn you for liking said wrestler. they will do this back and forth with you or send you abc while sending others xyz. it's inconsistent.
at one point, they were going around sending a list of wrestling accounts that were "haters" to other blogs with the hopes of them posting the asks and "outing" these accounts.
this individual is extremely disturbed and unhinged. one of my accusations from them is "making fun" of people for this behavior, but i'm being 100% serious when i say, as a licensed psychotherapist, this is absolutely the behavior of someone who is not mentally well.
on top of blocking the listed accounts from above, if you start to receive anonymous hate, report the ask, follow the prompts that guide you through selecting the reason for the report (harassment), and at the end of the report, you will be given the option to block the sender as well. this will prevent them from sending any anonymous messages from said account. sadly, they can still interact with your account in other ways (likes, reblogs, dm's, etc.).
do not post the ask. if you wish to respond to it, screenshot it, attach the photo to a text post, and respond that way. you cannot report/block them once the ask is posted.
this person's accounts are typically blank with the generic, default tumblr icon, no follows, no posts, and no likes. go through your follow list and block any suspicious looking accounts.
based on some of the content they include in their asks, they are on our blogs on a consistent basis. they reference things that might not even be very recent.
if you start receiving hateful asks following theirs that are maybe formatted a little differently (lowercase, emojis added, etc) but essentially saying the same thing or using the same/similar wording, then that is most likely them as well, and they are trying to throw you off. report and block.
this is a theory that i tested out more recently.
ultimately, the best way to avoid this is to turn off the anonymous feature altogether, but given that they're not afraid to use these burner accounts to dm you with this nonsense, these steps might be necessary as well.
i strongly encourage everyone to not post this person's asks. don't respond to their dm's. they are clearly looking for attention, working to sew seeds of discourse and dissension, and very much get off on this disturbing conduct. it's a sick, twisted game to them, and nothing will irk them more than us depriving them of the attention and satisfaction they're looking for.
if you know of any other accounts that this person has, please reblog with the name of said accounts or let me know so i can add it to this list!
i understand that this post might not be seen or shared by accounts that have me blocked, but please screenshot and share if you can because this person is going after everyone, and it's gotta stop somewhere.
Wanted to post my Christmas prompt fics but seeing as we’re into the new year, I’m thinking maybe it’s too late and I should just delete them. What yall think?
Okay guys. I think I’ve only addressed openly only one negative comment about a story on my actual account. Everything else I’ve ignored.
But I need some of you guys to do me a favor and just block me. There’s no way you think it’s okay to harass someone about ANYTHING! Especially about FAKE SHIT that isn’t happening in real life time!
Secondly, if you can’t read just say that. I’ve placed MULTIPLE TIMES that if you cannot read certain content, then don’t read it! How tf am I supporting SA and DV???? ARE YOU EVEN READING WHAT I’M WRITING??? And even then, if you don’t like it, DONT READ IT!!
Better yet, JUST BLOCK ME!
Third of all!!!! DO NOT COME IN MY ASKS HARASSING ME ABOUT ANYTHING!
I don’t post or update fast enough? Block me. Go outside and touch some grass. Realize that my entire life is not this app.
Mind you, I’m burying my cousin the LITERAL DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. I got real life shit going on and whoever it is harassing me under ANON about slow updates, please just block me!
It makes me want to delete all my work and never post again! I’m kinda over it🫤
I had a chance to sleep on it and I have a theory. WALK WITH ME because I’m literally forcing myself to see it because I refuse to believe in this poor writing!!
On the surface, it does look contradictory—John Cena, the literal embodiment of “Never Give Up,” ending his in-ring career by tapping out. That’s not accidental. WWE doesn’t do symbolism by mistake, especially with Cena.
I’m thinking, the John Cena character was a superhero, specifically carrying the characteristics of superman.
For years, Super Cena functioned exactly like Superman:
• Morally upright
• Physically unstoppable
• Pain was irrelevant
• Losses didn’t stick
• Even when beaten, he rose to fight again
That’s why people hated and revered him. He wasn’t just a wrestler; he was a symbol of inevitability. The hero always wins. The mantra “Never Give Up” wasn’t motivational fluff; it was the law of his universe. So here’s the key part of my theory that hits:
Super Cena would’ve never tap.
Ever.
Because Superman doesn’t quit, he fights until the world breaks or he does.
