#if you change your mind i'm the first in line

[munsonsmixtapes]

I'm Not That Girl

Fiyero Tigelaar x shy!fem!reader

summary: you think Fiyero is only flirting you to be nice because you're not the kind of girl he usually goes for, but he's more than eager to set the record straight when confusion arises

This is based on a comment made on this post by @cultish-corner!

Nothing but anxiety courses through you the second you step foot on campus. You don’t know anyone and are nothing but nervous to be in a new place with new people. That’s your worst nightmare, you think, as you walk throughout the campus to the suite you were assigned, you can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at you, but absolutely no one is paying you any mind as you make your way down the hallway, repeatedly looking down at the sheet you’ve received to make sure you have the right room.

This is the first time you’ve ever been away from home for an extended period of time and you hate that you already miss it. But you’re excited for a new adventure. Even though you’re nervous, you’re still looking forward to what your time at Shiz will bring you. You’re looking forward to a change.

You’re so focused on looking at the sheet that you’re not even looking when you bump into something, or rather, someone. The collision causes your things to fall out of your hands and onto the floor, causing the stranger to drop to their knees, picking it all up rather quickly before holding your suitcase and papers out to you, a flirty smile on his pretty face that you only see out of the corner of your eyes because you’re afraid of making eye contact with him. 

“Here,” he says, handing the paper to you, still holding onto your suitcase which confuses you.

“Oh,” you reply. “Thank you.” 

He’s easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen and you can’t help but be distracted by his striking blue eyes that definitely have a very flirty glint in them. You immediately recognize him as the prince you had seen in the newspaper not too long ago, seeing that he’d transferred here. You know all about his reputation, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to speak to him. In fact, it makes you want to do it even more.

“It’s my pleasure. I am so sorry for my clumsiness,” he apologizes even though it was very obviously you who ran into him. “I guess I was just so distracted by your beauty.” You don’t care if it’s a line, it works, causing your cheeks to heat as you tuck your chin to your chest, not wanting him to see you. 

“My apologies,” he sticks his hand out and takes free one, causing you to finally look up at him and you’re captivated by his pretty, blue eyes. “Fiyero Tiglaar, Winkie Country,” he says as his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your hand. 

“I-I’m y/n,” you introduce yourself, your voice still too soft for your liking. 

“Y/n,” he repeats your name slowly, a flirty tone to it and you just know that he does this with everyone he comes across, but you hope, you pray that this is different. You want him to be flirting with you because he thinks you’re pretty, not because he can. “I think that might be my favorite name of all.” 

“Now, shall we?” He asks, moving to stand beside you, offering you his arm and you loop your own arm through it before he reaches over and grabs hold of your luggage. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, your voice so low that Fiyero is almost unable to hear you. 

“I’m going to walk you to your room,” he says with a bright smile, leading you down the hallway, everyone who’s around whispering as the two of you walk together. It’s no secret that he’s popular, how could he not be with his looks and charm? And seeing him with you, the shy, new girl will definitely stir up some rumors. 

Your room is just down the hall and even though he’s only just met you, Fiyero doesn’t want to leave you. He wants you to invite him inside where the two of you sit on your bed and get to know each other. He wants to know everything about you. He wants to know where you grew up, what your hobbies are, whatever you want to tell him because he likes the sound of your voice.

“We’ll, here we are,” he says, hesitantly removing his arms from yours as you step away before taking your suitcase back from him. “It was a pleasure.” He bows then stands there, almost like he’s waiting for something. 

“Here we are,” you repeat, wondering what it is that he’s wanting. He should at least be halfway down the hall by now.

“Tomorrow, you should sit with me in the dining hall. I’d really enjoy your company,” he smiles and you nod in response. 

“I’d really like that,” you tell him, still nodding, feeling a warmth creep on your cheeks as you do so. You don’t know why you take him so seriously. Guys like him don’t ever give you so much as a second glance let alone a lunch invitation. By tomorrow, Fiyero will forget all about you.

The hallway is quiet and empty when you sneak out of your room. You can’t sleep because of how nervous you are for your first day of classes. Especially since it’s a few months into the year and you’re the only new person. Everyone else has gotten the chance to know each other and you’re new. 

It’s taking everything in you not to pack up your stuff and leave so you don’t have to face anyone tomorrow. You don’t care if it’s dramatic or that you’re overreacting, it’s not like anyone will miss you anyway. You always seem to fade into the background no matter what’s going on and that’s the way you like it. You hate being the center of attention and know that it will distract you from your first day if everyone is staring at you. 

You close the door gently and turn around slowly, letting out a yelp as you see Fiyero leaning against the wall across from you. He’s in his pajamas so you’re led to believe that he can’t sleep either. And he can’t, but not for the same reason as you. He’s just not tired and that’s not uncommon for him. He often has trouble sleeping. But tonight, he’s hoping you’ll keep him company so he doesn’t have to go back to bed alone. 

