#hand me your oc's over anytime

[tetratheripper]

Cryptobros kept sending me messages to "buy" pieces from my portfolio (?¿?¿ they don't even know how portfolios work) so I unpublished all my Artstation posts lol (I wasn't comfortable in there since the AI anyway, so whatever)

[citysuk]

a baby?! | logan howlett

pairing: xmen!logan howlett x pregnant!reader

summary: some headcanons of logan with a pregnant partner.

notes: logan is so husband (not actually married) material 😭😭😭 i needed to write this for my man.

warnings: pregnancy kajsksa (it scares me to death), so much fluffy fluff. no proofread. no use of y/n but no oc neither.

Logan's protective nature would go into overdrive when you are pregnant. He'd be extra vigilant, watching your every move and refusing to let you out of his sight. "You ain't goin' nowhere, darlin'," he'd growl.

Logan would be constantly fussing over you, making sure you're eating right and taking care of yourself. He'd become a regular at the grocery store, stocking up on the necessary supplies for your pregnancy. "Can't have my baby going hungry," he'd say, tossing another loaf of bread into the cart.

Logan would be a pro at soothing you through the uncomfortable parts of pregnancy. He'd rub your back when you had cramps, hold your hair when you were sick, and provide as much comfort as he could. "It's gonna be okay," he'd murmur. "Just a few more months."

Logan would be eager to feel the baby kick and move inside your belly. He would place his hand on your stomach, feeling every little movement, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey there, little one," he'd whisper.

Logan would take you for late night walks in the gardens, his arm protectively around your waist, your steps slow and measured. He'd breathe in the night air, a rare peacefulness settling over him. "Can't wait to meet our kid," he'd say quietly, squeezing your hand.

Logan might be a bit nervous about being a father, but he would never let it show. He'd put on a brave front, masking his fears with his usual gruff exterior, but would secretly be reading every parenting book he can find.

As the due date got closer, Logan would become increasingly anxious. He'd be extra cautious, carrying you up and down the stairs and insisting that you rest as much as possible. "Can't have anything happen to you or the baby," he'd say, his eyes filled with worry.

Despite his tough exterior, Logan would be secretly excited about decorating the nursery. He'd take you to every baby shop in town, helping you pick out the perfect crib and the perfect color for the walls (he's the one putting everything together).

When the baby is finally born, Logan would be there, holding your hand, coaching you through the delivery. He'd whisper words of encouragement, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "You're doing great, darlin'."

As soon as he lays eyes on his child, Logan's heart would instantly fill with love. He'd be torn between staring at the baby and checking on you, a range of emotions playing on his face.

Logan would be the ultimate doting father. He'd change diapers, give baths, and rock the baby to sleep. He'd sing lullabies and tell bedtime stories, his voice gruff but his words soft.

Logan would have a love/hate relationship with the baby's first word. When they said "Dada" for the first time, he'd puff up with pride, but then be secretly disappointed that it wasn't "Mama."

He would have a collection of silly nicknames for the baby, ranging from "Cub" to "Little One". He'd sometimes slip into Wolven mode and playfully growl at the baby, making them giggle.

Logan would be incredibly overprotective of the baby. Anytime someone tried to hold them, he'd hesitate and watch hawkishly. He wouldn't let anyone but his partner and the X-Men near the child, always on high alert for any potential threat. "Ain't nobody touchin' my kid, bub," he'd growl, eyes narrowed.

Logan would be the one to handle the late-night feedings and soothe the baby back to sleep. "Can't let your mama get too exhausted," he'd mutter as he rocked the baby in his arms.

Logan would be careful when the baby started walking and crawling, especially around the danger-prone X- Mansion. He'd constantly be on edge every time the baby would try to grab something sharp or crawl towards a dangerous area. "Watch yourself there, squirt," he'd say, scooping them up before they could get into trouble.

Logan would also be a very hands-on father. He'd want to teach the child everything he knows, from fighting to the wilderness. He'd take them camping and teach them how to survive in the wild. "Gotta be tough like your old man," he'd say.

Even though Logan would claim he wasn't the type to get attached to kids (LIAR), he'd secretly have a soft spot for the one you had created together.

[cornyforjk]

Drive you crazy | Day 1 | jjk

SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language only for now.

A/note: HI I'M SCARED BUT HI ALL THE BEST HAVE FUN . First chapter out and I am already head over heels for this Jungkook. I'd say to keep your hobi water ready anytime cause the spice never ends.

___________________♡____________________

"You'd be better off as a pornstar, why not start an only fans page."

The guy beside me whispered as I clenched my fist, a helmet covering his face. Well he was lucky the helmet was there to protect him, or else by now, his limbs would've fallen apart, bit by bit until he was screeching for mercy.

"Stay out of my way." My helmet was a barrier to the fiery glare I was sending his side. I heard him emit an audible but distressed sigh as his tongue clicked in disappointment.

I scanned him from head to toe, not as if I knew him, but my desire to call him a "gay stripper" grew stronger with each tap on the floor.

I close my eyes, collecting my thoughts that were scattered around an endless black hole. Echoes of heels clicking against the floor catching my attention, ear perking up I fix my posture, shoulders rolling back, clearing my parched throat.

A woman with huge circular glasses resting on the bridge of her nosewalked in. Her pencil skirt accentuated her broad hips, her blue eyes fixed on the notepad wrapped around her arm, and the silver metallic pen held her elegant hairstyle together.

She was the definition of what I call 'classy'.

I suddenly felt my shoulders slouch down when her blue icy eyes scanned me, her orbs slowly widening in astonishment. I raise my hand giving a small wave with a crooked smile.

Maybe that was a bit too crooked. Screw it! She can't see me.

"Ahh..." I suddenly squealed under her intense gaze that was scanning me over and over again, pushing the glasses that adorned her button nose back. She cleared her throat grazing over her notepad one last time.

"Lady, you know I am still here, right? Maybe you can do this goo-goo eyes after I'm checked in." The guy beside me commented, earning an eye roll which he couldn't witness. I stomp over his boots, almost throwing my whole weight on his foot.

"OUCH!" He grunts, turning my way, maybe or maybe not glaring like Donald Trump after he found out his steak was cooked medium rare and not brought alive.

"Fight me you ceramic bitch!" He shrieks, ready to throw hands. I hide behind the elegant woman for protection who just watched us bicker.

She cleared her throat again, catching me off guard. She turns my way. "Jungkook and Y/n?" She pursed her lips, narrowed cat-like eyes waiting for our nods.

"Jungkook...more like junk looks," I coughed out, wheezing at that lame pun, perhaps no one has the sense of humour of a five-year-old. The world is turning tables pretty quick.

"Ms Y/n, you aren't supposed to be here?" She waits for my reaction as I freeze on spot.

"What do you mean I am not supposed to be here?" My voice slightly rising, "I checked in myself as the new rookie in racing." I practically throw air quotes at her statement, panic wavering in my

voice.

The so-called guy 'Jungkook' choked, his broad chest heaving up and down as he laughed.

Did I say something funny?

"You are at the wrong location, I think there was an error in our system while registering you, we may have added your name to the wrong list." She ran her index finger across her crisp notepad, eyes moving back and forth like a hawk.

"No, no, no, no-no." I gasped, "do you know how long it took me to persuade my sponsor?! This is my only chance to race; if I don't enter, all of my years of preparation will be in vain."

She looked at me with sympathy. "Can't you make any changes to send me there?"

"I'm sorry...you won't be able to reach in time and we cannot let you go until the board takes a look at this major mistake and have you safely enter your designated place."

She tapped her foot on the marble floor.

Suddenly my head dropped, audibly sighing as my fingers tapped against my thighs. Just one opportunity is given...and it will all wash over like golden sand at the seashore.

"Okay, sad. Moving on, I'd like the Keys to my quarters." Jungkook arrogantly demanded, pushing his hand in front of the woman. She looked at him with no emotion, rolling her eyes, once again checking the name list.

Think Y/n! Think!

I felt my heart clench, the corner of my eyes collided with the water. My craving to have wind tangled in my locks while the engine roared at the starting line with determined racers kept increasing.

That desire in my heart burning stronger than any fuel.

"I can race here!" I exclaimed, earning a groan from the tall man beside me. The woman blinked her eyes, glasses almost falling off her snatched nose.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I can race on this track here in California, till then your board can sort out all their work." Adrenaline rushed in my veins like hope, secretly fist-pumping the air. Finally, this could work out.

"Listen up kiddo, this is California. Here racers make history. They don't sit on the track to have some pink princess tea party, so you can take that bag of yours and move your ass out of this place because you don't belong here." His words were foul, a snarl creeping on.

He was filled with bitterness, swiftly peeling off the helmet on his face. His action left me speechless.

His ethereal beauty was hidden behind the helmet; his soft, glowing skin was the centre of attention; his doe-like eyes were pools of overflowing emotions; his soft lips, the bottom one a little fuller, a mole on his cheek and one under his lip.

I would've stumbled on my face gazingat such charm if only he wasn't being a jerk.

"It's because women aren't usually seen racing here, in fact for the last 50 years no women had the guts to continue on this track." The woman abruptly spoke. I felt the uncertainty in her voice. She was trying to cover up for that jerk.

"but there is no rule against women racing here." I protested back.

"Yes there isn't but-" "Then I race here."

Jungkook's intense stare had my knees go weak. I could feel the sharpness and cold wrath all at once. An unspoken cold blooded war was rising between us.

"What do you think you are doing?" Jungkook exclaimed, his warm hand skimming on my shoulder, the grip crushing my meek corpse.

His jaw clenched and eyes obscuring, he glowered behind the lustrous locks covering his orbs that bled out of outrage.

outrage.

Staring into his eyes my body shook violently, I harshly pushed him away, disgusted by the warmth his hands held. "Don't touch me." My eyes were bloodshot red, wrapping my hands around my torso.

"I won't be outmanoeuvred by a jerk. Especially you, Jungkook."

___________________♡____________________

Teaser | Day2

DM me or send me an ask to be added in the taglist.

[2hightocare]

UNEXPECTED NEWS!

Synopsis: Pregnant with your first child, how do you plan on dropping the news to your husband?

Genre: married au! KUWTB!

Warnings: whole lotta fluff.. cussing, mentions of sex, playful banter, found family… just fucking fluff bye.

a/n: well long awaited drabble.. I honestly adore all of them so much… Jungkook and oc were being extra cutesy (they usually play fighting all the time) in this.. enjoy🤍 ps I’m high as fuck so ignore all mistakes.

ask! KUWTB💌

“You’re fucking pregnant?” Your best friend whispers, Eunbi stares at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

You had been feeling weird these past few days, from your emotions being all over the place to throwing up whenever you ate something. Jungkook was worried about what was wrong, but you just told him that you were on your period, which was a lie since you hadn’t had it in some time now.

So, here you are, sitting against the wall in the bathroom of Eunbi’s house with a positive pregnancy test in your hand. “I’m going to be an auntie!” Eunbi dances in front of you, her blonde hair coming undone from her bun.

“Oh my god, I’m pregnant.” It finally clicks in your brain that a small human is forming in your belly at this very moment, tears start streaming down your face.

You and Jungkook have been married for five years now. When you first got married, you both said you would enjoy your marriage and have fun. And that’s exactly what you did; you traveled a lot, went out to parties until five in the morning, did spontaneous stuff all the time.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eunbi rushes to your side, kneeling down in front of you, lifting your face up. “Are these happy tears or sad tears?” She asks, her thumbs wiping your tears away, ruining your makeup.

“Both.” You sniffle, your eyes finally meeting her hazel eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eunbi asks slowly, trying to read your expression.

Eunbi has been your best friend since college days; she was your dorm roommate. You both majored in the same thing, meaning you guys had almost every class together.

“It’s just that..” you pout, as the tears continue to fall.

“I’m happy, I’m really happy. But Kook and I haven’t talked about having a baby anytime soon. I don’t know how he’ll react.” You explain, as Eunbi only nods her head.

“Y/n, that man loves you so much, it’s even absurd what he would do for you. Knowing him, he would literally jump off a cliff for you. I don’t think he’ll react badly, but if he does, I’ll have the guys throw him off the cliff. Anyways, he loves you a lot with a baby or without a baby.” Eunbi says, helping you stand up before hugging.

“How do you think I should tell him?” You sniffle, as Eunbi chuckles, letting go of you.

“Pregnancy reveal plan in the making!” Eunbi says.

“And can we get out of here, this is where Yoongi takes his shits, it kinda smells bad,” Eunbi scrambles to the door, which has you laughing, following her lead out of the bathroom.

…

It’s been two days since you found out you were pregnant, but you haven’t told Jungkook anything yet. Eunbi and you planned a way of telling him the day you found out, so here you are, nervous as hell in Jungkook's car, trying to calm your nerves.

After a couple of minutes, you step out of the car with your shoulder bag and some shopping bags. You lock the car behind you and make your way to the main door.

“Hi baby, how did it go?” Your husband greets you the minute you walk in from the couch. “What did you buy?” Jungkook pauses the show he was just watching, putting all his attention on you, making grabby hands for you to go to him.

“Want a haul?” You giggle, making your way to him who pats his lap for you to sit on, which you do after dropping the bags beside him.

“Better have used my card,” he gives you a glare which you only roll your eyes playfully, reaching for your Prada bag before pulling out his black card and handing it to him. “Keep it, you use it more than me,” waves you off, giving your neck a wet kiss.

“Did the girls not go? I was on the phone with Taehyung, and he said Ari was making dinner.” Jungkook gives your thigh a squeeze, helping you adjust in his lap. “Ari said she was really busy with work, and Lora was taking care of Jiho since Jin is working.” You explain, running your fingers through his messy curls.

“You went by yourself? I could’ve gone with you, baby.” Jungkook pouts at you, which you shake your head with a smile. “Eunbi went with me, plus you had work,” You squeeze his cheeks.

“Tsk, I missed you,” He smiles, pulling your face closer to his before connecting his lips to yours. Your eyes immediately flutter closed, mirroring his smile against your lips.

“I have to show you something.” You bring up, your stomach doing a turn. “Show me,” He smiles, patting your thigh, before you climb off his lap, reaching for the shopping bags.

“Are you going to give me a haul?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you, which you only wink back as a response.

“So, I got a lot of makeup,” you say, showing him every product you got, which he listened to carefully even though he had no clue what half of the stuff you bought is used for. “I got us these, so we can all match,” you pull out the biggest Nike shoe box first, passing it to your husband.

“These are sick as fuck,” Jungkook holds up the black and white high tops. “Let me see yours.” He motions to the other box in the bag; you hand him your shoe box. Instead of high tops, they’re low instead.

“Super cute, they match your outfit right now,” He says about your pink long sleeve bodysuit. “They do, don't they,” You say, cracking your fingers nervously to show him the much smaller box in the bag.

“Oh, who’s this one for?” Jungkook reached for the small box, opening it to be met with tiny matching shoes. “Are these for Jiho? I don’t think they would fit him,” Your husband brings up the only child in the family as he holds the tiny shoe in his palm.

“They’re not for Jiho..” You nervously say, as you dig into your bag, pulling out the positive pregnancy test.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jungkook's mouth hangs open as he stares at your teary eyes. You shake your head, tears start falling down your eyes watching your husband that’s stuck in place with wide eyes.

“I’m going to pass out, baby, are you serious?” Jungkook's face scrunches up as tears fill his eyes, “baby, you’re pregnant?” He drops the shoes and moves closer to you, his hands holding your face waiting for you to say something.

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” You sniffle with a smile, reaching to wipe your husband's tears. Before you know it, he jumps up, fist bumps the air, and starts screaming.

“Fuck yes!” He shouts to the air as he runs around the house as you burst out laughing, “I’m going to be a dad, oh my fucking god!” He runs back to pick you up from the carpet, smashing his lips on yours, spinning around.

“You’re going to be a mommy, you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” Jungkook says between each kiss he leaves all over your face, making you giggle. You felt stupid for even worrying in the first place how he would react.

“I think it’s going to be a boy,” Jungkook sets you down, “Baby, it’s been two days since I found out,” You say,

“You knew for two days and you didn’t tell me?” He gasps dramatically, “I was thinking about how to tell you,” you reassure him, which he only nods, giving you a big fat kiss.

“Do you think it’s too soon to buy his crib right now?” Jungkook asks enthusiastically.

“Jeon..” you give him a look, “yes it’s too early and don’t call it ‘he,’ we don’t know what it might be,” you say, before getting on your tiptoes, leaving a kiss on his lips, leaving him in the living room making your way to the kitchen.

“You just called him and ‘it,’ that's so much worse!” Jungkook argues, following behind you.

…

“Your handwriting is shit, to say the least,” you say as your husband writes on the small index card. “You have a way to flirt with me, baby, thank you so much, I love you too,” he says as he glares up at you before returning to writing on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll open the cookies?” You pop your hip out, watching your husband. “You know they only come to our house for the cookies, right? They don’t give a fuck about us,” Jungkook bites a laugh as you pout. “Well, now I don’t want to tell them shit,” you joke, staring at the words on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll understand that? They’re a little slow,” Jungkook wraps his hand over your shoulder, messing up your perfectly curled hair. “Um, they'll figure it out, they got a Joonie to help them,” you shrug before stealing a cookie from the packet and running off.

“I’m so hungry,” Lora says, her hand on her stomach as if that would silence the growling happening inside.

“There are cookies on the counter,” you point to the kitchen, which Jungkook smirks at you.

With that, everyone stands up, dashing to the kitchen, acting like they never had a cookie in their life. You truly had no idea how all of you became obsessed with chocolate chip cookies; all of your guys' houses have a bunch of packages lying everywhere to eat. It was common and normal for all of you; for others, it might seem bizarre seeing grown adults fight over cookies.

“I swear cookies taste so much better in Kook's house,” Jimin rants as he watches Hoseok open the bag, stopping in his tracks as he reads the note. Lora and Ari try reaching in for a cookie, completely ignoring the note but getting swatted away by Namjoon.

“Y/n is pregnant!” Namjoon shouts, which sends everyone's mouths hanging open. “You’re fucking joking!” Seokjin gasps as he runs towards you and Jungkook, embracing you in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, they really got down to business,” Taehyung says, getting a swat from Lora who’s glaring at him before pointing her eyes at Jiho beside her. “Am I the only one who doesn’t get the note?” Jimin says as he reads the card, as everyone congratulates and hugs you and Jungkook.

“Eat up, mommy Y/n doesn’t want to be the only one with a belly, love baby!” Jimin reads the card, holding it up in the air after he’s done reading it.

“I told you someone was not going to know what it meant,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, only for you to hear, which makes you chuckle under your breath.

“You’re just mad I had to explain it to you,” you whisper back, which gets you a kiss on your cheek.

[borathae]

Moodbooster

"Your boyfriend always manages to lift your mood, even on your period."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: slice of Life!AU, established relationship!AU, Fluff

Warnings: OC is on her period rip to her ✊🏻😔, she has cramps but yoongi boongie is there to rescue her, he is the bestest and sweetest and cutest boyfie ever <3

Wordcount: 806

a/n: a drabble by me that is actual drabble length? 😱 yeah i can't believe it either lmaoo. also, i'm still on my period and i miss yoongi so that's why this was born. enjoy besties, i miss him so much 🖤

Yoongi knows that you aren’t feeling well today. He has a sense for it. When you are having a bad day, Yoongi gets a heavy lump in his stomach. Not because of fear that you would snap at him, but because he can sense your unease. And when he senses it, he has to do everything in his power to at least lessen it a little bit. 

You are locked up in one of the windowless sitting rooms because the summer sun can’t enter and therefore heat up the room. 

Yoongi knocks, listening for your very grumbly “come in” before entering. 

You are on the sofa in nothing but shorts, not bothering to cover your naked chest when he enters.

“Are you that hot?” he asks, brushing his eyes over your chest briefly.

You nod your head and groan. 

“I hate having my period in summer. It feels like actual torture.” 

“I hear you, princess”, Yoongi says, hurrying to you to sit next to you. 

“I already feel like I’m boiling on normal period days, but summer period days feel like literal hell. If I could peel off my skin to cool off, I would.” 

“This sucks a lot, my love.”

“Yeah and I sweat like a waterfall. I don’t know if my soaked pants are sweat or my pad leaking. Do you even know how nasty I smell?” 

“No, you don’t. You smell good.”

“Thanks but also urgh. I have a cramp to make it even worse. And I want to eat six tons of sugar, I’m going insane.”

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement and lifts his hand to hover it over your stomach.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Yoongi places his hand down as flat as possible, giving your cramping stomach warmth this way. He rubs the smallest circles, applying the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Wow, so warm”, you sigh happily, shivering from the touch.

“Does this help?”

“Yes, so much”, you gush, sounding a lot happier than before. You even speak in a softer voice. 

“Then I’ll do that for a while.”

“Yes, thankies. Wow Boongie, you have the perfect hands. They’re like warm water bottles but better.”