So when Cena taps out, that isn’t “giving up.”
That is the character dying.
Not in a dramatic explosion way but in a quiet, deliberate one. It was a “I’m done being this.” Moment.
The new John — the human, the elder, the legend who’s already transcended wrestling — is allowed to choose an ending. Superman doesn’t get that choice. John Cena does. The story no longer needs the invincible hero.
So… Super Cena didn’t give up. He got retired.
The man stepped out of the gear and left it all on the floor. Literally.
Yall please don’t drag me cause I hate him as much as the rest of yall. Literal scum of the earth, bottom of my shoe scum! But Vince wouldn’t have closed it off like this….
I was going to post Secret Santa tonight but I’m postponing it because I’m actually SICK ASF that it’s John Cena’s last match 😭 I really grew up watching John Cena. I remember Betting money on John V Rock on both Wrestlemania’s😭 OMG
Paris had barely taken a breath before she launched into pleading mode.
“Aaliyah, come on, girl. You are not about to sit in that apartment alone on Christmas Eve, eating Hot Cheetos in your bonnet and watching reruns of Girlfriends. Not on my watch.”
Aaliyah lay curled on her couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, her phone propped up on her knee. She sighed heavily, lips poked out in a full pout. “I just don’t feel like doing the whole party thing, P. All those people, all that small talk… I really just wanna chill tonight.”
Paris, who was stirring something on the stove in a holiday apron, paused to throw her the side-eye of the century through FaceTime. “You can chill at the party. Sit in the corner like you always do, drink your little spiked cocoa, judge people’s outfits with me like we always do. I made peppermint brownies. I got Mariah Carey on standby. Girl, it’s Christmas. Don’t be out here Grinchin’.”
Aaliyah groaned, dragging her hand over her face. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m festive.”
“Same thing.”
They stared at each other through the screen, one pleading, the other tired.
Finally, Aaliyah let out a breath and gave in. “Fine. Only for you.”
Paris grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Yessss. I love you.”
“Uh huh.”
Aaliyah ended the call and stared up at the ceiling, already regretting the decision.
She had no idea what she was walking into.
Paris’s apartment was dressed like a throwback Christmas special, 2000s nostalgia in every detail.
Tinsel framed the walls in uneven swoops. Red, green, and gold string lights blinked from every corner, half of them dimmed just enough to set a cozy, slightly chaotic vibe. A fake snow machine puffed little flurries from a vent by the tree every few minutes, sprinkling glittery white specks onto the carpet. The kitchen was loud with cinnamon, vanilla, and something chocolatey baking in the oven. Classic R&B Christmas played low in the background—TLC’s “Sleigh Ride” sliding right into Destiny’s Child’s “8 Days of Christmas.”
The moment Aaliyah stepped inside, she was hit by all of it; the warmth, the scent, the familiar laughter coming from the living room.
And that feeling in her chest.
That little… tug.
She shouldn’t have come.
She looked too good to be this tense. Her long tan coat hugged her frame, soft curls framed her face, and her lip gloss had just the right amount of shimmer under the dim lighting. She peeled off her coat and folded it over one arm as she scanned the room. A few familiar faces greeted her with waves and head nods, friends of Paris, people she’d seen in passing before.
But something was off.
Her stomach turned just slightly. Her heartbeat was louder than it should’ve been. There was a kind of static in her mind. A tingling awareness she couldn’t quite place.
Then she saw him.
Jey Uso.
And her entire soul hit the brakes.
He was leaning casually against the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, drink in hand, curly mullet laid loosely at the nape of his neck. His hoodie was fitted but relaxed, charcoal grey with a gold chain glinting from beneath the collar. His sweatpants sat just right on his waist, low, like he had nothing to prove. His smile? Easy. Laid back. Laughing with someone as if this party was just another pit stop.
Aaliyah’s breath caught.
What is he doing here?
She felt her whole body go still. Like she’d been caught in the middle of a dream she didn’t ask for.
Not that she didn’t want it. She did want it. That was the problem.
She’d had a crush on Jey for months.
Not the casual, “oh he’s cute” kind. The deep kind. The kind that made her overthink her outfits if she even thought he might be in the vicinity. The kind that made her memorize his laugh, his voice, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was trying to find the right words.
