#miami 2024 saturday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whowrotethenote · 26 days ago

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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐨

Summary: Alana has lived ten different lives since she met the infamous Tribal Chief. And once again, she finds herself entering into another phase of her life where things are ending and she has to make room for what’s to begin.

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Profanity // Age gap // Angst // Themes of abortion // Mentions of disease // Adultery

Word count: 12.8k

Inspo: All We Do by Trey Songz

Disclaimer // Part Two // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

Saturday, April 27, 2024

“Jesus, Anthony,” Demi cackles grabbing ahold of his wrist. “Leave some room for the damn orange juice.”

I shake my head at the champagne flute he has eighty percent full of the expensive house champagne. Saturday brunch at The Terrace and Outdoor Gardens—located in a very vibrant Manhattan. Outside feels like when Controlla dropped in 2016. The sun is unforgiving on my caramel skin, despite it only being the end of April. The table cloth is an unrealistic white, matching the aprons of the waiters strutting around, hands high with trays of fresh food. Laughter of the wealthy, glasses clinking, and the background noise of a hot and moving New York fill the atmosphere.

He purses his lips shaking her off. “It's a lituation. My two favorite girls are officially graduating.” He continues to fill my glass and soon after Demi’s. He follows the same pattern, blessing each of our glasses with only a splash of orange juice from the decanter. “And honestly—even that was too much.”

A lot has changed since the semester started. My life looks completely different. Feels completely different. I am completely different. It's almost unbelievable what time can cycle in and out of your life. I feel like I’ve lived three different lives since this time last year.

The donation for my tuition was the seed planted that grew the forest. Now my reality is rooted and tangled in luxury I only used to dream of. The donations and compensation for my time and abruptly being tugged out of my life and into his, come more often than not now.

So much so, Demi and I were able to wish the studio apartment a long awaited farewell. Twenty-eight hundred dollar rent would’ve made me choke on absolutely nothing just a few months ago. Now, it's the minor cost I pay to live comfortably, in our three bedroom condo planted in the heart of Manhattan.

The space was a bit much for just two girls, who were barely there—by virtue of our packed schedules. So we took in a stray, as Demi would call him. Anthony—or as he referred to himself as, our Fairy Gaymother—was the perfect fit to our complicated puzzle. A twenty-four year old alum to Columbia, and the children’s hospital’s youngest surgical technician—who prides himself on dating the most giving and generous of foreign men, who only come to the city for business purposes.

Only three weeks shy of graduation, we decided to take a much earned breather. Celebrating on the rooftop of this hotel, with an overflow of mimosas, conversation about men and the things we hate about them, consuming food at the highest prices inflation can convey.

Dressed in all white, brown skins accentuated by the gold we decorate ourselves with, and champagne glasses held up to heaven.

“I’ve watched you two bust your asses for four months now. So, this is well deserved. I am so proud of y’all. Cheers to being young, black and educated.”

“Exactly,” Demi agrees.

“Raising the bar,” he continues. “And deleting that damn Canvas app… until med school.” A sharp clink of our glasses sounds off like a bold period to his cheers speech.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I place the glass down after downing half of it, to replace it with my phone.

Your Tribal Chief wanted me to let you know you’re needed in Miami next weekend. Flight information has been emailed.

It's not even an inquiry anymore. They already know I’ll show.

Butterflies erupt in my diaphragm nevertheless at the realization that I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the month. He was generous enough to provide Demi and I Wrestle-mania tickets. In the wake of our schedules, we were only able to attend night one.

I’m sure he had desired to spend night two surrounded by family anyway. He took the pin and ended a legendary title reign. He’s been the top guy for so long—I’m sure it took a piece of him regardless of the preparation for the shift behind the scenes.

Demi and I watched in horror from the condo. Mouths catching flies, even minutes after the fact. We had just been there. I had just been with him. He gave no signs of anticipated defeat. He wasn’t moving like a man ready to step down from greatness. Or maybe he did. Maybe it was in between the lines of him practically demanding I be waiting for him in the trailer immediately after his match. Or the unsolicited aggression as he took me from the back. The unforgiving grip on my neck. The scandalous and countless slaps to my ass, followed by painful grips of flesh. The fine lines that garnished his nose as his upper lip curved into a snarl in between strokes. The sharp bites like a feral python in place of kisses.

Okay, thanks.

Call me if you have any questions. I’d pack very light. It’s scorching down here.

Miami…a city in such close proximity to his home. His real life. A territory nether of us touch as if it's poison ivy— opting to pretend it doesn’t even exist. But we know. It's all in the way I’m still only able to get in touch with Paul and not him. All in the days that pass between one getaway to the next. All in the routinely compensation for services. It’s disguised as a helping hand, but I already know it’s hush money. Insurance. A pretty bow wrapped on a box that guarantees his secret stays exactly that.

This isn’t the first time he’s flown me out. Our arrangement started as him just dipping into me every time he was on this end of the map. Now, wherever he is, is never too far to get me to.

The first time was in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Christmas was approaching. New York was covered and knee deep in snow. He was already in Wisconsin, preparing for Smackdown. Thursday, the night before, I received the regular text from Paul.

Locked away in another five star hotel, I waited all day for him. Watched the show air in real time as The Bloodline faced heat from none other than Mr. Voices In My Head himself—Randy Orton. The wee hours of the night crept up on me as I laid stretched out on the plush, king-sized hotel bed. The clock read 1:41 a.m. when the subtle buzz of the room key granting access, reached my ears. Like a dog awaiting its owner’s arrival, I shot up. Daddy’s home.

Lines of defeat and hard work all over his golden face. Rich beard, grayer than I had ever seen before. His bun, loose and not as pristine as usual. He was still the finest man I had ever laid eyes on. Every encounter—every late night as he shed another layer of Roman off to reveal Joe, it only made my attraction to him spread like wildfire.

Still, always reeling myself back to the impenetrable truth, that this was just sex. An exchange. Bearing witness to the lessons of my business classes— his market has a need and I’m his supplier. I know my role. And for him I act it out with grace and confidence every time.

He removed his Nike hoodie and emptied everything from his sweatpants’ pockets on top of the dresser. Again, twisting the black band off and burying it in the drawer with the rest of his guilt.

“I need a massage,” he declared with hands rested on his hips. The expression on his face and his tone suggested it was a question, but I knew better. I sat planted on my knees that sunk into the mattress, longer than I intended because the sincerity sparkling in his eyes—the neediness shook me.

Hastily, I disappeared into the ensuite bathroom as he took my place on the edge of the bed. The complimentary lotion and some type of oil, is what I return with. He’s shirtless laid out on his stomach. Eyes already shut in comfort.

Situating myself on his butt, I squeezed what I thought was a sufficient amount of lotion and scented oil into my palms. Rubbing it into my hands before sliding it evenly across his defined back in erratic patterns. Digging deep and showing supplemental love to every ridge and dip I find. I didn’t think my small hands were making an impact until he released a deep breath paired with a moan.

“Mmm.” The vibration transmitted from his core, to my hands flattened on his back, landing in my hot center. I’m sure he could feel her heating up—but nothing came of it.

That was how the night carried on. Me kneading and caressing his hard back and soft skin, until I heard the soft snores I’m accustomed to dozing off to after a long night. We didn’t do our usual. No sex. No head. No lingerie. No dirty talk. Just a much needed massage to a man who offers his life to his fans and the mat—followed by sleep.

As expected, when the sun hit my face through the drapes, I found myself alone. No trace of him. Just the lingering and faint smell of his natural scent mixed with whatever he uses for his hair. And the note on the dresser. Same message every time.

Thanks for last night.

Followed by his name and the two R’s.

I learned quickly that this little arrangement between us was exactly as Paul described that first night. He was just in need of company. Comfort on the road. An outlet. I’m here to help him unwind. That’s going to look different some nights. Some nights we fuck. Some nights he just wants to be held in complete and serene silence. Other nights I'm his personal masseuse. I know the declaration I made that night in the Hamptons, but I can’t help but always wonder if he’s like this with the others. I deem it exhausting to be spread so thin, wearing different faces for all of us.

I keep those inquiries to myself now, though. The less I know, the better. The thicker the line between us, the better. For me and for him. He’s living a double life as is. I’m here to help ease the other one or ones—and pull him away from it all, even if just for a few days. Catching feelings defeats the purpose, not making me useful anymore. And I’m not in the business of not being useful to him.

Yet and still, it nudges the back of my conscience how the inevitable split will come. I know this won’t last forever. It can’t possibly. I do have my own life too. Maybe it didn’t seem that way to him because every time he puts a Bat signal out, I’m here at the ready.

I yearn to be someone’s wife one day—yearn for love. Motherhood possibly. I can’t hang onto whatever this is forever. So yeah—the thicker the line, the better. That way when we have to break, it’ll be easy…Right?

“I’m actually a little tired of hearing about you and the Italian. All you two do is make love. Call me when y’all get into a scuffle or something.” Demi yawns.

“Well, someone has to share their mancapades. You’ve been single since Obama was in office.”He flicks a long finger my way. “This one here has a mystery sponsor she refuses to talk about.”

An unpremeditated grin adorns my me at the mention of him. Sponsor. I think I like that term better than Demi’s Sugar Chief.

“Mmph,” She catches my smile. I wish she’d get out of my head sometimes.

“I mean seriously— what is the big deal with him? I’m starting to think the man is famous…or married.”

Tight-lipped, I shrug, pulling my oversized Chanel shades over my face— to avoid lying straight to his. How has he hit in on the nail twice? Demi and I have been working like ants to keep Anthony at bay. He’s always interrogative of the secret phone calls, random deposits and last minute trips. I can feel his discovery creeping up like a lion on the prowl.

“You don’t worry about my friend and her mystery man. Her services have been keeping us all fed.” She gestures to the contents of the table. I shake my head at her mocking Paul.

“Yeah, well whatever the arrangement,” Anthony waves a hand. “Next time you see him, just whisper in his ear about me, would you?” I raise a brow. “Just tell him you have a roommate that’s on the hunt for a rich mantoy. And not one I have to hide.”

“Mantoy?” Demi’s face scrunches up.

“Yeah! I know baby boy has to have a cousin or something.”

“Yeah.” Demi chuckles bringing the mimosa to her lips. “It depends. You like seeing double?” I pinch her under the table, covering my laugh with my other hand.

“Oh, no. Maybe he prefers they come solo,” I add. We erupt into a fit of laughter together. coaxing Anthony’s wrinkly forehead as he looks between us both— smiling apprehensively.

“Wait,” Demi holds a hand up, lip quivering from all the shenanigans. “Twilight. Were you into the vampire or the werewolf?”

“Alright!” I reach into my purse pressing my lips together, barricading any more giggles. I pull out six crisp hundred dollar bills and slide them to the middle of the table. “On that note, I’m gonna go. It’s been real, gal and gay.” I raise up to kiss them both goodbye.

“You’re insufferable,” I whisper into Demi’s ear after a kiss to her cheek.

“You love me,” she replies lowly, flashing her teeth.

“Whisper in his ear!” Anthony reminds me before I reach the elevator that leads to the rest of the hotel.

“Believe me I will!”

“Thank you for your services,” Demi waves the hundred dollar bills in the air.

In the back of the Uber, I decide to check in with Paul.

“Lana,” he greets me over the phone. My phone. Thats right—we’ve also wished the payphone a farewell.

“Paul,” I greet back with the phone smushing between my ear and shoulder to shuffle through my purse. “I’m just calling to make sure it's only for the weekend?”

“Yes, the weekend is all he said.”

“Good.” Still with a million and one things in queue before graduation, I can’t afford to go M.I.A for a whole week.

“And you’ll be taking the jet again.”