He pushes off of the wall and steps over to you, moving slowly because he can see that he’s startled you. You take a step forward and he can’t help but stare at you, wondering what you’re also doing up so late. 

“What are you doing up?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing in both confusion and worry. He wants to reach for you, but he decides against it. If there’s going to be any touching, he wants you to be the one to initiate it. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shake your head and he nods in understanding. His face softens and that infectious smile spreads across it. You can’t help but mimic him and that’s definitely something he could get used to seeing more often. 

“Me neither,” he replies then offers his hand out to you. “Would you like to go somewhere with me?” Go somewhere with him? You look this way and that to make sure there’s no one else he could possibly be talking to and he just laughs in response, a little too loudly for your liking. 

You step closer and press the palm of your hand to his lips to muffle his laughs and you both widen your eyes at your boldness. His eyes soften before yours do, more laughs spilling from his mouth as he pulls your hand away, holding it in his. 

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” you whisper to him and his laughs slowly turn into chuckles as he gives your hand a squeeze. 

“You need to relax,” he shakes his head. “And besides, trouble is my middle name.” You roll your eyes at his words and Fiyero really likes being able to more of your personality. “So,” he steps closer to you so that you’re toe to toe. “Are we going or what?” 

You’re not sure why, but you’ve found yourself to be at ease with him. He’s one of the only people who hasn’t had any problem with how shy and soft-spoken you are. He even seems to like it, not minding in the slightest having to get closer to hear what you have to say. In fact, he seems to prefer it.

“Yes,” you nod. “Let’s go.” 

“So you’re just going to blindly follow a man that you barely know to an unknown location where anything could happen to you?” He teases as he pulls you down the hallway and you never thought about it that way, and if it had been anyone else, maybe you would be worried, but not with Fiyero. “Well, y/n, I thought you knew better than that.” 

“And the same goes to you, Tigelaar,” you retort. “I could just as easily be as dangerous.”

“Somehow, I just don’t think that’s true. You’re far too sweet.” You hate that he’s right. It wouldn’t even cross your mind to hurt someone unless they made the first move. 

“You don’t even know me.” And he hates that he doesn’t. He hopes that in the coming weeks that you’ll be friends or maybe even more, but he knows the latter is probably just wishful thinking. 

“And that’s exactly why I invited you to join me tonight. I want to get to know you. It’s also the reason why I invited you to eat with me in the dining hall.” You’re confused now. You thought he was just trying to be nice. And now you feel terrible for even thinking that he wasn’t being genuine.

“You were serious about that?” Fiyero is quick to turn around to face you, hurt flashing across his face. And seeing the pain expression on yours is making him feel even worse. He thought that his intentions were pretty clear, but apparently he had been wrong. 

“O-of course I was serious. Why would I joke about that?” He’s leaning closer to you, taking your hands in his gently as he pulls you closer, wanting you to look him in the eyes when he speaks. “I invited you because I want to spend time with you, to get to know you. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different,” he says as he pushes some hair away from your face. 

“I know it sounds silly since we’ve only just met, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since this morning.” The look in his eye is nothing but genuine and now you feel silly for thinking that he was anything but. 

“I thought it was just me,” you reply, your eyes lighting up. 

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning even closer to you as his hands move to rest in your hips, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort or hesitance. “Can I try something?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes shifting your lips and you think you know what he wants to try. 

“Yes,” you reply as your eyes flutter shut, feeling his breath fanning your face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer to him, responding to his kiss as your lips slot between his, moving with them as best as you can. 

Fiyero pulls away before you’re ready and pulls you a few feet before spinning you into him, pressing another kiss to your lips. He then takes you to the gardens where you spend the rest of the night, talking about everything and nothing between sweet kisses until the sun comes up. You think it’s needless to say that you’re really going to like it at Shiz.

[thewidowsledger]

Agent

© thewidowsledger 2025 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Undercover Agent!Natasha Romanoff x Mob boss!Female Reader

Word count: 693

Tags | Warnings: None, is the sexual tension in the room with us (?)

Author's Note: This is not a fic, more like a drabble👉👈 I hate how so many good ideas are running in my mind when I am heart broken, so just let me spoil y'all as long as I can :))

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

"Go home, get some rest."

Natasha lingers by the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. Her eyes darted around the room, and her clasped hands fidget behind her back.

"Nat." You called.

She sighs, leaning against the doorframe and stealing a glance out the window.

"Natasha." You called again, much firmer this time.

Ah, she's in shit now. She knows damn well she's in deep trouble when she hears her full name being used especially by you. "Sorry, boss, guess I'm…distracted."

"That much is obvious." You offer a brief smile from your desk, but it fades just as quickly. "What's wrong, Natasha?"

Oh well, the list goes on and on. Where to begin? First, she's an undercover agent walking a tightrope, knowing her bosses are ready to pull the plug on the operation. Second, she's not a very good agent, since she became too attached to her target, the woman she's been "guarding" for six months. She's an agent, and she's wondering if she should be.