She watched his stories more than she cared to admit. Noticed when he changed his profile picture. Rewatched that one photo of him in that black button up and gold rings more times than she’d ever confess. It was the little things, like how his hands always looked warm or the way his eyes had a habit of softening when he was really listening to someone.
And now he was here. At Paris’s party. On Christmas Eve.
Aaliyah’s feet refused to move.
She tried to look away, but her eyes kept sliding back to him like a bad habit.
“Girl,” Paris’s voice cut in from beside her, smooth and casual like she hadn’t just pulled off a strategic ambush. “You good?”
Aaliyah blinked and tore her eyes away, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t fine.
“Didn’t know he was coming,” Aaliyah added, trying to keep her tone even.
Paris leaned against the kitchen island, hands busy dropping mini candy canes into steaming mugs of cocoa like she hadn’t just detonated a social bomb.
“Didn’t you tell me last week he don’t come out to stuff like this?” Aaliyah asked, voice light.
“I did,” She answered, “Because he doesn’t. Guess tonight’s the exception.” Paris handed her a cup of cocoa, then casually took a sip of her own, eyes very much not casual.
Aaliyah took the mug but didn’t drink. Her voice dropped slightly. “Did you know he was coming?”
Paris blinked. “Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb, Paris.”
“I’m not playing—”
“Paris.”
Aaliyah’s tone carried weight now, sharper than before. Not angry. But tense. Her brows furrowed, her shoulders drawn. “You could’ve at least told me.”
Paris looked away for a second, adjusting her mug, then shrugged like it was nothing. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“It’s Jey.”
“So?”
“So you know how I feel about him.”
Paris gave her a long look. “And?”
Aaliyah didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her expression said it all.
“I’m not gonna apologize for inviting somebody to my Christmas party,” Paris said, quieter now, but firmer. “I didn’t think it’d be a crime for him to show up.”
Aaliyah let out a breath, half-laughing, half-frustrated. “It’s not a crime. It’s just… you could’ve warned me.”
“You would’ve stayed home.”
Aaliyah’s silence confirmed it.
Paris tilted her head. “And isn’t that the problem? You’ve been crushing on this man for how long now? And every time he’s around, you disappear. You act like you want him to read your mind and come find you in the shadows.”
Aaliyah looked down into her cup. Her reflection stared back, small and blurry. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple,” Paris said. “Because he asked if you were coming tonight.”
Aaliyah looked up. “What?”
“That’s why he came. He don’t do parties. Not unless it’s blood family. But I told him you might be here and he got real quiet. Next thing I know, he asked for the address.”
Aaliyah’s heart stopped.
“No, he didn’t.”
Paris nodded, sipping her drink again like it wasn’t the biggest news of the year. “He did.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. He showed up for you, Liyah. And now you over here acting like you’re in danger.”
“I am in danger,” Aaliyah hissed, whispering. “Emotional danger.”
Paris snorted.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Aaliyah muttered, turning her back and pretending to scan the snack table just so she didn’t have to meet her friend’s smug expression. “You’re insane.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re insane.”
Paris leaned closer. “Look. I didn’t force anything. I didn’t drag you in here and throw you at him. I just… opened a door. You the one who gotta walk through it.”
Aaliyah didn’t respond at first. Her fingers wrapped tighter around the warm ceramic mug. The music shifted into an old Boyz II Men Christmas ballad, low and soft in the background.
Paris’s voice gentled. “All I’m saying is don’t run this time.”
Aaliyah stayed quiet.
After a few seconds, someone called Paris’s name from the balcony. She gave Aaliyah one last look before heading off.
Aaliyah stood there, stunned.
Her heart was a mess. Her mind even worse. She replayed Paris’s words like a voicemail she couldn’t delete.
He came for you.
She turned to glance back at the doorway where she’d seen him.
He wasn’t there anymore.
But now? Now she felt him in the room.
Every laugh he made, every step he took, every second of eye contact she’d tried to avoid.
It was suddenly obvious. Loud. Electric.
He was here for her.
And she didn’t know whether to run, or finally stop running.
Aaliyah kept to the corners of the room like a shadow.
She floated between the snack table and the fireplace, couch and kitchen, always ducking around people, always pretending to scroll through her phone or refill her cup when really, she was hiding.
From him.
Jey.
She hadn’t seen him again since that first heart-stopping glance. But she could feel him. Like heat rising from behind a closed door. Like static before a storm.