“Lovely. Nice doing business with you.”

“Pleasure as always.” Ready to take the phone away from my ear to hang up, I hear my name again. “Oh—and Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations.” For a man that presents himself as an evil, flip-flopping mastermind on screen, behind the scenes he sure is an empathetic softy.

“Thank you.”

“I know the concept of graduation and the real world is quite scary, but trust me, before you know it you’ll be thirty.” I cringe. “Married, with babies, wishing you had these same problems instead.”

Babies…babies.

The energy in my walk-in closet was charged with nothing but irritation and the doom of dare I say it—judgment. She sat on the white ottoman in the center as I moved about—sharply hanging shirts and folding jeans, that on a normal day, would’ve sat in the hamper for weeks until I found the drive to deal with them. But it's not a normal day. Nothing is ever normal anymore.

It's one of those days that’ll stick with me. One of those days that I’ll think about on a random day when everything is seemingly fine. One of those days that if I’m lucky, I'll never have ever again.

She’s not talking anymore since I revealed my verdict. Demi and silence didn’t go together. It was an unlikely pair. One that gave you angst—a tornado in your stomach. Usually a context clue that something was deadly wrong. She didn’t need to speak. Four years now—living together, learning each other—loving each other. I already knew. I could already feel it.

The stinging sensation in my eyes expanded the longer she waited to speak. I knew it was coming, but the anticipation was useless. That lump in my throat grew, until swallowing brought physical pain.

“—I can’t believe you wouldn’t even just tell him.”

“What is there to tell? Huh?” My eyes widen at her even as she purposely avoided my heavy stare. “What am I supposed to do? Call Paul? And say what exactly?” I ridicule. “It won’t change anything. What do you think will happen here?”

I’d rather be anywhere else. Doing anything else. And talking about anything else. But I had been hiding already. I knew this was coming. The appointment was made days ago. And I had the nerve to walk around the condo, not even mentioning it. Leaving out whenever she came in. Eating in my room, instead of hers or the living room. Making it painfully obvious. There was nowhere else to go now.

“You don’t think he at least deserves to know?”

“The appointment is already made. It's done.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. Thats not for me to say. It’s your body—”

“So, what are you saying?”

“It’s half apart of him—”

“It,” I slapped the jeans in my hand against my thighs. “Is not anything. Okay? It is not even conscious. It has no cognitive abilities. It isn’t even the size of my fist. It's a fucking tumor— a parasite if anything.” I don’t know what took over me. All of the stares, bullhorns, signs with messages of hate and condemnation— the campaigns in the wake of all thats been going on with the laws surrounding it— was all starting to consume me. A problem I never thought I’d have to bear. But isn’t that what we always think? A problem isn’t really a problem, until it's our problem.

“And it's gonna ruin my life.” My voice cracks. “And his.”

I have things I want to do— accomplishments untouched collecting dust on the shelf, that I’d like to see through. This would put the ugliest blockade on that. I’m an absolute mess. Nothing that permanent would even fit into my life.

“It’ll change everything. This thing we have going—it's gonna be over and done with. I know it.”

“Thats what you’re scared of?”

The words get stuck in my throat—choking me. It's not about this new life and I really wish it had been. It’d be so much easier for me to just say I don’t want the perks to stop. But it's not about that. I hate that it isn’t. I hate that every time I wait in the five star hotel room, or his condo in Miami—that I’ve already forgotten about the lingerie, shoes, or bag he’s left on the bed—and my heart picks up speed when I see him walk through that door.

“I don't know.” I lie through my teeth.

“I don't think he’ll respond the way you think he would.”

“Let me guess,” I laugh mockingly. “He’s gonna come with me?” I raise a brow. “Come hold my hand? Tuh!” I shove the stack of jeans into a slot on the wall. It wasn’t fucking fitting, so I forced it— not having the capacity to figure out anything as simple as folding and putting clothes away. My mind too cluttered for simple every day tasks. “I know I don’t say what’s going on—mainly because I can’t. But you’re smart. You know exactly what’s been going on. I show you the lingerie—the shoes—my account. You see it all.”

“You’re a fool if you think it's still just sex, even now—”

“Demi, I don't need to hear this right now. Don’t you have to go to the hospital soon?”

“I told Miss Tonia I can’t come in today.”

Of course. Shaking my head, I lose the grip on the jeans in my hands. They slipped as I held the back of my hand to my nose, to ease that tickle. It started as one tear. Then another from my other eye, even heavier than the first, joined the race to my chin. Before I knew it my shoulders were shaking violently, and my vision was blurred.

I felt small arms encompass me from behind. Face pressed against my back as I came undone in the middle of the closet. If anyone was to walk in, they’d find two young girls, who had seen way too much, way too soon. Everything passing them by, but only one thing remained—stable and unwavering like a coast redwood tree. Their friendship.

“Right,” I force a laugh. “I have to go—thank you.” Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I press the red button and slam the phone face down on the leather seat. Breathe, Lana.

Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Brows turning down and nose turning up from the smell of books, books and more books—I stick a palm to my forehead, while jotting down the same notes repetitively in red pen. They say it helps to remember it this way.

The library is ironically empty, considering it’s final’s week. On the top floor like always, I sit alone at the extensive shiny, dark-wood table. A single antique lamp in the center of it, giving life to this corner of the library.

I take my last final of undergrad tomorrow morning. Marking the official end of my best and worst chapter in life. College.

They give all the trainings and seminars before they send you off, but they never really prepare you for the end. All month long, thoughts of what happens next sneak up on me.

Where will I go? What will I do? Sure I have a plan, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about life in twenty-two brisk years—it's that plans are just suggestions. Nothing is definite in this life. The curse and the gift.

My pen hits the thick college-ruled notebook, watching my phone buzz. A picture of a baby Lana being held by her five year old, toothless brother overrides my home screen.

“Yes?”

“You know—robbing banks even if you do it electronically—is still illegal.”

“The word you’re looking for is scamming, dickhead. And what the hell are you talking about?”

“There she is. That’s the Lana, I know. Not the one who buys me thirty-five hundred dollar paintings for my birthday.”

“So, you did get it?”

“Alana.”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Girl, where did you get the money for this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Uh— yeah, kind of? Especially since me and Chloe been throwing theories back and forth and all we could come up with was scamming or prostitution.” Well…he’s not completely out of range.

Something like a laugh escapes my throat. “How is Chloe?” I haven't seen my brother or his long-term girlfriend since Christmas. He didn’t show for the weekend I spent home on New Year’s and untraditionally of me, I didn’t come home for my birthday last month.

I miss him in only the way siblings can miss each other. We can spend an hour together, at the most—laughing and reminiscing about how we grew up and things we miss about it—before we start fussing about nothing and disagreeing about anything. Then, I need distance again and maybe I’ll miss him again in another two to three months.

“We broke up.”

“What?!” I shriek and immediately swivel my head to find I am in fact not the only person on this floor. Shit. “What?” I press in a fierce whisper.

His boisterous laugh fills my left ear, influencing my shoulders to drop a little. I shake my head—picking up the red pen I dropped again on the notebook. “I’m just fucking with you. Everything’s good. She’s good.”

“I can’t stand you. I don’t know how she does—willingly.”

“Don't try to switch the subject up. The painting?”

“You know—usually when people receive a birthday gift—especially a really expensive one—they say thank you.”

“I’m getting there. I’m just trying to figure out first, what my little sister has been doing to afford said really expensive gift.”

“Did you like it?” I side step his curiosity the same way I do with my parents. I plumule them with questions of my own. They’re still asking with every phone call,“how are you paying rent in a condo in Manhattan?” They bought the random donor for my bill. Everything else, they were absolutely not going for.

“You’ve never been this consistent with anything in your whole life.” It's not a secret that my brother is a nomad in careers. In high school, he fixated on basketball. In undergrad he wanted to get into tech. And now as an overgrown graduate, his new thing? Art. “Who’s paying you?” I probe.

“I don't know what you talking about…” I wait. “It's mommy. She said she’d pay my rent for the month if I got it out of you.” There we go. “She told me about you moving out the condo and going to Miami for your birthday. I didn’t believe her. Then I got the painting last week.” I exhale deeply. “She’s really worried, Lana.”

“Mommy starts her day worrying about something. How is me having money and living comfortably, cause for worry?”

“Because just last year you were asking to hold two hundred dollars and sharing a studio. Come on now. And when we ask—you do this. Deflect.”

“Make something up. I don’t know. Believe me—it's nothing to worry about.”

“I hope you’re leading with your head and not your heart.”

My face balls up. “You sound like your father.”

“That’s not good…” He’s quiet for a beat. Probably thinking of another angle. He can poke and prod like the detectives Benson and Stabler. I’m solid. He releases a breath through the phone. “Looks like I’ll be paying my own rent.”

“Damn.” It wasn’t just about the NDA. It was the weight of the judgment I anticipate. Hell, I look at myself sideways some nights thinking about this life I’ve created that’s sewn in lies and adultery.

“I saw your mans lost his title a while back. Shit crazy.”

I freeze up—pen stopping mid stroke at the mention of him. How does he find his way in every part of my life? “Crazy,” I agree with no inflation in my voice.

“You still watch wrestling?”

“Not really,” I lie. “Haven't really had that much time to, anyway.”

“That last lap is a bitch, ain't it?”

“Shitting me?” He chuckles.

“Don’t be expecting a thirty-five hundred dollar graduation gift. It’ll be more like thirty-five dollars. Seeing as I have to pay my own rent and stuff.”

“Still waiting on my thank you.”

“Thank you, Lana. I really do appreciate it.”

“There you go. Did that kill you?”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I went to this art show in Brooklyn. I saw it and it immediately felt like you.”

“So, this new Lana is paid and she has feelings? I don’t know who he is, but send ol’ boy my love and blessings.”

Thursday, May 2, 2024

“Completely bald?”

“Completely bald.” Demi confirms. “Wasn’t a single hair left on that bitch. I almost asked him did he have business hours. My wax lady don’t even get me right like that.”

I shake my head, continuing the assault on my MacBook keyboard, racing to the finish line of this paper before 11:59 strikes. The last lap, I remind myself. Curling further into the corner of the cream-colored couch—toes sinking into the spongy cushion—I use Demi and Anthony’s pubic hair exchange as background noise.

Unfortunately, for my best friend, she’s experiencing another failed attempt of “getting out there.” Everything was seamless with the younger twenty-one year old quarterback, who plays for St John’s an hour away from us. Closing in on two weeks of thoughtful dates and suggestive texts, she finally decided to see what he was talking about in the bedroom. To her dismay, she discovered a whole lot more than a horse. The horse was bald.

Demi and Anthony sit on the carpet below me by the coffee table. Their lax game of Go Fish on complete pause after her revelation to the group.

“Wow.” Anthony puts his entire deck face down now, too invested in her dilemma. “Now, as a ponk—I prefer it. I didn’t know straight men did that shit too?”

“Neither did I! I mean he pulled it out and wham! Like am I fucking a seven year old?” My unsolicited snort causes her to swivel in my direction. “He could’ve at least left a little bit. A nice trim. I don’t need the whole forest.”

“So you like a little hair?” Anthony presses with dents in his brows. You would’ve thought they were sharing how they like their steak to be cooked. “Thats interesting. La, what about you?”

Demi leans back on both palms where she sits—face fixing with amusement. “Yeah, La. What about you?”

“This mystery man—he’s older isn’t he?” I nod. Nonverbal. “I feel like older men don’t even bother with that type of stuff. They just let it do its thing.”

My Samoan giant definitely trims. My mind is overrun by the soapy smell as he forces me all the way down until my nose is buried in the black hairs. “Trim,” I reveal.