Not that the answer is to join organised crime, either. But she's probably not as…objective as she used to be.

"I'm not sure about tomorrow," she finally admits. She doesn't like lying to you.

"What makes you unsure?"

Tomorrow looms large. The brass is forcing her hand. Natasha already delayed delivering you to them three times, and tomorrow, in the middle of your biggest land trade in years, her fellow agents are going to storm the place. There will be chaos, and you're likely to get caught in the crossfire. And despite her divided loyalties, she knows she'll put her life on the line to protect you. Whether they will question her credibility if she's a traitor or not.

Well all because she's just the agent who fell for her target—the "Romeo" of the operation. She just hopes that the story doesn't end in tragedy.

"Are we sure the meeting place is secured?"

"You went with Bucky to secure it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You're nervous," you interrupt smoothly. Your smile is as polished as your satin night dress and the faint, fabricated English accent you wear like armor. Natasha knows it's a front—like her own.

"Can't help it," she shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Your heels click on the floor. The sound haunts her in her dreams.

"I know you can't." You almost sound like you're soothing her. "But try not to let it cloud your judgement."

She nods, brushing a speck off her jacket. It's the best she's ever dressed in her life, all thanks to you. Steve loves to tease her about it, especially the set of black shirt she's never ran out.

You blink as she catches your hand before you can pull away from you completely. "Natasha."

"You," she begins, breaking the strict rule against using names—real or fake—in the office. But you had told her your name yourself, and it's been etched into her mind ever since, like a treasure on a pedestal. "Just…think about tomorrow again."

She meets your gaze, both faces unreadable. Natasha's mastery of concealing emotions comes from years of training, while yours seems effortless. "You're concerned about me?"

She inhales, squeezing your hand tighter. Finally free to tell the truth, she says, "your safety is my top priority."

Something changes in those eyes of yours, but she can't quite tell what it is.

Natasha blinks as you lean in, pressing a light yet deliberate kiss to her cheek. She fights to keep her composure, knowing the Boss rarely shows affection—mercy even less so. But her focus is entirely on calming the storm of butterflies in her stomach.

Oh idiot Romeo, indeed.

You lock eyes with her, your hand steady on her cheek. "We'll be fine," you say with unwavering confidence.

She holds your gaze, resisting the urge to hope for another kiss. Slowly, she lets go of your hand. "If you say so, boss."

You arch a brow. "Back to boss, is it?"

She felt a smirk but more like a smile tug at her lips. "Would you rather I call you something else?"

Your hand glides down her chest, skimming over her leather jacket until it rests on the concealed weapon at her belt. A sly smirk appears as you reply.

"You tell me, agent."

[pedroscurls]

playing with fire (one-shot)

summary: wyatt (aka, jamie) always had one thing on his mind: money. so after he and jonathan part ways, he meets you - a woman that suddenly makes him realize that there's more to life than treachery, manipulation, and violence. but when he has another chance at getting more money than he's ever had before, he goes back to his old ways... and you're more than willing to help him in any way possible. pairing: wyatt bose (jamie getz) x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+ MDNI, light dom/sub dynamic, possessiveness, violence - mentions of murder, blood, wyatt is very rough, light power imbalance in the beginning, manhandling, light choking, brief orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, multiple creampies (oops), one scene of a breeding kink, multiple scenes of oral (m and f receiving), fingering, spanking, marking, no use of y/n. word count: 13.9k (oops - i got distracted) a/n: ok y'all, this is just complete filth. hugh plays such a good bad guy (i really want him to play more roles like this bc damn) and that one fucking line where he says "oh, what i'm gonna do to you" DID things to me jfc. anyway, please heed the warnings and if you do decide to read this, hope you enjoy! had to end it with a happy ending obviously 🙂‍↕️

WELCOME TO THE CLUB — You didn’t know how you ended up here. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of two years after realizing that you were just settling for a relationship that you were no longer happy in. At this age, you should have already been married, should have already become a mother – it was something that your own family liked to remind you of what you’ve been missing. 

But that never did appeal to you. You didn’t want to become a mother, didn’t want to be married. Your family had originally hoped you would find someone to settle down with, someone to change your mind and they had thought your ex-boyfriend was that person, but… Things had become redundant. Boring. You spent most days daydreaming what it would be like to live a life you wanted. 

And the sex – well, you were always left disappointed because he just couldn’t get you to come. No matter how hard he tried. So, you resorted to your own vibrator in hopes to relieve the pressure and tension that you knew you couldn’t get with him. 

He wasn’t a bad man – in fact, he was perfect. He just wasn’t perfect for you. 

And now, you’re sitting at the edge of the bed in a hotel room that you paid for, waiting for this stranger to arrive. You had met a woman one night at the bar who had let you know of an exclusive club that she was in, a club that piqued your interest. You had all of the information written down and every day for the next month, you reviewed it every night. Never taking the initiative to finally be part of this club. 

Until tonight. 

