21 | Mine to claim

"Everything meaningful takes time."

Willa

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

Halloween is the best night of the year. No arguments. No debates. Just cold, hard facts.

There's an energy to it—something wild and electric, like anything could happen. The streets are lit with flickering jack-o'-lanterns, kids in costumes sprint from house to house, and the crisp autumn air carries the scent of bonfires and mischief.

And, obviously, it's an excuse to dress like a menace.

I adjust the hem of my tight pink mini-dress as Alex and I make our way up the sidewalk to Benjamin's house. The dress hugs me in all the right places, silky fabric brushing against my thighs as I walk. A flower crown sits atop my loose waves, delicate pink roses woven between strands of my hair, adding to the whole ethereal fairy look. My pink wings are strapped securely to my back, shimmering under the porch lights. And the dress is doing wonders for my cleavage-let's just say I know I look hot tonight.

And so does everyone else.

Guys have been doing double takes as we have been walking up the lawn, some not even bothering to be subtle about it. Their eyes flicker down when they think I'm not looking, lingering on the curves of my body, the way the dress dips just low enough to tease without giving everything away.

I smirk.

My mum taught me that being attractive is more than just looks—it's about confidence, grace, and the way you carry yourself.

It's not that I dress for the attention, but I do love Halloween for giving me a reason to go all out.

Alex, strutting beside me, looks equally hot in her sexy mummy costume. She somehow managed to take a bunch of strategically placed bandages and turn them into a masterpiece—one that accentuates every sharp line of her body, her toned stomach peeking through the layers.

If anyone's looking at me, they're definitely looking at her, too.

"Ugh," she groans, lifting her leg slightly as she walks. "I swear I still feel phantom pain from earlier."

I bite back a grin. "I told you not to rush."

Alex shoots me a glare. "Okay, but who the hell cuts their knee so bad that it looks like a full-blown crime scene just from shaving? This girl, apparently." She gestures dramatically at herself. "Blood. Everywhere. I swear, Wills, I almost passed out. I saw the light."

I snort. "To be fair, you were hacking at your legs like they personally offended you."

"I was trying to be fast because someone"—she nudges me—"was rushing me."

I hold my hands up. "I merely suggested that maybe we not be thirty minutes late."

"Well, now we're only twenty minutes late. So, you're welcome."

I laugh, shaking my head as we approach the entrance of Benjamin's house. The music is already blaring from inside, heavy bass rattling the windows. The front lawn is packed—people sprawled across the steps, drinks in hand, voices overlapping in a chaotic hum. Some are classmates, others are unfamiliar faces from different schools.

Alex glances around, then leans into me. "Damn. He really went all out this year."

"Yeah," I breathe, lips curving into a slow smile.

This? This is what I love.

The energy. The recklessness. The feeling that anything could happen.

As we step closer, I catch a few lingering stares. Guys watching us a little too intently, their gazes flickering down my body before snapping back up.

Alex huffs. "Another day, another batch of desperate losers."

I squeeze her hand, grinning. "Be nice."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't stop glaring at one particularly bold guy whose eyes seem glued to us. "Take a picture, creep. It'll last longer."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing as we push through the crowded doorway.

The inside is even more chaotic than I expected. The music pounds through the walls, the air thick with heat, alcohol, and the faint, familiar scent of weed. The house is dimly lit, but neon lights flash in time with the beat, casting the crowd in shifting blues, purples, and reds. People are everywhere—pressed against each other, laughing, dancing, shouting over the noise.

We move through the sea of bodies, holding hands so we don't get separated, pausing every few feet to greet classmates and vaguely familiar faces.

The atmosphere is buzzing with energy, conversations overlapping in a constant hum.

We finally spot our friends by the kitchen.

Alec, Roman, and Dominic.

Alec is leaning against the counter, looking like he walked straight out of an ancient Greek painting. His costume—if you can call it that—is absurdly well put together. A toga, golden laurel crown, actual leather sandals. The commitment.

Roman, on the other hand, is dressed as a firefighter. A very shirtless firefighter, with suspenders hanging low and a cocky smirk that says he knows how good he looks.

And Dominic?

Dominic is wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

No effort. No costume. No attempt at even pretending to care.

Typical.

What I hate is how good he fucking looks.

I barely have time to roll my eyes before I feel his eyes on me.