And she hated that she noticed him without looking. Hated that her body responded every time she thought he might be close; back tensing, breath catching, fingers curling tighter around her cup. She hated even more that Paris was right.
He came for you.
Those words wouldn’t stop echoing. They’d rooted themselves in the pit of her stomach, deep and relentless, spreading warmth and panic in equal measure.
She didn’t know how to act.
Did she say something? Walk up and casually start a conversation like she hadn’t been dodging eye contact with him for months? Was she supposed to flirt? Or just stand in the corner and hope he approached her?
Aaliyah sipped her cocoa and stared blankly at the blinking lights wrapped around the mantle. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and she hadn’t even eaten yet. Every part of her was screaming to do something, but her nerves had her frozen in place.
Aaliyah had liked him too long to be normal about this.
It started harmless. She met him through Paris’s cousin over the summer. At first, it was just a “he’s cute” situation. That kind of admiration from a safe distance. But then he smiled at her. Said her name in that smooth, slightly raspy voice. Started lingering a little longer when they crossed paths at cookouts or mutual events. And suddenly, it wasn’t safe anymore.
She’d watched him hold babies, dap up old ladies, talk soft to his mama over the phone, tip too well at restaurants, and laugh with his whole body when something genuinely cracked him up. Every time she saw him, he was… real. Not perfect, not flashy. Just real.
And that scared the hell out of her.
So she stayed on the sidelines. Crushing in silence. Praying he didn’t notice her noticing him.
And now here he was. At Paris’s party. On Christmas Eve. Looking like a walking heart complication.
She heard him before she saw him again.
His laugh, low, familiar, relaxed, cut through the music. It was the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads just to find the source. Not loud. Just full.
She turned just enough to see him near the entryway, talking with someone’s older brother. He looked good. Too good. Curly hair pushed back again, a fresh cut, she could tell. That gold chain still visible. He reached up to adjust it and caught her watching him.
Aaliyah’s breath hitched.
He smiled
Nothing flashy. Just a soft little smile like, there you are.
She looked away so fast she nearly dropped her cup.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—
She darted toward the hallway bathroom, slipping past two girls giggling about a playlist and avoiding eye contact like it owed her money.
She didn’t even need the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her, locked it, and pressed her back to it.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, heart thudding. “This is fine. I’m fine. I can do this.”
But even in the quiet of the bathroom, the truth pressed down on her like a weighted blanket.
She was scared.
Not of him, Jey had never been anything but sweet, charming in that unassuming way, but of what this could turn into. Of what it would mean if he really did come to this party for her. Of how long she’d wanted this and how completely unprepared she felt to handle it.
Her reflection in the mirror was flushed. Eyes wide. Gloss slightly smudged.
She touched up her lips, patted her cheeks, took one long breath, and then two more. Then, finally, she opened the door and stepped back into the party like she hadn’t just been hiding from the possibility of her own happiness.
Back in the living room, things had shifted. The music was softer. People were dancing. A few were seated around the tree, swapping silly gifts and trading jokes. It felt warmer now. More intimate.
She spotted Jey again, leaning against the archway, solo this time. No one near him. Just sipping his drink, watching the room.
And then…
He looked at her.
This time, she didn’t look away.
Her feet moved before she could stop them, past the couch, past the kitchen, past whatever logic told her to retreat.
But halfway there, someone called his name from across the room.
He turned toward the voice, giving her the opening to duck into the hallway before he could see how close she’d gotten.
Aaliyah stood in the hallway now, heart in her throat, trying to calm the wildfire in her chest.
She leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, mentally coaching herself.
Stop being weird. Just talk to him. Say hi. Say Merry Christmas. Something. Anything.
She let out a breath.
Then she heard footsteps.
Not loud.
Steady. Confident. Coming her way.
She turned slowly.
And there he was.
Jey.
Right in front of her.
She froze.
And he smiled again, soft, familiar, like he was glad she hadn’t disappeared this time.
“Hey.”
Aaliyah stood in the hallway, heart still thudding in her chest, trying to make sense of the moment unfolding in front of her.
Jey was here.
Right here.
Not across the room. Not tucked behind a crowd. Not filtered through the distance of an Instagram story or a group hangout. He was standing in front of her with his curls a little messy, drink in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up over tattooed forearms—and looking at her like he’d been hoping to find her alone.
“Hey,” he said again, a little softer this time.