He smiles at you. He doesn’t mind when you complain and therefore use a harsher voice, but he has to admit that he prefers your happy voice. You get a sort of soft-spokeness about it and only really use it when he pampers you just right. It makes Yoongi feel really soft and cozy as well because the atmosphere, you and he create in these moments, is always very calming. Maybe that is why he loves pampering you so much. Or maybe he loves it because he loves to see you happy. 

You huff out air.

“Sorry for ranting.”

“Don’t apologise, princess. That’s what I’m here for. That and tummy rubs”, he says, giving your stomach a little rub.

You giggle. Yoongi soaks up the sound until it is burned into his memories. 

“I love your tummy rubs so much”, you say and shift a little, “I think they’re working too well though. I literally just felt it come out of me.”

“Wonderful”, Yoongi says, pulling a face of comradery disgust.

“I think I need to go change.”

“Alright. Do you still have enough? I can pop down to the store if you need more.”

You stop in the doorway, “really?” 

“Of course, princess.”

“And you…could get snacks too?”

“Anything you need.” 

“Even everything sweet ever?”

“Of course.”

You lower your eyes shyly, “then maybe I need more. The strongest ones and the ones for sleep. The really thick ones.”

Yoongi gets up, closing the distance to you.

“Understood”, he pecks your cheek, rubbing your tummy one last time, “text me if you think of anything else.”

“I will. Thank you so much, Boongie.”

“Anytime, love.”

Yoongi manages to go as far as one step out of the room before you pull him back by his hand. He turns with a fond and curious look in his pretty eyes.

“Yes, princess?”

You lean in for a kiss to his lips, eliciting a purr from him. He smiles, rubbing your lower back.

“That was nice”, he whispers.

“It’s a kiss full of love.”

“Mhm.” He pecks you. “I love you too, my princess.”

You step back, “okay, you can leave now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Don’t apologise. You can always keep me if that’s how you do it”, he flirts, giving you a playful little grin before he turns to really leave.  

And while Yoongi leaves to fulfill your wishes, you waddle to the toilet to change. Seriously, if you didn’t have such an amazing boyfriend by your side, this period would suck. With him, it only sucks when he isn’t here. Once he is back from the store, you will give him the biggest smooch ever.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 1

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, drinking Wordcount: 5.4K A/C: another pregame treat!! need my girls to deliver tonight!! anyways, here is chapter one, this one is about to start a little slower and i'm sorry about that but i promise it'll pick up and get more interesting, i got big plans for this one y'all!! anyway please leave feedback/thoughts/reviews whatever for me, i love them :)

-

Before London

The Dallas roads are busy, stretching out for miles out into the horizon as I stare out the window. My lungs craved fresh air, itching to open it. But I knew the air outside would bring no such relief, the humidity of this time of year already bringing me one step closer to packing my bags and making my way back to Connecticut. Everyone told me to turn the AC on, but I was much too stubborn and stuck in my ways. My dad would have come over himself and turn it off if he knew I was considering turning it on in April - much too early for his liking.

I had been here for a week now, seven long days. Each one making me more homesick. I missed my girls. I missed my team. I missed the normal weather and the East Coast. It was so bad I was on the phone with my dad every night, complaining. I knew as much as he loved me, he was getting sick of it.

“Paige, let’s figure this out,” Britt’s voice comes through the speaker phone, five garment bags sent by her laid out on the bed, ready to be opened.

“What do you even wear to this sorta thing?” I ask, speaking into the phone. My hands are opening one bag after another.

“Baby I dunno, you just gotta pick something. What kinda vibe do you wanna give off?” Brittany asks sweetly as I place my phone on the bed in front of me, pulling my shirt off over my head.

“I can’t think, it’s too hot,” I complain, rubbing my face. “I hate it here, wanna come back.”

“Paige, you gotta push through this. Try and look at it differently, at least you like your teammates!” 

I whine and lie down, my back hitting the soft cotton of the sheets. “Do you think they’d let me take my sixth year?”

“Oh my gosh girl you gotta pull yourself together,” Brittany laughs, which in turn makes me laugh too. I knew I was being dramatic, my team was great, the coaching staff seemed amazing. But it was my first time living alone, I didn’t know what to do with myself and all this energy I had. I felt like I was two days away from jumping off the walls.

Lou and Arike had both taken me under their wing, and the few joint practices we’d had with the team the past week seemed promising. Not good, but like there might be potential for something with hard work. I was well taken care of and grateful for it, but the thing is at Uconn I was spoiled. I got to live with my best friends. To spend every moment with them, get on their nerves and not worry because in the end they were my sisters.

“Where are you going?” Britt asks.

“Some sorta steakhouse,” I answer, rubbing my eyes.

“Boujee or like… Texas?”

I snort, grabbing the phone from beside me.

“It’s a nice place I heard. But Rike been here for so long she mighta forgot what nice is,” I joke sitting back up.

“Then go with the blue bag.”

Unzipping it, I find a pair of black shorts, and an oversized dark green crewneck sweatshirt. 

“Ion know about this Britt it’s a lil… boring,” I mumble looking over the outfit. When did I last wear dark green anyway.

“That’s why you dress it up girl! Wear a collared shirt under it, put on some chains, some nice shoes, trust it’ll fit the vibe, you don’t wanna be doing too much. Have I ever let you down?”

I sigh. I could see the vision the moment she started talking. “No you have not,” I reply. “I gotta start getting ready. Thanks again.”

“Anytime Paige,” she answers and we hang up. I know silence can’t echo, but it’s so overwhelming it almost feels like that’s exactly what it’s doing. Storrs was always loud, lively. Now I had it so bad I was even missing KK’s neverending rambling. 

Quickly putting on a playlist to get rid of the aching pressure on my chest, I begin to get ready, rapping along to a Drake song loudly - but who cares I live alone now. I sleek back my hair, pinning it into a bun - the one hairstyle I knew how to do. I put on some diamond studs, and take my time picking accessories, choosing just the right silver rings to match the chain on my neck, a cross hanging from it. Of course, Brittany had been right. The outfit was great, not too much for a nice restaurant but still totally me.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself when I check the time, realising Lou must be waiting on me downstairs. Grabbing a white cross-body bag I run out the door, quickly making my way down where, just like I thought, the brunette was waiting, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently.

“Sorry I’m late,” I yelp climbing into the passenger seat. Since I barely knew Dallas, Lou had decided it was best if she drove both of us.

Shaking her head, the girl driving merges onto the road swiftly. “Not gonna be making a good impression if we bring our rookie to the party late,” Lou complains.

I scoff, leaning back against the seat and tapping on the back of my phone, feeling butterflies grow in my abdomen. I knew I made good first impressions, that people seemed to like me. I wasn’t called the ultimate rizzler for nothing. But it was still daunting, I was about to meet all the people who worked behind the team, behind me just so we could do what we do. 

The past week had been so strange.The change in dynamic was drastic. I had become so used to being the older one, the one to call the shots, to have so much wisdom to give. Almost naively so. All of a sudden I was back to being the baby - the one who didn’t know anything, who had to depend on others. I thought I was prepared. But the transition was hard to navigate. I didn’t quite know how to act, if I was honest.

“Yo chill, I’m not even that late,” I chuckle lightheartedly, looking out the car window, my eyes trying to find something worth changing my mind about Dallas for.

“Ten minutes is too much, we gotta pick up Rike too,” Lou complains, hands on the wheel. It was only April but the humidity made it feel like summer. “Were you late talking to that girl?”

“What girl?” I ask.

“That girl from last night!” Lou laughs, elbowing me.

I shrug, like I had no clue what she was talking about. A complete lie. I hadn’t been thinking straight ever since I saw her.

“Ohh you mean that girl downstairs!” I say sarcastically. The brunette next to me sees right through it though.

“Never heard your voice get so quiet and shaky I swear,” Lou says, a blush setting on the apples of my cheeks thinking back to last evening. “You were fully stuttering.”

“No way bro!” I groan, biting my lower lip so as to not laugh. Though I knew better. I was definitely stuttering.

I hadn’t seen much of the girl, just her face poking through the door into the hallway. But something about her took my breath away, I couldn’t look anywhere else. It was Lou finally elbowing me that made me realise I had been staring at the dark haired girl. She was so beautiful it physically pained me to look away, but with a struggle, I had done so. 

But then she spoke. And if I wasn’t trembling before, the lilt of her voice had me weak in the knees immediately. It was deep, yet simultaneously sweet. Nevermind the accent that hadn’t left my head all night. Lou made fun of me relentlessly all night because apparently, my voice was shaking when I talked to her. I think she was full of shit.

“You were, I don’t blame you,” the brunette murmurs. “She was hot.”

I kiss my teeth, looking out the window. “Don’t matter, she could be Zendaya and I still wouldn’t get into all that.”

Lou looks bewildered, eyes flickering between me and the road.

I grin at her, shaking my head. “Nah I’m staying celibate. Scout’s honor. Got me that Natty last season.”

It was true. For the first time last season I had not been involved with any girl - and it worked out pretty well in the end. It got me the ring. Adapting to a new team, new city, new life was already hard enough without fucking around. Girls had a way of making everything complicated.

“You? Celibate?” Lou asks, her tone skeptical. I suppose she remembers a different Paige from when we were both Huskies. I had changed a lot though, grown up.

“Trust,” I nod as we park in front of a nice apartment building, Arike making her way out and into the car.

“Yo,” she greets us, and I nod into the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze.

“Sup my rookie!” Arike grins and squeezes my shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Aren’t we just gonna eat and go home?” I ask but Lou and Rike are quick to shake their heads.

“Nah these things don’t end till late, we know how to party here you know what I’m sayin?” The girl in the back grins.

“Don’t blame you, nothing else to do here,” I complain half-jokingly. 

“Yooo not too much. You’ll grow to like it,” Arike laughs, grabbing her phone. “Just don’t drink everything people offer you today, got it?”

“Yeah, everyone’s gonna be trying to get you drunk,” Lou chuckles. “My rookie year they had me almost blacked out.”

“Almost? You were blacked out. We had to carry you to bed.”

I laugh and sigh, rubbing my jaw, my nerves stirring within my abdomen. “Great.”

-

The restaurant is buzzing with people, an entire second floor reserved just for the Dallas Wings employees. Arike, Lou and I show up fashionably late, but to my pleasant surprise everyone’s too busy huddling around the bar, lining up for drinks. I smooth over my green sweatshirt, already feeling the heat get to me. How the hell was I supposed to dress for weather like this? It wasn’t even summer yet.

I walk over to Satou, who’s grinning widely at me.

“Look at you, our baby rookie. Let’s get you a drink!” She smiles convincingly. I glance at Arike and Lou behind me, snickering amongst themselves already. So it begins.

“Feels wrong to drink at a team event like this,” I tell the taller girl, guiding me towards the bar. I was more used to sneaking drinks into hotel rooms, doing our best to hide them from the coaching staff. Guess this is what growing up feels like.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everyone’s chill here,” Satou laughs and orders us two beers before I have the opportunity to interrupt and ask for a Shirley. Reluctantly I grab the beer, cheering with the girl next to me.

“To the saviour of the Wings!!” She jokes and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

“Sorry, but could you check if they are Manzanilla olives?”

The accent. I immediately turn my back on Satou, my body working before my mind can as my eyes scan the room. And then I see her. The girl from the apartment underneath mine.

She’s standing at the other end of the bar, holding a black clutch in her hand as she talks with the bartender. Her dark hair is down, in perfect waves, not one strand out of order. The dress she’s wearing isn’t red, but more maroon, shade matching the red of her lipstick to the hilt. The one-shoulder dress leaves her left one completely bare, and the golden jewelry sitting against her light brown skin makes her sparkle in the moody lighting. No words would do justice, I know that much. My knees nearly buckle at the sight of her. This strange girl whose name I didn’t even know, yet kept haunting my existence here in Dallas.

“Oh they’re not? Then nevermind the martini, could I just get a glass of Chardonnay please?”

If I had been nervous before, then it was nothing compared to the way my stomach was stirring now. Which is insane considering I didn’t even know this girl’s name. Hell, I better just avoid her tonight. I’m not on my a game. I should just keep my distance.

“Paige! That’s the girl!” Lou is half whispering, half screaming over the crowd, incredibly obviously pointing at the dark haired girl. To my relief she doesn’t notice, too busy swirling the wine in her glass around and sniffing it. 

“Shut up,” I mouth to Lou as she walks up to me, Arike on her tail.

“What girl?” Arike whispers, already eyeing every woman over my shoulder.

I give Lou a look, widening my eyes and telling her to keep her mouth shut. But of course, it fails. I had no power here.

“We ran into this hot girl in Paige’s building yesterday and Paigey here got all shy and nervous.”

Arike bursts out laughing, and I’m pretty sure my face was going completely pink at this point. So I sip half of my beer quickly, letting the girls get over their laughing fit.

“You done?” I ask in annoyed, eyeing the girls.

Gasping for air, Arike nods and grins at me. “Well go get her.”

“She can’t, she’s celibate,” Lou answers. The shorter girl standing next to her scoffs, clearly finding amusement in that.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re the new hooper in town, gon’ be drowning in pussy. I was,” she says, sipping her beer. “The rookie year is crazy.”

“Oh trust, she was drowning in it at Uconn too-”

“Okay okay, chill guys,” I interrupt the conversation, Satou standing next to us quietly and chuckling to herself. 

“So which one is it?” Arike asks. Glancing over my shoulder I see the girl from downstairs talking to some guy around the same age as her. Just as I’m about to point her out, Satou and Arike are waving that exact guy over.

“Yo Trey!! My guy!!”

All of a sudden he’s walking over with her. I feel my face going red, my breathing growing ragged, my eyes quickly flicking to the floor. She was like the sun, as much as I wanted to I couldn’t look directly at her - it might blind me.

“What’s up, my favourite girls!” The guy - Trey, apparently - says brightly and dabs all of them up. 

“Ahh and the prodigy!” He grins, turning to me. I lick my lower lip and smile back, offering my hand. “I’m the guy with the camera, you’ll see me around. Trey.”

I dab him up, ignoring the tingling on the left side of my body where the dark haired girl is standing, evidently feeling as awkward as I was. Except she was better at hiding it, looking around the room with an air of confidence.

“Well I’m the one with the basketball, you’ll know where to find me. I’m Paige,” I flash him my most charming smile. Everyone laughs at my joke, except the girl beside me. I quickly decide that perhaps getting drunk wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Oh this is Zari, she’s new from England, Linda finally hired someone to work on the social media shit,” Trey explains, pointing to the girl between me and him. I blink stupidly when I look at her. Somehow she was more beautiful up close which made my throat feel tighter. I quickly sip my beer again, looking to the ceiling. Fuck, pull yourself together. I wasn’t this superficial - feeling like this just because someone was hot. Who knows, she might be the worst person you’ve ever met.

“That would be me, hi!” She says when I realise I was barely listening to Trey before, completely not making note of her name. She shakes everyone’s hand, smiling kindly. Fuck, are my hands sweaty? Better wipe them on my shorts first. I gotta make eye contact - I’m sure a couple seconds will be enough. It might be all I can bear.

The girl turns to me, her right hand extended. I glance at it, gripping it gently. Her hand shake is surprisingly firm, but I barely notice, feeling as if my skin is on fire. The moment our eyes meet I look away, knowing that everyone and their mothers could tell I was blushing right now.

“I forgot your name,” is all that comes out of my mouth, so clumsily I wanna hide behind the bar and never come out when I realise how rude it sounded.

To my shock she’s not taken aback at all by my bluntness, instead holding herself with an almost regal air. I wasn’t sure if I was intimated or turned on - either way I was overcome with a desperate need to make her like me. Surely I was off to a horrible start.

Our eyes meet again. Hers are dark green, deep and rich like the pine trees back home. I can feel myself wanting to sink in deeper, to bask in their familiarity. To feel the sting of cold air and smell the snow falling from the sky and to bask in the scent of pine all over me. Before I know it I notice her glossed lips move, but my ears barely pick anything up. An I? And I think there was an A at the end? You gotta be kidding me.

“I- Ivanna?” I stutter. She chuckles softly, as the others around us snicker amongst themselves. Bitches. 

“No, darling, let’s try again,” she smiles, her tone so sweet it’s bordering on condescending. I fucking swoon at it. “Izara.”

I nod, not sure if the heat on my face is from how hot and humid it was inside the restaurant, or from the public humiliation in front of this gorgeous girl. I chuckle mostly to myself, rubbing my jaw and looking around to break eye contact finally. Far too distracting.

“Izara,” I repeat, noticing Satou, Arike, Lou and some of the others laughing at my clumsy behaviour. I was just begging Izara didn’t make note of why I was acting a fool. 

“Zari is better,” the brunette says, a slight teasing tone to her voice. I breathe heavily out my nose, trying to get the blush to settle from my cheeks.

“Zari, got it.”

“Took you long enough,” Arike teases, making everyone laugh, except Zari who just smiles at me.

“Guys, not all of us are used to the Texas heat. It messes with your head,” she says with enough authority in her voice to make everyone around us stop laughing and give me sympathetic looks.

“Uhh yeah, it’s hot,” I answer bluntly, my voice shaking a little as I rub my neck. On top of the mess I was, I could feel myself sweating. I have to get home as fast as possible. Or not home. But back to the apartment I was staying in for now, until the moment I could go back home to the East Coast.

“Shit, I’m Paige by the way,” I say, realising I never introduced myself to Zari. She scoffs, waving me off.

“Paige, it’s my job to know who you are,” she points out. It’s funny, and I want to laugh. But nothing comes out of my mouth, I’m simply unable to, her proximity leaving me completely discombobulated. So I just sip my beer.

“Right.”

-

Paige Bueckers hates me. The moment she met me I could tell. Maybe she was offended by the fact I didn’t recognise her last night. Figures, a star like her would have a huge ego. Still, I had one job tonight. To make her like me. And I had done the exact opposite. I could tell by the way she avoided my gaze, the way she barely wanted to shake my hand, abruptly pulling it away from my grip. She barely talked to me, wrapped up in a conversation with everyone besides me. I couldn’t afford to disappoint my boss, if I did it would be bye bye Dallas and hello London. 

I’m sitting between Trey and another colleague, Ava, both caught up in a lively conversation as I cut a piece of my steak, wrapping my lips around the fork and chewing on it. Glancing up from my plate, I see Paige throwing her head back as she laughs with her teammates, her entire demeanor so much more lively now that I wasn’t close to her. A slight irritation was growing in me, watching the carefree way she’s joking around with the people around her part of the long table. Who was she to make up her mind on whether she liked me so fast. I was the kind of person you grew to love. I’m sure she would as well.

“Okay everybody!” Curt Miller stands up clinking his glass with the cutlery. Suddenly everyone goes quiet, including the blonde. For a second our eyes meet, sending a strange jolt around my body. Blinking, I shift my gaze to the man, clearly ready to give a speech.

“Alright alright,” he laughs, “I just wanna thank everyone for coming here tonight. I was never good at these so let me keep it short. This is gonna be a big, exciting year and I’m so grateful to the Wings for giving me this opportunity. I know I’m a new face to some of you, but I’m in great company,” he grins and points to Paige. “And Linda here mentioned something about a new media employee too!”

Like on cue Linda stands up a few chairs to the right of me, nodding. “Yes Curt, we’ve got some young blood to help this year all the way from England. Izara here, should help us grow our social media reach.”

I smile, trying to focus on appearing together and poised, some people glancing towards me. 

“Awesome news!” Curt grins as Linda sits back down. “With two young talents I’m sure we’re gonna have a hell of a year,” he says, glancing at both me and Paige. I see Arike rub Paige’s shoulder, clearly excited and happy about how the lottery turned out for the Wings this year.

“Now since I’m boring everyone out of their minds why don’t you two say a few words.”

Pause. I feel a panic rise from somewhere deep in my abdomen. Don’t get me wrong, I had no issue with public speaking, no issue with performing. What I did have an issue with was improvising. I was the girl who planned, who made lists, who used to finish her essays the day before a deadline. With a plan I was golden, but to expect me to say anything, planless, was causing jitters. I was just hoping it didn’t show on my face.

Mine and Paige’s eyes meet, and I immediately know that I wasn’t as composed as I wanted to be. That she knew I was panicking. Bet this is just gonna make her hate me more.

Instead, to my surprise, she clears her throat and begins speaking with an easy confidence.

“Uh well, way to throw us under the bus Curt,” she jokes, immediately making everyone chuckle, including me. “Guess I know what kinda season this is about to be.” Another round of laughs around the table giving her time to scratch the back of her neck as she thinks. With a slight smirk on her face she continues.

“This is a big moment for me. I grew up with the sport, already knew I had a chance to go pro when I was eight. I’ve been waiting for a while to get to the league and to finally be here… It’s surreal. I feel really blessed, really grateful,” she says looking at her plate and then letting out a sly, quiet laugh. “Crazy that I’m drinking with the coaching staff right there, I’m so used to having to hide it.”

I chuckle with the rest of the group. There’s something about her, a smoothness, a charm that makes it impossible not to like her. Even improvising like this she seems completely in control, like she knows she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. It’s impressive. I can’t look away.

“Geno didn’t let you drink?” Curt asks lightheartedly, making Paige’s blue eyes widen.