The second our gazes meet, the air shifts.

Dom stares at me like I just did something to him.

His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, like he's taking me in.

Something in my stomach flips.

He's so damn hot.

I hate that it's my first thought. Hate that I notice how when he stretches his shirt lifts up the tiniest bit to reveal a peek of tonned abs, the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, the way his jaw is sharp enough to cut glass.

But most of all, I hate the way he's looking at me.

Like he wants something.

I refuse to let him see that it's affecting me. Instead, I tilt my chin up and keep walking.

As soon as we reach them, Alex speaks first.

"Hi, boys," she says, her voice light but edged with something sharp.

Alec grins at her. "Jesus, Alex, you really committed, huh?" He gestures at her costume. "Bandages and all."

Alex flips him off. "Put that out before I make you."

Dom doesn't even acknowledge her.

His gaze is still locked on me, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk.

"You look fucking hot, Fairy."

I roll my eyes, pretending like his voice doesn't send a stupid shiver down my spine. I tilt my head, feigning indifference. "You don't look too bad yourself."

That's a lie.

He looks really good.

His smirk deepens, his fingers tapping against the counter. "Yeah?"

I don't answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, my gaze flickers to the joint between his fingers, and I raise an unimpressed eyebrow. "Really?"

His expression doesn't change. "It's just a joint, Myers."

"I'm not worried," I lie.

He hums like he doesn't believe me, eyes dragging over me again, slower this time.

"You're late," he says after a beat.

Alex groans. "Don't even start. I almost bled out in my bathroom."

Alec snorts. "How?"

"Shaving accident," I supply.

Roman grins. "A warrior's wound."

Alex glares at him. "I will stab you."

I shake my head, laughing as Alec pulls Alex into some stupid debate about whether a shaving cut or a paper cut bleeds more.

Dom just keeps looking at me.

I feel his gaze even when I'm not looking at him, the weight of it pressing against my skin.

I shouldn't let it get to me.

But it does.

I don't look away.

Neither does he.

Dom's eyes are locked onto mine, the smoke curling from his joint creating a hazy frame around his face, making him look even more dangerous. Even more unfairly hot.

The air between us tightens. My grip around my cup tightens. Everything tightens.

There's something about the way he's looking at me—lazy, confident, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Like he can feel the way my body reacts to him, even though I won't admit it.

My stomach knots. My pulse trips over itself.

Then—

"Willa!"

Before I can process what's happening, Alex grabs my arm and yanks me away.

The world tilts for a second before I'm pulled into the swarm of bodies on the dance floor, the thick, pulsing bass rattling through my chest.

"Okay, no," Alex says over the music, shaking her head as she spins to face me. "You're not standing there, making that face at Dom all night. We're dancing."

I blink, still caught between the pull of Dom's stare and the reality of being literally dragged away.

Alex doesn't wait for a response—she just grabs my hands and spins me.

I laugh, the moment shattering as I let myself fall into the music, into the chaos of the dance floor.

Bodies press against each other, the air thick with heat, perfume, and the ever-present scent of alcohol.

Alex and I move together in sync, laughing as she twirls me again, the flower crown on my head shifting slightly.

"You're ridiculous," I say over the music, breathless.

"Yeah, yeah," she grins. "Just admit I saved you from that ridiculous stare-off."

I roll my eyes but don't argue. Because she kind of did.

"Seriously, what's going on there?" She arches a brow, spinning me around effortlessly.

"We're just friends," I mumble, avoiding her probing gaze.

"Willa—" she starts, clearly unconvinced.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? Can we just enjoy the night for now?" I plead, exhaling in relief when she finally nods.

For a while, we just lose ourselves in it. The music, the flashing lights, the rush of bodies moving as one.

After a few songs, we stumble off the dance floor, breathless and sweaty.

"Drinks," Alex declares.

"Drinks," I agree.

We push our way through the house and into the kitchen, where the counter is lined with an assortment of bottles, plastic cups, and a questionably large punch bowl.

Alex grabs a drink without hesitation. I only take a cup, not wanting to push it. I sip from it, the cool liquid a relief after all the dancing.

As we turn back toward the party, we spot a few of our friends - Declan Miles and Benjamin Lennox lingering near the doorway, mid-conversation.

"Hey, losers," Alex greets.