You were tired of using your vibrator. Tired of trying to meet other men at bars, only to be disgusted by their behavior before they could even get to your front door. 

So, you reviewed the sticky note with all of the information the woman had told you about – the initiator pays for the hotel room, no names are exchanged, and no rough play. You weren’t sure what to expect when you finally called a number that she had given you, hearing his voice from the other end of the phone – it was deep, gruff. You spent the next ride to the hotel imagining what he would look like, pairing his voice with the image you conjured up of this man. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. You suddenly feel self-conscious, nervous – this is your first time in this club and you didn’t want to disappoint. With a deep breath, you finally stand up and walk to the door. Gripping the handle, you slowly open it to see a man dressed in an all black suit (no tie) and one of the most charming smiles you’ve ever seen. He wastes no time in eyeing you up and down, taking note of the short black satin robe that is loosely wrapped around your otherwise naked frame. 

“Hi,” he smiles. “Mind if I come in?” 

You nod and open the door even further for him to cross the threshold. He steps in and winks in your direction, catching his gaze on your cleavage. Once he’s fully inside, you place the “do not disturb” placard on the outside handle and then shut the door. 

“This is my first time,” you blurt out, walking back to the bed and finding your spot on the corner of the mattress. “I know the rules. No names. No rough play. Other rules can be established between us and–”

He turns around and gazes down at you, hands in his pockets and that same charming smile lining his lips. “First time, huh?” 

“In this club, at least. Not the first time ever.” 

“Shame,” he eyes your legs when you cross one over the other, the robe lifting to reveal more of your skin. “Would’ve been nice to be your first ever.” 

You feel more confident with the way he’s staring at you. Slowly, you bring your hands to the knot at your robe and begin to undo it. “We could…” you bite your lower lip, the knot loosening completely as you lean back against your forearms to reveal your exposed front for him. “Pretend?” You finish. 

He lets out the most animalistic growl that you’ve ever heard come out of a man. In two strides, he’s standing between your legs, hands still in his pockets as he gazes at your breasts down your abdomen and to the apex of your thighs. 

“No fun in that,” he finally answers. 

“No?” You ask, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you let your eyes take in his frame. You can see the bulge beneath his black slacks, only fueling more of your confidence. “You don’t like to roleplay?” 

“I’d much rather have the real thing.” 

“You didn’t answer my question though,” you reply. “Do you not like to roleplay?” 

His gaze darkens as he finally pulls one of his hands out of his pockets and you see just how large it is when he lightly splays it across your abdomen, sliding it further upwards between your breasts. His touch is soft, but you can feel the calluses, can feel the roughness. 

“I’ll tell you what I do like,” he whispers huskily. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” You whimper, feeling his thumb brush against your nipple before he brings his hand further up to splay against the side of your neck. Slowly, he moves his hand to the back of your head and grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it with just the right amount of pressure for you to tilt your head back, exposing your neck and throat for him. 

“I like to be in control,” he says quietly, leaning down until his lips are near your ear. 

“Thought one of the rules was no rough play…” you point out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his soft lips begin to nip at your earlobe. 

“We can make our own rules, baby.” 

“My first time in this club and you’re already getting me to break the rules,” you smile, moving one hand to grab onto the lapel of his blazer. 

Instead, he grabs both of your hands and pins them above your head. His grip around your wrists tighten as he pushes them into the mattress, staring into your eyes. His nose brushes against yours as the hand in your hair instead moves to cover your breast. He kneads the flesh into the pit of his palm, feeling you arch your back into his touch. 

“Something tells me you like breaking the rules,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning against your lips. “Am I right?” 

“Never had someone to break the rules with,” you whimper, feeling him pinch your nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

He smirks at that, feeling suddenly territorial over you. He pulls back enough to gaze down at you, eyes scanning every inch of your face as he commits it to memory. The way your eyes stare at him with a kind expression, giving him your undivided attention. He isn’t used to this, isn’t used to being with someone like you. You’re staring at him like he’s the only person that matters in this world and he doesn’t realize how much he craves that, how much he’s going to crave you. 

“You want someone to break the rules with?” he asks, moving his hand from your breast down your abdomen and between your legs. 

“As long as it’s with you,” you answer almost immediately. 

Wyatt (Jamie) growls at that and breaks his own rule by pressing his lips firmly against your own. Since he joined this club, he never kissed the person he was with. It seemed almost too personal, too intimate to be shared amongst strangers. In the last fifteen minutes of meeting you, he’s already yearning for more, already planning for ways to have you his. Only his. 

Your hands move to his hair, tangling your fingers into his locks as your lips move slowly against his. He groans against you, your lips so soft and inviting. 

He has to pull away, has to gather his thoughts because he’s losing control and he never loses control. Once he stands upright, he pushes off his jacket and reaches down for his belt, undoing it as he watches you scramble up further onto the bed, sliding the robe off your entire frame. He can feel his cock straining in his pants and when he finally undoes the belt, zipper, and button of his pants, he pushes it down his legs with his boxers and kicks it off to the side. 