“He would’ve put belt to ass, lemme just say that.”

More laughter. Paige looks around meeting my gaze.

“Zari, I know you got that cold right? So maybe I should just speak for you so you have a voice tomorrow?”

Huh? I furrow my brows looking at her confused, but her eyes won’t budge, boring into mine. And then I realise. She’s trying to let me off the hook.

“Yes please,” I smile back, looking down to my lap. Something about the way she did that all for me, picked up on my nerves, found a way to get me out of it, was making my insides flip. You wouldn’t do that for someone you hate I suppose.

“I gotchu,” Paige grins, looking back to everyone around the table. “I think we’re both just really grateful for the opportunity and really excited for the season. Anyway, thanks guys.” 

Everyone claps and I do too, my heart warming at the way Paige Bueckers had just saved me. 

“Wait, you're sick?” Trey whispers. 

“Uh, a little.”

-

“Hope you feel better Zari!” Ava says as I wave bye, walking towards the exit.

“Thanks guys, I’m sure I will,” I say, knowing I felt just fine. Great even, after a few glasses of wine. As I step out into the evening, I hold my fur coat in my hands, too hot to put it on. To my surprise I see Paige standing right outside the restaurant, scrolling on her phone. Interrupted by the tapping of my heels, she lifts her gaze, the intensity of her blue eyes surprising.

“Hey,” she smiles, avoiding looking at my face again. She was really giving me mixed signals.

“Hi there,” I say, walking closer. “Thanks for rescuing me earlier.”

She looks at the parking lot, a sly smirk spreading across her face.

“Nah, you’re good,” the blonde grins, diamond studs in her ears sparkling. “Not a fan of speeches?”

I shrug, taking that as an invite for conversation. “No I can certainly be… If you give me approximately two weeks to prepare. Minimum.”

Paige chuckles, nodding to herself. “You’re that kinda girl huh?”

“Desperately so.”

She shifts on her feet, looking for something to say.

“That’s a good trait to have, I try to plan too but usually doesn’t last for longer than a week or two,” she explains. I nod knowingly.

“My brother’s a bit like that,” I sigh. I was already missing him.

Paige turns to me, looking for my gaze.

“You got a brother?”

I nod, “Yeah, he’s younger. Your age.”

She’s taken aback. “Hollup how old are you?”

“Turned 25 last month.”

“Damn,” she says before thinking. I scoff, my eyes widening, though finding amusement in her reaction

”Are you calling me old?” I ask with a serious tone, her face immediately going bright red. 

”No, no no, not at all. You look… great.  Amazing, and like. That’s not even old, I'm just trippin’. I just assumed you were my age but like a year is nothin-” she rambles, tripping over her words.

”Paige I’m taking the piss,” I laugh. She stops, looking at me confused.

”You’re what?”

Oh right, Americans. ”I’m joking around.”

She laughs. ”Taking the piss?”

I laugh too, the air immediately easing between us.

”I’mma start using that,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me. 

”You’re welcome,” I grin.

She scoffs. ”I didn’t say thank you.”

”You should,” I demand, more seriously, meeting her blue eyes. She immediately folds, blinking her long lashes.

”Thank you.”

I suddenly feel hot, warmth rising to my cheeks. I quickly look back to the ground, the intensity of her gaze too much right now.

”Hey, uh… I think we live in the same building,” she murmurs, watching the sky. Shit, she had recognised me, of course.

”Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. I really should have,” I quickly explain, feeling a little abashed but trying not to let it show.

”No, I just meant, I ordered an Uber. You need a ride?”

Oh. So she wasn’t mad. She was offering me a ride.

”I’d love one. Are you sure?”

”Totally,” Paige answers, smiling at me softly. She fans her own face, trying to find any relief for the heat. 

”Shit it’s hot,” the blonde groans. ”Do you mind if I take this off? I got a shirt underneath.”

”Oh, no go ahead darling,” I tell her.

With a sigh, Paige’s hands grip the back of her green sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. As she does my eyes can’t help it, flickering over her lower abdomen where both shirts have hiked up, showing a sliver of pale skin and black boxers peeking out of her shorts. Something about it makes my throat go dry. I’m not exactly sure what. The feeling almost unfamiliar to me. 

”That’s so much better,” Paige groans with relief, fixing the white oversized button up, chains resting against her chest. I feel my ears growing hot, quickly averting her gaze.

-

She’s not horrible, on top of being gorgeous she’s fucking great - funny, sweet, charismatic. Would be so much easier if Zari was an asshole like I had hoped earlier. I could feel butterflies in my stomach every time she looked at me. That familiar warmth that I knew too well.

We walk to the Uber together, and I make sure I open the door for her - I didn’t know her that well, but I could tell she was classy. On a whole different level than me. 

I climb in after her, unbuttoning more of my shirt for some airflow. For a second I think I catch her staring, but I knew it was unlikely. She was definitely giving me straight girl vibes. Of course my stupid ass was ogling after a straight girl - nothing new to me. My eyes immediately land on her thighs, her legs crossed and pressing together as she sits next to me. Okay, get a grip Paige.

”So… How you liking Dallas?” I ask, unable to take the silence in the car. 

”I haven’t seen much of it, just moved the other day,” she answers, her voice low but smooth, I could’ve listened to her talk all night. ”It’s very humid.”

”Damn that jetlag gotta be hitting hard huh?” I ask, looking at her.

”I look tired?” She asks, offended. An immediate panic takes over, my hands gripping the sweater in my hands. Shit.

”No you look fucking great. I would’ve never th-”

”Paige. I’m joking.”

Oh. I let out a sigh of relief, chuckling awkwardly. I look out the window, shaking my head at myself. I really needed to chill.

”Taking the piss?”

She lets out a loud, bright laugh, grabbing my forearm. The gold rings on her digits sparkle as her long, manicured nails dig into the white shirt. Immediate goosebumps rising underneath on my skin tell me I’m completely fucked.

“Exactly!” She gleams, her smile wide. “You did so good.”

That. I need to hear her say that again. I clear my throat to interrupt the bad thoughts, feeling Zari’s hand move off me, skin tingling as the weight of her touch lifts.

We pull up to our apartment building, both of us climbing out.

“I can transfer you some money for the ride,” Zari suggests as I let her into the building, eyes falling on her ass just for a second. Okay, no. Look away.

“No, Ion need you to,” I tell her sternly as we begin to climb up the flights of steps, her heels tapping against the tile of the floor. The sound echoes off the walls until we stop by her front door, silence draping over us, making me painfully aware of the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Well,” Zari smiles, turning to me, her green eyes even more prominent with the dark makeup surrounding them. Only then I notice how catlike they are, sharp and alert. Challenging almost.

I wanna say something smart, something witty. Something to make her laugh, or blush. I’m rummaging through my brain for anything coherent at least.

“I’ll see you at work,” she says, opening her door. I was running out of time.

“You’ll know where to find me,” I stupidly let out. Zari turns to look at me one more time and nods.

“Don’t stomp too loud please.”

With that she gets in, leaving me there with nothing to do but blink at the closed door and notice the flutters around my stomach. Rubbing my jaw, I slowly climb up one more flight of stairs, mind spinning around the girl. Completely, utterly out of my league. It only made me want her more.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

[msbigredmachine]

Behind The Mask (Roman Reigns)

Sometimes love demands that you fight, not for yourself—but for someone who can’t fight back.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: HEAVY themes of abuse, angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: This story touches on an extremely sensitive subject matter, therefore a trigger warning is in place.

Song inspos:

Beneath Your Beautiful - Labrinth & Emeli Sandé Anytime You Need a Friend - Mariah Carey

------------------------

The dim fluorescent light in Roman’s locker room hummed faintly as you pushed the door open. You’d been searching for him all day. Meetings, creative briefings, segment reviews—none of it could move forward without him. But he’d been ghosting everyone, including you of all people, one of his closest friends behind the scenes. It wasn’t like him to disappear, especially not when you were scheduled to run through one of the most important segments for tonight's episode of SmackDown involving him and the rest of the Bloodline. But there he was, sitting in the corner, head bowed, his long hair cascading forward like a curtain shielding him from the world. You noticed the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the tremor in his hands. His massive frame seemed diminished—small in a way that set off alarm bells.

“Roman,” you called softly, stepping inside, coming closer.

He didn’t respond.

You crouched before him, the smell of musk and faint cologne mingling with the tension in the room. “Roman, I’ve been looking for you all day. We need to go over—”

Reaching out, you pushed back his hair gently. Your heart dropped when his eyes met yours—there was a faint, yet jarring discoloration on his cheekbone, purpling against his tanned skin.

“Is that a bruise?” you asked, your voice low and tight. Without thinking, your hand reached out to tilt his face toward the light above. His jaw tensed under your fingers. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman flinched, tilting his head away. “It’s nothing. An accident.”

“An accident?” You exhaled sharply, anger bubbling in your chest. “That’s what you told me the last time!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

“Yes it does!” you continued. “You only wrestle on PLEs, Roman, so where the hell are these injuries coming from? I’m not an idiot!”

“Just drop it,” he muttered, his voice thick with shame.

Your mind raced. The memory of his “accidents” flooded your mind. Last week, a split lip. Two weeks before, ugly scratch marks on his neck that forced him to wear his hair down. But this time, the dots connected. Your stomach churned as the realization hit you like a freight train. 

Sabine.

That beautiful, manipulative, venomous witch you never liked. The same one who dripped perfection in public and poison in private. She clung to Roman like a parasite, feeding off his fame, draining his strength and his pockets. You had seen right through her from the start but Roman had fallen for her. Hard. And now, it was breaking him.

“No.” You rose to your feet, the weight of your fury grounding you. “No, Roman. I know who’s doing this to you.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“It’s that fucking psycho, isn’t it,” you spat, “What did she do this time? What did she—”

“Don’t call her that!” he snapped, standing abruptly. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, but his eyes betrayed him—pleading and broken. “It's not what you think. She loves me. She just…has her ways.” The words came out hollow, almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“Well she sure has a fucked up way of showing it!” you shot back, tears pricking your eyes. “You deserve better, Ro. You know you do!”

Roman stood abruptly, towering over you, his presence as commanding as ever, but the cracks in his armor were all too visible. He raked his hand through his hair, his face clouded with emotion. “We’re working it out on our own. We are. Just…please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you.”

“So I should be quiet until she seriously hurts you? Injures you so bad it ends your career?” Your voice cracked. “Roman, a person who truly loves you would never put their hands on you!”

“Stop,” he said firmly, his voice a strained plea. “Look, I don’t wanna talk about it no more. Just...stay out of it. Please.” He turned and stormed out of the locker room, the echo of his departure leaving you alone with your racing thoughts, a storm of anger and heartbreak swirling inside you.

------------------------

Two weeks passed. Two agonizing weeks of you avoiding Roman and Roman avoiding you, knowing he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. That woman was physically abusing him and for some reason he couldn’t leave her. You were desperate to help him but you didn’t know how.

He never opened up about the full extent of Sabine’s abuse, but pieces of the truth started to fall into place when you confided in Naomi. The two of you were backstage during a SmackDown taping when the subject of Sabine came up. Naomi’s expression darkened, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness.

“I know Roman says to mind our business, but I have to tell you something,” Naomi said hesitantly. She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Jimmy and I went on a double date with them a couple of months back. And, girl, I couldn’t believe the way Sabine talked to him.”

Your stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

“She ripped into him right there at the table, over something stupid,” Naomi explained, her voice low but tight with anger. “He forgot to order her drink or something, and she just…snapped. Called him useless. Told him he was ‘lucky’ she even gave him the time of day. In front of us, no less.” Naomi’s fists clenched at the memory. “Jimmy almost got up to defend him, but Roman brushed it off like it was nothing. Just laughed like it didn’t bother him.”

You shook your head, your jaw tightening. “And Jimmy didn’t say anything?”

“Of course he wanted to, but Roman told him not to. Said she was just having a bad day.” Naomi paused, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to push, but you could see it in his eyes. He was embarrassed. Humiliated.”

Your blood boiled as Naomi continued.

“She didn’t stop there, either. Every time he tried to speak, she interrupted him. Or rolled her eyes. At one point, she even said, ‘What kind of Tribal Chief can’t handle a simple dinner reservation?’ Like, who says that to someone they love?”

You exhaled sharply, your heart breaking for Roman while fury built in your chest.

“That’s when I started to notice the little things,” Naomi added. “How he doesn’t talk about her much, how he flinches sometimes when she raises her voice. I hate seeing him like that, but he’s so damn proud. He won’t let anyone help him.”

He used to be so full of life. The Roman Reigns that everyone knew—The Head of the Table, the sweet, shy guy who still commanded the attention of any room he walked into, the guy who’d throw you into a headlock just to make you crack a grin. Now, it was like he was just going through the motions. There was a hollowness to him, a dullness that wasn’t there before. Sabine has stripped him of his fire, and you were not sure if it was ever coming back.

Naomi reached out to squeeze your hand. “You’re close to him. Maybe closer than anyone else. I think…I think you might be the only one he’ll listen to.”

You swallowed hard. Roman’s pain was worse than you’d imagined, and your resolve to help him only deepened.

But one social media post torched your plans and shattered your heart into a million pieces.  

------------------------

Scrolling through your phone during a rare moment of downtime, an Instagram notification caught your eye. Seeing it was Sabine’s page, you were hesitant, but curiosity got the best of you. The pinned post showed her perfectly manicured hand adorned with an obnoxiously large diamond ring, resting in Roman’s palm. 

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening with a mix of rage and anguish. You couldn’t breathe. The room around you seemed to tilt, and tears blurred your vision.

How could he do this? How could he propose to her?

You couldn’t stop yourself. With shaking fingers you dialed Roman’s number.

“Hey,” he answered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman?” you snapped, skipping pleasantries. “You proposed to her? After everything?”

He sighed, the weight of a thousand unspoken truths in his voice. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn’t understand? Try me,” you fired back. “Explain to me how proposing marriage to the woman who’s beating you makes any sense at all.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice quieter, sadder.

The laugh that escaped you was stripped of any and all humor. Angrily, you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed. The tears you didn’t realize you were holding spilled over, breaking down, not for the first time, over him.

Why couldn’t he see you? Why couldn’t he see how much you cared for him—how much you loved him?

Why?

------------------------

The jet ride to Europe was eerily quiet as you settled into your seat across from Roman. You’d barely spoken since the news of his engagement broke, but you couldn’t ignore how miserable he had been since. It was also impossible to not notice his painfully conscious attempts to keep his sunglasses firmly in place despite the dim cabin lighting.

“Take them off,” you told him quietly.

“What?”

“The sunglasses. Take them off.”

He hesitated, his face a mask of barely concealed terror. Reluctantly, he slid them down, revealing the fresh cut on his upper cheekbone.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tightening with anger. “What did she do this time?” you asked, your voice soft but firm.  

He didn’t answer, but the way his shoulders slumped told you everything. Tears welled in his eyes, and your heart broke all over again. “Roman, tell me,” you pressed.

Roman looked away, his jaw clenched. “She threw her phone at me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of his confession.

Your hands curled into fists. “I swear to God…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, “It was my fault…I shouldn’t have made her mad. I-”

“Stop it!” Your voice cracked. “Don't you dare blame yourself. This was not your fault!”  It baffled you. You were a hothead by nature, but you’d never, ever lay hands on anyone unprovoked, especially not someone you loved. You didn’t understand why he was letting this happen to him. 

The tears began to climb, but with great effort, you pushed them back down. “Roman, you need to talk to someone. Please,” you said gently, no longer above begging. You couldn’t stand seeing him like this anymore, the man you’ve known for so long reduced to this version of himself that barely even felt human.

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I’ve got it under control.”

But it wasn't true. It simply was not true and you both knew it. “Under control?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your words. “Roman, have you seen your face?”

His eyes flickered with something—regret, maybe. “I’m fine.” Again, the words came out like an automatic response, a lie he was telling himself, desperate for it to come true.

“No, you’re not,” you responded. “You used to have this fire, this… drive.” You paused, struggling to find the right words, your frustration bubbling up. But it’s not directed at him. “And now, you’re a shell of yourself and I blame her. She’s breaking you. Please…swallow your pride and leave her!”

His gaze hardened, but it was more out of guilt than anger. “I...I can't...I love her. And she loves me,” he muttered, another weak excuse, fooling nobody. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sad truth of it was suffocating. “Sabine does not love you, Roman. If she did, she wouldn’t be doing this to you. She wouldn’t treat you like you’re nothing. She wouldn’t tear you apart piece by piece and make you feel like you’re unworthy of love.”

Roman finally met your eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be. But just as quickly, it vanished.

You wanted that man back. Badly.

“Come here,” you whispered.  

Roman hesitated, but you patted the seat beside you. When he finally shifted closer, his walls crumbled. He collapsed into you, his broad shoulders trembling as you wrapped your arms around him. His big frame somehow felt small and fragile as he curled up against you, like a wounded puppy seeking solace. 

“I’m not weak,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“You’re not weak,” you repeated softly, stroking the top of his head. “But baby, you are hurting. You're unhappy. I hate seeing you like this.”

Roman exhaled shakily, like the weight of the world was pressing on his back. “I don’t know how to get out of it. I feel trapped with her, yet at the same time I feel like I can't breathe without her,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what to do and I'm so fucking tired.”

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, kissing his temple, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears and his flowed together. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

As you comforted him and cried with him, your mind raced, quietly strategizing, plotting. It was crystal clear that Sabine wasn’t going to stop until Roman was utterly destroyed. You would die before you let that happen.

It was time you took matters into your own hands.

------------------------

When you returned to the States, you made your move. Roman might have begged you to stay out of it, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer. Sabine needed to be dealt with.

Damn the consequences. He would thank you for it later. 

You stood outside Sabine’s apartment, the same one Roman was paying for, the edifice as gaudy and ostentatious as she was. Your blood boiled as you raised your hand to knock. But the door was slightly ajar, and inside, you heard sounds that made your stomach churn.  

That trifling bitch.

The place reeked of perfume and deceit, at least those were your thoughts as you burst through the door unannounced. The scene before you confirmed everything. Sabine, tangled in white rumpled sheets, on top of another man—a married man, judging from the mark of his wedding ring still visible on the fingers gripping her gyrating hips.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pulling out your phone. You snapped pictures, the flash startling the couple.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sabine screeched, scrambling to cover herself.  

“Exposing your sorry ass,” you replied coldly, turning your attention to the man with a death glare. “And you. Go back to your wife, with your thirsty ass.”  

The man froze, unsure of what to do, while Sabine lunged at you, her expression a mix of fury and panic. “Get out! Get the fuck out, you crazy bitch!”

But you were ready. “You damn right I’m crazy!” Blocking her first swing, you shoved her back, rushing forwards and tackling her with a spear that Roman would have been proud of. You both went flying over the bed but you were on her like white on rice.

The fight was brutal, a messy flurry of punches, slaps, and screams. But you had rage on your side, and Sabine was no match for it.

“You think you tough, huh?” you growled, pinning her down and raining blow after blow on her exposed ribcage. “You wanna put hands on a man cuz you know he won’t hit you back? Try that shit with me, bum ass ho!”

Sabine clawed at you, but you dodged her attacks effortlessly. You landed a solid punch to her jaw, sending her head snapping back and crumpling to the ground.

“Get up,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you dragged her by her hair across the linoleum floor. “Get your ass up!”

Her partner stood frozen in the corner, too much of a coward to intervene. Smart. He didn’t want this smoke. You delivered a swift kick to Sabine’s side followed by another punch, your anger boiling over. Each blow was cathartic, a release of every ounce of pain you’d witnessed Roman endure.

The cuts. The bruises. The tears.

For him, you held nothing back.

“That man loves you!” you spat, crouching down beside her as she lay against the wall in a pathetic heap. “Only God knows why but he does. He worships the ground you walk on, and this is how you treat him? You don’t deserve him!”

Sabine whimpered, blood trickling from her lip, her face streaked with tears. “I’m gonna call the cops,” she spluttered.

You laughed darkly. “Go ahead. I dare you,” you hissed, holding your phone in front of her face. “I have pictures of everything you did to him. Every mark, every bruise…all documented. I’ll make sure everyone knows what a lying, cheating, abusive bitch you are. Matter of fact…” You tapped a button and smirked. “The pictures I just took of you and ole boy here? I just sent them to Roman. Maybe now he’ll finally dump your ass.”

Sabine sneered. “You're so desperate. Always have been for that man. No one will believe you or him. Big bad Roman Reigns getting beat up by little bitty me? He’ll be a laughing stock!” 

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong. I dug up the footage of the restaurant where you had your double date with Jimmy and Naomi. You punched his injured ribs in the parking lot. You slapped him in front of the restroom three times. You thought there were no cameras there, didn’t you?”

Sabine’s eyes widened in horror as she saw her career and reputation flash before her eyes. With her last strength, she swung wildly at you, trying to grab your phone. “Okay stop…Don’t, okay? Please don’t! You’ll ruin everything!” The bitch was begging now, pissing you off even more.