He gasps. “Really? Every thing I thought I knew is wrong.”

Capping the last sentence on the screen with a period, I release the deepest sigh. Proofreading. Yeah, right. The graduation application has been accepted already. Clicking submit, I shove the pink device off my lap. “Well, was it big?” I break the silence.

“Eh.” She waves a hand. “Now that mouth? Something completely different.”

Anthony swats her leg. “You naughty girl. I thought y’all didn’t do anything.”

“No.” She beams. “I told you we didn’t have sex.”

“Did you return the favor?” I ask.

“I wasn’t putting my mouth anywhere near that hairless hotdog.” I feel a buzz underneath my outstretched leg. “Back to abstinence I go.”

Without even knowing the contents of the message, a giddiness—girl-like and dainty—possesses me upon seeing the football and black heart emoji combo.

i’m outside

Like I said—my life looks completely different now.

“Uh oh.” Anthony retrieves his deck from the carpet. “I know what that means.”

Biting my lip between a smile— I stand, stepping into my Ugg slippers. “I’ll be back.” I regret to inform.

“Mmhmm.” Demi grins. “Tell him I said hi.”

Down the building elevator and through the lobby, the pit in my stomach grows with every advancement. Exiting my building into the night air of May—sounds of sirens and music from cars speeding by are powerful. New York is a different animal when the temperature rises. I spot the matte black Mercedes AMG a few steps up the block. Lights still on with a familiar sultry R&B beat, muffled and pounding from it.

I knock on the tinted window, placing my hands in the pockets of my Spider hoodie. Seconds later the door is pushing open to reveal him.

Jaire Alexander. Twenty-seven year old cornerback for the Green Bay Packers. He sinks back into the leather seat, getting comfortable, marinating into all his five foot ten energy. The car smells brand new despite him having it for over a year now. Always carrying the energy of “chill, but still a big deal,” he’s dressed in a black Nike Tech, accompanied by something very sparkly on his wrist. His Creed cologne, overpowering the small space in the best way. A smoke signal to anyone near by, that a man—a well established one—is in the midst.

I turn in my seat as we perform that same dance we do every time we see one another. Smiling like two teenagers who just passed the “do you like me,” note in class. His dimple is soft, a contradiction to his sharp jawline. He reaches to turn the knob on the radio—lowering the comforting sounds of Dilema by Nelly and Kelly Rowland.

“What you smiling at?” My shoulders rise and fall as my cheeks grow tender. His low chuckle fills the car. “Still not a woman of many words?”

“Still trying to figure you out, is all.”

A drunk night in Miami for my twenty-second birthday, had me literally colliding into him. I shut him down—like I do every man that crosses my path. But Jaire was consistent and charming as fuck. He was hard to sidestep and ignore. His laid back southern charm captivating me from the start.

It's unfortunate what lies behind the curtain. My life just doesn’t call for whatever this is. It was a classic case of right person, wrong fucking time.

I really wish we had met at a different time. Under different circumstances. Maybe five years from now—when I’ve exhausted all my use to him and he’s retired the ring, ready to live out the rest of his days with his football team of kids and the one that actually makes his heart beat like mine is right now.

“I could say the same thing about you.” He looks down—tongue sliding over his perfect top row of teeth. “Wouldn’t have to wonder no longer if you’d just let me take you out. A real date.” It's my turn to shy away from his intense stare. His pear-colored eyes with specks of brown, enough to make any woman fall to her knees. “Don’t you think this car thing is getting a lil’ old?”

This is as far as we’ve got. From Miami, to random phone calls and text messages, to unforeseen visits when his schedule permits—like right now. The most we do is talk about surface stuff. School. Major news. Our favorite things. How our day is going. Nothing too deep. That’s my doing. I don’t want the strings to get too tight in the event I have to cut them altogether. The most intimate thing we’ve done includes him taking my small hand into his large one as he compares the size.

“Soon,” I promise for the umpteenth time. I can’t see a near future where this works with what else I have going on, but the way my soul relaxes when I’m around him just won’t allow me to cut this off.

While in the spirit of disappointment—I release a deep breath in preparation to keep it going. “I’m gonna be M.I.A again this weekend.”

His head rolls back until it hits the head rest. “You killing me, Lana.”

“I know—I know.” I shake my head, fixing my gaze out the windshield, watching a couple hand in hand pass by on the street. “It's just the weekend.”

“And after that?”

My mouth opens and closes, because I have nothing for him. No plans. No good news. Just more words I can’t say. More half stories mixed with half truths.

This isn’t how any exchange between two potential lovers should start. A foundation built on lies, secrets, and deceit. No—thats reserved for him. This… This is something completely different. Or at least that’s how it feels. He feels good to me in a way that not just the other one doesn’t, but in a way no man ever has. It’s genuine. It’s organic. I’m myself. He’s hisself. There’s no angst— no looking over my shoulder. No confusion. No grey area with him. You know that feeling when you meet a man and you can just tell from the burn of your cheeks with every laugh, every word in that first exchange—that he’ll be in your life for a very long time? The heat—the jump in your heart when he says his name to you for the first time.

“Balls in your court…always has been.”

Friday, May 3, 2024

The cool water from his condo’s infinity pool is a soothing contrast to Miami’s humidity. Even now, at eleven at night. Paul was right. If the emerging heat in New York is unforgiving, then the heat ensuing down here is just relentless.

The city is lit up below me. Lively and vibrant—leaving me to wonder what could be happening. I down the rest of the costly champagne he had waiting for me, wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. No note and of course he wasn’t there with it. I’m not sure of the occasion, but there never really is one when I’m greeted with expensive gifts from him. Just candy to keep the baby quiet.

I’m sure he’s oblivious or rather careless to my recent accomplishments.

My insides heat up—face growing hot as I grow restless. Champagne bottle half gone. I push myself over to the opposite side of the pool where he’s seated.

I waited all day as usual. Excitement diminishing when he finally entered just to be on a business call. What fucking business is there to discuss at eleven at night?

I missed him—or maybe the dick. Either way I’m feigning for something that’s lacking. I rest my chin on my forearms—holding myself steady on the edge.

“That’s what I’m saying. If he wants more—the numbers have to go up.” He talks with a large hand. Legs spread apart, just begging for me to sit on him. Saying fuck the glass—I bring the bottle to my lips. A battery in my back to execute the plan in my head.

Reaching behind me, untying the knot of the colorful Pucci bikini top, I release the double D’s that never fail to steal his attention. The material pops as it comes undone, resting in between my now exposed breast. Nipples a shade darker than my skin and hard as rocks due to the cold water and stretching arousal.

He didn’t even need to do anything. Just thinking of him all day—the anticipation built since Paul’s text letting me know I would see him soon—was enough to turn me on.

His bottom lip sinks into his mouth as he squints in my direction. Shuffling in the lounge chair with a strong hand running down his thigh.

“Right,” he agrees with the other party of his phone call with a flat tone. I bite my lip failing to hide my amusement. I push away from the ledge to dive back. The water—cold and powerful swallowing me until I pop back to the surface. Fingertips wrinkly and chlorine invading my senses. Placing palms on the ledge— I push myself up and out. Breast bouncing freely with every step that leaves a trail of water on the stone flooring.

He hasn’t blinked once. Eyes bright—the lights from the city and pool reflecting off them. Fixating like a movie projector lens, recording my every move. I pay him and myself a favor— untwisting the cap off with a loud pop and pouring a double shot of whatever brown liquid was housing the decanter he brought out with him and hadn’t even touched. It runs smooth into the glass—mimicking the much broader sound of the pool’s filter.

I extend it to him. Tongue sliding over my teeth, watching him watch me. Instead of taking ahold of the glass itself, he wraps a large hand over mine—prompting me to pour the shot into his mouth. He doesn’t even react to the alcohol.

In the spirit of temptation, I turn to plant myself on top of his inviting manspread. Shifting to the side so both my legs can drape over his toned thigh. Dripping wet from the swim I took—he’s not even fazed. He just sinks deeper into the lounge creating more space for me to get comfortable.

“Mmhm,” he hums in agreement. The strong and persistent voice echoing from the speaker of his phone, a straight cockblock.

Sliding a wet hand up his black shirt, I find the soft skin of his abdomen stretched over his rippling muscles. Acrylic black French tips dragging up and across. Then down, brushing over the tent begging for attention despite its owner’s current distractions.

Rising to my knees, I maneuver one on the other side to straddle him. Making sure all of the heat from me brushes right up against the beast. All the while, leaning over to retrieve another shot from the decanter. This one is for me.

It hits me right in my chest and spreads—not showing any mercy on the furnace that is already growing in pussy. Literally aching— I shift in his lap, creating much needed friction. Taking his free hand in mine, guiding it to my slim stomach. His fingers spread, damn near covering my entire mid section. Eyes locking on me. I slide it up so he’s covering my entire left titty.

This is backfiring. Teasing him only makes me more antsy, feeling like a boiling pot of water with the lid shaking off.

His mouth widens—eyeballing the two thick fingers of his I slide all the way up to my warm mouth to suck.

“Sounds good…Yup—alright. See you soon, man.” In a rush, his thumb is on the red button and he tosses the phone to the table, not even looking to ensure its landing. Before it even hits the table I’m on him. Biting, licking, sucking everywhere that’s available. He’s no better. Gunning for my neck at the same time I angle to find his.

“We don’t know patience tonight?” He smiles through a kiss.

“I don't have any left,” I answer in between assaulting his mouth with licks. His smile deepens, advertising a single dimple peaking out from underneath the thick hairs on his cheek. Rough hands grip my face, stilling me. Everything pausing for a moment.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi.” I greet back—a small giggle ensuing. All confidence burning out under his immediate attention now. But he’s on me and there’s absolutely nowhere to hide.

He’s slimmed down a lot these last couple of months. I don’t know if it's intentional, but he looks damn good either way. Almost like his younger self when he used to run around with Seth and Dean. The ridges and valleys that map his body—from his arms, strong back and his core—more defined than ever. The grey in his beard a permeant staple now. Damn.

I look down between us—his stare too intense. I’ll never get used to this. No amount of alcohol—no drug can suppress the young Lana gawking at the one and only, Roman Reigns.

My eyes make the trail back up to his. Smiling with his eyes and nothing else. “There she is,” he whispers.

My heart thumps just a little harder. A little faster. Yielding to the courage of alcohol—slow and deliberate—I lean in again, but not to kiss his lips this time. Once over his forehead. Another over the crinkle in the corner of his left eye. The definition of his cheekbone. Then, finally I arrive at his mouth. He takes the initiative to slither his tongue inside, after a drawn out peck. Our breath picking up again as another power struggle ensues. My hand sneaks behind him to tug at the bun until it comes undone. My wild Samoan.

The kiss is sloppy and dizzying much like the alcohol is slowly but surely making me. So much so, I barely register the push of his hips, as he slides his shorts down just enough to release himself. The hand he has digging into my hip, unties one string on my bottoms, freeing me.

A sharp gasp pulls from me as I crane my neck up at the feel of him—wide and strong filling every inch of me.

“This shit…” The wind he releases from his nostrils is heavy against my neck, before he sinks his teeth into my throat.

I can’t wait to adjust. I need it now. My hips wind up and down chasing that feeling that’s closer than it usually is. Heat possesses me as I lean a hand back on his leg continuing to grind on him. Massive hands cover the entirety of my breasts, only heightening this euphoria.

“So tight.” He strains with a locking jaw. The depth in his voice another brick stacking itself atop of my nagging climax.

His mouth falls open with shut eyes, relaxing as I do my thing. “Oh my god—I’m gonna cum already.” I pant. Thigh muscles aching, breathless and grip on his leg slipping—but I refuse to slow up. This shit just feels too good.