“Hey,” she managed, voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes moved across her face like he was checking if she was real. His lips quirked at the corner, like he could sense her nerves but didn’t mind them. It wasn’t cocky. It was quiet. Familiar. Like he wasn’t trying to charm her, he just was.
She tucked a curl behind her ear, trying to collect herself. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
He shrugged casually. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Aaliyah’s eyes flicked up at that. “Oh.”
Jey tilted his head slightly. “Paris said you might be here.”
Her breath caught.
He went on, smooth and unhurried. “So I figured I’d slide through… see for myself.”
His words landed gently, but her pulse picked up. She felt every syllable like a touch.
They stood there, paused in that pocket of hallway where the party music faded into the background. Neither moved. Neither rushed to fill the silence. It didn’t feel awkward.
It felt charged.
Then Jey’s gaze flicked up, just slightly.
He smiled again; this time with a little mischief. “You know we’re standing under the mistletoe, right?”
Aaliyah blinked.
“What?”
He pointed above their heads.
Sure enough, dangling from the corner of the hallway light fixture was a neatly tied sprig of mistletoe. A little red ribbon looped through it like a setup. She hadn’t noticed it earlier. Clearly, Paris had.
Aaliyah’s lips parted, unsure what to say.
Her brain immediately kicked into overdrive:
Should I say something? Should I laugh it off? Should I walk away? Is this a joke? Am I dreaming?
Before she could spiral further, Jey leaned his shoulder casually against the wall, looking relaxed, but his eyes stayed on her.
“I mean,” he said with that slow, easy grin, “I’m not tryna break holiday tradition or nothin’.”
Aaliyah let out a small breath of disbelief. “You’re really using the mistletoe line?”
“Wouldn’t need it,” he said, “if you didn’t keep dodgin’ me at every function.”
Her face flushed.
“I don’t dodge you.”
“Liyah,” he said, low and amused. “You disappeared faster than the hot wings at every party we’ve both been to.”
“That’s not true.”
“You literally hid behind a cooler at the baby shower.”
She laughed, mortified. “That wasn’t hiding! I was just… getting ice.”
“For twenty minutes?”
“I dropped a cube,” she mumbled, cheeks burning.
Jey chuckled, eyes softening. “I’m messin’ with you.”
He took a step closer, just enough that she had to tilt her head a little to keep his eyes.
“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, voice dropping just slightly. “Been waiting for a minute to catch you by yourself.”
Aaliyah’s breath hitched.
“Really?”
“Mmhmm.”
His hand lifted slightly, just brushing the back of his fingers near her arm, not touching, just there.
“But every time I try to talk to you,” he continued, “you move like I got a warning label on me.”
“I don’t mean to,” she whispered.
“I know.”
And the way he said it… like he understood her without needing a full explanation, like he could see through all her nervous silence, all her retreating glances; it made something in her chest loosen.
“So,” he said again, eyes dipping to her lips, then rising back to meet hers, “what do you think? We kissin’ or we breakin’ Christmas rules?”
Aaliyah’s lips twitched, and her voice was barely audible when she whispered, “You tell me.”
That was all it took.
Jey leaned in slow, so slow, giving her time to pull away, time to change her mind, time to breathe.
She didn’t.
Their lips met in the softest collision. Warm, careful, tentative. Like they were both afraid of waking up from a dream.
Aaliyah’s fingers curled into the front of his hoodie as he deepened the kiss, just a little. His hand found her waist, resting there gently. He kissed like he had all the time in the world, no rush, no pressure, just the kind of patience that made her feel wanted and seen.
It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t dramatic.
It was real.
And that made it everything.
When he finally pulled back, just barely, their foreheads rested together. Her breath was caught somewhere between her lungs and lips.
Jey murmured, “Been wantin’ to do that.”
Her voice trembled, “You have?”
He nodded slowly. “You really ain’t never noticed?”
“I thought you were just… being nice.”
“I was,” he said, brushing a curl from her face, “but that ain’t all I was being.”
Her laugh was quiet and nervous, but her smile was wide.
Jey leaned in again, just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth, softer this time. “I like you, Aaliyah. Always have.”
“I like you too,” she whispered.
“Good,” he said, letting his thumb trace the edge of her jaw. “Now stop runnin’ from me.”
“I wasn’t—”
He raised a brow.
She sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Jey grinned. “It’s cool. I caught you.”
He slipped his fingers through hers, and just like that, something shifted.
The nerves weren’t gone; but they didn’t control her now. Not when his hand was holding hers. Not when his eyes were still on her like she was the only reason he came tonight.
“You wanna head back out?” he asked gently.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t let go.
And when they stepped back into the soft glow of Paris’s party, laughter echoing from the kitchen and lights twinkling above them, Aaliyah felt something new settle in her chest.
Possibility, and a little spark that felt like the start of something worth believing in.
The warmth of the party wrapped around them the moment they stepped back into the room; music humming low, people still dancing near the tree, soft laughter spilling from the kitchen.
But Aaliyah barely noticed any of it.
All she could feel was Jey’s hand in hers. Still holding on. Still easy. Still sure.
She didn’t realize how fast her heart had been racing until now, when it finally started to slow. And even then, it wasn’t from calm.
It was from him.
They moved quietly back into the crowd, blending in with the hum of the night, no grand entrance, no eyes on them; except for one.
Paris.
She stood posted up by the fireplace, red plastic cup in hand, mid conversation with a couple of cousins. But the second her eyes landed on Aaliyah’s joined hand with Jey’s, she paused.
Didn’t say a word. Didn’t gasp or squeal. She made sure not to cause a scene.
Just raised one perfectly arched brow, and sipped her drink like the smug puppet master she was.
Aaliyah caught it.
And even though her cheeks flushed instantly, she didn’t look away.
She didn’t drop Jey’s hand either.
Paris gave her the look, the one that said, So… what’d I tell you?
Aaliyah bit her lip to hide her smile.
Jey leaned down slightly and murmured, “She been starin’ at us since we walked in.”
“She thinks she’s slick,” Aaliyah muttered.
“She kinda is.”
They shared a laugh, a quiet one just between them.
And in that moment, with cocoa still in the air and fake snow falling from the vent again, Aaliyah realized something:
This night hadn’t gone anything like she expected.
It had gone better.
⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻
Extra Scene:
Aaliyah had barely opened her eyes when her phone started vibrating.
Bzzz. Bzzz. BZZZ.
She groaned, rolling over to grab it off the nightstand.
38 new messages.
She didn’t have to look to know which group chat it was.
✨The Fab Four✨
She blinked through crusty eyes and tapped into the chat.
Paris 💅:
👀 sooooooo
who walked back into my living room holding hands last night??
Giselle 👛:
YALL.
I thought I was trippin. I was like noooo not Liyah & Jey. Not MY Liyah.
Breanna 💋:
Liyah. Bestie.
Get. 👏🏽 In. 👏🏽 This. 👏🏽 Chat. 👏🏽 NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Paris 💅:
I gave her the setup and she DELIVERED 😭
I’m so proud
Giselle 👛:
Not her going under the mistletoe and giving ROMCOM energy 😭
Breanna 💋:
Y’all I KNOW they kissed
I know it.
The tension was LOUD
Paris 💅:
Oh they definitely kissed.
You saw how she looked when they came back from the hallway?
Like a Disney princess after her first taste of real sin 😭💀
Aaliyah groaned and dropped her phone onto her chest.
They were doing a lot. And it was barely 9AM.
She typed half a message, erased it, then just sent:
Aaliyah 👑:
🙄 Y’all are so dramatic.
Immediately—
Paris 💅:
AHHHH SHE’S AWAKE
EVERYBODY GET IN HERE NOW
Giselle 👛:
Go ahead and open your mouth, ma’am. We waiting.
Breanna 💋:
Actually.
Nope.
This needs to be LIVE
The FaceTime logo popped up.
Incoming call from ✨The Fab Four✨.
Aaliyah tried to decline. She really did.
But her thumb hesitated… and then, somehow, she answered.
Paris’s screen came up first, wrapped in a leopard print bonnet, under-eye patches in place, sitting in her kitchen with a mimosa already in hand. “Good morning, Miss Mistletoe.”
Then Breanna joined, hoodie over her head, false lashes still halfway attached. “I been up since 7 waiting for you to wake up.”
Giselle popped in third, curled up in her bed, bonnet on, face bare but still glowing. “Girl. We got questions.”
Aaliyah sighed and pulled her blanket up over her chin.
“I literally just woke up.”