“Fuck you!” You slapped her. “Now listen to me carefully,” you said, your voice icy. “You’re going to call off the engagement. You’re gonna disappear and never contact Roman again, or I’ll post everything online. Everything. If you so much as look in his direction, what I’ll do to you will make you wish I killed you tonight. Do you understand me?”

Sabine nodded, trembling from pain and fear.

“Good.” Straightening up, your smirk was cold and triumphant. “Rot in hell, you dirty whore.” Spitting at her feet, you turned on your heel and walked out.

------------------------

Roman’s voice was tense when he called you.

“What did you do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” you replied, unapologetic. “That bitch was not only hitting you, she was cheating on you. She deserved worse.”

“Baby, I told you to stay out of it,” he said, but there was no anger in his tone—just exhaustion.

“And I told you I couldn’t. I care too much about you. I wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing any longer.”

There was silence on the other end before Roman sighed. “Where are you?”

“On my way to yours. Are you home?” you asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming over. I wanna see you.” 

When you arrived at his house, he was waiting for you on the porch. Jumping to his feet, he hugged you tightly, then his eyes lingered on your bruised knuckles. “Your hands…”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Roman’s expression softened, but his eyes were heavy with guilt. “You could get in trouble for this.”

“You’re the goddamn Tribal Chief. I know you can make that shit go away,” you said with a small smirk. “But even if I do catch a case, I won’t care. It was worth it.”

Despite everything, Roman chuckled softly. He looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Babe…”

“I’m serious. I’d do it again,” you declared, your voice trembling with all the sincerity you could muster. “I fight for the people I love. That’s just who I am.”

Roman’s gaze searched yours, raw and vulnerable. “Why would you do all this for me?”

Your heart melted as you cupped his face. It was time to come clean. “Because I love you,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m in love with you. And you deserve to have the kind of love I feel for you.”

Roman’s eyes widened, softened, and for a moment, the world stood still. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and kissed him. To your surprise and delight, he kissed you back, the tension melting from his body. It was a kiss of desperation, relief, and unspoken longing.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. Emotion flickered in his eyes, relief mixing with hesitation. “I’ve always had feelings for you,” he confessed. “I never acted on it but Sabine kept accusing me of cheating on her with you. She said you only wanted me for my money and the clout. Her exact words.” He frowned. “She said you'd never love me like she did. And I believed her.”

Your heart ached for him. “She lied to keep you under her thumb,” you said gently, taking his hands in yours. “And I would never do that to you, Ro. You mean a whole lot more than that to me.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ve always known. And I love you too, but…I need time. She…she fucked me up. I need to figure out who I am without her.”

Resting your palm tenderly on his cheek., you whispered fiercely, “I know exactly who you are. You’re Roman fucking Reigns. The Head of the Table. The billion-dollar face of WWE. And most importantly, you’re the kindest, most humble, selfless man I’ve ever known. Don’t let her take that from you.”

Smiling his first genuine smile in weeks, Roman kissed your lips again, his relief palpable. “Thank you,” he breathed, “For everything.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need,” you promised.

He smiled softly—a happier, hopeful smile. “Thank you. Although…I believe it’ll be sooner than you think.”

Your heart soared. “Good.”

It wasn’t a fairy-tale ending, but it was a start. And that was enough.

------------------------

Roman sits on the black leather chair, his hands clasped tightly, his leg bouncing nervously as the camera crew makes last-minute adjustments to the lighting. The room is quiet except for the low hum of equipment, but the weight of what he’s about to do makes the silence feel deafening. He stares at the floor, his usually confident presence replaced by hesitation and vulnerability.

You stand just off-camera, watching him closely. Despite the months that have passed since Sabine’s abuse came to light, the remnants of her cruelty linger—not just in the faint bruise still visible near his eye but in the way his shoulders tense and his jaw tightens. 

He’s terrified.

“Fuck...I don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You step forward, crouching beside him so you’re at eye level. “Yes, you can,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “You’re not just Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief. You’re Roman Reigns, the human being, the survivor. And someone out there needs to hear what you have to say. You’re going to save lives today.”

He looks at you, and for a moment, you see his doubt waver. You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek. “Baby, it’s okay. I’ll be right over there.” You point at the spot where you’ve been standing. “You can look at me if you need to.”

Roman takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. When he opens them, a flicker of his familiar determination shines through. He shifts in his seat, straightens his back, and looks directly into the camera as the red light flicks on.

“My name is Roman Reigns,” he begins. His deep voice reverberates around the room, steady but carrying an unmistakable weight. “You know me as a WWE Superstar, a champion, the Head of the Table. But today, I’m here as something else—a survivor of domestic violence.”

He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “For a long time, I stayed silent. I thought admitting the truth would make me look weak. I thought people wouldn’t believe me, that they’d say, ‘He’s a strong man, a wrestler. How could someone like him be abused?’ But abuse doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care how big you are, how strong you look, or what kind of life you live. It can happen to anybody.”

His voice cracks slightly as he adds, “Abuse isn’t just about fists. It’s the words that cut deeper than any punch. It’s the control, the manipulation, the fear that keeps you silent. I told myself it would get better. That I could fix it. That my love would be strong enough for her to change. But the truth is, no one changes unless they want to. No one deserves to live in fear—no one. And love should never, ever hurt you or make you feel bad or guilty…or worthless.”

Roman glances down for a moment, composing himself, before looking back at the camera. “To anyone out there who feels trapped, ashamed, or afraid: You are not weak. You are not alone. There is help, and there is hope. You have the strength to break free, and you deserve to be loved and respected.”

Pausing, he casts a nervous glance in your direction. You smile at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.” That seems to bolster him, as his voice has gained a new strength when he continues. 

“I’ve learned that even the strongest among us need help sometimes. Asking for it doesn’t make you less of a man, less of a person. It makes you…human. I needed help, and I got it, and I’m grateful.”

Roman exhales deeply, his gaze unwavering. “Today, I’m standing here not just for myself but for every survivor who’s been told their pain doesn’t matter. It matters. You matter. And if my story can help even one person find the courage to speak up...to break free and walk away...then it’s worth it.”

He nods slightly, his voice softer now but just as resolute. “You are not weak. You are not alone. And you are worth fighting for.”

THE END

------------------------

I hope this wasn't too heavy. I know you guys aren't used to this from me. How did I do?

Protect good men.

Please leave comments! I love comments 😁😙😊

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[mariasont]

hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !

can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).

maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)

i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈

love your work !!! 😙

HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------

A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3

we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry

wc: 1.9k

Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity. 

Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating. 

You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.

In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"

Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper. 

He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."

His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.

"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"

He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.

He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.

His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."

You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue. 

As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."

The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.

Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.

Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.

You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered. 

In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"

Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"

Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.

He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"

He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness. 

"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."

You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.

You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.

You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."

You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down. 

"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.

You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.

Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."

His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.

"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."

You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated. 

"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead. 

He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."

Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."

You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.

Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs. 

"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."

He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth. 

He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair. 

"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."

[eternalguk]

can we have a drabble or oneshot where the oc says 'i can't pay for anything* this time' or offers to split the budget 50/50 and jungkook literally😒😤😡🤬 gets mad like I'm your man I'm responsible for you etc🤭hehehhe make me a delululu, I don't have work tomorrow♥️😂

drabble 01 — I’ve got this (Jungkook x reader)

Warnings : slightly suggestive at the end, nothing major.

“Here’s the bill, sir.”

The faint chime of a cash register, jazz music spilling from the speaker and the sound of people laughing fills the air.

Jungkook reaches for his wallet as you busy yourself with playing with napkins.

Dinner had been amazing, your pick of course, at a tucked-away spot in the city of Seoul with warm lighting and hearty food. A bowl of flavourful pho was now swimming around your stomach. You were full. Your heart was full.

Until… a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

As the young waiter places the bill holder on your now cleared table, you clear your throat.

Truth is, you feel bad. It is now your 15th date with Jungkook (not that you’ve been counting…) and each time around it was always him reaching into his pocket to pay. Your friends had reassured you that this is how it should be, but you couldn’t help it and would always heat up in embarrassment every time it came to paying.

So, before you feel like burying yourself in the ground, you speak.

“Jungkook, let’s split the bill 50/50?,” you say sheepishly, offering a small smile of reassurance. “I honestly do not mind-”

Said man freezes mid-motion, his hand hovering over his sleek black wallet. Licking his lips, Jungkook’s doe eyes blink at you as if you’d just suggested something utterly disgraceful. Something Unthinkable!

Then comes the look… the look you had only seen him make towards his annoying ass best friends anytime they teased him too hard for his liking in front of you.

Narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and furrowed brows… a truly ashamed Jungkook.

“Are you having a laugh?” he asks, his voice low and most definitely laced with disbelief.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah? Wait no, I’m not having a laugh!”

Jungkook scoffs, giving you the biggest dirty you’ve ever seen.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you‘re the one who’s always going to be pay-”

“I am though.” He cut you off immediately, his tone firm now. “Why the fuck would I not!”

You found Jungkook’s reaction to be comical. Dramatic. Broadway worthy. However, you were unable to deny the fact that Jungkook was being deadly serious.

He throws his head back, exhaling as though you had told him you never want to see his face again.

Jungkook’s hand returns to his wallet, yanking it open with the force of a man whose pride had just been challenged.

“I’m your man,” he pronounces, each word carefully enunciated as if you’d forgotten.

“Your. Man. Me. Jungkook. Y/n’s man. I’m responsible for you.”

You couldn’t help it… as awed as you were at him openly calling himself yours, you offer a loud cackle.

“You sound like Mr. Kim giving me a motivational speech before I head off to my next lecture.”

“This isn’t funny,” Jungkook argues, glaring around at people as though they had insulted him personally. “Why would your thoughts even go there? Splitting the fucking bill? Do I look broke to you?”

“No, babe, I just feel-”

“Well don’t feel! I’m not broke, so you-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply as he shakes his head. “The least I can do is pay, okay?”

“Is that so?” you tease, leaning forward on your elbows. “The least you can do?”

His jaw clenches, pulling out a black card and waving it around dramatically. “Yes, I’ll never have you pay for anything.”

“Okay, so I could also do with a Chanel bag, some Gucci makeup… and oh! Those beautiful, creamy Dior-”

“Pace yourself woman!”

You both chuckle.

As Jungkook pays, you feel yourself swooning over the man before you. Beneath all the huffing and puffing, you felt the sincerity in his gaze and words. You knew it was never him showing off about himself, but rather him going out of his way to take care of you and make you feel like the only girl in the world. Jungkook’s way of loving felt so tangible, you really were so blessed.

“Okay, my love,” you say softly, reaching for his hand across the table, thumbing at his knuckles gently. “But just so you know, I would happily pay-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You laugh again, the sound making his lips curve into a smile, failing at feigning annoyance. Jungkook glances at you, his expression softening as he puts his wallet away and reaches for your bag, fishing for his car keys.

The waiter interrupts your staring session, coming to collect the payment. Jungkook smoothly leans back, his hand sliding to rest possessively on your thigh under the table.

“Don’t you think you owe me an apology?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed as though confused, but a cheeky smirk plays on his lips.

“I mean, yeah?”

“You can pay me back then,” he murmurs with his melodically deep voice, his thumb brushing teasing circles on your skin. “In other ways, of course.”

Your breath hitches as you catch the mischievous glint in his eye.

“Jung-”

Smirking as he stands, Jungkook motions you to follow. “I’ll clarify in the car.”

Jungkook steps out the booth, gesturing you to leave first which you do with no argument. And let’s just say, by the way his gaze lingers on your back, there was no doubt in your mind exactly how his clarification was going to go.

Here you go, my love 🤍 hope you enjoy this little drabble I managed to whisk together 🦢

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter one)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2441

Playlist Song: Snap by Rosa Linn

A/N: This is a hefty intro to Eleanor but really wanted to establish her before we get angsty!

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

The sky was still dark when my alarm clock went off. My hand slides along the mattress, slapping the snooze button. It can’t be time already. There’s no way. I snuggle deeper into the mattress and peel one eye open to squint at the cracked window. The big moon is lower in the horizon but the sun hasn’t made its known yet. 

My phone starts to go off, across the room atop my bureau. “Fuck.” 

I try to get the kink out of my neck when I get up. The wooden floorboards of the farmhouse creak as I shuffle past the bureau into the bathroom and shut off the alarm. The bulbs above the mirror are too bright and I have to shut my eyes for a minute to adjust. I wash my face, toss my hair into a quick braid and pull up the weather app on my phone before heading downstairs. 

The coffeemaker in the kitchen is ancient but after a few taps and fiddling with the cord of the plug, it starts to gurgle. It’s a satisfying sound. While it brews, I check the living room through the archway for Carter. He’s still curled up under a small crocheted blanket on her couch where I left him last night. He’s too tall and most of his calves dangle over the arm of the couch. 

“Carter, time to get up,” I call and pull my thermostat off the drying rack to fill with fresh coffee. He doesn’t move. I sigh and look down at my watch. The long spider web of cracks in the glass doesn’t distract from the face. It’s 3:19 AM. We gotta get on the road. The wind chimes are loud out on the porch. The rain should be starting soon. 

“Carter,” I say again. I walk through the archway and grab the closest thing I can find and chuck the pillow at his face. 

Carter startles immediately, shouting “I’m up,” in the process. He grabs for his glasses, dropped onto the coffee table. 

“No you weren’t,” I say, stepping back into the kitchen to fill his thermostat. “We gotta go, the storm should be rolling in any time now and Birdie will murder us if we’re late.” When I turn to look at him, he’s sliding his rain boots back on. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot. I thought you were Birdie’s boss,” he says, hand on his chest to fey surprise. 

“It’s too early for your sarcasm. C’mon.” The entryway into the house is cluttered with a few pairs of boots and sneakers, my raincoat and denim jacket along with a variety of hats hanging from the hooks. I stare at the wooden loveseat under the coat hooks while sliding on my boots. I can only see the bottom half of the painted heart on the backing. 

“El, anytime you want to get moving,” Carter says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

I blink a little, standing up and grabbing my own backpack. “Fuck you.” 

The farmhouse sits out in the middle of an open field in Guthrie, Oklahoma. The barn doors shudder a little from the wind and I can see my dad’s red beat up Dodge Ram on the lawn. I smile a little, pushing the screen door open. It squeals as I unlock the door to my truck and slide in. The engine stutters a little when it comes to life and we whip out onto the road. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks me, taking a sip of his coffee. A bump in the road causes the truck to jump and a little splatters on him. “Ah jeez.” He tries to wipe at it and I can’t help but chuckle. 

“Not really,” I shake my head. I reach for the radio, turning the dial so I can hear the morning station. There’s a new Luke Combs song playing and I tap my fingers a little to the beat. “Too much on the brain with this project.” 

“I don’t know if you’re aware El but you always have too much on the brain,” he says.

“Well someone has to do work on this team,” I joke, smirking at him. 

It’s not a lie. Ever since Charlie and I had gotten our first big contract with FEMA, I had been in nonstop work mode. Throwing myself into each project a little deeper than the last. It was probably worrisome how much time I spent at the warehouse, elbow deep in some new tech but I couldn’t help myself. It was a safe and mindless space, fixing and tinkering. 

We drive down the long stretch of dirt through the fields and I peer up at the sky again. There’s a loud ringing in the cab of the truck and I glance over at Carter, peering down at his phone. “It’s Birdie,” he says. “She says we’re late.” 

I grin a little, shaking my head as the warehouse comes into view. The freshly painted sign on the building reads TempestEdge Innovations. I push the button on the callbox and the military grade barrier raises to allow me to drive through. I swing around the side of the building to the open garage door. It’s just about 3:46 AM. 

I slide out of the truck as the door to the garage closes behind me. “You’re late,” Birdie’s voice echoes across the warehouse. 

“Birdie, give me a break, I had to make four repairs last night before we left,” I say, walking toward the tall blonde woman. Her hair is pulled snug up into a ballerina bun, a clipboard held to the fleece of her vest. “Not all of us go for a run a 2 AM to start our day.” 

She scoffs and shoves me playfully. “Maybe you should give it a try.” 

We grin, making our way deeper into the warehouse where all of our desks are crowded together with a few computers. Tables of spare parts, design blueprints and drawings and our small kitchen are scattered throughout the space. Beyond that, my engineering floor houses large models and mock ups that sit large and wide. 

I drop my bag at my desk and smile at the photo frame on the corner. It’s from graduation at OSU. We’re all making funny faces at the camera, hugging each other tightly. I tap on my keyboard to wake the screen, noticing my phone buzzing in my pocket. I ignore it and look up, “How’s everyone doing this morning?” I ask.

“Morning E,” Palmer, our Meteorologist says when she looks up over her computer screen. She gnaws on her lip, auburn brows raised. “I don’t think this classifies as morning quite yet.” 

“I mean, dawn, maybe?” Sean says, walking up from behind me with a coffee mug in hand. It’s white with rope lettering that spells out This ain’t my first rodeo! Sean walks over to Birdie who is looking over her clipboard, comparing it to the large chalkboard we wheeled over to her corner of the office. She’s talking to herself as he kisses her head on the way to his desk. 

“Dawn is defined by a sun rising in the sky,” Carter remarks, tapping away on his computer. “Definitely not dawn yet.” 

We’re interrupted by Charlie, stepping into the office space with her phone pressed to her ear. “Alright, yes. I can definitely get out there next week. Thank you so much, have a wonderful day,” Charlie says. She smiles at everyone. “Alright team, let’s get this test going.” 

Everyone slides up from their desk chairs, grabs their tablets and walkies and heads to the back of the warehouse. We slide on our swanky mesh neon vests, easily identifiable out in the storm. Sean slides the back door open and we step out onto the ramp. The rain has started and it’s coming down sideways, like a thick curtain across the landscape. A few hundred feet from the warehouse, a row of buildings line up on either side. 

“Alright, we all remember safety procedures?” Birdie asks, looking over her clipboard. There’s a chorus of noise and Birdie grumbles. “C’mon people, we’re all about to bunker separately for the tornado. Do we all remember safety procedures?” 

“Birdie, we’ve done these bunkering tests a few times now, c’mon,” I say. 

With our current contact, we started trying to build new infrastructures on different buildings to withstand a tornado in the hopes to help families and businesses not fall into a pit of financial burden from having to rebuild. It was the biggest project yet and took us nearly six months just to build the fake town with different materials and different methods. The only way to collect data around the structural integrity of the buildings was to bunker into each of the different variations.

Palmer had tracked cells moving toward the area and we were certain an EF2 was heading straight for us. Which was a perfect opportunity to split up again and see how well the buildings held up. It would be our third test trial. It’s not the smartest move but growing up with two crazy famous storm chasers? Kind of breeds crazy. 

The winds start to pick up and I look up at the debris and dust kicking up in the air. “Alright guys, let’s head out,” I say, turning on my radio. We take off in different directions, saying goodbyes and waving each other off through the harsh winds. While Charlie stays safe inside the warehouse, Birdie takes to the gas station, Sean the grocery store. Palmer heads to the farm house tucked behind everything and Carter yells “Stay safe” as he turns into the doctor’s office. I head the furthest down the road to the bar & grille. 

I look up the doors behind me, moving to the safety corner where all the monitors are. I slide into my space and settle in, logging into our tracking system on the tablet to type in my notes. I can barely hear the wind outside and pull my walkie talkie from my waist. “Alright, I am settled and am clear. See you guys on the other side.” 

I wait, anxiously tapping my foot as I watch the footage off the street for the incoming destruction. But ten minutes passed with no noise whatsoever. I glance up and toward the door, confused. I tap the storm tracker, noticing the pattern of movement for the storm diminishing. I click the button of the walkie with my thumb. “P, am I reading right that the storm choked itself out? Over,” I say, watching the monitor again. 

“The winds are dying down, I think it missed us,” Palmer calls back.

“Let’s hold for another five minutes to be cautious,” Birdie’s voice crackles. But five minutes pass with no movement. Birdie calls that we’re clear and I head out of the building. The sun is starting to rise, illuminating the fields with a golden glow as if there hadn’t been 40 to 60 mile an hour winds and rain only a little while ago. 

“We woke up at the ass crack of dawn for this?” Carter groans. 

“Not dawn,” Palmer corrects, walking in step with us back to the warehouse. Birdie wraps her arm around Sean’s waist as they step ahead of us. 

“The conditions seemed perfect,” Birdie says, shrugging. “All we can really hope for.” 

The door slides open to the warehouse to reveal Charlie. She’s got this fixed look on her face as if she just stepped in dog shit. “We’ll get the next one Charlie, no need to fuss. They know that we can’t control the conditions of the storms,” I point to the sky and pat her on the shoulder. 

“That’s not what soured my mood,” she says. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. 

My eyebrows knit together in confusion as the team steps passed us, back to our desks. “What is it?”

“Someone’s out at the gate,” she says, nodding to the opposite end of the warehouse. “Someone’s here? No one comes here.”

“Oh, if only,” Charlie says. She turns on her heel, heading to the door on the other side of the building. I rack my brain for people who know the warehouse. We had some rich investors who would stop by trying to buy us out, our clients and FEMA reps that would come our way to see new tech and some family but, Mom and Dad would’ve called me before showing up. Curiosity kills the team and I hear their chairs scrap against the floor. Loud footsteps follow us as Charlie shoves the door open with a knowing look.