They glance up. Declan smirks. Benjamin lifts a hand in greeting.

"Haven't seen you guys in a while, you arrived quite late," Declan says, eyes flicking over our costumes. "Got lost in a fairy realm?"

Alex snorts. "No, I just nearly bled out in my bathroom."

Benjamin blinks. "What?"

"Long story," I say, smiling.

We chat for a bit, and I flick my gaze around the room, ignoring all the eyes in my direction.

My stomach drops.

Across the room, Dom is leaning against the counter.

Not alone.

The air in the room shifts.

It's heavy, thick with something unspoken as I hold Dominic's gaze from across the kitchen.

I swear I can feel it. His stare. His heat.

One hand is curled loosely around a red solo cup, the other shoved into the front pocket of his jeans like he isn't the human embodiment of tension itself. His white T-shirt stretches across his chest, clinging to his muscles, his shirt shows off his tattooed forearm—the one I know get's warm under my touch, the one I traced my fingers over two nights ago.

Have I said how much I hate how good he looks.

I also hate the fact that he's got some girl in a red devil costume pressed up against him.

Her acrylics trail along his bicep, her body angled toward his like she's trying to melt into him. She tilts her head, batting her lashes, laughing at something she said because it's definitely not something Dom said.

Dom hasn't said a single word.

He's just watching me.

Watching me like I'm the only thing in the room that matters.

A slow curl of something possessive works its way through my chest.

Oh, hell no.

My man.

I storm across the kitchen before I can think better of it, dodging bodies and stepping right into Dom's space. My hands land against his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, and I press my weight into him, staking my claim in front of the devil herself and everybody.

His hand instinctively grips my waist, fingers burning through the fabric of my dress.

The girl hesitates, glancing between us. She rakes her gaze over me, taking in my outfit, my confidence, the way Dom's holding onto me like he'll never let go. She narrows her eyes at me, sending a condescending smile.

I'm all for girls supporting girls, but when it comes to Dom, I don't play games. I've spent too many years without him, watched him give pieces of himself to girls who weren't me. The past is the past—but if he doesn't screw this up, his future has my name written all over it.

You'd stay even if he did screw up.

You love him.

Shoving my self-destructive thoughts aside, I drag my fingers slowly along his neck, up to his cheek, all while keeping my glare locked on the girl. My touch is deliberate, a silent claim. "Bye-bye."

"Bitch," she mutters under her breath as she turns to leave, though I don't miss the way her throat bobs.

Smart girl.

Dom's grip tightens as he tilts his head, looking down at me with an expression I can't quite place. Something dark. Something amused. Something like he enjoys me getting all possessive over him.

"You good, fairy girl?" His voice is low, rough, and smug as hell.

I tip my head back, just enough to meet his eyes.

"No," I say, slightly tipsy and feeling bold. "You were smoking."

His lips twitch. "And?"

"And I'm mad at you."

He lifts a brow, completely unbothered. "You stormed over here like you were ready to commit a felony, but it's because I smoked?"

"Yes." I narrow my eyes. "And because I didn't like that girl all over you."

"Yeah?" His fingers flex against my waist. "Didn't like that, huh?"

"Nope." I pop the p. "You're mine, West."

His smirk vanishes, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

Something intense.

"I've tattooed you across my back, baby. There's no one else for me." He whispers.

My stomach flips, but I push forward, standing on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth close to his ear.

"I think-I think I forgive you," I whisper,

His breath hitches.

And then he's moving, his fingers skimming up my spine, tracing the space where my wings are attached. His other hand moves up, brushing a piece of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear so gently it makes my breath catch.

"You sure, baby?" he murmurs.

The world tilts.

Or maybe it's just me.

I'm about to answer—about to say something smart, something teasing, something that will keep this moment hanging in the air between us for just a little longer—but then—

"Willa!"

Alec's voice cuts through the space, and suddenly, I'm being dragged away by the wrist.

I stumble, blinking, and look up to find Alec grinning at me.

"Beer pong. Now."

Dom doesn't stop him.

But I feel his stare burning into my back the entire way across the room.

And I don't think I've ever wanted to run back to him more.

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

I'm sorry did I forget to mention a possessive Willa😝😝😝😝

she ma girl. #loveher #comehome #whotfgivesafuckaboutdom