He grows unbelievably stiffer inside of me. My end so close if I reach out I can touch it. I whimper and nearly throw a fit when he rises all the way up, standing at full height with my legs wrapping around him.

Top row of pearly whites sinking into his plump bottom lip, while he lays me flat on the lounge chair. My frustration is snipped watching him lift his shirt up and off, exposing that masterpiece of a body. The ink on his arm jumping when he grips himself to sink back inside.

“Unnhh!” A muffling moan erupts at the feel of him bottoming out, but as quick as he’s in, he’s back out to slide his full length between my lips. I jump at the tingle on my bundle of nerves where his head grazes. “Joe, please,” I beg. Vacant of any shame. One hand tangled in my wet hair, the other cupping my breast. Both our stomachs rising and falling at the thrill we’ve orchestrated.

My hole clenches around nothing and it’s enough to make me go mad like a woman possessed. Earning a full view of him and his naked glory will only make me spiral. I squirm against him and the soft cushion under me. Eyes inching down where he continues to rock on me and not inside of me.

I quite literally take matters into my own hands, reaching to bury him where I need. My breath coming out shaky. He goes as deep as humanly possible—heavy hands on the back of my thighs, spreading me apart. My everything on display for him. Lips glistening under the moonlight, pink skin pulling him in, and even pinker nub distended completely.

His eyes switch back and forth over my face and my center. “Touch it for me,” he urges not slowing his strokes.

His obedient soldier. I reach a hand down, eyes closing, mouth in an “O” shape. You would think I’m back at the condo, locked in my room during that small window on Friday afternoons, where Anthony is still at the hospital and Demi is in her last class. It's like he’s not even here. Just a silent passenger in the vehicle as I drive myself to the big bang. That is until the weight of him is crushing me as he accelerates, capturing my mouth in an invasive kiss. The hairs of his full beard scraping my face—a complete deviation from his delicate lips. I hum at the taste of him. Warm and commanding, just like the liquor he consumed. His tongue is everywhere. My neck, collarbone, shoulder, chest, nipples, the valley between them—until he finds his way back into my mouth. Warm, solid and wet.

He pulls back just enough to watch me. Brown pupils dancing over every inch of my face. Studying me. Every hit, loud and forceful. My whole body jerks with every entry up and down the long chair.

Eye to eye—no words exchanging. No need for them. It's all seen and felt where we connect. The “i’ve missed you,” being pummeled deep inside me. The “i’ve missed you too,” tangled with my fingers in his fluffy mane, pulling his face as close as possible and making sure he stays here.

The orgasm comes like a meteor. Catastrophic. Once you realizing it’s coming—it's too late. It's already here. My own scream is cloudy in my ears as my whole world comes crashing down. His face is buried in my neck. My nails pressing into his scalp. Eyes pooling with tears of passion, pain and pleasure. The twinkling lights from Miami almost look like stars in the sky watching us.

If sex was the equivalent to wrestling, he’d hold every title in the WWE universe stacked on his shoulders. He leaves no stone unturned.

The come down is cut short as I’m flipped on all fours. Full of him again. My back pressing to his front. His strong hand cupping my jaw. The other, squeezing the life out of my left titty—trapping me in his web of gentle dominance. He rocks into me. Slender nose pressing flush against the side of my face.

I take a hold of this wrist to get some type of grip on reality. I don’t know what to center on. I feel him everywhere he can possibly be.

Wet curls clinging to my neck and face—I gasp every time his hips snap against me. Huffs and pants in my ear, he breathes out like a dog. His tongue making shapes of every kind wherever it can reach.

In his strong embrace I feel untouchable. Nothing feels better than this.

“Mine,” a gruff declaration. Ready to default it as a figment of my vibrant imagination—enhanced by alcohol— I hear it again with twice the aggression. “Mine,” he growls directly in my ear, making it impossible to ignore. His shallow breaths and forceful thrusts picking up in unison. Knocking the very wind from my lungs. I'm helpless to think, respond, or react. Bagging his claim and wrapping it to save for later.

“Where do you want it?” He begs to question low in my ear still. I’m helpless. Mouth opening and then closing tight in a twisting pout at him hitting the spot still sensitive from my first release. “Huh?” His choppy strokes snap me to my sense. Please, not in me.

“My mouth.” Looking up at him with pleading eyes, I urge again. “In my mouth.”

Face contorting in pain almost, he fits in four good thrusts before pulling out. I scrape my knees rushing to them in front of him. He stands grand and tall like a statue. I take him in my hand to finish what I’ve started. His balls jumping with every jerk of my small fist. Underside of his thick tip pressing against my tongue that I hold out to catch what he offers me when it comes.

A much larger hand waves mine off his thickness so he can take over. His other hand gripping the top of my head—fisting a mess of wet curls, forcing my neck to crane harder as an intense wince escapes me. Still, I offer my mouth—wide and waiting at the ready. Eyes bouncing from his intense face to the head of his dick, so hard the tip is turning a pale color.

“Give it to me,” I plead. “Please—please. I want it.” Knowing exactly what sends him over the edge, I request desperately like I’m a woman in the dessert and he possesses the last ounce of water for miles.

“Ughnn! Aw, fuckkk!” It comes out heavy. Spurts of thick white fluid in my mouth. Strays landing on my chin and my chest.

“Mmm,” I hum in satisfaction listening to his guttural moans. Fixating on his stare locked in on me, as he doesn’t let up his strokes until he squeezes the very last bit on my lips.

“Damn,” he mumbles—fine lines forming in between his brows. A smug look resides over my face, right before I gather the saltiness from my tongue, allowing it to drip down to my chin. “Filthy.” He shakes his head.

The night is long and busy. He makes up for the weeks spent apart, tenfold. Filling me in just one night, with enough to hold me over for another month without him, if I had to. From the lounge chair, to the pool, to the shower, to the bed. We break in the condo and make our mark the same way we’ve done a hundred times before.

By the time we close our eyes, the Miami skyline was turning blue.

It’s not long before I hear the shower running. Morning’s burnt orange rays nearly blinding me from the glass balcony door. I groan, burying my head under the stack of fluffy pillows to drift back into slumber.

Consciousness didn’t see me again until a couple hours past noon. This is how it is when I’m in his world. I sleep all day and come alive in the night time like a bat out of hell.

My body is aching, sore with all the evidence of merciless sex. Bruising on my hips, my neck and my knees. Tiny scratches in the most hidden places. I observe them all with a sadistic smile in the steam ridden mirror after a much needed shower.

He left a key fob on the nightstand. I’m assuming it grants me access to the condo. Good. Theres no way I’m staying in here all day again.

The elevator dings as I exit into the lobby on the first floor. Three chandeliers in the center, looking like the price of my tuition. Ceiling high to heaven covered with artwork I didn’t even notice yesterday. I find myself staring up in awe and almost bumping into someone coming in my direction before I focus back on the task at hand.

I catch the eye of the young brunette behind the desk that’s almost as tall as her.

“Hello!” She acknowledges me cheerfully. I offer a closed mouth grin.

“Hi. Do you a have a phone I could use?”

“Eh—sure.” She sits on top of the counter a digital telephone that looks like it's never been touched, fresh out the box, with not a speck of dust on it.

“Thanks. I won’t be long, I swear.” She nods and I make my way to the other wall near the steel elevators.

I dial the number I was forced to memorize by heart.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh—bitch don't scare me like that. I thought you were that Iota from sophomore year calling me from another unknown number.” I stifle a chuckle in the eerily quiet foyer, with at best, only four other people.

“What’s going on back there?”

“Same shit—different day.” I return the stank face to an older lady eyeing my unkempt, “I just had sex,” hair paired with his t-shirt that only stops right below my butt. One raise of my arm and every one in this lobby would get a free show.

“Any calls?”

“Mom called twice. I text her and said it's a really busy day at the hospital and I’ll call when I can.”

“Good girl,” I commend. Demi and I have a routine down pack. It's full proof and hasn’t failed us yet.

“Your dad called. I sent him a question mark. He said nothing—just wanted to check in on you. Uhhh… Mariah from your business policy class asked if you know anybody that takes good grad pics.”

“Send her the boy who took ours.”

“On it. And Jaire called last night…” My eyes flutter closed, running my nails along my forehead. The line is grotesquely silent.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. When do you ever have nothing to say.”

I hear her huff. “What are you going to do about him? I don’t think it’s right that you got him hanging on like that—”

“Hanging on like what? You think this is on purpose? I already told him he couldn’t have came at a worse time.”

“So, then where do you go from here? Cause every time he pulls up you go outside.”

“I don't know,” I snap in an undertone. We don’t speak for a while. I marinate in this dilemma. I like Jaire. I mean—I really like Jaire. He’s charming, respectful, funny and patient. There’s no guess work with him—no mystery. He’s like a breath of fresh air in the line up of men who want nothing but to waste my youth and take what they can, while they can.

“I can tell that you like him, Lana.”

“I can’t really do nothing about that— can I? What am I supposed to do? Tell him, ‘yeah I really like you and we can start dating as long as I can still fuck my Sugar Chief on the side and go missing for days at a time?’” I smile coyly at the front desk lady, praying she didn’t catch any of that before turning away from her.

“Something has to give. You don’t want this thing to last forever, do you?” If I’m lucky, it will. But lucky, I have never been.

“It can’t.”

“You think Jaire will wait for you?”

“Honestly? No.” Great catches are hard to come by. I know in my heart theres another girl that actually deserves his time on her way to him. And when she crosses his path—what would make him choose me over her? “Say I do cut this off. What does that mean for us? Me and you?” It's no secret that it's not just I who benefits from this arrangement. Demi and I barely lift a finger these days. The strife of living paycheck to paycheck has been wiped away thanks to the head of our table.

“I don't know…I’ve been meaning to bring that up. Like—what if he wakes up next week and decides it done and over with? That he wants to be a family man for real? I know we’ve been stacking the money we make from work and the hospital—but that’s chump change. We’d have to downgrade. Like a lot. Are we really ready for that?”

“Can we talk about this when I get back?” The high from the events of last night are slowly being seized by conceptions of the days to come.

Too often I find myself wishing I can just stay in his world, and my world be the distant secret. But the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want this set up. Sneaking in and out of cities, never seeing him in the light of day and fitting in calls from a condominium’s front desk phone. The whole thing is like period sex. In the dark it feels good. Once you turn the lights on to get a clearer look at the mess you’ve made—my god.

“Okay—I’ll leave it alone. The moment. We’re still in it. Worry about that shit another time.”

“Right. Well, I guess if you need me you can call this number back. Just ask for me. I’ll give the girl at the desk my name.”

“Okay. See you when you get back. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you too.”

He returns earlier than he did the night before. So early, I was taking my routinely nap so I’d have enough energy to tend to him when he comes. I’m woken up by the softest kisses mixed with the coarseness of his facial hair. On my back en route to my ass. I’m wiping the drool from my mouth and lifting my hips for him to slide my panties down. The appetizer to yet another long and restless night.

Finally, we make it to my favorite part.

“Quizlot and all that other shit—we didn’t have none of that when I was in school.”

“Quizlet,” I correct. Tracing the lines of the intricate artwork on his chest piece where my chin is resting.

“Yeah—that. I saw my daughter using that stuff and I couldn’t believe it. I’m like— you’re only in high school. It’s only gonna get harder from here on out.”

“Oh my god. What did y'all do if y'all didn’t study?” I ride over the mention of his daughter like a bad pothole.