I step around her and peer out at the gated entrance to see a suped up red Dodge rumbling idle. The engine turns off after a moment and the driver side door swings open. I see his cowboy boots before I see him. He’s wearing a stupid flannel and his stupid backwards baseball cap. Tyler. He takes off his sunglasses, expression is hard to read. He’s not showing his normally beaming pearl whites that I caught a few times while passing Carter’s viewing of their YouTube videos. His face is stiff, uncomfortable as he rests his hands on his hips. What takes me by surprise is the young woman who steps out of the passenger side. 

I don’t notice my feet are moving until I realize how far away Birdie’s “Son of a bitch” is. I don’t even realize how fast I’m moving or how close Tyler is. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I’m close enough that I could throw a rock if I wanted to. And I wanted to. 

He looks down, trying to collect his thoughts. I can see the gears turning in his brain, trying to figure out what to say to me. He rubs at his jaw, nearly smiling and leaning up against the door of the truck. His eyes sparkled a little. “Hi El.” Bold to go with charm. 

“That’s all you have to say? Hi El?” I cross my arms across my chest, staring him down. He’s insane.

Tyler purses his lips, gaze softening as he takes me in. He turns to look at the woman, now having moved in front of the hood of the car. “Kate,” his drawl is still thick with an enthusiasm that can’t be rivaled. “Meet Eleanor. Eleanor Owens.” 

“I prefer to go by Harding these days,” I retort. 

“Owens…you mean–,” the woman – Kate – stutters a little. 

“Wife,” I state, turning to look at her. “He means wife.”

Thank you for reading! Want to be added to the tagged list or share feedback? Click here :)

[punksyeet]

- Baecation ❥

Plot: Gianna (OC) heads to Hawaii with her best friend for a celebratory girls trip, completely unaware that she’d meet the man of her dreams.

Warning: Hefty flirting & mature language!

"May I have a piña colada please?" I ask the bartender, leaning against the tiki bar counter.

This man is drop dead gorgeous.

I'm talking thick curls, a gorgeous body with a v-line that's barely covered by his cargo shorts, and tattooed skin that's the perfect shade of caramel.

"Of course beautiful," he replies, and automatically gets to work on my drink.

I smile sweetly and turn to my best friend Trinity, that's stood next to me with my jaw dropped.

She playfully whacks my arm and covers her mouth to hide her giggles.

"There you are love," the man replies, sliding over my drink.

"Thank you so much," I reply smiling again, and slip him a $5 bill.

He takes my hand and stops it from sliding the rest of the way towards him.

"You're all taken care of," he exclaims. "A lady as beautiful as you should never pay the bill."

My cheeks immediately turn hot and I just know I look identical to a tomato. "I-Are you sure? Thank you so much!"

He gives me a warm smile, before bringing my hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on my knuckles. "Anytime, beautiful. Now go enjoy your day."

I smile and thank him yet again, before walking off with Trin by my side.

On our walk back to the beach house, I take a sip of my drink.

"Ooo girl I think he put extra rum in this," I coo, doing a little dance. "I might have to let him put a ring on it."

Trin nearly chokes on her drink, bursting into laughter. "Girl that man was whipped for you! And who wouldn't be?!"

I dramatically pout my lips and pull her into a hug.

For a little context, Trin and I are both professional wrestlers.

A tag team to be exact.

The other night, we won our championships back from Alba Fyre and Ilsa Dawn.

And to celebrate, we booked a three day trip in Hawaii.

"What time does the ship arrive?" I ask, taking a seat on a lounge chair next to her.

"Around 4:15," she replies, picking up her phone and tapping on the lock screen to reveal the time. "So we have a good hour to kill."

I nod, taking another sip from my drink.

We decide to spend the first half our just relaxing and chatting, and the other heading back into the house and get ready for the day.

I end up picking a cute pastel green knit bikini, a matching hat, and my Burberry slides.

"BODYYYYY!" Trin squeals and claps her hands, hyping me up when I walk out of the bathroom.

I giggle, twirling and posing for her.

"Thank you boo!" I reply, giving her a warm hug.

She hugs back and kisses my cheek as we pull away.

—————————————————————————————————

We’ve been on the ship for almost 2 hours - exploring the island from afar, taking cute pictures, trying incredible Hawaiian food, swimming, and jamming out to island music.

It's such a fun and quality-filled time with my best friend. <3

"I'm gonna go grab a drink," I say, as I get up from one of the deck lounge chairs. "Do you want anything?"

"I'll take whatever you're having," Trin replies, poking my side.

I giggle and nod. "Alrighty I'll be back in a sec."

I head downstairs to the bar area and my eyes widen at the sight I'm brought with.

The same gorgeous bartender from earlier looks up and immediately smiles once he sees me. "Hi again, gorgeous."

I smile back and sit down. "Hi. Are you following me or something?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "As much as it seems that way, nah. My cousin actually owns the ship, so I volunteered to bartend just for today."

I nod, and cross my arms over the counter. "How strange that we ran into each other twice the one day you're working here."

He shrugs. "It's a small world, babygirl. Anyway, what can I get you?"

I smile at the pet name. "Two dirty shirleys please. Preferably as strong as you made my piña this afternoon."

He smirks and winks at me before going to work on our drinks, and once finished, slides them both over to me.

I reach into my purse, before he stops me again. "Don't even think about it."

I playfully roll my eyes, smiling, while taking a sip of my drink.

"Thank you again," I reply, getting up.

"You're very welcome beautiful," he coos. "You know what I just realized? I never got your name."

I smile and hold out my hand. "I'm Gianna."

"Gianna," he repeats, taking and shaking it. "That's a gorgeous name. Fitting for a gorgeous lady."

I blush, smiling. "Thank you. And you are?"

"Oh my bad," he replies, chuckling. "I'm Joshua. You can call me Josh. Or Jey. Or really anything."

I giggle quietly. "Josh sounds perfect."

He smiles and strokes my hand with his thumb. "Listen, I don't mean to be too up front or a bother, but would you like to go out tonight? I know a couple awesome restaurants around here."

I smile, tilting my head. "Sure. And you're no bother, I promise."

He gives me a warm smile. "Perfect. I'll meet you on the beach at around 8?"

I nod, taking another sip of my drink, before entering my number into his phone. "That sounds perfect. I'll see you then."

He nods, kisses my hand, we say our goodbyes, and I walk off.

"Girl," I say, hurrying over to Trin. "You're gonna die."

"I know," she teases. "It's as hot as the pits of hell out here and I still don't have a drink in my hand."

"Oh shit," I reply, handing her the other glass. "Sorry."

She giggles and shakes her head. "I'm just teasing, sis. Now spill."

I sit down on the chair next to her and set my glass down. "Remember the bartender from earlier?"

"The one that had the hots for you?" she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

I playfully shove her shoulder and she laughs. "He's working downstairs and...let's just say I have a date tonight."

Her eyes go wide before she squeals and pulls me into a hug. "Gi that's amazing! I told you!"

I giggle, hugging back. "I know! I'm so excited!"

"You really do deserve this sweetheart," she says, before taking a sip from her glass once we pull away. "It's been so long. I'm so happy for you."

I stick out my bottom lip and smile sweetly.

A couple years of ago, I was in a super toxic and abusive relationship with a former colleague named Carmelo Hayes.

To make a long story short, he was super egotistical, made me feel like shit almost every day of our relationship, and even put his hands on me once in a while when he didn't get what he wanted.

It was a super scary time, but Trin was by my side throughout and helped me build the confidence to end things with him.

My soulmate in best friend form. <3

"It really has," I reply. "But Josh is super respectful. He's already ten times the man that Carmelo ever was."

She smiles, taking another sip of her drink. "It really does look like he adores you already. These island men are something dangerous."

We share a laugh and enjoy the rest of our time on the ship together.

—————————————————————————————————

It's now about three hours later - around 7:05 to be exact - and Trin is helping me get ready for my date.

"I'm thinking we curl your hair," she says, playing with my hair in the mirror. "And then tuck in these two front pieces."

I hold up my hands. "You're the master. Work your magic queen!"

She flicks her hair off her shoulder and we share a laugh before she gets to work.

"I love it," I squeal, once she finishes. "Thank you Trinny!"

Trin sets down her curling iron and gives me a quick hug from the back before heading out of the bathroom. "Anytime babes. Now get changed so I can see the full effect."

I give her a warm smile and nod before taking my dress off of its hanger.

We picked out a pretty baby blue mini dress that compliments my skin perfectly.

Once I'm done getting dressed, I step out of the bathroom and pose. "Ta-da!"

Trin looks up from her phone and automatically squeals, throwing it aside. "Oh. My. God. Sis you look GORGEOUS!"

I scream and giggle as she pulls me into the tightest hug. "Thank you bestie! I couldn't have done this without you!"

We rock back and forth for a bit before she plays with my hair and makes sure my dress looks perfect in the mirror.

"Alright girly you're all ready! Have the best time and call me if you need me!" she coos, hugging me.

I smile and hug back. "I will Trin. Thank you for everything."

We say our goodbyes and I'm off to the beach to meet the dreamiest man in the world.

—————————————————————————————————

After a few minutes of walking on the beach, I see a figure standing against the bar counter.

As I get closer, I see that it’s Josh - dressed in a white loose polo shirt with the first 2 buttons opened and jeans.

"Hi gorgeous," he coos, reaching out his arm for a hug. "You look incredible."

I smile and gladly accept the hug, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Thank you, love. You do too.”

His hand rests on my back just above my ass.

"You ready to go?" he asks, pulling away and holding my hand. Our reservation is in a couple minutes."

I nod, smiling. "I'm super excited. All the Hawaiian food I've tried so far here has been incredible."

He gives me a warm smile and we head to the restaurant, making some more small talk on the way.

The date itself is amazing.

I ordered the most delicious loco moco - a rice and meat dish with gravy and egg, and Josh and I shared pretty much our life stories.

I could tell he was listening to my every word - which is something I'm not exactly used to, but I love about him.

Now, we've decided to take a walk on the shoreline.

"How'd you like the food?" he asks, looking down at me.

"Incredible as expected," I reply looking back at him, smiling. "But it gave me one hell of a food coma."

I rub my stomach with my free hand as he chuckles. "Yeah Hawaiian food is pretty filling. But I'm glad you enjoyed it."

I smile sweetly, until he stops walking and turns to me.

We kinda just stare into each other's eyes for a bit, and of course, I'm blushing the entire time.

"You really are the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen," he coos, taking a strand of hair away from my face and adjusting the flower by my ear, which he gave me earlier at dinner.

I blush, looking down smiling. "Thank you, Josh."

He gently lifts my chin and I'm met with his gorgeous face once again. "Don't be shy, love. Unlike that douche that you were telling me about at dinner, I'll take care of you. I promise."

I blush even harder, still smiling like an idiot.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, cupping my face and stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"That depends," I reply. "Do you care if I kiss back?"

He chuckles and leans in, cupping my face and pressing our lips together.

I automatically kiss back, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with his curls.

His hands travel to my waist, pulling me in closer, and deepening the kiss.

With every stroke, I feel more and more ascended to heaven.

This man is perfect.

The perfect kisser anyway.

We slowly pull away and gently touch foreheads.

"You're incredible babygirl," he coos, taking both of my hands before kissing my left one.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reply, teasing him and smiling.

We share a laugh and our lips meet again - only for a peck this time - before we continue our walk, hand in hand.

Eventually, it gets pretty dark and he walks me home.

"I had the best time with you tonight," he says, turning to me once we get to the beach house.

I smile and reach up to run my fingers through his hair. "Me too Josh. Thank you for everything."

He smiles back and leans down, allowing our lips to connect once more.

After a couple strokes, he pulls away and kisses my cheek. "Have a good night."

"You too," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I watch him walk off before heading inside to reunite with Trin, who's sitting cross-legged on the bed, her lip dramatically stuck out, signaling that she heard everything.

The second I see her, I start laughing. “Trin, you’re like a raccoon.”

"You two are fucking ADORABLEEEE!" she squeals, running over to me and wrapping me in a hug.

I giggle and hug her back. "Thank you girl. He's truly amazing."

"You have to tell me everything!" she demands, taking my hand and pulling me onto the bed.

"Okay so first..." I reply, and go on to tell her every little detail.

Liked by trinity_fatu, jonathanfatu, uceyjucey, jadecargill, and 2.2M others

giannamacri successful girls trip 🌴💚

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trinity_fatu Love you boo 😘

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jadecargill Gorgeous gorgeous girls! 💚

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[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@emotionalcadaver

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

@kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

[najaemism]

i think she knows! | karina x fem!oc

chapter 01: chemistry read

synopsis. march shim and karina yu had been compared and pitted against each other for years, and the media even dubbed them as rivals simply because their careers were slightly similar. their professional lives cross when they’re both casted as leads in a new series, sparks flying both onscreen and off.

(oh—and march also runs a secret stan account for karina.)

warnings. language, stans being dramatic, march being down bad

word count. 855 words

MONTH. march!

March smiles and thanks the second actress that she did a scene with, shaking her hand before she leaves the holding room where they’re doing the chemistry screening. As soon as the actress is out of the room, March’s smile falls as she lets the three—Wonwoo, Mingyu, and the casting director—discuss the chemistry read. She listens intently before her mind eventually starts to tune them out.

Her phone vibrates, and she notices that she’s been receiving notifications from the groupchat with her friends. Before she can go and check them, the assistant comes in to announce the last actress they’re doing the screening with, and March pockets her phone quickly before she stands up from her chair to greet the actress.

She puts on a smile as she turns around, and then—

Oh my fucking god.

“Ms. Karina Yu, this is March Shim. She’s going to be one of the leads of the show,” Wonwoo introduces them, smiling from his spot at the long table with the casting director and Mingyu. 

March glances at them with wide eyes, as if asking for help. She then sends them a glare when she notices Mingyu trying not to laugh and Wonwoo’s lips twitching in amusement.

“March?” 

Her glare immediately falls upon hearing Karina’s voice, her head quickly snapping to the other actress’ direction, looking at the older girl with her eyebrows raised. 

Karina sends her a warm smile as she offers her a hand. “We met before in passing when you had a small scene in ‘Dreams Come True’, but I doubt you remember meeting me. I’m Karina Yu,” she introduces herself.

March feels like she’s malfunctioning—she’s so fucking pretty, how the fuck is someone this pretty? Of course I remember meeting her, how can someone forget meeting the Karina Yu—she takes a few seconds before she hears someone clear their throat (it was Mingyu, who is definitely going to give her shit for this later) and she snaps out of it, giving a shaky smile at Karina before accepting her hand and giving a firm shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Karina—well, we… I know we met before. I remember you, I mean—” she lets out an awkward laugh and lightly shakes her head— “but yeah, hi, I’m—I’m March Shim,” she introduces in turn. 

Oh, god, can the ground swallow me up whole now? she thinks to herself.

Karina chuckles, nodding at her before she pulls back her hand to to stand beside March—god, even her laugh sounds pretty… snap out of it March!

Mingyu starts speaking to Karina. “You can start anytime,” he says, making both actresses turn their heads to look at him. He offers them a reassuring smile. “Go on ahead.”

It takes only a few seconds before Karina’s reaching out to hold March’s wrist, and her eyes widen in surprise before she realizes that—oh, right… we’re starting. She puts her mind to the role that she’s supposed to be playing, and lets the scene roll out.

They both hear a click, signaling that the scene is over. March turns to look at the three people sitting at the long table, and she can’t quite make out what the expressions on their face mean. She sees them whisper among each other before scribbling something down, and then looking up to both of them.

The casting director smiles. “Thank you, Ms. Yu. We’ll be in touch with your team if you are selected for the role.”

Karina bows at them in respect and thanks them, before turning to look at March. “I’ll see you around, March.”

March's eyes widen for a fraction before smiling at her and nodding. “See you around, Karina,” she echoes her words before the girl waves goodbye at her and leaves the room. 

There’s a few moments of silence before she snaps back from watching Karina leave and walks towards the long table. “Okay, I’m not being biased when I say that was the best among the three, right?” she asks.

Wonwoo chuckles. “I don’t know, Mara, we’ll have to talk about it,” he says.

“Wonwoo, come on, you know she’s perfect for the role,” March insists.

“She is right,” the casting director agrees, “and it helps that their chemistry is good.”

“We have chemistry?” 

“It’s a chemistry reading,” Mingyu points out as he pushes her head with his pointer finger, letting out a laugh when she frowns up at him. “We’ll discuss it with the others tomorrow, and you’ll just find out when it’s announced, yeah?” he says, and the girl pouts before crossing her arms.

Wonwoo stands up and ruffles her hair as he smiles at her. “We’ll head to dinner, you wanna come with?” he asks, changing the topic.

“All I’ll do is convince you to cast Karina,” she says as if it’s a threat.

“I know,” he says, “shall we?” 

March huffs and nods. Maybe she will end up convincing them with this dinner, or maybe, they have decided the moment the older actress entered the room and approached her to introduce herself to her.

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

notes.

accidentally posted this earlier then unpublished it bc it's supposed to be for new year... but then i thought fuck it why not so here it is

i actually dont know what happens during chemistry reads, nor do i know how to write a script so pls dont attack me !? 😭 i just wanted to do the script thing for when they're acting out scenes from the show

also if u got confused with their roles in the show, march = rowan, karina = skye

my favorite part in writing celeb smaus are the tweets between the fans SO !!!! if u want to be a stan account for this smau, pls let me know!!!

also !!! taglist is still open !! 💌

taglist. @archivedmkl @yuyuy90 @linonyang @yjiminswallet @jaeyuuns @syronns @gtfoiydlyj

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up buttercups!

Alrighty, it’s time to turn up the heat for my g @nylwnder 🔥—for the third part of Sexy Christmas ☃︎ we’re slowing things down a bit to really savour a make-out session with none other than sweetheart Joe Woll 💋

Get ready for some tender, steamy moments with one of our favourite goaltenders. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I loved writing it!

As always, your feedback makes my heart melt ❤️ Happy reading, and let the holiday magic (and heat) begin! 🎄✨

➼｡ﾟ

Fireplace Heat - Joseph Woll

After a snowy night game, the hockey player invites OC back to his place to warm up by the fire. As they share hot cocoa and cosy blankets, the heat from the fireplace isn’t the only thing keeping them warm.

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Joseph Woll x reader, friends to lovers, fingering, build up to protected sexual intercourse

Word count: 2.6K

The snow outside had no mercy tonight. It had piled up on the roads, coated the city in white, and slowed the world to a crawl. But none of that mattered when you were in the middle of a packed arena, cheering for Joseph and the Leafs as they battled through the storm both on and off the ice.

By the time the final buzzer rang, victory secured, the adrenaline in your veins was the only thing keeping you warm. That, and the sight of Joseph waving at you from the ice, his grin enough to melt any lingering frost.

_

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Joseph asked, his breath visible in the icy air as you waited outside the arena.

You glanced at the snowflakes swirling in the wind and then back at him, bundled in his coat and beanie. “I think I’d rather freeze than make you drive in this,” you teased.

He chuckled, his head shaking slightly. “I’ve got an idea.” His blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “How about you come back to my place? It’s closer, and I’ve got a fireplace. And hot cocoa.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Tempting me with chocolate? Bold move, Woll.”

His grin widened. “Is it working?”

_

Joseph’s place was warm, inviting, and smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon. A modest Christmas tree stood in the corner, twinkling with white lights, and the fireplace crackled softly, bathing the room in a golden glow.

“You weren’t kidding about the fireplace,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “This is nice.”

“I told you, I’m a man of my word,” he replied, his voice laced with a playful tone. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

“Fancy,” you teased, accepting the mug.

He plopped down beside you on the couch, draping a plush blanket over both of you. “Only the best for you.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, sipping your drinks and watching the flames dance. Outside, the wind howled, but it felt a world away in here.

As you lowered your mug, Joseph’s gaze lingered on your lips. “You, uh… you’ve got a little something,” he said, gesturing toward his own mouth.

“What?” You touched your lips self-consciously, missing the spot entirely.

“Here, let me,” he said, leaning in. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, wiping away a dollop of whipped cream. But instead of pulling back right away, he hesitated, his hand still lingering on your face.

You froze, your breath catching as his eyes met yours, the flickering firelight reflecting in his soft blue gaze.

“You’re really beautiful, even with whipped cream on your lip,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though there was something else beneath it—something deeper.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Thanks.. for the rescue,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” he replied, his thumb brushing your cheek lightly before he finally lowered his hand.

In that moment, the air between you shifted slightly, crackling with more than just the fire’s heat.

“You know,” Joseph said softly a few seconds later, his voice breaking the quiet. “I think this is my favourite way to end a game day.”

“Winning and then hosting a freezing guest on your couch?” you joked, nudging him gently.

He smiled, his gaze flickering from the fire to you. “No. Sharing moments like this. With you.”

You felt your cheeks heat again, and it wasn’t from the fire. “Careful, Woll. That almost sounded romantic.”

