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“You are acting like no one has ever done this to you before.”
“Not true,” Shane mumbles.
“No,” Ilya agrees. “You do this with Butler. In my house.” He leans in, whispers right into Shane’s ear: “But he is bad at it, I think. Or you would not be acting like this, just from a little touch.”
Ilya reluctantly lends his apartment to the captain of the Boston Raiders, who uses it to conduct an extramarital affair. Unfortunately, his captain's mistress turns out to be Shane Hollander.
Bookmarked by whatisdrifting
12 Feb 2026
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"God, Alex, I don't know how you get through life being so-"
"...So?"
But Henry isn't responding, his train of thought cut off entirely at the sight of the cursive scrawl on Alex's now exposed chest, shirt entirely unbuttoned. The font is in perfect cursive, looping around the letters as his eyes hone in on two words in startling clarity, black ink against tanned skin.
Bloody child.
"Prick." Henry says, nothing more than a breath, and watches as the font curls and changes to reflect the word.
"Ex-fucking-scuse me?"
Panicked at the thought of Alex being stood directly in front of a mirror, he whispers underneath his breath the first word that comes to mind, “Gorgeous.”
“Are you having a stroke?”
In a world where the last thing your soulmate says about you appears on your skin, Henry has always wanted to see the black script curl across his chest. Unfortunately for him, his soulmate turns out to be the infuriating wedding planner determined to work alongside him, who has absolutely zero interest in finding his own soulmate.
Life is what you cake it, he supposes.
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Bookmarked by whatisdrifting
01 Feb 2025