“That depends. Now, if it was a big lecture hall?” He waves his large hand in the air. “Just send somebody in to take the test for you. I was a football player— I could do things like that.” He nods in contempt with a toothy grin, pulling an eye roll from me. Fucking athletes. “Or just go in and say a prayer. Hopefully my coach could work something out. Most of the times I really just had to study. Even for the electives I didn’t give a shit about.”

“Wow. You’re like a fossil.” His sour face has my stomach aching with laughter.

“I’m the finest fossil you ever seen, babygirl.”

"I won't argue with you on that.”

“Just stay the course,” he continues with his original point. Taking me by surprise, he brought up graduation. I guess he does pay attention. “Stay focused. Work hard. I’m telling you, it’ll pay off. What’s next? Medical school?” I hum and nod. “Survival of the fittest, I hear.”

“That’s what they say. When I do my residency, that’s when they say I’ll know for sure if I really wanna be a doctor. That’s the real test. No more books. It's time for the real stuff.”

“Mm. You can handle all that—cutting people open and stuff?”

“Well, I wouldn’t do that. The surgeon would. But I’m pretty sure I won’t make it out of med school without cutting some stuff.”

The noise of Miami, cars blasting music as they ride by, horns honking—fill the room distantly. I collect his chin hair between my index and middle finger, watching him. He really is beautiful from any angle.

He clears his throat. “Did you always want to go into oncology?”

His inquiry catches me off guard. My hand releases him as he angles his head to look down at me.

“Um—no actually. I wanted to be a make up artist like my mom. When I was like twelve or something like that.” I shake my head laughing. “She didn’t have the heart to tell me I was shit.” He flashes a smile. That thumb running familiar circles on my bare hip under the covers. “And then—” My voice snags on apprehension. It's been years since I’ve talked about this. It's one of those things you bury inside. A block hidden all the way in the middle of a Jenga tower, that only if you’re skilled and worthy, I’d let you pull out of me. A story I choose not to tell to anyone who wasn’t there to live it with me.

“My uh—my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer. I was like fourteen when they sat me and my brother down to tell us. It was only stage two, but at that age—that didn’t mean very much to me. All I heard was that my dad’s brain was killing him.” He’s still as a statue. Gaze on me unwavering. “He’s good now, but we had a rough couple of years before he got to that point. My whole family fell apart. They got divorced. My brother left for school. It just…didn’t feel good.”

“But to answer your question—I wanted to get into oncology because I thought, yeah my dad made it, but he was lucky. Might’ve lost some other things.” I shrug carelessly even though it haunts me and has shaped eighty five percent of the attitude I’ve morphed towards life. “But he made it out with his life. Some other people aren’t so lucky. So—I thought I wanted to be one of the ones to change that. And I know I’m just one person and there’s been thousands of doctors before me. I probably won’t make much of a difference. I don't know.” I shrug again.

It's too quiet. The weight of his stare is heavy regardless of the fact that I can’t see it. I’m not looking at him so I can't gauge his thoughts. He’s almost impossible to read anyway. I should’ve just shut the fuck up. Made up some bullshit story about wanting to save strangers. My roots are way too deep for the shallowness of whatever we are to one another.

“That’s beautiful,” he expresses in an octave as soft as the sheets we lay in. Bringing my heart rate back down to normal with the comfort and reassurance of his words. "So beautiful," he repeats. Pools of brown jumping around my whole face in a matter of seconds. His big thumb running over my cheek. A part of me, tangling in what he means to refer to as beautiful. Me or the confession?

Before I can think too deeply, his lips are on mine. Soft and deliberate. Not like all the other times. No, this kiss is a little different. It might be the shots we took earlier. Or just the fuzziness that comes with staying up at the wee hours back to back like this. I don't know and I don’t really care in this moment. All I can seem to care for is the way his tongue glides over mine, igniting tiny fires all over me. The way his rough hand grips my chin to keep me in place. The look in his eyes—a look I’ve never seen before on him as he pulls away. And finally, the way he pulls me closer up under him before we close our eyes and choose our dreams over reality.

Sunday, May 5, 2024

“Uhn…Uhn…Eh…Uhn.”

Grunts and pants. Thats what pulls me from my slumber. I think I might be dreaming still. But the more cognizant I become, the louder they grow. My eyes shoot open. Big mistake. The shots taken the night before dig their nails into my head as I groggily lift up. “Mmm.” I groan in pain.

I’m floored as my attention is drawn to the source of all the ruckus. All man—big, burly and covered in a sheen of sweat—he pushes himself up and off the floor repeatedly. The digital clock beside me reads 11:03 A.M.

What the hell is he still doing here?

Mesmerizing. Watching his large frame break a sweat. Veins pumping. The muscles in his back prancing while the cuts in his arms pump to their full capacity. Hair hanging loosely around his broad shoulders. The rhythm of his deep pants waking up other parts of me before my brain can catch up.

I’m stuck in place, refusing to move on the bed even as he rises from the floor to his full height. It's evident that we shock each other.

“…Good morning.” He speaks first.

His attentive gaze, a reminder that it is in fact morning and we sit in the light of day. I grow self-conscious with every second that passes, realizing what that must look like on me after a full night of drinking and fucking like a wild animal. I run a hand through my curls which are most likely wilder and out of place from air drying. I pull the sheet up tighter avoiding his stare.

“Morning.” I clear my throat.

My eyes follow his every movement as he retreats and returns with a water bottle to his mouth. Basketball shorts hanging low around his waist. He moves in my direction and holds the half empty water bottle out for me.

I look at it then him, and back at it again. “Thank you.”

He’s gone right after passing it to me. The shower runs from the conjoined bathroom. “You getting in here?”

We don’t have sex. He barely touches me. Just washes himself. We do a funny routine of looking and then looking away once we realize the other is looking too. It's a weird kind of intimacy. Void of any sexual guise. Just two people—comfortable enough in each other’s presence, in each other’s nakedness—showering together.

It's about that time. I’m zipping my carry on after gathering the last of the strays spread across his condo inside. I peak over where he’s sitting in the chaise lounge chair by the balcony door, fiddling with something in his hands. It's too small for me to see.

The room is decorated with silence. Not an awkward one. It's not comforting either. It's that same silence when everyone is packing the last night on vacation. All the memories from the days before spent drinking, partying and relaxing are on replay in your mind. All the things back at home waiting for you, flood your mind shortly after. Every one is sad to leave, but no one really says it because it obvious.

My mind drifts to the last time I saw him before this weekend. Wrestle-mania.

I don't know what comes over me. Standing by the bed just a few feet away from him—I blurt out the only words that I can think of.

“You’re still my champion…”

Elbows resting on this knees he averts his gaze my way. Features twisting at first from my sudden outburst, but they soften after a beat.

He holds a big fist out. I don’t even fight the lazy smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. The coolest motherfucker in and outside of the ring.

I take the necessary steps toward him to connect my minute fist to his larger one. He turns his hand so his palm is face up to reveal what I saw him messing with earlier. A dainty silver bracelet, adorned with charms that practically wink at me when the vibrant lights we sit under touch it for just a second.

Raising my brows—he mirrors my expression, holding his hand out further, initiating me to take it. Surely, not.

The stones dancing on the hanging “A” charm are cold under my fingertips. Another charm—a graduation cap—shines even brighter. Too bright to be anything other than diamonds. “I left your name downstairs.”

“For what?” I question, still in awe of the fine piece of jewelry as I clasp it on.

“Whenever you’re in the city, you’ll have a place to stay.” He explains holding out the key fob I used earlier to return to the room.

Twirling the key in between my fingers, I scan my brain for a reason not to accept the grand gesture, but I come up short. “Try not to have too much fun without me.” He adds, smirking.

“I can bring people?”

“Long as you follow the NDA, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

I’ve grown immune to receiving hand outs from him. But, this time feels different. The bracelet has meaning. The “A” charm and graduation cap—maximizing a pivotal time stamp—makes it personal. It's not just a bag he thinks I’ll like. Not just a lingerie set with the intentions of taking it off. No—this is different. This is special.

Saturday, May 11, 2025

I think about that last day spent with him all week. On the entire jet ride back to New York. The car ride back to my own condo. It's the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep every night. I can’t get that look he gave me as we laid in the bed, out of my head. It replays like a broken record.

Yet and still, it's not enough to ease the dilemma that was waiting for me back home.

The car thing is getting old… show me what’s new

Thumbs doing a little dance over the lit screen, I reread the same message for the twentieth time.

I’ve decided to give Jaire a chance. After I walk across that stage in a week, I’d be entering into a whole new chapter—a whole new space. A new Alana. Which means I have to make room for new things to fit. Only thing is, starting a chapter with Jaire and it actually meaning something, would require me to end the one with him—Joe. I must be insane. Just delusional. There is no chapter. There is no anything. It’s just an excerpt.

All we do is fuck, drink and sleep. He upgrades my life whatever way he sees fit. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but to make this arrangement more feasible. He doesn’t care about Alana. He doesn’t see me. He just sees a girl that looks at him like the star he is, so she’s willing to go the extra mile to stay in space with him. Well, not anymore.

That night I keep replaying is a figment of my wild imagination. Just a blimp in his, that’s long forgotten. Fleeting. My life can’t stop for him. Surely, his doesn’t stop for me. I’m twenty-two. My whole life ahead of me. I should be getting flown out to Miami to see Jaire. Partying the whole weekend, in someone’s section not even dreaming of touching my own wallet. Throwing back shots and acting bad. Handing out my number like candy on Halloween. Not a care in the world. Doing what twenty-two year olds do. Reaping the benefits of youth while I still can. Not hiding out in hotel rooms, waiting for a man twice my age, grey in the beard—to come fuck me and dip in the morning before I even open my eyes and stretch. But damn—I’m going to wake up in cold sweats after dreaming about running my fingers through that beard while he sleeps. And damn—I am going to severely miss that dick like a man misses his family when he has to serve time.

Just as I get a rush of confidence to press send, Demi’s call delays me.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“You gotta come back to the condo. Now.” My fight or flight immediately kicks in. Demi didn’t come into the hospital today because she didn’t feel well. God, what the hell is wrong?

“—Why? What’s going on?” I rise up from the nurse’s station briskly, making my way to get my stuff in the locker.

“Something’s…here for you.”

“Huh?” I stop jogging.

“Just get here. You only have two hours left. Tell Miss Tonia you’ll make it up tomorrow.” Click.

Upon arrival to my condominium, I’m immediately bewildered at the scene unfolding through the window from the backseat of the Uber.

“Thank you,” I tell the older man before hopping out, but not before inspecting the matte black Mercedes G Wagon parked right out front. A pink ribbon plants itself on the hood. Someone is definitely loved. Probably the girl that lives across from us. I think her boyfriend is an actor or some shit like that.

On the sidewalk, Demi, Anthony and a man I’ve never seen before meet me. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you Alana Floyd?” The man speaks first. I look past him before responding. Demi looks like she’s seen a ghost and Anthony looks like he might jump out of his own flawless skin.

“I am,” I finally answer.

“Do you mind showing me some ID?”

A chuckle escapes me. A product of discomfort and pure fucking confusion. When I see that he’s still waiting, I fish for my ID in the LV Neverfull hanging on my shoulder. He takes it. I look behind me. Every pedestrian walking by, gawks at the truck just as I did when I pulled up.

“Here you go.” My head snaps back. He holds a clip board out. My ID and a pen sit on it. “Just need the signature at the bottom. Proof you received the delivery.”

“Delivery?” One brow shoots up.

“The truck ma’am.”

On cue, Anthony pops like a can of Pillsbury biscuits. “Joe!” He waves a card in the air, beaming down at me. “Aha! So that’s his name!”

Shaking her head, Demi snatches the card, offering it to me. I take it, not missing the smirk that tugs at her full lips.