He gently leaned in slightly, his expression more serious now. “What if I meant it to be?”

Your breath hitched as the tension from earlier built again.

“Joe…” you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he murmured, his voice low and his eyes a mix of hope and nervousness. 

But you didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly, fuelled by the unspoken tension that had been building between you for weeks. Maybe even months.

And when you finally pulled back, both breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand cradling your cheek. “Definitely my favourite way to end a game day,” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, leaning into him as the snow continued to fall outside, forgotten in the warmth of the fire—and each other.

Joseph still held his face close to yours, his breath warm and steady, brushing your lips. Neither of you moved right away, the weight of the moment grounding you. The crackling fire behind you seemed louder now, the only other sound besides your slightly ragged breaths.

“Hmm, so,” you hummed looking into his eyes, running your hand over his forearm, “if this is how you treat a guest, I might have to crash here more often.”

Joseph chuckled softly, his hand tracing a gentle line along your jaw. “You don’t need an excuse to be here. You’re always welcome.”

Something in his voice—earnest, raw—made your chest tighten. You hadn’t expected to feel so exposed, so vulnerable, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning closer, both setting your hot chocolates aside.

“You really mean that?” 

“I don’t know what it is about you,” he continued, his voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “But you make everything feel… different. So much better.”

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, you tugged the blanket tighter around both of you, as though shielding yourselves from the outside world. “You’re good at this,” you whispered, your tone teasing but your expression soft. “Making a girl feel like she’s the only one who matters.”

His gaze darkened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. “That’s because you are. To me.”

Before you could process his words, his lips were on yours again, slower this time, more deliberate. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer until your legs tangled together under the blanket. The soft fabric of his sweater brushed your fingertips as you clutched at him, your body instinctively seeking more of his warmth.

Joseph shifted, his weight pressing against you as he leaned more into the kiss, deepening it with a quiet, needy sigh. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, while the other rested on your hip, steady and reassuring.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the kiss turned from sweet to something more urgent. The heat radiating from the fireplace was nothing compared to the fire between you, the way his touch left a trail of warmth along your skin even through the layers of your clothes.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead found yours again, his breathing uneven. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rougher now, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “I’m better than okay.”

His lips quirked upward. “Good. Because I don’t think I want to stop.”

You let out a soft laugh, your hands sliding up his chest. “Then don’t.”

Joseph’s lips claimed yours again, deeper this time, the kiss carrying a weight of restrained passion that now began to unfurl. His hands, steady but yearning, slipped beneath the hem of your sweater, and the contrast of his cool fingers against your overheated skin made you shiver. Every touch felt intentional, as if he was savouring the moment as much as you were.

“You’re cold,” you whispered, the words trembling from your lips as his mouth moved to your jaw, then down the curve of your neck.

“And you’re warm,” he murmured, his breath fanning across your skin, teasing and tantalising. “Guess we balance each other perfectly.”

His words, low and rough, sent a spark of heat straight through you, your body instinctively arching closer to his. The fire crackled in the background, its flickering light casting his face in golden hues as his kisses deepened, his lips lingering longer on your skin with every press.

Joseph’s hands roamed more freely now, exploring with reverence and a growing confidence. His touch traced your sides, the curve of your waist, his thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles that left you trembling beneath him. The world outside—the storm, the cold—disappeared entirely. All you could feel was the heat of his body, the pull of his presence, and the overwhelming desire building between you.

When his hands slid back up to the hem of your sweater, he paused, his gaze meeting yours, silently asking for permission. You answered by lifting your arms, and he carefully pulled the fabric away, his fingers lingering on your bare skin as if reluctant to let go. His eyes swept over you, dark with desire but softened by something deeper, something unspoken.

“Tell me to stop if you change your mind,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was sweet and tender. His hands moved with equal care, tracing the lines of your body as though committing every detail to memory.

But you didn’t want him to stop. Your own hands explored him in return, fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your touch. And when you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he let you pull it over his head, the lights of the fire illuminating the sharp lines of his torso, the strength beneath his skin. Your breath caught at the sight, your fingers instinctively reaching out to trace the defined muscles, the warmth of him drawing you closer.

Joseph’s kisses deepened again, his tongue exploring yours with a mixture of hunger and devotion. As if compelled by something he couldn’t hold back, his hands slipped to your waist, steadying you. And before you realised his intention, he pulled you gently into his lap. The movement stole your breath, and your knees settled on either side of him, your bodies impossibly close.

His hands anchored you against him, his thumbs brushing the bare skin of your hips as you melted into him. The intimacy of the position heightened everything—the feel of his chest against yours, the heat radiating from his body, the undeniable connection that thrummed between you. You could feel him slowly press against you between your thighs, his hardness making your core clench with need.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved to your neck, trailing heated kisses down the sensitive column of your throat. His hands moved gently, sliding over the curve of your waist and trailing along your ribs before they reached behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra with practiced ease.

As the fabric fell away, his breath hitched, and he took a moment to simply look at you. His gaze, full of awe and intensity, made you feel seen in a way you never had before. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing reverent kisses along your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, and the curve of your shoulder.

He held you there for a moment, savouring the closeness, before his hands shifted, sliding to the small of your back. And with a reverence that made your heart ache, he eased you back onto the sofa. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he wanted to savour every second of having you beneath him.

The firelight still cast golden flickers across his face as he hovered above you, his hands bracketing your hips. His lips found yours again, the kiss a perfect blend of passion and tenderness.

Your fingers tangled in his hair again, tugging gently, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound reverberating through you and igniting something primal deep inside. His hands moved lower, their touch purposeful yet tender, exploring the curve of your hips, tracing the soft lines of your thighs, as though mapping out every inch of your body.

With deliberate care, he began to peel away the fabric of your leggings. His movements were slow, gentle, as if each layer revealed something precious. When you were finally bare beneath him, his gaze swept over you with an intensity that made your chest tighten again. His expression was a mix of awe and desire, his eyes darkened by longing but softened by something even deeper.

Joseph leaned back just enough to shed his own remaining clothes, the lights flickering over his toned, athletic form. His skin was warm and firm under your touch as he returned to you, his body fitting against yours like it had always belonged there.

The heat between you was palpable, the air charged with the unspoken understanding of how much you both craved this moment. But Joseph wasn’t a man to give in to compulsions. He was deliberate, calculated—a mindset honed as the team’s goaltender. He made choices with care, and this was no different.

Hovering above you, he met your gaze, his eyes holding an unspoken question, a silent promise. His touch was gentle as his hand slid lower, his fingers trailing down between your thighs with exquisite slowness. The first brush of his fingers against your sensitive flesh sent a shiver through you, your breath hitching as you surrendered to his careful exploration.

Soft moans escaped your lips as he circled your clit with deliberate tenderness, the rhythm of his movements building gradually, coaxing pleasure from you with every stroke. And when he eased one finger inside you, the sensation was electric yet soothing, a perfect balance of passion and restraint.

“Joe,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as your body relaxed under his touch, yielding to the sensations he created. “Mmm…”

Hearing your voice like that nearly undid him. Joseph had to summon every ounce of control to prioritise your needs first, even as his own body begged for attention. His length throbbed against your thigh, a persistent reminder of his desire, but he stayed focused. Watching your closed eyes and the soft part of your lips as you let out quiet sounds of pleasure was enough to spur him on.

He added a second finger, stretching and filling you with the same care, his movements measured and steady. It wasn’t overwhelming—it was intimate, deliberate, every touch meant to draw you closer to the edge. The golden lights danced across his face, illuminating the way he watched you, completely captivated by the way you responded to him.

Your body arched slightly, hips tilting into his hand, and he let out a low groan of satisfaction, his thumb brushing over your sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that had you gasping again. The connection between you was unlike anything you’d experienced before, a slow burn that felt timeless and all-consuming.

As the tension built and your breaths came faster, he finally withdrew his hand, leaning down to kiss you deeply. His lips were soft but insistent, a promise of what was to come. He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his voice husky as he whispered, “We should probably use… protection.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your cheeks flushed as you nodded. “You have?” 

“In the bedroom,” he murmured.

Joseph then pressed a lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away, his movements fluid and quick as he retrieved what you needed. The anticipation buzzed in the air as he returned, his body warm and solid against yours once more.

This moment was yours, unrushed and full of meaning, and you knew—without a doubt—that this was just the beginning of something deeper.

[seenoversundown]

You're My Wishlist

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (warnings will be towards the end so if you want to skip them) Fluff, Christmas Cheer, Family time, A bit of yearning - which is silly because you got him Char come on girl, Sentimental moments, Cute cute cute, silly post sex comments- we know how Jake is lets be honest. SMUT WARNINGS: Oral (M & F) Hands going places, Unprotected Sex (do as I say, not as I do - WRAP IT UP, KIDS) some light ass related things, a lot of sexy commentary, lingerie, Jake is a MAN 🤭 (Soft Dom)

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: Jake and Charlotte spend their second Christmas together, but lucky for Jake, she has a special present for him waiting at home.

Author's Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS- there was no chance that I wouldn't write something for the festive season, lets be real. I figured since Danny is rapidly approaching his time to shine, and we just left off with these two at Thanksgiving, I may as well wrap up the year with them one more time.

I hope you enjoy it!! This is absolutely not the last you'll be hearing from them- don't worry. They're sweet banter is just what we all needed for the holiday and to warm us up a bit! Okay okay, I can't wait to hear how you feel and I will see you on the other side! 🎄❤️

A Nonsense Christmas - Sabrina Carpenter "You'll be Santa Claus and I'll be Mrs, I'll take you for a ride, I'll be your vixen."

It’s already our second Christmas we’re spending together, and getting to have him with me makes sitting with my parents a little more fun. He came with me last year, and it was one of the first times he really even met them, but thankfully, he’s so quiet and calm that they love him. 

This year is different because his parents decided to extend their little vacation and stay up here for Christmas. I think they missed all the boys last year, so now, we’re spending Christmas Eve with his family and Christmas Day with mine. It feels like we’re married already. 

The logistics of us spending both days together seemed ridiculous in my head— having to drive down and then back but having my car, and it was all just too much. I’m grateful that Jacob is the person he is; he switched the hours he was going to work with Josh so he could get me last night. 

After spending Thanksgiving with his family and then them being around since, today has been much less overwhelming. Getting to hang out with everyone is always so fun, even though we see most of them almost daily. It proves how attached Jacob and I are because we spend the entire time waiting for a reason to be next to each other.

This catches us up to where we are now; I don’t think he’s aware of how attractive he is, even when he’s not trying at all. He decided to wear the same outfit he wore when we kissed for the first time, whether he knew that or did it by accident— regardless, my mouth was watering over him. 

It’s just a flannel and jeans, really, but it’s how he looks in them. I just can’t help but think of how adorable he was that night anytime he wears even a variation of it. He’s actually a lot more covered than usual, but it’s only because of the cold. 

Now I’m standing here with his family, watching him from across the room, and I still get butterflies when I catch him staring back. I slide my phone out, quickly texting him. I know I could just go see him, but it’s more fun this way. 

Me: baby you look so good tonight 😍 

Seeing how he smiles at his phone before glancing at me, that man is mine. Mine, mine, mine. All mine. The smirk on his lips alone makes my knees weak. He looks back to his phone, typing quickly and then tucking it under his leg. 

Jacob 🖤:  just for you, beautiful 😘 

“So, how has work been for you?” His dad’s voice caught me off guard. 

“Oh!” I let slip out. I composed myself quickly and told him, “We’ve been so busy lately, but we were actually given a few days off because of the holidays, so I can’t complain.”

He chuckles to himself before quietly saying, “Hopefully, you get to enjoy your time off.”

With Jacob? Absolutely, I will. 

“How have things been for you?” I ask him. Listening as he tells me how they’re glad they stayed up here a bit longer, I see Jake walking over out of the corner of my eye. 

His arm slides around me, feeling his hand firmly planted on my side, keeping me close to him. I glance over at him, whispering, “Hi.” His little smile is enough of a response for me. 

His dad chimed in, mentioning something about the bar, but frankly, I was too focused on the handsome man I was attached to. 

Watching Jake as he starts telling him, “Yeah, actually, I just—“ 

And that’s about all I heard. I just stare absentmindedly at how his mouth moves when he talks or how he uses his hands. His fingers tap against me every so often as he explains things, but he always squeezes me or rubs my side when he stops. 

He glances over at me. “Well, I’ll let you two finish catching up, I think I’m being put on Santa duty this year.” Pressing a kiss to the side of my head, he carefully lets his hand run over my ass as he walks off.  

Santa, huh?

His mom sneaks over, her voice distracting me, “So, Jake said you’re seeing your parents tomorrow.” 

“Yes! They’re excited to see him, which is sweet.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad they like him,” she breathes out. A small giggle sneaks out of her as she tells me,  “I’m partial to him.”

“No, they love him,” I reassure her quickly. “I wasn’t super worried because he’s so laid back, but my parents being who they are definitely made me concerned for a minute.” My eyes go wide, and a slight cringe on my face. 

“Well, you never have to worry about us,” she says, grabbing my arm gently. “All of us love you and think you’re perfect for him.” 

“He’s pretty great,” I let out. Looking over at him again, I really do love him so much. “Hopefully, he keeps me around.” 

She laughs, which is oddly relieving. “Oh, don't be silly! Have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“Good,” I giggle out quietly. “That means we get to hang out more, too,” I whisper, gesturing between the two of us. 

Her arm wraps around me quickly, “That’s the best part about it, isn’t it?” 

I find myself watching him as I hang out with his parents and Quinn, just listening to them ask Quinn about school. Even just him sitting on the couch, with the glow of the Christmas tree, he isn’t doing anything in particular other than existing– he’s so fine. I slide my phone out subtly, texting him and then tucking it back under my arm. 

Me: What if i said i want you to unwrap me like a present and play with me? 🥰

I can see him fighting a smile as he peeks over at me, shaking his head subtly. Watching him blush over little things is my favorite hobby. I have found it really precious that even after a year, he still gets flustered easily. 

Jacob🖤: honey 

I send him a little wink before I run off to help his mom with some snacks in the kitchen. Spending time with her during holidays has really become one of my favorite things. She’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met— her kids are absolutely a product of that. 

She was so welcoming to me, even after the situation when we started dating. It was almost like she knew something must have been going on prior to me having a conversation with her one-on-one. Thankfully, we do get along incredibly well, and I couldn’t wish for a better potential mother-in-law. Just thinking that I could call him my husband one day makes me sweat. 

Wandering back into the living room, I watch him rearranging the gifts closer to where everybody has slowly been sitting down. He grabs the stockings that his mom put together for everybody, setting them with their piles of gifts. It only takes a minute of being himself before I slide my phone back out. 

He spends a few more minutes organizing everything before sitting back in his spot on the couch. He glances over to me, a little smile on his lips. I silently just shake my phone, watching his eyes move down and then grabbing it from his pocket. 

Me: I can put on some tall socks later and you can stuff me instead 🤭

His eyes get wide reading my text, shifting a little in his seat as he rubs his face to help prevent himself from reacting. How is he so—? Looking up at me, but his stare felt different. I swear I could see his pupils dilate from across the room. 

His quiet voice, barely legible through the chatter of everyone else, “Come here.” His hand patted his thigh as he told me, and if anything was going to light a fire in me, it was that. 

His hand slid around my waist as I sat down on his lap; there was absolutely plenty of space that I could just sit next to him, but this was definitely more fun. 

“You’re taking this whole Santa bit seriously, huh?” I ask him quietly. 

His giggle made his body shake a little as he leaned forward. His face turned so only I could hear him. His voice lowered when he asked, “Have you been a good girl?” 

My heart about stopped; oh my god. Without hesitation, I carefully cross my legs, unprepared for him to say something like that. I never expected that to be so sexy. 

“What’s wrong, Honey?” his question taunted, as his hand squeezes my thigh just hard enough to make me sweat. I may tease him through text, but the moment he opens his mouth, I’m done for. 

“Nothing, baby,” I tell him, a small smile forming on my face. “Just excited to give you a present I forgot at home.” 

His eyes bounced to my lips and back before letting out, “Can’t wait.” 

The sound of wrapping paper ripping distracted the both of us quickly. 

The difference between our families is wild to see. I don’t know if it’s because all three of the boys, when they were younger, just couldn’t stomach waiting, but their parents just let them go wild with opening things. I just kind of watch for a second as they’re all handing gifts back and forth and starting to open them. 

My family is way more quiet, and it was only my sister and I, which, given our age gap, made it a lot easier for us to take our time with Christmas gifts. They typically let me go first since I was younger and too excited, but everyone took turns, so it was a drawn-out process in our house. 

Their parents just watched as everyone started opening things, and the loud chatter only got worse with the mix of ‘Thank you’s. It’s easy to tell that they love spoiling their kids, but I think they just like getting to spend time with them since they’re all adults now. Seeing how their parents treat them– it makes sense why all three of them are the way they are.

Unwrapping a gift from his mom, a deep forest green knit sweater sits in my lap. It’s so soft. I looked over at her, and she already had eyes on me, apparently. 

“Thank you,” I tell her excitedly. “It’s so cute!”

She blows a kiss at me, “You’ll have to show me whatever outfit you put together.” She shoots me a little wink before turning to Sam as he starts to tell her something. 

I could just watch all of them interact with each other and be happy about it. The dynamic between all of them is just so loving and sweet. Knowing full well that when the boys were kids, I can only imagine that it was harder. But seeing everybody as adults, and especially since all of their boys now have partners to share the holidays with, it’s adorable to see how their parents act around them. 

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After a bit, everybody slowly started losing steam, so we took the chance to get out while we could. We both knew it would take a minute for us to be able to leave since we had to say ‘goodnight’ to everyone, even though we will see the bulk of them this week anyway.  The drive to my apartment felt like nothing, maybe because I was selfishly excited to just spend time with him alone.

 Staring at him while he drives is a gift on its own. His side profile could be hung in a museum. Listening to his soft little voice after hours spent surrounded by his family, it’s honestly comical how differently he has to speak when Sam and Josh are in the room. It’s not like we don’t see each other enough, but knowing we have to share our time with family, so of course, I’m going to eat up any second I have him to myself. Just getting to enjoy the feeling of his hand on my leg as he drives. But nothing beats the view of his hand gripping the steering wheel. Mmm. 

I’m not always proud of the fact that his hands were one of the first things I fully focused on when I met him, but they’re wildly nice. They’re also fairly large, which is baffling because he’s not a big man by any means. Even just getting a small glimpse of his wrist gets me going, his sleeve sliding down slightly. I don’t know what it is about him that makes this happen to me, but I’m not going to complain.

His other hand flexed on my thigh, watching the way his fingers pressed into my leg for a second, giving it a little squeeze; how he puts rings on when we have plans that aren’t just sitting in the bar because he’s definitely figured out that I’m obsessed with it. But honestly, it’s hard not to be obsessed. He can’t exist without casually touching me, which I still get butterflies from even after a year. The moment he sits in the driver’s seat, his hand searches for mine or my leg. If we’re out somewhere, he’s holding my hand, touching my back, pulling me closer to him so people can sneak by us, but leaving his hands wherever they’ve landed. 

“So, about this gift you forgot?” he softly asks, his thumb grazing over the back of my hand as he does. My head whips over to him– didn’t realize how zoned out I actually was.

I just hum back, “Mhmm?”

“Did you really forget or..” kept his voice low, but the little smirk on his lips sold him out. Oh, that little shit. He probably has spent the last couple of hours trying to decide what it is and, more than likely, is on the right track with it. 

Looking at the time and seeing that we’re almost to my apartment, I make the executive decision to rile him up a little more. 

I let out quietly, “It’s something I wouldn’t want your mom to see.” Reaching over and tuck some of his hair behind his ear so I have a clearer view of his sweet face. Even in the dark, I can see the red creep into his cheeks as it clicks in his brain. 

“I love you,” he giggles out, pulling my hand up to kiss the back of it a few times.  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Once we’ve made it inside, dropping our bags that Jake insisted he could carry all of. I watch him plop himself down onto my couch, curling up with one of the throw pillows as he watches me put some of my things away. 

“Hey you,” he says, barely loud enough to get my attention. “You can clean tomorrow.” 

Pouting at him, I whisper back, “I only have like two more things.” 

“Well, hurry up,” he giggles, with a big cheesy grin on his face.  “I need to know what this gift is before I lose my mind.” I can feel the excitement radiating from him. 

“Ohhhh,” I teased him. “Just stay there for me– I’ll go get it.” Shooting him a little wink as I scurried off into my room.  

Pulling the lingerie from my drawer— there’s not much to it. Slipping on the bottoms before working on the top. I spent too much time scrolling, trying to find a cute Christmas set to surprise him, and with that, I ended up here. The bra basically just being a ribbon that you tie over your tits, dreading to admit that it is actually kind of cute once it’s on. I step in front of the mirror to make sure the bow is even. Oh, he’s going to lose his mind, regardless. 

Fluffing my hair up a little and reapplying some lipstick, I do one more little spin in front of the mirror before ripping the metaphorical band-aid off. 