He smirks to himself, seeing your eyes gaze down at his cock that springs at attention. He holds onto his base, veins throbbing and tip leaking with precome. 

“You’d do anything I’d ask, wouldn’t you?” Wyatt (Jamie) asks, grabbing your ankle and tugging you back to the edge of the mattress. “You’d be a good girl, listen to what I tell you to do–”

“Yes,” you say almost breathlessly. You don’t know if this is how it’s like with every person you’ll meet in this club, but he’s going to leave a really good impression on you. He’s awakening something inside of you that you’ve suppressed for so long, unsure if you’ll ever get the chance to live out the sex life you’ve always yearned for, but now he’s here – whoever he is – giving you the chance to have a much more exciting sex life. 

“Don’t interrupt me,” he growls, hand moving to your jaw. His gaze darkens, tries to search for any hesitation in your eyes, but instead, he sees a sense of willingness, a glimmer of obedience. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

Sir. He grins at that. 

“Such a fast learner,” he whispers, using his hand to guide his tip to your slickened heat. “Now, be a good girl and ask me nicely.” 

You bite your lower lip, staring into his eyes as you feel his warm tip press against your opening. You clench around nothing, whimpering in protest as you lift your hips impatiently off the bed. His grip around your jaw tightens. 

“Be a good girl and ask nicely,” he repeats, voice deeper, more demanding. 

“Please,” you whine out. 

“Please what?” he growls. 

“Goddammit, please fuck me!” you answer impatiently, hands reaching down to take matters into your own hands. 

He lets out a dark laugh and shakes his head, releasing his hold on your jaw to grab your hands once more, pinning them roughly to the mattress. His grip around your wrists tighten as he stares into your eyes, that same charming smile on his lips. “Am I going to have to spend the entire fucking night teaching you manners?” 

“N–No,” you whimper. “Please, I’m sorry. I just– Fuck, I need you.”

“Then… Ask. Fucking. Nicely.” he repeats. 

“Please, sir,” you moan. “Please, can you–” you gasp quietly, feeling the head of his cock push into your tight heat. When you can’t seem to find your words, he pulls out of you and smirks. 

“Continue, baby.” 

“Please,” you mumble. “C–Can you fuck me, please?” 

“Please what?”

“Sir.” 

Wyatt (Jamie) grins in accomplishment and slams into you without warning, feeling your warm heat encompass his throbbing cock. You’re so tight, so wet that sliding into you is so effortless. Your back arches as you feel every inch of his length press against your walls, a painful stretch to accommodate his size. 

And for the rest of the night, you both remain entangled in each other’s limbs, only leaving the bed to have him bend you over the dresser or to ride him in the small loveseat in the corner. 

When morning rolls around, you’re already dressed in your normal clothes and so is he. It was a night to remember – this club had initially made you anxious, but now, you’re looking forward to the next time you’ll get to meet another stranger. 

Wyatt (Jamie), on the other hand, makes sure to add your number to his phone. His mind drifts to the possibility of you being with other men – even women – in this exclusive club and he feels a sudden sense of jealousy wash over him. He reaches down and grips your hip, pulling you to him and leaning down to capture your lips with his own. He hopes that he’s made a lasting impression that no other man would ever compare to him.

Slowly, you’re the one that pulls away – a small smile lining your beautiful face and eyes gazing at him once more with such kindness. 

“I hope I see you around,” you finally say, biting your lower lip. 

“I’m sure you will,” he says with confidence. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“We don’t know each other’s names,” you let out a quiet laugh. “And I’m sure you have other women that call you–”

“You jealous?” he teases with a grin.

“And if I said I was?” 

He clears his throat quietly. “Then I’d say tough shit,” he answers. “Deal with it.” 

Your face falls momentarily, but you recover quickly and lean in to peck his lips lightly. “Well, good thing I’m not jealous then. I’m eager to meet other men after last night.”

He tightens his jaw and brings a hand up to grab another fistful of your hair. You whimper quietly, hands moving to grip his shoulders. “When you fuck those other men,” he whispers, moving his lips to your ear. “You better be thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut. “Not unless there’s another man who does it better than you.” 

He growls at that, turning you around and bending you over the dresser. He wastes no time in lifting the ends of your dress over your hips as he kicks your legs apart. Wyatt (Jamie) undoes his zipper and reaches into his slacks to pull out his hardening cock – giving it one, two, three strokes before he pushes into you from behind. 

Your hands reach out to grab onto the edges of the dresser, the grip around it so tight that your knuckles turn white. You hadn’t expected that kind of reaction of him and certainly didn’t expect him to fuck you yet again – especially since you both should already have left the hotel, last night’s events the only thing to remember each other by. 

Instead, he’s fucking relentlessly into you from behind, his balls slapping against you. This time, he doesn’t care about making you come first. He wants you – no, needs you to understand that there will never be anyone like him. That you are meant for him, made for him. Only him. 

