"𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠 𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮." This is somewhat of a slow burn

Two Weasleys. One girl with a wicked tongue. And a secret buried beneath her skin. Roseanne Sinclair never believed in fairytales. Her childhood was stitched together with bruises and her smile hardened into armor. She always thought the hardest battles were fought with a wand. But the past she tried to bury is clawing its way back, and it's more dangerous than anything she's ever faced. When Fred and George Weasley start to unravel her defenses, the flirtation feels harmless at first, just playful banter between friends. But something darker is stirring beneath Rose's carefully constructed walls-a twisted magic she can't escape, an ancient power rooted in her past, and a sigil she can't hide. The more they try to pull her in, the more her secrets claw to the surface. A mark on her skin, an ancient power, and a ritual that demands sacrifice-she can feel the chains tightening. If she doesn't fight back, the price will be her life. But the cost of escape might be even worse.

When photography student, Willow Kennedy, gets offered an internship with her college's renowned ice hockey team, The Michigan Wolverines, she anticipates three things: 1) Her twin brother being an unbearable and over-protective nightmare. 2) Her photographs not making any real impact whatsoever. 3) The team completely shutting out the curly-haired girl pointing a camera in their faces. What Willow didn't take into account, however, was the Wolverine's team captain. Rumoured NHL first draft pick, dreamboat and total game changer- Tate Wilder. With his infectious dimpled smile, sparkling green eyes and addictive personality, Tate quickly turns Willow's internship into a life-changing and eye-opening experience- one filled with love, friendship and opportunities. Willow didn't meet the Michigan Wolverines looking for love, and funnily enough neither did Tate, but love soon found them. ********* "Pretty please?" Her lip juts out in an irresistible pout and you'd almost think she was a sweet innocent flower judging by the puppy dog eyes she's flashing me. But that image is little tarnished by the hand she has dipped into my boxers. I can feel my Adams apple bob as I reply. "O-okay. Fine, you win this time." The smile I get in response is absolutely blinding. A full, mega-watt grin with teeth, crinkled eyes and blush on the apples of her cheek. I'll let her win everything if I get that fucking smile in return.