Paris held up her mimosa. “Perfect. Let’s start the day right. Spill it.”
Breanna leaned in, eyes wide. “What happened. Exactly. From the moment you saw him to the moment you walked back in hand in hand.”
“I need timestamps,” Giselle added. “And emotional reactions.”
Aaliyah tried to hide her face. “You guys…”
Paris cut in. “Liyah. This is a safe space. But if you don’t tell us everything, I will start filling in the blanks myself. I will lie.”
“You have to tell us,” Breanna said. “You’ve been fake hating that man for like eight months.”
“I didn’t fake hate him!” Aaliyah protested.
“You fake ignored him,” Giselle said. “Which is worse.”
Paris smirked. “Let’s not act like you didn’t go ghost the second he walked in.”
“I panicked!”
“And then you came back,” Breanna sang, “with his hand in yours.”
The group screamed in unison.
Aaliyah groaned, already burying her face in her hands. “This was a mistake.”
“Nope,” Giselle said. “It’s too late now. Start talking. What happened in the hallway?”
Aaliyah sighed again, but her cheeks were already pink. Her voice softened. “We were just… talking.”
“AND?”
“And then he pointed out we were under the mistletoe.”
The screen erupted again.
Paris fell out of frame.
Breanna nearly spilled her drink.
Giselle grabbed her pillow and screamed into it.
“You lying,” Breanna gasped. “You are LYING. Did he really say that?”
Aaliyah nodded, unable to hide her grin. “He said he didn’t wanna break holiday tradition.”
Giselle’s jaw dropped. “Is he a Hallmark movie? What the hell???”
“I thought y’all were lying about the mistletoe,” Breanna said, eyes wide. “I thought that was a myth!”
“Nope,” Paris said proudly. “Hung it myself.”
“You knew what you were doing,” Aaliyah muttered.
Paris shrugged and sipped her mimosa. “I just set the scene. Had to help my good sis out.”
Giselle leaned closer to her camera. “Okay but like. Then what. Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him? What happened???”
Aaliyah took a breath, smiling shyly now. “He kissed me.”
Soft silence.
Then all three screamed again.
“This is the best group chat update of my LIFE,” Paris whispered.
“Was it like… sweet?” Breanna asked. “Or… spicy?”
Aaliyah smiled. “At first? It was slow. Gentle. Like he was waiting to see if I’d pull away.”
“But you didn’t,” Giselle whispered dramatically.
“I sholl’ didn’t,” she confirmed.
Paris wiped an invisible tear. “She’s all grown up.”
“And THEN,” Aaliyah said, warming up to the storytelling now, “he said he’d been wanting to do that. That he’d been trying to talk to me but I kept running off.”
“Which you did,” Breanna said. “Let’s be honest.”
“I know,” Aaliyah laughed. “But then he said he liked me. That he doesn’t do all that casual, short-term stuff. He said if he wants someone, he wants them.”
“OH HE WANTS YOU,” Giselle shouted.
Paris clapped. “My matchmaking spirit is complete. I can die now.”
Breanna was tearing up for real. “So y’all left the party together???”
Aaliyah shook her head. “No but he walked me to my car.”
“LIKE A GENTLEMAN.”
“He said he hadn’t planned on staying long. Only came when Paris told him I might be there.”
Paris smirked, unapologetic. “And that’s on best friend intuition.”
“And?” Giselle pressed.
“And he said he wants to see me again. Like, for real.”
“Y’all better be on FaceTime tonight,” Breanna said. “I better see some sexy ass screenshots later.”
“I gave him my number,” Aaliyah said, cheeks hurting from smiling. “And he kissed my cheek before I left.”
“STOP IT,” Paris shrieked. “You are in your SOFT ERA.”
“I’ve never seen her like this,” Giselle said. “She’s blushing.”
“Because she’s a LOVER GIRL NOW,” Breanna declared. “Don’t play with her.”
“I’m not a lover girl—”
“Yes you are,” all three of them said at once.
Aaliyah laughed and hid under her blanket. “Okay, okay! Maybe a little.”
Paris leaned back in her chair, pleased. “I feel like a proud parent.”
“I feel like I was there spiritually, watching him woo my good sis.” Giselle added.
“Might as well have been,” Aaliyah said. “All of y’all.”
They all went quiet for a second, smiling at each other through their cameras, still in bonnets, still cozy, still chaotic, but together.