Happy belated and congratulations.

— Your Champion, Joe

The card and everything else in my hand slips—hitting the pavement silently. The blood in my veins run cold in the heat of May.

Someone must’ve hit the trunk button. And out falls the many pink roses that were stuck inside. They’re everywhere. Spilling from the truck. Onto the street. The sidewalk. Mimicking on the outside, exactly how whatever chakra is trapped in my heart is now overflowing and spilling out.

This. This is special.

A/N // in honor of Papa returning to work, i busted my ass tryna get this out lol. i wish i could post the warnings at the end lol they’re literally spoilers!

- any thoughts about Alana? any changes you noticed in her or her relationships with the other characters?

- any thoughts on the appointment Lana had to make?

- i know i didn’t reveal much about Jaire’s character, but that was on purpose. still, any thoughts about him?

- any thoughts on how Lana views what’s going on between her and Joe? do we think he sees it the same way she describes in her head?

- the graduation/birthday gifts? access to the condo??

- like her brother said, is Lana leading with her heart or her head?

- and just cause i’m nosy… trim, hairy or bald? lol

i would really love feedback. as always, if you read it or even just a portion, i am forever grateful and appreciative.

part 4 Desires is already in the works. depending on how y'all react to this, y'all might just hate me for some of the things i'm about to do lol

˚.🎀༘⋆ taglist // @trippinsorrows @minsingular @luvrsluxe @vynaissance @cyberdejos2

@cuttteeee @rose-bliss @skyesthebomb @mikaylathenerd5 @li-da-savage

@fearlesschimera @fame-ass-ers @imhiswifey @fairy-cores-world @brwnsugababe

@reginawhorge01 @ilovejeyusoooo @keyerajackson @baybehkay @alexis2686

@destroyslonelyblog @raya-hunter01 @annfg8 @trentybenty @rollinssection

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banner credit — @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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rederiswrites · 2 months ago

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Full text of Heather Cox Richardson's latest essay:

February 1, 2025 (Saturday)

Throughout now-president Donald Trump’s 2024 campaign, it was clear that his support was coming from three very different factions whose only shared ideology was a determination to destroy the federal government. Now we are watching them do it.

The group that serves President Donald Trump is gutting the government both to get revenge against those who tried to hold him accountable before the law and to make sure he and his cronies will never again have to worry about legality.

Last night, officials in the Trump administration purged the Federal Bureau of Investigation of all six of its top executives and, according to NBC’s Ken Dilanian, more than 20 heads of FBI field offices, including those in Washington, D.C., and Miami, where officials pursued cases against now-president Trump. Acting deputy attorney general Emil Bove, who represented Trump in a number of his criminal cases, asked acting FBI director Brian J. Driscoll Jr. for a list of FBI agents who had worked on January 6 cases to “determine whether any additional personnel actions are necessary.”

Clarissa-Jan Lim of MSNBC reported that Trump denied knowing about the dismissals but said the firings were “a good thing” because “[t]hey were very corrupt people, very corrupt, and they hurt our country very badly with the weaponization.”

Officials also fired 25 to 30 federal prosecutors who had worked on cases involving the rioters who attacked the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021, and reassigned others. Bove ordered the firings. Career civil servants can’t be fired without cause, and these purges come on top of the apparently illegal firing of 18 inspectors general across federal agencies and a purge of the Department of Justice of those who had worked on cases involving Trump.

Phil Williams of NewsChannel 5 in Nashville, Tennessee, reported on Friday that federal prosecutors were withdrawn from a criminal investigation of Representative Andy Ogles (R-TN) for election fraud; Ogles recently filed a House resolution to enable Trump to run for a third term and another supporting Trump’s designs on Greenland. On Wednesday, federal prosecutors asked a judge to dismiss an election fraud case against former representative Jeffrey Fortenberry (R-NE). Trump called Fortenberry’s case an illustration of “the illegal Weaponization of our Justice System by the Radical Left Democrats.”

That impulse to protect Trump showed yesterday in what a local water manager said was an “extremely unprecedented” release of water from two dams in California apparently to provide evidence of his social media post that the U.S. military had gone into California and “TURNED ON THE WATER.” In fact, water was released from two reservoirs that hold water to supply farmland in the summer. They are about 500 miles (800 km) from Los Angeles, where the fires were earlier this year, and the water did not go to Southern California. “This is going to hurt farmers,” a water manager said, “This takes water out of the summer irrigation portfolio.” But Trump posted that if California officials had listened to him six years ago, there would have been no fires. Shashank Joshi of The Economist called it “real ‘mad king’ stuff.”

Trump’s loyalists overlap with the MAGA crew that embraces Project 2025, a plan that mirrors the one used by Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán to overthrow democracy in Hungary. Operating from the position that modern democracy destroys a country by treating everyone equally before the law and welcoming immigrants, it calls for discrimination against women and gender, racial, and religious minorities; rejection of immigrants; and the imposition of religious laws to restore a white Christian patriarchy.

Former Fox News Channel host Tucker Carlson has been a vocal proponent of Orbán’s ideology, and J.D. Vance this week hired Carlson’s son, 28-year-old Buckley, as his deputy press secretary. Although Trump claimed during the campaign he didn't know anything about Project 2025, Steve Contorno and Casey Tolan of CNN estimate that more than two thirds of Trump’s executive orders mirror Project 2025.

You can see the influence of this faction in the indiscriminate immigration sweeps the administration has launched, Trump’s announcement that he is opening a 30,000-bed migrant detention center at Guantanamo Bay, and officials’ revocation of protection for more than 600,000 Venezuelans legally in the U.S. and possibly also for Cubans, Haitians, and Nicaraguans. You can see it in the administration’s attempt to end the birthright citizenship written into the U.S. Constitution in 1868.

It shows in the new administration's persecution of transgender Americans, including Trump’s executive order purging trans service members from the military, another limiting access to gender-affirming care for transgender youth, and yet another ordering trans federal prisoners to be medically detransitioned and then moved to facilities that correspond to their sex at birth, an outcome that a trans woman suing the administration calls “humiliating, terrifying, and dangerous.”

The administration has ordered that federal employees must remove all pronouns from their email signatures and, as Jeremy Faust reported in Inside Medicine, that researchers for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention must scrub from their work any references to “[g]ender, transgender, pregnant person, pregnant people, LGBT, transsexual, non-binary, nonbinary, assigned male at birth, assigned female at birth, biologically male, biologically female.” Faust notes that the requirements are vague and that because “most manuscripts include demographic information about the populations or patients studied,” the order potentially affects “just about any major study…including studies on Covid-19, cancer, heart disease, or anything else.”

Those embracing this ideology are also isolationist. As soon as he took office, Trump imposed a freeze on foreign aid except for military aid to Israel and Egypt, abruptly cutting off about $60 billion in funding—less than 1% of the U.S. budget—to the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), which provides humanitarian assistance to fight starvation and provide basic medical care for the globe’s most vulnerable and desperate populations. The outcry, both from those appalled that the U.S. would renege on its promises to provide food for children in war-torn countries and from those who recognize that the U.S. withdrawal from these popular programs would create a vacuum China is eager to fill, made Trump’s new secretary of state, Marco Rubio, say that “humanitarian programs” would be exempted from the freeze, but that appears either untrue or so complicated to negotiate that programs are shutting down anyway.

Senator Chris Murphy (D-CT) appears to be beside himself over this destruction. “Let me explain why the total destruction of USAID…matters so much,” he posted on social media. “China—where Musk makes his money—wants USAID destroyed. So does Russia. Trump and Musk are doing the bidding of Beijing and Moscow. Why?” “The U.S. is in full retreat from the world,” he wrote, and there is “[n]o good reason for it. The immediate consequences of this are cataclysmic. Malnourished babies who depend on U.S. aid will die. Anti-terrorism programs will shut down and our most deadly enemies will get stronger. Diseases that threaten the U.S. will go unabated and reach our shores faster. And China will fill the void. As developing countries will now ONLY be able to rely on China for help, they will cut more deals with Beijing to give them control of ports, critical mineral deposits, etc. U.S. power will shrink. U.S. jobs will be lost.” Murphy speculated that “billionaires like Musk who make $ in China” or “someone buying all that secret Trump meme coin” would benefit from deliberately sabotaging eighty years of U.S. goodwill on the international stage.

And that brings us to the third faction: that of the tech bros, led by billionaire Elon Musk, who according to year-end Federal Election Commission filings spent more than $290 million supporting Trump and the Republicans in 2024. Musk appears to consider colonizing space imperative for the survival of humanity, and part of that goal requires slashing government regulations, as well as receiving government contracts that help to fund his space program.

Before he took office, Trump named Musk and another billionaire, Vivek Ramaswamy, to an extra-governmental group called the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), but Musk has assumed full control of the group, whose mission is to cut the federal budget by as much as $2 trillion.

Musk is interested in the government for future contracts, although a report from January 30, when Musk’s Tesla company filed its annual financial report, showed that the company, which is valued at more than $1 trillion and which made $2.3 billion in 2024, paid $0 in federal income tax. Today, Musk’s X social media company became a form of state media when the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) said it would no longer email updates about this week’s two plane crashes—one in Washington, D.C., and one in Philadelphia—and that reporters would have to get their information through X.

Musk’s goal might well be the crux of the drastic cuts to federal aid, as well as the attempt last week from the Office of Management and Budget to “pause” federal funding and grants to make sure funding reflected Trump’s goals. After a public outcry over the loss of payments to local law enforcement, Meals on Wheels for shut-ins, supplemental nutrition programs, and so on, the OMB rescinded its first memo, but then White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt immediately contradicted the new memo, saying the cuts were still in effect.

The chaos surrounding the cuts could have been designed to make it difficult for opponents to sue over them. This method of changing government priorities through “impoundment” is illegal. Congress—which is the body that represents the American people—appropriates the money for programs, and the president takes an oath to execute the laws. After President Richard M. Nixon tried it, Congress passed a 1974 law making impoundment expressly illegal. But the on-again-off-again confusion appeared at first to stand a chance of stopping lawsuits. It didn’t work: a federal judge halted the funding freeze, suggesting it was a blatant violation of the Constitution.

But then, yesterday, Elon Musk forced the resignation of David A. Lebryk, the highest-ranking career official at the Treasury Department. Lebryk had been at Treasury since 1989 and had risen to become the person in charge of the U.S. government payment system that disburses about $6 trillion a year through Social Security benefits, Medicare, Medicaid, contracts, grants, salaries for federal government workers, tax refunds, and so on, essentially managing the nation’s checkbook.

According to Jeff Stein, Isaac Arnsdorf, and Jacqueline Alemany of the Washington Post, Musk’s team wanted access to the payment system. Senator Ron Wyden (D-OR) demanded answers from Trump’s new Treasury secretary, Scott Bessent, warning that “these payment systems simply cannot fail, and any politically-motivated meddling in them risks severe damage to our country and the economy. I am deeply concerned that following the federal grant and loan freeze earlier this week, these officials associated with Musk may have intended to access these payment systems to illegally withhold payments to any number of programs. I can think of no good reason why political operators who have demonstrated a blatant disregard for the law would need access to these sensitive, mission-critical systems.”

Now, though, with Musk’s people at the computers that control the nation’s payment system, they can simply stop whatever payments they want to.

Wyden continued by reminding Bessent that the press has reported that Musk has previously been “denied a high-level clearance to access the government’s most sensitive secrets. I am concerned that Musk’s enormous business operation in China—a country whose intelligence agencies have stolen vast amounts of sensitive data about Americans, including U.S. government employee data by hacking U.S. government systems—endangers U.S. cybersecurity and creates conflicts of interest that make his access to these systems a national security risk.”