He reaches down and grabs your hands, pinning them against your lower back as he slams into you. You squirm back against him, the edge of the dresser digging into your hips that you’re sure will leave another mark on your body. 

“You’re mine,” he groans aloud, tossing his head back as he uses your tight walls to bring him closer to his own release. “You’ll only ever be mine.”

“Y–Yes!” you moan loudly, your arousal dripping out of you. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix in with the wet squelching noises coming from between your legs – it echoes throughout the hotel room. 

“Fucking say it,” he demands, using his free hand to grab your hair and pull you upright. “Say it. Say I’m the only one. Say you’ll only ever think of me. Say you’re mine.”

“I–I’m yours!” you moan, his hand moving from your hair to pull down the front of your dress. He covers your breast with his large hand, squeezing it tightly as he thrusts into you repeatedly. “I–I’ll only ever think of you, fuck, please!” 

“Please what?” he groans into your ear. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Need to come!” 

Wyatt (Jamie) groans and empties his seed into you, your walls milking every last drop he has to give you. He pulls out and growls at the sight of his release trickling down the inside of your legs. You’re trembling, hands reaching out to rest on the dresser for stability once he releases his hold on you. He tucks himself back into his slacks and gives your ass a rough slap, smirking to himself. 

“Wait, but–” you whimper in protest, turning around slowly to face him with furrowed brows. “I didn’t–I didn’t come.”

“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” he smirks, grabbing his phone and keys from his pocket. 

“Are you really going to leave me like this?” 

He steps towards you and cups your cheek lightly, staring into your eyes. “You know my number, baby. Give it a call when you need me.” 

“Maybe I’ll call someone else,” you pout, walking away from him to go into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up from the mess he’s made between your legs. 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He’s trying not to let this get to him, to let you get to him, but he can’t help it. He clears his throat and walks towards the door of the bathroom, watching you toss the toilet paper into the trash as you make yourself more presentable. 

“Maybe next time,” you begin to say, walking past him and towards your bag that’s resting on the mattress. “Maybe next time you’ll be the one that should be good for me.” 

He chuckles at that. He feels his feet glued to the floor as he watches you walk towards the door of the hotel room. “Don’t think that’s how this works, baby.” 

“Guess we’ll see next time then, hm?” you throw him a smile over your shoulder and open the door. Before walking out into the hallway, you turn to him and nod in his direction. “Thank you, by the way. For last night. For what happened just a few minutes ago.”

He nods, feeling an unfamiliar warmth blossom in his chest. “You made it easy, baby. Welcome to the club.” 

MEETING “WYATT BOSE” — The next time you see him, it’s unexpected. You’re working at the local library, reading a book at the front desk when he walks in. The same charming smile, a confidence and swagger that he walks with. His eyes scan the building, unsure of exactly what he’s looking for, but he walks further into the library and disappears into one of the aisles. It makes your heart race even faster as your mind drifts to the night you shared with him almost six months ago. You had been more regularly part of this club now – men now giving you a call instead of the other way around. 

He was right, though. Every other man you had been with him after him wasn’t the same. Sure, it was by far better sex than what you would have had with your ex-boyfriend, but it never was quite as amazing as your first time with him. Even as you came, you imagined him. 

You stand from the front desk, telling your coworker that you were going to put some books away. Truthfully, it was just an excuse to find him – the stranger that had left a lasting impression on you. 

You’re pushing a cart of books, going through each aisle. You’re distracted, putting two books away in its appropriate place and then glancing around to see if you can even get a glimpse of him. It feels like maybe you might have just imagined him, maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. 

With a heavy sigh, you round the corner and see him standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing yet another suit and that same fucking charming smile lining his beautiful lips. He’s gazing at you with an already darkened gaze. 

“Well, hello you.” 

“It’s really you,” you whisper, gripping the handle of the cart. 

“You never called again.” 

“Hm,” you answer. “I never received a call from you either and I saw you save my number that night, so I know you had–”

He steps towards you, removing one hand from his pocket to gently brush his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’ve been very popular, from what I’ve been hearing.” 

You clear your throat, feeling a quiet gasp escape your lips at his touch. “Maybe not that popular if you never called.” 

He chuckles, thumb moving lower to brush against your lower lip. “You miss me, baby?” 

“No,” you lie. 

He just smirks. “You’re such a fucking liar.” He grips your chin and pulls you to him. He removes his other hand from his pocket and lifts it up to gently brush against your nametag. Now he knows your name – another rule broken. 

“Pretty name,” he whispers. 

“You gonna tell me yours?” 

He grins, hand moving from your chin to splay against the side of your neck instead. His thumb brushes against your throat down towards your collarbone. “No names, remember?” 

“Well, that isn’t fair though, is it? You know mine.” 

“Didn’t ask you though. You’re wearing a nametag.” 

“What if I say please?”  

“Would you get on your knees and then say please?” He asks. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you, didn’t think about that night you shared. 

“You’ll have to give me a call if you want me on my knees in front of you, baby.” 