“Baby,” I say loudly as I open my door. “Are you ready?” 

“I don’t know, am I?” 

I can’t help but giggle at his little voice. Telling him quietly, “Probably not.” Rounding the corner to my living room where he is. 

“Oh my–” falls out of him. His hand covering his mouth as he mumbles,  “Holy shit, Char.” 

“Worth the wait?” I ask quietly, feeling the blood rush into my face. Something about standing in front of him in this as he just stares at me makes my body feel warm. 

“I– um,” he hesitates as he stands up from the couch, taking a few steps over to me. His hands grab mine, and holding my arms out as his eyes take down my body. “You’re always gorgeous, but this is something.” 

“Oh, let me show you–” I spit out, starting to slowly spin around, still holding one of his hands.  

“Honey, fuck me,” he whispers. Just listening to him fall apart is already fun. “My god.” To be fair— the bottoms do not really cover much… which was probably a little mean of me. 

“Well, I just thought,” I start, stepping closer to him. “Since you work so hard—“ I adjust the collar on his flannel, trying to avoid eye contact with him because I know he’s already struggling. 

He raises his eyebrows but just hums back, “Mhmm.” 

My hands run down his chest as I keep going,  “And you do so much for me—“ I press myself into him, batting my lashes at him a few times. 

“Anything for you,” his eyes soften, but the little smile on his lips is devious. 

“And I love you so so much,” I tell him, running my finger down the slope of his nose and then holding the side of his face. Feeling his hands slide around my waist as I tell him, “You deserved something extra special for Christmas.” 

“Is that right?” He asks, his voice a bit lower. 

“Mhmm,” I hum back before whispering, “Whatever you want.” 

He leans in, kissing me gently before asking,  “You sure about that?” 

I just nod, wrapping my arms around his neck and walking him toward the couch. He sits down, pulling me into his lap. Instantly, his hands are sliding up my thighs.  

I move to straddle him, sitting up on my knees for a second, and I watch the gears in his head start turning. It takes less than a second before the cool air hits my skin. 

“Oops,” he lets out quietly, giggling to himself as the bow comes undone. His hands wrap around my rib cage, pulling me closer, leaving little kisses against my sternum. 

His hands move to grab my ass; his smirk into me is so cute, but it makes me nervous. Watching him not know what to do as he slides his hands up my body, giving my tits a little squeeze. 

I whisper, not to distract him too much, “I love when you’re like this.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes glance up at me as I’m still hovering over him a bit. 

“Mhm,” I hum. Deciding to lean into it a little, I tell him, “You’re always so gentle; it’s fun when you let loose a little.” 

His stare changed slightly, but a little smile crept onto his face.

“In that case,” he lets out, wrapping an arm around me, picking me up as he stands but quickly plopping me back down onto the couch and crawling over me, sliding his leg in between mine, pressing it against me when he leaned down to kiss me. Fighting every urge as the pressure alone already feels good. 

Leaving wet kisses against my neck, working his way down until I watch his face light up as he’s brushing his thumbs over my nipples. A small whimper sneaks out of me, which makes him look up. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks; the tone of his voice makes me shiver. He carefully rolls them between his thumb and index fingers, his jaw going a little slack while he stares at me. My legs twitch around his at the feeling. “Oh, it’s that good, huh?” 

All I can do is nod. My hands reach to grab his shirt, but he’s quick to grab my wrists, pinning them above me with one of his hands. My breathing is heavy as he hovers over me; he just stares at me for a minute. 

“You said whatever you want,” he whispers, leaning in close to my face. 

All I can manage is a small “mhm.” 

He brushes his lips over mine– his smile making my heart race. He lowers his voice when he tells me, “Then be a good girl and let me play with you.”

My hips defy me, grinding against his thigh as a quiet moan slips out. He’s so sexy, oh my god. 

“Oohh,” he coos, taunting me. “You do like when I call you that.” 

I just bite my lip gently as I look back at him. I don’t know what’s come over him but I’m not about to fight it. 

“Thought you got away with it earlier,” he says smugly. “I knew you crossed your legs because I made your pretty little cunt ache.”

My jaw drops at how he’s speaking, letting out a quiet “Jacob.” 

His sweet little laugh as he leans in to kiss me, feeling the smile against me, taking every chance to kiss his cupid's bow until he mumbles against me, “What, honey?” 

“You’re just,” I start, but the way he’s smiling at me makes my brain stall. “Um, you’re so—“ 

His little raspy voice chimed in, “Tell me.” 

I stare at him in awe; Jacob’s never like this, so forward. He giggles quietly at my lack of response, his free hand holding the side of my face, letting his thumb run over my cheek gently. 

“Mmm, that’s okay,” he whispers, his hand sliding down my neck until I feel him lightly trace circles around one of my nipples. He dips down, wrapping his lips around it, following that same circular movement with his tongue. A small groan comes from me at the feeling when he moves to the other side, teasing me the same way but quietly letting out a small ‘mmm.’  His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down the middle of my chest. 

“Keep these here, alright?” he whispers, squeezing my wrists a few times. I nod at him, biting the inside of my lip. Watching as he sat up, grabbing both of my legs and lifting them– blocking any view I had of whatever he was going to do. Until I feel his tongue flat against my clit, sending a shiver through my body. 

His mouth is warm against me, knowing all the right places to be, god he’s too good at this. The moans practically fall out of me when he slips one of his fingers inside. Years of working with his hands really are just a godsend for me– he can ruin my life with minimal effort. 

Pushing my legs closer to my chest, I feel his mouth moving lower. Um.. But he picks up the pace with his hand, and my mind goes blank again. 

“Mmm, baby,” I let out quietly. Feeling the little smirk on his face as he kisses the inside of my thigh. 

Gently biting at it before he tells me, “I have an idea.” 

Pulling me up to him, planting a kiss on me, and whispering, “Turn around for me.”  

I’ve never moved quicker– turning around and leaning down onto my elbows. The feeling of him gently sliding his hands over my legs gives me butterflies. His breath against my skin alone made me feel a bit desperate, knowing that I was littered with goosebumps. 

His lips made contact with my ass, leaving a few kisses on me before he mumbled, “God, I love you.”  

The gasp I let out when his fingers make contact with my clit, almost maddening how he knows just how to move to make everything feel better. Sliding them to feel how wet he’s made me, which he doesn’t have to try for that to happen. Just knowing he’s behind me is enough. 

Moans keep sneaking out of me, which only keeps him motivated. Feeling his free hand grabbing at my ass every so often, always following it with a small kiss until he just spreads me open.. holding it there for a moment. The cool air hit places I hadn’t anticipated, which felt oddly vulnerable. 

“Whatever I want, right?” he asks. 

I glance back over my shoulder slightly, “Mhm.” 

“You’re sure?” 

I give him a slight nod; what is he doing? 

Without hesitation, he flicks his tongue against my clit, making sweet little circles around it. Licking a wide stripe up, finding it harder to resist grinding against him. He lingers there for a second; I swear I can feel that he’s nervous. 

My jaw falls open as his tongue makes contact, not having felt anything like that before. He laps at me like he’s starving and slips one of his fingers back into me, pressing down as he does. Holy shit. 

“Baby– oh my god,” slips out louder than I wish it did. My hands are grabbing desperately at the couch cushion, not knowing what else to do. Truthfully, I’d never been comfortable enough with a man to let him near my ass like this, but Jacob is different. 

Pulled from my thoughts when his hand rapidly started rubbing my clit; the tension from my orgasm building about to burst. His tongue presses harder into me when it hits. A light layer of sweat covers me as my hands death-grip the couch. 

He whispers, “Stay right here for me, honey.” Luckily for him, I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. 

He’s only gone for maybe a minute before he’s sat in front of me, tucking some hair away from my face. He leans in, kissing my cheek a few times, mumbling, “I cleaned up, don’t worry.” I giggle into him, soaking up the feeling of his lips on mine. 

He slides the flannel off and then pulls his shirt over his head with one hand— no matter how many times I’ve seen him do that, it’s still hot. 

“Sit up for me,” he tells me. I turned to face him, still sitting on my knees. My hands flew to unbutton his jeans for him. Dragging them down his legs until his hand is holding my jaw, laughing into a kiss as he finishes pulling them off. “Mmm, open for me, yeah?” 

He stands fully; I can’t take my eyes off him. Watching him as he stroked himself a couple of times, and my mouth fell open like he asked. He slides himself in, and my lips wrap around him instantly. His hands hold the sides of my head as he starts gently thrusting himself into my mouth. 

I keep my eyes on his face— the way his eyes are closed and that delicious little pout of his.  Occasionally, his mouth falls open slightly, especially when he’s hitting the back of my throat gently. Listening to the little moans come from him, he sounds so sweet.

He pulls back completely, leaning down to kiss me— this man I swear. Grabbing me, he just picks me up, turning me to face the back of the couch. Instinctually propping my arms up on the back of the couch, I push my ass into him a little. 

Taking no time, he slides himself into me, slowly pushing his cock all the way in. Maybe he was onto something with the “cunt aching” thing because, good god, I needed that. 

He gently fucks me, his hips moving at a crawling pace. I let out a few small ‘mmm’s knowing that’s what gets him going; his hands squeezing my hips every time. 

“Mmm, my beautiful girl,” he lets out. My heart pounds at his voice. “Taking my cock so well.” 

“Jake,” I moan, unable to hold it in. Where has he been hiding all this? 

He leans over me, kissing my shoulder blade lightly. His hips stop moving for a second— just long enough for him to whisper, “If you want me to stop, just tell me. Okay?” And there’s my sweet Jacob again. 

Turning my face, so I can just barely see him. I open my mouth to respond to him, but the only thing that comes out is, “Oh.” His thumb lightly grazes my other hole, sending a chill through my body, and I can feel my face heat up. Why does that feel kinda.. 

“Is that okay?” He asks quietly. 

Shyly I mumble back, “um.. yes.” 

His hips start to move again as he gently adds pressure with his thumb— the moan coming out of me sounds feral. Holy shit. 

Every noise that escapes me makes him snap his hips harder into me. He grabs one of my hands, pulling it back towards him and resting it on his wrist before his thumb starts pushing a bit harder. 

The feeling of it starting to slip in, I can’t fight the gasp I let out. He keeps slowly pushing it further, and I have to admit that it feels good, littering the air with my moans, his hips slamming into me, and he finally slips his thumb into me. My hand grabs his wrist quickly at the feeling. 

“Hun—“ his voice sounds serious. 

My head falls back, the sweat starts forming again, and I tell him, “Baby, I’m close—“

He wraps his arm around me, pulling me up against him but gently moving his hand away. His face tucked into my neck, whispering, “Let me have it.” 

“Come with me,” I moan. 

He snakes his hand down, barely touching my clit, and I can already feel myself about to break. 

“Tell me where,” he says, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. My brain feels fuzzy as I try to focus on his voice, but the rest of him is driving me crazy. 

“Baby— fuck,” I spit out. “Come in me.” My body leans forward a little, my legs starting to shake as my orgasm hits. “Fuck, Jacob. Come, baby.” 

His hips are getting sloppy, and I can feel him release. His sweet moans littered the air, a slew of ‘fuck’s as he came down from it– leaving kisses on my shoulder when I heard him giggling. 

He backs up from me, but I feel something soft immediately covering me. What is he-? Glancing down, he’s holding his shirt against me so I can sit and not mess up my couch. Ew, I love him. 

“What are you on about, giggles?” 

He just smiles at me, shaking his head. 

“Jacob, you’re gonna end up telling me. Spit it out,” I say, laughing with him. 

“Hun, it’s just—“ he starts, cutting himself off with a laugh. I’d watch him smile like this forever, even if I never got the rest of his thought. “How am I supposed to look your parents in the eye tomorrow?” Laughing with him this time, he has a point. 

“It won’t be that bad..” I try to make him feel better. 

He wipes his hand over his mouth, looks at me, and fights his smile when he says, “Honey, please. I just ate your ass and came inside you— at what point is it not that bad?” 

“JACOB,” I bark out, my face heating up as I laugh. 

He walks back over, kissing the top of my head before mumbling, “Come on, you– let’s get you cleaned up.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I come out into the living room after showering, and he’s already sitting on the couch. Just seeing him comfortable and not actively checking on the bar is nice. 

Naturally, I’m crawling into his lap; nothing is better than being close to him. He would just pull me into him anyway. 

“I have something for you,” he whispers. 

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm. Here,” he says, handing me a small present. 

Quickly peeling back the wrapping paper, a small ornament is sitting in my hands. A little gold frame that looks vintage, with a cute picture of us from a date night a few weeks ago. 

We found a little Christmas market that was going on in Portland and of course, they had so many cute background options. This specific photo was one of the last ones we took because we were both cold and getting delirious, which you can tell by the way he squished my face a little in his hand as he kissed me. It’s my favorite one; he looks so happy even if I forced him into a million pictures that night. 

Flipping it over, I noticed that he put the year in the bottom corner but wrote, ‘one more?’ in the middle because I definitely asked him every photo if we could just take ‘one more.’

“Jacob,” I whisper, my throat a little tight at how sweet he is. “I love it— I love you.” 

He kisses the side of my head gently, “I’m glad— I love you so much.” 

I stand up from him, walking right over to the skinny tree I have decorated and rearranged a few things to be able to hang this one up. 

Standing back and looking at it, my eyes tear up a little. I take a deep breath as I stare at it; I don’t know what I did to deserve this man. Feeling his arms slide around me and his face tuck into my neck, pressing a little kiss into the side of it. 

“Merry Christmas, honey,” he whispers, letting his lips rest on my cheek, and I can feel the smile on his face. 

I lean back into him, my heart fluttering because I absolutely just fell in love with him all over again. I turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling from the lights on the tree. Nothing will ever compare to this feeling. If he only knew that he’s the greatest gift I’ll ever get.  I lean in, pressing a kiss against his lips and whispering, “You too, baby.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

Sam & Willa : Sparrow Of The Dawn

Josh & Quinn : Amongst The Stars

Danny & Melody : Come Back For Me

Caravel Tavern 😉

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr @edgingthedarkness @writingcold

@takenbythemadness @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf

@josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk

@broken0mens @whereiskeara @gvf-luna @katuschka @threadofstars @i-love-gvf

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@musicislove3389 @allof--mylove @hailthegodsong @fleetingjake

@Mohollandtx @hearts-hunger

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 2

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, slight sexual language Wordcount: 5.9K A/C: SURPRISEE we're back!! again, be prepared for a slow burn y'all, don't expect anything big anytime soon (sorry). anyway got lots of love for chapter 1 so ty for that and being so patient with me over christmas! hope you had a good time over the holidays aand again send me your thoughts on the chapter! NOW GO READDD

-

Before London

“After you ma’am.”

Trey presses his keycard against the reader on the door, pulling it open for me. I can already feel myself regretting leaving my hair down, the spring breeze not as gentle as I’d hoped, causing my black strands to fly all over my face. Hurrying inside, Trey follows after me into the corridor. The moment he shuts the door I miss the wind, the heat inside College Park Center stifling me.

“Is it always this hot?” I ask, already fanning myself, my chunky knitted sweater a horrible choice for the temperature.

“Holy shit, no,” The guy walking in front of me groans, opening another door at the end of the corridor and letting us into another room, lined with doors. I already knew I was bound to get lost here, the identical doors and hallways making it feel like a maze. A security guy walks by us, but Trey stops him, asking about the heat.

“Yeah man, AC is broken,” the guy complains. “Should be fixed tomorrow.”

Great, and for once I thought I could get away with wearing a sweater. 

“Nothing works around here huh? Can’t wait to get out of this damn arena,” Trey says as we walk off, me following after him, my heels tapping against the floor echoing up and down the narrow hallway.

“When’s that gonna be? 2026 right?”

“Yeah,” Trey says, abruptly turning right into another almost identical hallway. 

“Someone’s gonna have to draw me a map of this place,” I laugh, already feeling the sweat dripping down my back and breathing becoming laboured in the heat. 

The man laughs, interrupted by the sound of balls bouncing off the floor faintly somewhere far away. “You’ll learn, your keycard should be coming next week.”

It was the first of what I already knew would be many times at College Park Center. Linda had sent us to come get some footage of the arena, simultaneously encouraging us to get some clips of Paige Bueckers’ first official practice. 

I knew it was my first proper test. I had made a few posts here and there already in the past week but this was the first time it was just me, Trey and his camera. No script, no guidance. It was up to us to figure it out, and watching Linda closely in the past week she didn’t seem too impressed by Trey. So it was on my shoulders, like always. Which was fine by me, I was used to it. Being the one to carry the load - work, relationships, friends, you name it.

Finally the man beside me comes to a stop, unlocking the door beside us.

”This is for the media team. The players are around that corner closer to the court.”

I step into the small room, two leather couches in the corner, a couple desks lined up, a fridge and Dallas Wings merch and posters covering the walls. The lack of windows made the room feel tighter than it was, and the slight musty smell didn’t make my first impression more favourable.

”Welcome to our office,” Trey grins, reading my uncomfortable expression.

”It’s… cozy,” I say, not believing a word that spills from my lips. Trey laughs, hand wrapping around my shoulder. I still wasn’t used to how touchy people in Dallas seemed to be, or at least Trey, but it didn’t make me cringe and tense up anymore.

”You can also work anywhere else in the building,” he comforts me and I sigh in relief.

“Oh thank heavens,” I chuckle, pulling the knitted sweater off, leaving me in low waisted, white, flowy pants resting on my hips, and a silky leopard print top, with thin straps holding it up. If I was dressed this way for my previous job in London I surely would’ve been fired, but what I had found out in the past week was no one at the Wings cared to dress corporate, most younger workers dressing in sneakers and hoodies. I notice Trey watching me for a while, his gaze quickly averting when I catch his eye.

“Well,” I say sitting down on the desk, “Shall we throw some ideas around?”

-

It felt good to be back on the court. After my last season at Uconn I felt ready, focused, like I was on fire. What felt even better was Koclanes had made sure to make it clear for everyone - I’m a point guard, no reason I shouldn’t be running offense instead of the nonsense Geno had me doing last season. 

Honestly, it was such a relief I had to fight back tears hearing it. All season I had fought to do what Geno wanted me to, I wanted to be the perfect player, to make him proud. I think in the end I had done so, but God it would’ve been so much easier if I just got to run the ball. 

“P!” I hear Arike’s voice from behind me, somewhere on the left. Trying a no-look pass, I let the ball fly. Turning around I realise she's nowhere near where I thought she was. We had a lot of work to do, I knew this. But I missed my girls. I knew them better than anyone, knowing where they were each moment of the game, where I could easily find them. Now I had to start from scratch once again.

“My bad,” I laugh, wiping sweat off my forehead. Of course the AC had broken down the day of my first official practice in this hellhole. Instead of cancelling, we all agreed to take lots of breaks and we had all undressed to our sports bras and shorts. Still, the sweat is dripping down my neck and back, and my chest heaves fiercely.

“Paige, Arike, Tea, take a break before you get a heatstroke,” Chris yells from the sidelines. Gratefully, I jog to the seats and sit down, chugging water, Arike sitting right next to me. We both knew it would take a while for us to build that chemistry the team needed us to have. Thankfully, I really liked her already. Could’ve been worse I guess.

“P,” Arike mumbles breathlessly, elbowing me. 

“Get your sweaty ass off me,” I jokingly complain, making the girl snicker to herself.

“Just look behind us,” Arike groans, nodding her head backwards. Turning my gaze, I nearly fall off my seat. About ten rows behind us, Zari is sitting cross-legged, her hair down not in the neat, tidy way as usual but unruly, soft waves falling over her shoulders. The curves of her breasts are visible all the way from here, left strand of the slinky top falling off her shoulder, forehead glistening with sweat. Even so, she makes me feel breathless.

It had been nearly a week since I last saw her, and I had spent that entire time convincing myself I was delusional - there was no way anyone could be as beautiful as I remembered her to be. Now watching her whispering with Trey, I realised it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Clearing my throat I turn back, shrugging, acting like it made no difference to me. I didn’t need the other girls to clock how much I’d been thinking about Zari. Which had been more that I’d like to admit.

“It’s your girlllll,” Arike giggles, finger poking my shoulder.

“Alright, enough,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. Before I can stop her, Rike is waving them over.

“Bro,” I scoff in a whispered voice, quickly rubbing the soft towel against my skin, wiping as much sweat off as I can. Great, here comes this perfect, poised, classy girl and I’m here sweating like a sinner in church, red in the face, half naked, hair falling out of my bun. 

“Whatchu guys doing here this early?” Arike asks as Trey and Zari come up to the row of seats behind us. I’m still wiping the towel against my neck, giving an awkward smile to the pair.

“We’re here to play, clearly. Can you not tell by my fit?” Zari asks, her gravelly voice smooth like butter in my ears. My eyes roam her body, watching the way her midriff is exposed from how low waisted her pants are, her stomach slightly soft, light brown skin peeking out. Eyes travelling upwards my eyes take in her chest, and my mouth goes dry. 

Arike kicks my ankle, and I realise everyone’s noticed my staring - no, my ogling. Face going bright red I rub my jaw, looking for any save. At least say something Paige.