This afternoon, Wyden posted that he has been told that Bessent has given the Department of Government Efficiency full access to the system. “Social Security and Medicare benefits, grants, payments to government contractors, including those that compete directly with Musk's own companies. All of it.”

Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo posted: “This is more or less like taking the gold from Fort Knox and putting it in Elons basement. Anyone who gets a check from soc sec or anything else[,] he can cut it off or see all y[ou]r personal and financial data.” Pundit Stuart Stevens called it “the most significant data leak in cyber history.”

All three of these factions are focused on destroying the federal government, which, after all, represents the American people through their elected representatives and spends their taxpayer money. Musk, who is an unelected adjunct to Trump, this evening gleefully referred to the civil servants in the government who work for the American people as “the opposing team.”

But something jumps out from the chaos of the past two weeks. Instructions are vague, circumstances are chaotic, and it’s unclear who is making decisions. That confusion makes it hard to enforce laws or sue, although observers note that what’s going on is “illegal and a breach of the constitutional order.”

Our federal government rests on the U.S. Constitution. The three different factions of Trump's MAGA Republicans agree that the government must be destroyed, and they are operating outside the constitutional order, not eager to win legal victories so much as determined to slash and burn down the government without them.

Today, senior Washington Post political reporter Aaron Blake noted that while it is traditional for cabinet nominees to pledge that they will refuse to honor illegal presidential orders, at least seven of Trump’s nominees have sidestepped that question. Attorney general nominee Pam Bondi, director of national intelligence nominee Tulsi Gabbard, now-confirmed defense secretary nominee Pete Hegseth, small business administrator nominee Kelly Loeffler, Veterans Affairs secretary nominee Douglas A. Collins, and commerce secretary nominee Howard Lutnick all avoided the question by saying that Trump would never ask them to do anything illegal. FBI director nominee Kash Patel just said he would “always obey the law.”

#current events #us coup

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kathlare · 4 months ago

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The One Where We Hit Reset

Welcome to the masterlist for this phase of Amelie and Lando’s story, set in 2024—a year where they’ve finally found their way back to each other. After years of missed chances, misunderstandings, and unresolved feelings, they are now in a serious and committed relationship. This timeline explores their growth, both individually and together, as they navigate the challenges and joys of being in each other’s lives again.

previous year / next year

Their journey hasn’t been easy—far from it—but it’s exactly what makes this year so meaningful. It’s a story of second chances, healing, and the realization that sometimes, the right person comes back at just the right time.

Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this journey! Your support and love for these two means everything to me, and I hope you enjoy watching them figure it all out (with plenty of laughs, love, and maybe a bit of drama along the way). 💕

full masterlist // request over here!

electric nights

behind the scenes

northern scapes

caught in the silence

fractures in the glass

across the world, for us

between us

taking the leap

this love

fanboy - Eras Tour Melbourne

just us

the little prince

the sushi test - Bahrain Grand Prix

sneaking glances - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

caught in th glow - Oscars

tease and temptation

behind the grin - Austalian Grand Prix

reckless realizations

through the storm - Japanese Grand Prix

when the lights fade - Coachella

shifting tides

before the goodbye

burning midnight - Chinese Grand Prix

orange chaos

the alchemy - Miami Grand Prix

golden hour - Met Gala

bed chem

out of the bag - Emilia Romagna Grand Prix

stages of success - Saturday Night Live

virtual connection

drunk words, sober hearts - Monaco Grand Prix

tension on the field

inked in love - Canadian Grand Prix

please please please

surprise in the spotlight - Governor's Ball

between the quite moments

rebuilding bridges

sweet distraction - Spanish Grand Prix

perfectly still

shattered moments - Austrian Grand Prix

balancing act

it's so romantic in paris - British Grand Prix

stage lights & stolen glances - Summertime Ball

echoes of sacrifice - Hungarian Grand Prix

drunk calls

shifting focus - Belgian Grand Prix

homecoming haven

sunsets & sparks

sun, fun and a whole lotta you

mullet madness - Outside Lands Festival

short n' sweet - Short n' Sweet Release Day

even miles apart - Dutch Grand Prix

surprise, baby

fuck papaya rules - Italian Grand Prix

unspoken tension

shattered sparks - Video Music Awards (VMAs)

unspoken words - Azerbaijan Grand Prix

electric feel - Singapore Grand Prix

showtime - Short n' Sweet Opening Night

call it what you want - Amelie's Birthday Special

center stage - Short n' Sweet New York City

quiet chaos

a call to connect

shit show - United States Grand Prix

a night to remeber - Mexico City Grand Prix

you are enough - Sao Paulo Grand Prix

tears of triumph - Grammy nominations

juno - Lando's Birthday Special

everything as it should be - Short n' Sweet Closing Night

under the neon lights - Las Vegas Grand Prix

thankful for you - Thanksgiving Special

quiet respite - Qatar Grand Prix

tangled in love

papaya on top - Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

shining bright

feeling snowflakes

a symphony of lights

goodbye for now

just six more days

distant glow

through the screen

homecoming serenity

interrupted magic - Wicked World Premiere

buy me presents - Christmas Special

wake-up call

is it new year yet? - New Year's Special

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tyresdeg · 1 year ago

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logan sargeant | saturday | miami 2024

#logan sargeant #f1 #miami gp 2024 #qian jun/getty #*#oh my god #someone stop me #i need my internet access taken away

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wheel-of-fish · 4 months ago

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Saturday, Dec. 14, 2024 • 9 p.m. EST: The Phantom of the Opera (David Staller & Elizabeth Walsh, 1991)

It's been a loooong time since I streamed this one. It's the recording of a musical by Lawrence Rosen and Paul Schierhorn, performed for a live audience in Miami Beach. It's one of the few adaptations that gives us the Persian, and I'd classify this Phantom as one of the more extra ones, which is saying a lot.

As always, the stream will be on cy.tube and shy anons are welcome. For more info, please see the Saturday Streams FAQ! Link and password will be posted here at 8:45.

#streams #saturday streams

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umlewis · 1 year ago

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lewis hamilton on the grid before the sprint race, miami - may 4, 2024

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #miami gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #miami #miami 2024 #miami 2024 saturday

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umgeorge · 1 year ago

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via f1mia's ig story - may 4, 2024

#george russell #lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #miami gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #miami #miami 2024 #miami 2024 saturday #with lewis

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ummick · 11 months ago

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mick schumacher during hot laps on sprint day, miami - may 4, 2024 📷 alessio morgese / afp

#mick schumacher #f1 #formula 1 #miami gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #miami #miami 2024 #miami 2024 saturday

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tcrocky14 · 4 months ago

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ONESHOT: MERRILY ALONG—tennis! star x Paige

((Okay I’ve been writing on Wattpad and never thought to put my work on tumblr so here we go! Plz be gentle I’m still new at this but I love manifesting life with P))

———————————————————————————-

After the 2024 WTA Finals(which you won) you were excited for a real break. Grant you it's less than a month, and most of that will be spent doing sponsorship work and photo shoots, but you still couldn't wait.

After winning the Finals, you hopped on a plane to Miami still wearing your photo shoot dress from winner's photos. You were so excited to be sleeping on your own bed and to see your family. Life could slow down at least a little before you were back on Tour.

You were given two weeks to truly rest and exercise like a normal person before training would start back. You planned to visit Paige, but her season at UCONN was really just beginning. The timing couldn't have been worse but you knew she felt most comfortable on the court, just like you.

Since college basketball was firing up, her name was beginning to really skyrocket in the press. And her partnerships were increasing too. With you as the highest paid athlete in women's sports and P as the highest paid CWBB player, you were unstoppable!

Her shoe with Nike just dropped and you genuinely cried the day every player for UCONN wore them at their game! You wish you could wear them for a day for support but New Balance is your shoe home. It's so surreal that P has a shoe while in college but you believe she's always meant to break records and set trends. You're just happy the world mainly agrees with you on that.

On December 21st, UCONN & USC play each other, at arguably the biggest game of the year. You knew you wanted to be there because everyone's eyes would be on Paige and JuJu, which could get stressful. Maybe having you there as moral support would make it a bit better . She's born for the world stage, but that doesn't mean you don't worry about her mental health.

You promised your team that you'd be back in Miami right after Christmas. They wanted you to play United Cup, especially since you didn't plan on defending the ASB Classic title , but you were prioritizing your relationship....for once.

This is Paige's (likely) last year in college and you want to be there for her. There's so many moments you both have to miss because of your athletic careers, and it's easy to feel disconnected when you're constantly in different time zones. Once she's in the WNBA, it'll hopefully be more flexible and you'll spend more time together.

But for now, you weren't going to miss big moments for a WTA250 or United Cup. Your team wasn't the happiest about your plans, and tried convincing you to change your mind. But it was already set: you'd fly to Storrs, CT that day and watch Paige. Then you'd both fly out to Minnesota to see her family for Christmas. Her next game is the 27th so you'll fly back to Miami while she goes back to school. Even a few days together has you anxious to remind her exactly why being long distance is worth it.

You haven't told her, but you've picked out the perfect presents for her dad, stepmom, and Drew. You've also found something for your perfect gf. Drew has a game of his own the very day after her game, so you guys will be jet-lagged but supporting him. You've met Paige's family a few times now but you still feel jittery before arriving. You don't know why because they're the nicest people, yet you always want to show you're a great girlfriend with good energy.

——————-

You were still in Miami trying to pick out what you could wear to the game Saturday. It was Thursday night so you needed to start packing, especially since you wanted to pack light. Living life basically out of a suitcase made packing during the offseason a disgusting experience. The less you had to travel the better, yet it seemed you were never home for more than a few days. The life of a "celebrity" was taxing and companies knew offseason was a better time for your brand dealings. You wished you could do photo shoots from home but you try to remember how many people would KILL to be in your position.

For the game, you're thinking of a look you saw Bella Hadid wear a few years back. A green NorthFace jacket with black barrel jeans and black loafers. You'll definitely be wearing your glasses to the game for an even more comfortable experience. Then, for traveling to Minnesota and for Drew's game you'll wear an oversized grey New Balance sweatshirt with sweatpants and a camo hat. Cute-comfy— your favorite!

You began folding the clothes not so neatly when your sister came in. She's back home from Tulane for the holidays and you're really going to miss her the few days you're gone. Having a younger sister is one of the best things in life and you miss when she's away for college. Although you guys text and call each other almost everyday it's different when she's in person.

"Whatcha doing??," Anna asked, using her best Isabella voice from Phineas and Ferb. "Packing for my trip and failing to fold my clothes neatly," you said. You're definitely going to need a steamer when you travel because your clothes are going to be wrinkled from this lazy folding.

"I wish I could come with you!" Anna said. And honestly, if it was just to watch the game, you'd for sure bring your sister along. But Christmas at the Bueckers' house is for their family only and you're just getting used to joining.

Most of the time, Paige visits your family because she loves the Miami weather and enjoys the area. It's difficult in Minnesota when it's cold more often than not and her family has normal jobs .

The Heller family feels like it orbits your tennis career, something you wish wasn't true but definitely is. Tennis is so demanding, even compared to other sports, and your family has sacrificed a lot for you to continue being a top player. Basketball is difficult and can be expensive, but college helps ease the journey a lot. While Paige is at UCONN her family still maintains a normal life. While for you, the matches and your traveling schedule can affect everything.