He smiles to himself, tilts his head as he gazes into your eyes. Since Jonathan had let him go freely almost a year ago, Wyatt (Jamie) had tried to change his ways, tried to live a better life, but old habits die hard. It wasn’t until he met you that he started thinking about things other than money. 

How could one person leave such a lasting impression on him? 

“Just because we’re in public doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t take you in the bathroom–”

“If you want me that badly, then give me a call.”

His eyes narrow as he moves his grip around your throat. He pushes you against the dark corner and moves his free hand against the wall near your head, staring deeply into your eyes. “Thought we established that you don’t interrupt me.” 

“Maybe I need another reminder on how to be a good girl,” you whisper, feeling his grip around your throat tightening, leaving you almost gasping for air. 

He grins, loosening his grip around your throat. He likes that you can match him, can leave him speechless like this. “Wyatt.” 

“What?”

“Name’s Wyatt.” He lies, dropping his hand to your cheek and slowly he leans in, lips lightly brushing against yours. “I’m gonna kiss you now, unless you want me to give you a call for that,” he teases. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you reach up to grab him by the end of his tie and pull him into you. You press your lips firmly against his own as his hand slides to cup the back of your neck. He growls lowly against you, sliding his leg between your own. 

He’s missed the feeling of your lips, has missed the sounds you make. He feels you roll your hips against his strong thigh and he smirks, pulling away from the kiss to look down at you. Your pupils are blown out, lips slightly parted, and gaze filled with want, with desire, with need. 

“Wyatt,” you whisper. 

His smirk falters momentarily at the sound of his “name” leaving your lips and it’s in that moment he contemplates what it would sound like if you had said his real name. 

“I’ll give you a call,” he says. “Tonight. I’ll give you a call tonight.” 

“And if you don’t?” 

“Then you know my number,” he winks. 

You bite your lower lip and pull him back to you, the front of his body now pressing firmly against yours. He keeps his hand pressed against the wall above your head as he stares into your eyes. 

“What?” He asks quietly. 

You smile, shaking your head and leaning up to press your lips gently on his cheek. “Hope I get to see you tonight, Wyatt,” you whisper into his ear. “Until then, I suppose.” 

—

Wyatt had given you a call just a couple of hours after seeing you. When the phone rang and you heard his voice on the other end of the line, an excitement bubbled within you. 

Excitement. Anticipation. Yearning. 

And now, you’re entering the lobby of the hotel that Wyatt had told you he would be at tonight. You look around and bite your lower lip when you see him standing there with a small smile. He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt over a coat and black slacks. He nods in your direction and you walk over to him, biting your lower lip nervously. It feels like it’s your first time all over again. 

“Meeting me in the lobby?” You tease. “That’s new.”

“Well, consider me excited to see you.” He grabs your jacket and pulls you to him, feeling your hands reach out to rest on his chest. “Been thinking about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, moving your hands from his chest to wrap around his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he moves his lips to your ear, gently nipping at your earlobe. “Don’t think I forgot about you interrupting me earlier,” he growls lowly. “And how maybe I need to fucking remind you that I’m in control here.” 

You bite your lower lip and shut your eyes, tilting your head back to expose more of your neck for him. He takes the hint, moves his lips down the side of your neck with gentle kisses. “I don’t think you have control after not calling me for six months.” 

Wyatt (Jamie) growls. He tightens his jaw and bites down on the side of your neck, sucking on it roughly to leave a mark. He hears you let out a quiet whimper and he pulls away, looking down at you. “Keeping track of how long we haven’t seen each other, huh?” 

You narrow your eyes. “Just a guess. I have been pretty busy with other men and–”

Wyatt (Jamie) glances at the growing mark that’s darkening on the side of your neck. He feels suddenly territorial again. “Hm, we’re not gonna be talking about other men, are we?” 

“That depends. Will you be as good as the first time?” 

He chuckles, his gaze darkening even further. He’s finding that he enjoys this little game that you play with him. He leans in and whispers huskily into your ear. “We both know that you’ve been thinking of me while you were with those other men. Now, let’s get upstairs before I take you where you fucking stand and show these people who exactly you fucking belong to.” 

You nod, too obediently, and pull away from him slowly. You take his hand in his and lace your fingers with his own. The action takes him off guard, because for a split second, you see a surprised look flash across his features. He squeezes your hand and takes you to the elevators. 

Wyatt. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t tried to look him up earlier that day. You didn’t know his last name, but how common was the name Wyatt anyway? Apparently very fucking common because every Wyatt that exists showed up in your search except him. You knew you were playing a dangerous game – trying to get to know more about him, to find ways to spend more time with him outside of this. 

He pulls you out of your thoughts by releasing your hand and instead resting his own on your lower back. He steps into the elevator with you and presses the top floor, leaning back against the railing as he looks at you. Really looks at you. 