“You look… nice,” I murmur, making Arike cover her mouth to hide her chuckling. 

But instead of calling it out or embarrassing me more, Izara merely smiles and quickly brushes her fingers through the long, black ends of her hair.

“Thank you Paige.”

Paige. Paige. Suddenly, for a fleeting moment my name becomes my favourite word, the way it sounds from her lips making my heart race. 

“Haven’t seen you around the building, neighbour,” she grins, her hand reaching to squeeze my shoulder. It’s sweaty. I know when she quickly pulls away.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty as hell,” I chuckle awkwardly.

She scoffs, easily waving it off with her hand. “Isn’t that your job anyway?”

I smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck, hoping she might notice the flex of my arm. God what was I doing? She was probably straight anyway. And I had promised to stay celibate. Besides I don’t think she likes me anyway, even as a friend. Are we even friends? Probably not, we’d talked like one time. I’d like to be her friend though, I think. Wait, everyone’s quiet. Fuck, what did she say.

“Uh, yeah?” I mumble, not sure what to say.

“It was a hypothetical question darling,” she giggles. “Does anyone have a towel please? I feel like I’m sweating too.”

Immediately I hand her the one on my shoulder, drenched with my sweat.

“Paige I’m pretty sure she wants a clean one,” Arike says, grabbing a fresh towel from underneath the bench. 

“Oh right,” I murmur, laughing at myself. To my delight, the black haired girl laughs too.

“I mean I could get some good money selling that,” she chuckles, wiping the towel against her glistening neck.

“Yeah, her fans are something else,” Trey adds, and suddenly I’m reminded that he’s there too, my focus all on the girl standing behind me.

“Speaking of your fans, can we get you in for a clip later? Only for a moment, I promise,” Zari pleads, batting her eyes at me. There’s no universe in which I could say no.

“Sure, whatever you need.”

-

“I must tell you Izara, Jasper came over today. Brought back some of your things. He’s such a considerate young man, he had packed everything so nicely. Not a single plate was broken. Now I know I know, not that hard but men are a bit dim sometimes. I can’t even tell you how many plates your father would’ve broken if I ever let him pack any-”

“Muuuum,” I groan, her rambling about my ex-fiancee making my heartrate pick up quickly. I turn the phone away to roll my eyes out of sight from my mother on facetime.

“Anyways, he came over and Izara. That man looked so poorly, like he hadn't slept or eaten. I just feel so bad, he’s really upset Izara.”

“Mum,” I try to stop her but as always, she barely hears me.

“I just don’t understand why you ended things. He’s a good man. Good men are so hard to find Izara,” my mom preaches, the same words that I’d heard nearly daily since I informed my parents about our breakup. My brother had been more supportive, he’d never liked Jasper. At least there was someone in my family who saw him for what he really was from the get go.

“Mum, if we keep talking about this I’m going to end the call, please. I already told you that I don’t want to talk about it,” I finally assert myself, hearing my mother let out a frustrated huff.

“Fine. Fine! You do need to tell me one day though, because I don’t understand any of this nonsense of-”

Taking a deep breath I close my eyes, trying to swallow my frustration. I can’t. “Mum, I’m really tired. I’ll call you back tomorrow after work, okay. I gotta edit some posts anyway.”

With that I hang up, throwing my phone on the bed as I sit on the bedroom floor. Running my fingertips through my hair I lie down. Just for a moment. Then I’ll get back to work.

Chewing on my cheek I fight the tears threatening to spill over. I didn’t want to cry. No, I refused to. I just wish I could get my parents to shut up about it. I didn’t want to think about it anymore, of Jasper, of the hell I went through the past year.

As I take deep breaths to calm myself down, suddenly I notice a faint bitter, acrid smell. Abruptly getting up I search my apartment for something burning, checking everything I could think of until I realise it’s coming from the stairway. Putting on a pair of slippers and grabbing my keys I slip outside, walking around to find the source of the smell - until I end up behind Paige’s door.

Without thinking about it further, my hand firmly knocks three times on the door, other hand subconsciously brushing through my hair to flatten it, hoping I looked at least presentable. 

I found the blonde interesting. Whenever I observed her, she seemed to have this insane confidence, this incredible skill to put people at ease, to get them to like her. It would’ve been so easy for Paige Bueckers to be just another entitled basketball star. However, she was anything but that. Yet, around me, she seemed to tense up for whatever reason. I had a feeling she didn’t like me at all.

When the door opens, Paige is standing there looking discombobulated, eyes widening further when she sees it’s me on her doorstep. The blonde is holding her nose, still just in a sports bra and grey sweats hanging low on her hips, boxers showing just the tiniest bit reminding me of how a teenage boy might dress. And I might’ve poked fun at it but something about it suited her, made her even more charming.

“Zari! Uh, hey,” she murmurs, holding her nose.

“Is that smell coming from yours?” I ask, the scent getting even stronger now. “I can smell it all the way in my apartment.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she groans, cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I didn’t know microwave meals can burn.”

“Evidently,” I chuckle, glancing over Paige’s broad shoulders into the apartment. It was the same as mine, though looked to be bigger. The same white walls, cold and sleek and modern. Suddenly I hear her stomach rumbling, making Paige bring her hand to the bare skin there and letting out an awkward chuckle.

“Sorry,” she murmurs but I shake my head.

“You’ve got to stop apologising so much love,” I could feel all the nurturing bones in my body beginning to take over, as this poor, hungry, younger girl stands in front of me, in an apartment smelling like smoke. “Did you open all the windows?”

“Oh right, I should prolly do that,” Paige murmurs, looking back into the apartment, stomach rumbling again. I couldn’t help it, I felt pity towards the girl.

“I was just about to make dinner actually, do you want to come downstairs while you let your place air out?” I ask, inviting Paige over. 

“Uh…” she mumbles and I can feel my stomach twisting in anxiety. Why would I be anxious? So what if she says no? I really didn’t want her to though for some reason, maybe I just needed a friend that bad. 

“Ion wanna bother you if you got something to do,” Paige says, swinging back and forth on her feet. 

“You’re not! I’m offering,” I insist. 

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Aight. Thank you.”

With that Paige grabs a navy Uconn hoodie, her keys and phone before we make our way down, her blue eyes watching me unlock my door. She steps into my apartment, looking around. Not that there was much to look at yet, the walls were blank and the basic furniture was sitting where it had been placed for me. 

“I haven’t really decorated yet,” I murmur, following the blonde girl in.

“I can see that,” she chuckles, blue eyes roaming the space. I watch as she takes steps further, and can’t help but grimace at her shoes.

“Sorry, but could you take your shoes off please?” I ask carefully.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige obeys without thinking, kicking her sneakers off and placing them neatly next to the wall. The way she bends to my will quickly, so eager to please, makes my face burn up for some reason.

“So you’re hungry?” I ask, walking into the kitchen with the blonde following close behind.

“I’m starving, but you don’t need to be cookin’ for me, we could just order a lil something? Or go out?” She suggests, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

I wave her off, grabbing my big chalkboard which had every meal planned in advance, a column for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“No no no, I like to cook. Especially for other people, so really, you’re doing me a favour,” I insist, feeling her come up from behind me to peek over my shoulder at the board. My skin tingles as the heat of her body radiates off of her, the pounding of my heart not letting up. Must be the Dallas heat making me all loopy.

“You weren’t joking about being a planner huh?” She chuckles, her finger scanning over the text as she reads. 

“I just like to be organised. I don’t see any harm in being prepared.”

For a moment she stands close behind me, reading. I can feel her breath on my bare shoulder, goosebumps spreading down my arm.

“Damn, you can cook all this stuff?” Paige asks, clearly impressed. 

“Well, yes. I like to cook,” I chuckle, putting the board down and turning to the girl behind me. “I could teach you, if you’d like?”

“Who says Ion know how to cook,” she scoffs, our eyes locked in each other’s gaze. I realise this must be the longest she’s held eye contact with me yet. Not used to it, I look to the floor and shrug.

“The burnt smell coming from your apartment does,” I tease, opening the fridge next to the girl, everything neatly organised. “Now, what would you like to eat Paige?”

-

“Like this?”

“Oh, well, almost. Let me show you darling.”

Suddenly her hands are on mine, guiding the knife through the vegetables as she stands next to me. 

“See, you don’t need to lift the knife, keep the tip on the board, got it?”

Honestly I barely take any of it in, my heart beating so loudly I was sure Zari could hear it. My skin tingles as her shoulder presses against my arm, my eyes locked on how our hands look together. Her brown skin makes mine look paler, the long nails on her slender fingers making mine look stronger, more masculine. To my dismay, Zari’s hand lifts off mine and she steps back as if suddenly aware of our closeness.

”Now why don’t you try for me?”

For her? I didn’t know her well at all, but everything about her had me wanting to do anything for her. 

So I do as she says, doing my best to follow her advice, my brows furrowing in concentration. I watch as the knife cuts the pepper into pieces, uneven in size. I wasn’t very good at this cooking thing, I should probably consider getting a personal chef. Maybe I could hire Zari and have her cooking for me in a maid dress, or in lingerie. Okay no, I gotta focus.

”There you go, good job Paige,” Zari murmurs, watching closely, her hand coming up to rub my shoulder. ”You’re doing so good.”

I swallow, my throat bobbing. It’s almost embarrassing, the heat between my thighs when I hear her say those words, her praise making my mind spin, her touch leaving fire in its wake. God, I need to get a grip.

”Uh, do I add them to the salad?” I ask flustered.

”Yes! Let me check on the chicken,” Zari smiles, taking the food out of the oven. The smell is making my mouth water, why doesn’t chicken ever smell like that.

”Yo that smells so good,” I groan. ”What spices did you use?”

”A lot,” the girl laughs. ”I can write down the recipe for you?”

”O-okay,” I mumble. The time spent together had only turned me more tense, I was just hoping she couldn’t see it.

”Go into the living room love, I’ll make your plate. Would you like some wine?”

Before I can think, a yes slips through my lips, too discombobulated by the nickname. I didn’t even like wine. 

Cussing to myself in my head, I walk into the living room, eyes roaming the identical furniture to mine. Except hers was neater, and the only decorations in the room a vase of white lilies on the coffee table and a colourful chart hung on the wall. Looking closer I realise it’s a fully colour-coded schedule, every minute planned in advance. Jesus this girl was wound up tight.

I plant myself on the couch, Izara soon bringing me a plate of quite possibly the most delicious looking chicken salad I’d ever seen and a glass of white wine. The dark haired girl sits in a black leather chair facing me.

“Oh my God,” I groan, my mouth full of food. It was delicious. Zari laughs, lifting her glass.

“Cheers.”

���Cheers,” I smile, grabbing the glass, trying to hide the scrunch in my face as I sip the white wine, the bitter taste filling my mouth.

Zari lets out a soft laugh, noticing my expression. ”You don’t like it?”

I shake my head, my eyes still closed. ”I hate wine,”

”Why didn’t you say something Paige? You don’t have to drink it, poor girl.”

I laugh at myself, placing the glass on the coffee table. 

”I dunno man,” I rub the bridge of my nose. 

There’s a moment of both of us chuckling filling the room till it goes quiet again. I recognise a sliver of unsureness on the other girl’s face, something I’d never seen before.

”Can I ask you something?” She asks, voice softer than I’m used to. I nod.

”Did it upset you when I didn’t recognise you that first time I saw you?”

Her bluntness shocks me. I put my fork down, shaking my head. ”No, not at all,” I reply. 

She thinks for a while, putting the plate down on her lap and watching the floor. ”I’m just getting a sort of feeling that you don’t really like me much.”

I’m shocked, confused. Our eyes meet for a moment but surprisingly, she looks away. The way she says it seems lighthearted, casual, like we’re talking about the weather or something.

”Huh? No, not at all Zari,” I say urgently, chasing for her gaze. She meets my eyes, shrugging. From the outside she didn’t seem bothered at all by the possibility of me hating her, if it wasn’t for the way she was fiddling with her golden necklace.

”I don’t quite know how to explain it. You just seem a little uncomfortable around me.”

Okay. Apparently I hadn’t been as slick as I thought. In the midst of trying to hide the little innocent crush I had, I’d come off so cold and withdrawn now Zari thought I didn’t like her. Great.

I sigh, feeling a heat rise to my face. ”Shit Zari, I’m sorry,” I say, knowing there was no other way of explaining my behaviour.

”I’mma be honest, and don’t take this the wrong way. But you’re pretty intimidating.”

She thinks for a while, taking a bite of her food and swallowing before speaking again.

“How come?” Zari asks, tilting her head.

“You seem like a woman who knows her shit, and you got this mad confidence too,” I admit, picking at my cuticles. “You’re also really pretty. So yeah. Intimidating.”

I swear, for a fleeting moment, her face flushes red - but only for a second. Then she laughs and nods.

“Huh, I must work on that,” Zari says more so to herself. I shake my head.

“Nah I like that, but honestly I just feel stupid as hell around you.”

“Well you are American,” she says seriously, but the twinkle in her eye tells me she’s teasing. 

“Alright now, best country in the world,” I grin, making both of us burst into laughter. Zari sips her wine, shaking her head.

“Just to be clear Paige, I do not think you’re stupid,” she hums, meeting my gaze. A look on her face that tells me she’s being genuine.

“Okay, my turn to ask a question then,” I say, leaning back on the couch. Zari crosses her legs in her chair, intrigued.

“Are we playing 21 questions?” She asks, teasing again. “Pretty sure the last time I played this was in uni with this guy who was trying to shag me.”

It’s a tempting idea, but I shake my head swiftly. “Nah, just wanna get to know you.”

“Well go ahead.”

“You’re from London right? What in the hell got you to move to Dallas, Texas out of all the places in the world.”

Zari thinks for a while, looking up at the ceiling and shifting on her chair to get more comfortable.

“I used to work summers at this pub in Leicester Square, All Bar One. It’s horrific, super touristy and the pay wasn’t great,” the girl starts. “And there was this older man who came to London the same week every summer I worked there. He was from Dallas and told me all these stories about it being the greatest city in the world.”

“And you believed him?” I ask amused.

The girl laughs. “No, absolutely not. But then I was uh… well let’s just say going through some stuff and saw a job offer in Dallas and thought of him and took it as a sign I suppose. Not that I believe in signs but.”

I don’t pry, but I do notice the way her right hand squeezes into a fist as she talks, telling me she was really affected by whatever she was talking about.

“My turn,” she says to change the subject. “You miss Uconn?”

Easy question. “Like crazy,” I start. “‘M not used to living alone.”

“The silence right before you go to sleep is the worst,” Zari says, like reading my mind.

“Exactly,” I reply. Our eyes meet for a moment, in a silent exchange. We might be really different, but she gets me. “Miss having friends.”

“Aren’t we friends?” The girl asks, her eyes studying me.

“Are we?”

“I think we are,” she hums. “Or could be, if you’d like. It’s not that I’ve got friends here either.”

I think for a moment, looking at the empty plate on my lap. Friends. That’s all I could want.

“I’d like that Zari,” I murmur. A silence falls over us, now more comfortable than before. 

“Sooo, why haven’t you decorated?” I ask. Zari chuckles and shrugs, looking around the living room.

“I only have a visa for a season. Seems like a waste to start turning this place into a home,” the girl explains.

I furrow my brows, studying her face. “What’s the point of coming here then? If you’re not tryna make it home?” I ask, and my words hit me just as hard as they do Zari. The past couple weeks I had spent moping around, feeling sorry for myself, refusing to move forward. Maybe it was time to accept that this is my home, that maybe I should be trying a little harder to make it so.

“I mean I got some shelves but I realised I don’t have a drill so I can’t put them up,” she says, pointing to the wooden boards leaning against the wall in the corner.

“I got a drill.”

She turns to me, surprised. “You do?”

I nod, feeling proud that I might just get to save her once more. “Yeah, my dad got me a tool set when I moved.”

“Smart man, do you know how to use it though?” Zari questions, making me scoff.

“Of course I do,” I say offended, though I hadn’t used it more than once before. Finally I get up from the couch, grabbing the girl’s empty plate from her. She begins to stand up too.

“Nah, you sit Zari, I’mma put the dishes away and go get that drill, aight?” I say. She looks up at me, eyes wide, surprised, studying my face. Like she wasn’t used to this. Eventually she nods, her mouth stretching into a smile. She’s pleased, I could tell. It made me wanna do more. “I’ll get you another glass of wine too.”

It’s her turn to go speechless, as she hands me the empty glass. I can still feel her eyes on me as I walk out of the room.

-

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“I got it, sit down.”

“But, are you sure you can keep it str-”

“Zari, please sit down and drink your wine. I got it.”

Letting out a frustrated huff, I plop myself onto the soft couch, resting against the cushions. My eyes are locked on the blonde, her veiny hand wrapped around the drill, the muscles of her back flexing from the strain of holding the shelf up.  

I huff again, sipping on the wine and crossing my legs. I felt useless just watching her like this. I was so used to doing everything for myself, letting someone else work for me felt entirely backwards. Still, a part of me was enjoying being taken care of this way.

Done with the shelves, Paige takes a step back to admire her work. “Uhh, I don’t think it’s straight.”

“What?!” I ask, sitting up to see better.

She turns to me, a big grin on her face. “Kidding.”

I throw a pillow at the blonde, laughing too.

“You’re not very good at that huh?” She asks, dodging.

“At what?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“At relaxing,” the blonde says, taking a sip of a can of Coke. She’s got a point so I don’t argue. I was wired that way, being tense was part of me, a tightness in my shoulders constantly a reminder of my brain working overtime.

“I’m not the relaxing type,” I answer, standing up to look at the shelves on the wall. I gasp noticing she’s done well, even to my standards. It wasn’t lopsided at all.

“Did I do a good job?” Paige asks as I walk to stand next to her, finishing the last sip of wine.

“Mhm,” I nod, noticing a tingle running up my arm as our hands brush together for a fleeting second. Strange, must be the wine. “You did good, thank you Paige. I owe you.”

The blonde scoffs, leaning close enough for our arms to press against one another. I smell a hint of her shampoo, fruity, apple maybe? Either way, it must have been the closest I had been to a person since me and Jasper called it off.

“You made me dinner, you don’t owe me nothing,” she chuckles. I feel her eyes on me, seeing the way her face is turned to me in my peripheral vision. I could feel my chest heaving, not quite sure why.

Paige points to the colour coded schedule on the wall. I knew it seemed excessive, neurotic even. But it was the only way I got everything done. My life wasn’t easy, far from it. I had always been one to plan, but ever since my break up structure seemed like the only thing keeping my life from falling apart.

“You follow that forreal?” Paige asks, walking closer to the schedule to read through it. 

“What’s the point of having it if I don’t,” I point out, watching as her blue eyes roam the different colours. Shaking her head, she turns to me.

“You ever take a break?”

I chuckle, leaning in to point out the yellow text on the paper. “Yes, I got it scheduled in.”

“It says you should be working right now,” Paige says.

I nod. “I know.” I knew it by heart.

Paige’s blue eyes land on my face for a moment, studying me. I could feel the wine making my cheeks heat up, so I look away, back to the shelves the blonde had put up for me. The idea made my heart flutter, someone doing something like that just for me. Without expecting anything in return.

“Well,” the taller girl grabs her toolkit. “I should prolly head out and let you work.”

I feel a slight disappointment deep in my gut, hoping she would stay a little longer. After all, she was the only friend I had. But I knew what the schedule said. 

Thursday 7:00PM-9:30PM work

So I nod, following the girl to the front door, watching her put her shoes on.

“Thanks for dinner,” the blonde smirks, lids heavy as she looks down at me. My skin burns, I must have forgotten to turn the AC up after work.

“Thank you for the drilling,” I say which makes Paige let out a loud laugh. Realising what I said, I cover my face with my hand, joining her. “I mean, for the shelf.”

“Right,” Paige grins, wiping her lower lip with her thumb. “You ever need help relaxing, I’m right upstairs.”

Her voice is hoarse, deeper than usual. For a moment I think she’s flirting with me, trying to imply something entirely different than one might think at first. But I quickly shake the idea off. That wine really went to my head.

“I’ll see you Paige,” I murmur, watching her go, closing the door behind her.

I stand there for a moment, still a hint of her shampoo in the air. Turning left I eye the kitchen, everything perfectly in place just how I liked it. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cleaned for me. Jasper always claimed my standards were too high, that it was impossible for a person to fulfill my requirements. But looking at my kitchen now I had no complaints. Maybe there really were people out there that wouldn’t always disappoint me. Maybe Paige was one of them.

My eyes land on the hoodie draped over the back of a chair, navy blue and too large to be mine. I pick it up, looking at the Husky decorating the front, and I know I’m either mad or much more wine drunk than I realised when I lean in and press my nose against it, inhaling the scent, a mix of skin and deodorant and sandalwood. Returning back to my senses, I quickly pull away and neatly fold it, urgently hiding it in my wardrobe and closing the doors. 

“Jesus Izara,” I mumble to myself, making my way to my desk to work, the faint scent of sandalwood still apparent in the air around me.

-

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