That's why this Christmas is so special. You have a few days to hang out casually before the holiday and really soak it what being a Bueckers is like. You'd never tell anyone right now, but you're hoping this is practice for the rest of your life. Although it's only been a year, you picture growing with Paige and starting a family of your own. You look at people like Stewie and can't help but hope to have a little family of your own someday. Being in good cahoots with her family right now is important and luckily, it's been great so far

—————————

Friday passes quickly, thank God, because you leave for CT Saturday morning. The plane ride is a bit bumpy but it's the cold that stings the most. As soon as you step off the plane you're hit with the bite of a Connecticut winter. It felt weird boarding the plane in multiple layers but you're so happy you didn't dress Miami-Style for this trip.

Since it's the day of the game, Paige has practice most of the day. That means her good friend Kayla volunteers to pick you up, and you're very excited. As a fellow Black girl, you and Kayla get along too good. Each conversation leads to cackling and you even have a few inside jokes together. As much as KK and Ice are your girls, Kayla's super cool people. AND she's not on the team, so she can help with times like this!

You wait for your luggage and a teenager comes up asking for a picture. She seems shell-shocked from meeting you, something you never get used to. You're almost positive the picture will be on "Frances Heller" and "Paige Bueckers" fan accounts in the next hour. People will surely speculate but this is a big game, and who can blame you for wanting to see it in person?

You spot Kayla, or rather hear her music, right when you step outside the airport gate. She gets out to help with your luggage but you've only brought two carry-ons: your Glossier duffle and a New Balance black backpack. Like you said: packing light was key for this trip.

You guys catch up on all things life before pulling into the apartment complex Kayla and the girls live in. You go to text Paige you've made it but you see she's already texted that she's in practice, but can't wait to see you.

"She was obsessing over your location on the Find app," Kayla says. "She literally was refreshing it every second before they had practice even though SHE KNEW you were on the plane and undetectable."

Just hearing Paige's name makes your heart beat faster. It's corny, you know it is, but imagine being so in love with someone and NEVER getting to see them. You can literally count on your hands how often you and Paige see each other throughout the year and that's with big compromises in both schedules.

You go up to Kayla's apartment and patiently (very impatiently) wait for bball practice to be over. Since it's game day, there's one short-ish practice during the day and then real practice before game time. You mimic Paige and begin refreshing all the apps you guys communicate through: text, Snapchat, Find, anything to see whether she's out.

Eventually, her DND status on text goes away and Kayla has to watch you become an absolute fool as you wait for your girlfriend. Paige gets back and knocks on Kayla's door which you open with every cell in your body.

"FRANNY!" "SWEET P!" You two collide into one another with the same energy. The hug says: "I miss you, I love you, how are you?, all at once. It's like every event and moment that's been missed since the last time you've seen another culminated into a tight hug that lasts forever.

"I miss you so so so much Paige," you say, trying not to cry. You're not necessarily sad, just overwhelmed and relieved . You can feel in her hug that she must feel the same, and any insecurities from a long-distance relationship go away like a puff of smoke.

You go back to their apartment while Paige makes a quick snack. Once she's finished eating. She lets you know she misses you in another way. Thank goodness you can't detect blushing on your skin tone because you feel like you're about to burst into flames.

It's been SO LONG since you've been intimate with anything besides a silicone toy and you miss Paige's body. After her shower at the facilities, her hair is still wet and slightly curly. It's one of your favorite looks on her and doesn't help your desire to absolutely devour her.

She tries to casually insinuate your unexpected trip to the car but everyone knows what's going on. You'd rather have sweet moments in her bed, but it'd be unfair to her teammates/roommates. And you can't kick everyone out of the apartment either, totally not cool. So instead you head out to Paige's Grand Cherokee at an excited pace and allow her to drive you to the back of the parking lot.

It's still romantic with the snow falling and your tight space to work with. She turns on the warmers in the SUV and asks you to head to the backseats. Her playlist designed for these *moments* begins playing softly and you savor every minute in the backseat of her car....

———————-

Once you guys finished (no pun intended) you head (maybe a bit puny) back upstairs. You try taming your hair and fixing your swollen lips as best you can. But let's face it, the women in this apartment are going to absolutely clown you both.

"Oh y'all back? It's been almost an hour! Where'd you say y'all was going again??" Kk, per usual, is the first person to say something. Everyone else smirks to one another and Jana even films to put on her private SC later.

"We was busy." That's all Paige says as she blushes, smirks, and daps up Ice and KK. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she exemplifies pure fukboy energy. You so badly want to hate it but it's kinda hot...which she definitely knows because she continues smirking in your direction. You sit next to her and try to redirect the conversation to ANYTHING else but it takes a minute.

They're superstitious about talking about the game so it's talk about your stuff instead. You tell them your plans with Paige for the next few days and how preseason warmups are coming along. Before you know it, everyone's getting up because it's time for pregame. You give Paige a million kisses as she gets ready to leave and then wait around until it's time to get dressed and leave.

—————-

You're not sure Paige would love your mode of transportation to the game but what else could you decide? Uber's are booked the entire way and the school shuttles are only for actual students. If you didn't have to show a school ID you would've hopped on or hoped a driver was being super nice but few have even passed. So instead, you're walking to the XL arena.

It's really not that far, so you don't mind the walk. Except for the fact that it's FREEZING. You can feel the inevitable sickness building in your body as you continue walking but that's what you do for love. You'd laugh at how ridiculous you feel, if you could feel your face.

Finally you get to the game and it's beyond packed. You knew it was a big game and sold out but it's bonkers trying to get inside. Even with a special pass you have to wait to get inside, letting the frost continue to harass you.

Once you make it inside you see a few girls get out their phones to video your entrance. It's weird, because you feel slightly conceded about it. But you also feel violated. And you never feel quite important enough to be taped walking into a gym. Yet here you are, and there's the phones capturing every moment.

You're not sitting courtside since that's reserved for paying members. Instead, you're a few rows up. Nothing crazy, but not on the ground. You realize how awkward you feel without somebody tagging along and wish you maybe would've brought your sister. Or even your twin Jack. But what would they do while you loved up on Paige all day?

So instead you got on your phone and waited for the starting lineup presentation. You filmed the whole thing and couldn't even hear the announcer say Paige's name because of the screams. It made you feel so special being Paige's girl when plenty of college girls, and adult women, fought for her attention. From shirts and fathead signs to homemade posters, it was obvious she grabbed people's attention.

From the moment the game began, UCONN had a difficult time. You didn't know why, but something just wasn't clicking that clearly worked better for USC. You really like JuJu Watkins and had a hard time rooting exclusively for UCONN, but your girl comes first.

After fighting tooth and nail they finally started coming back. With 8 seconds left, the game was only being won by two points . You knew how badly Paige wanted to win, with the country watching....if not the world. But sometimes, it's not just about who wants it. Being a super-senior meant Paige had some great highs and some lower-lows. This, would in fact, become a low.

—————

It was obvious how frustrated P was with herself. She was SO hard on herself, as most athletes are. But as the oldest on the team, she really felt like she was letting everyone down. You could see it in her demeanor and how she spoke to press. You only hoped she'd be able to see all the positives from the game and release herself from the pressure of it all. It's much easier than it looks though, you know from experience.

After speaking to Fox sports and Holly Rowe, Paige was making her way over to you. A literal LINE OF PEOPLE had formed while she was being interviewed who wanted to take pictures and get her autograph. You knew she wouldn't leave till everyone was satisfied, something you admired about her. Each person felt important in her eyes and she made sure to let them know. How lucky you were to be with someone so humble and kind to anyone.

She told the crowd to wait one sec as she walked over to your section. Now you really knew people would film this and talk about it for a while. But honestly , who cares. You were shocked she even saw you in the section because of how intense the game had been.

The security guard removed the tape so Paige could slip by and give you a big hug. You whispered in her ear that she was so amazing and you hoped she'd known how bright she shines on the court. She nodded but didn't seem affected by your words which kind of stung. You knew at least be a few hours had to pass before she was truly cheery again, right now was just a performance of her fans.

She asked you to wait around until they were leaving the arena and to join them on the team bus. You felt like this was a big overstep and didn't want to piss Geno off, especially after the loss. You made her promise it was fine and already approved before you agreed to join them on the bus.

The rest of the night was a blur until suddenly, you were laying on Paige's purple sheets with her head on your chest. You continued to stroke her head and tried falling asleep because your flight tomorrow was super early.

———————————-

At the airport, a few fans asked for pics with you and Paige. It was so funny how fans of Paige began "stanning" you like an extra piece to the Paige puzzle. At 5 in the AM you only could pray you didn't look awful in the fan photos since you knew that'd be on social media later. After taking pics you sat at the terminal and then boarded the plane. It really wasn't a bad experience, even with a connecting flight.

Paige's dad picked y'all up and you could tell she missed Minnesota. With the photoshoots and games and everything else she visited home less and less. When her dad got out of the car she turned into Baby P again, rushing to her dad's arms. It was so sweet and made you feel fuzzy that she collapsed in his hug. Maybe she was feeling better now!

Mr. Bueckers brought you into the hug and the three of you laughed as people watched. He was arguably the coolest guy in Minnesota besides Gov. Waltz. You guys left the airport and picked up Culver's on the way to Drew's game. Even with an early flight you guys were making it right on time.

Drew's game was so well and they won! Even better, Drew won MVP and got a comically large MVP chain to wear. You guys gassed him up hard and he blushed the entire time. It was cute seeing Paige loving on Drew like a child of her own. ...you really needed to stop thinking about Mommy P and focus lol.

——————-

Once Christmas rolled around, you'd gotten comfortable at the Bueckers house. The past few days had been so chill yet never boring. And you didn't feel like you were walking on eggshells around the family.

You wore an Oxford shirt with a sweater vest over it tucked into a plaid mini skirt with black tights. You looked adorable, like a Christmas present.

Y'all went to church and then headed home to unwrap presents. Drew wanted to open presents before Mass but it was way too early for that.

You got Paige's parents a gift they'd told her about a while back, a bar cart and a Baristia machine to make cocktails. Drew got a new game for his PS5 and promised to play with you whenever you were in town.

For Paige, you got her a custom stack of cards with paintings of you guys on it. She always loved sentimental gifts more than expensive ones and she really liked this! You also gave her a Tiffany necklace similar to yours with F+P engraved inside. She put it on and never took it off, even to sleep.

————

After a full day of festivities and meeting a few Bueckers you'd never met, it was time to go to bed. It was hard to fall asleep because tomorrow, you'd be on your way back to Miami and she'd be going back to UCONN. These few days were so good, you wish you could bottle them up for when you miss her most.

Right before you start falling asleep she tells you she has one more gift for you. She reaches in her bag and pulls out the most adorable stuffed bunny in a Christmas outfit. She gives you the bunny and tells you to press on her paw. When you do, Paige's voice starts to speak.

"Anytime you miss me, just press the paw, and I'll be right there!" She gives you the cutest little smile while she waits to see if you like her extra gift. "ALSO, I sprayed her clothes with some of my perfume, so hopefully she'll smell like me for a while too."

You try not to cry your eyes out at the audacity of your girlfriend to be so sweet. You never would've thought of such a unique and kind gift.

"Thank you so much Paige, I love it!" You see her relax a bit at her successful gift. "I can't believe you're real sometimes, you're too good to me!"

You don't meant to sound insecure or anything, but she shuts anything like that down. "I'm so happy we're together Franny, I'd go to the moon for you."

"Maybe even the North Pole?" You joke, since it's Christmas.

"I go to college in the middle of nowhere Connecticut Frances, that's basically the North Pole."

You two laugh and then settle into a comfortable sleeping pattern. You know tomorrow you'll have to say goodbye at least for 2-3 months. But right now, you can't think of a life without Paige Bueckers in it.

——-❤️‍🔥END❤️‍🔥——-

🎄Happy Holidays!

#paige bueckers #paigebueckersfluff #bueckers #paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers x reader #tennis

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