You’re biting your lower lip, eyes staring up at the numbers at the top of the elevator as it highlights for each floor you’re passing. Wyatt (Jamie) is starting to feel an unfamiliar warmth settle in the pit of his stomach. He has to wonder if this was how Jonathan and S felt for each other – the possibility of something more real. 

For once, he imagines sharing his life with someone else, with you. He imagines that it’d be filled with a lot of laughter, intense intimacy… but he also believes that he’d feel a sense of belonging with you – something that he’s been lacking for most of his life. 

But then he thinks about having to tell you the truth, having to be honest with you and with himself. His name isn’t Wyatt. Not only has he lied to you, but he’s also hiding the fact that he’s a dangerous man. Manipulative. Conniving. Murderous. Why would anyone like you ever be okay with someone like him? 

When the elevator doors finally open to the top floor, he watches you step out and waits for him patiently, eyes lighting up with a cute fucking smile on your face. There’s a part of him that wants to spend the entire night just getting to know you. He yearns to know more about you… aside from the information he’s already found when searching you up online. 

He was able to find you pretty quickly – an outdated Facebook account, but a more active Instagram account instead. Facebook tells him that you’re newly single, having gotten out of a relationship almost six months ago, which makes him wonder if you were still in a relationship or not when you two first met. He also knows you’re a librarian, but instagram tells him so much more about you. 

You like going to coffee shops, taking pictures of the different cups of coffee you order. He also finds that you like working out, being outdoors, and being active. You’re family oriented – he’s noticed from the handful of pictures you’ve posted with your family on birthdays and holidays. 

As Wyatt (Jamie) had searched you online earlier that day, he continued to imagine how he would fit into your life. And every time he tries to imagine it, he’s always left with a tug in the pit of his stomach that reminds him that as long as you don’t know the truth about him, he can never fit into your life. 

“You gonna show me where to go?” You ask, finally pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He lets out a quiet breath and flashes you a broad grin, slipping back into the same persona that you’re used to. “That eager, huh?” 

“I mean, you called me so we’re on my time.” 

“Oh, we are? You got somewhere else to be?” He walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind as he leads you to the door at the end of the hall. 

“And what if I do?” You ask, leaning back into him. “What if there’s another person I’m supposed to meet, hm?” 

He reaches over to swipe his hotel key card over the door and opens it for you. He pushes you inside roughly, shutting the door behind him as he turns you around and pushes you against the door. He hears you let out a gasp, eyes staring into his own and filled with desire. 

“You just like to push me, don’t you?” He asks, moving his hand to wrap around your throat. He sees the corner of your lips lift upwards. “You think this is a game, baby?” 

You nod slowly, feeling his grip tighten. “Mmm,” you mumble out. 

Wyatt (Jamie) darkens his gaze, stepping up to you as he moves his lips to your ear. “You fucking belong to me,” he whispers. “Do you understand?” 

You nod again, feeling the wetness begin to pool between your legs. “D–Does that mean you belong to me too?” You manage to whisper, his grip around your tight lessening to let you speak, to let you take a breath. 

He stares down at you, feels his resolve faltering for a moment at your question. Instead of answering, he drops his hand from your through and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. It’s urgent, rushed, messy. 

Your arms wrap around him, bringing your hands to his hair and running your fingers through his locks. You part your lips and feel his tongue move past your lips  – your tongue now dancing with his, matching the intensity of this kiss. His hands move to reach around and grip your ass in his large hands. He feels his pants become increasingly tighter as he pushes against you. 

Pulling back, he stares down at you and narrows his eyes. You’re staring up at him with a dazed look on your face as he takes your hand and brings you further into the hotel room. He removes his jacket and sets it on the chair off to the side. 

“On your knees,” he says, turning back around to look at you. He reaches down and undoes his belt, a smirk lining his lips. 

You arch your brow and tilt your head, removing your own jacket as you stand before him in a pair of jeans and a white low v-neck. 

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he growls, eyes taking in your frame. How can you be so beautiful when dressed so casually? 

“Can I take my pants off first?” You ask quietly, hands reaching down to begin undoing the zipper and button of your jeans. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he nods in your direction and watches you begin to push your jeans down your legs, clad in a white v-neck and a pair of white panties. Then, you stand in front of him and slowly kneel down until you’re on your knees in front of him. 

“Look beautiful like this,” he points out, bringing a hand down to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb gently across your skin. He pushes down his pants and boxers, his cock now springing to attention in front of you. He kicks off his pants and boxers to the side, using his free hand to take hold of his base. He steps forward and glides the head of his length across your lips, his precome smearing across your lips. “Fuck,” he growls. 

Slowly, you part your lips for him, darting your tongue out to slide across his tip. He loses his resolve for a moment, sliding his tip past your lips and feeling you lap at his precome. He moves his hand from his base to grip around your hair, pushing his hips forward so that more of his cock disappears in your mouth. 

Your eyes gazes up at him, hands moving to rest on his thighs to prevent him from moving any further. His tip touches the back of your throat and you pull back to take a deep breath. He stares down at you and releases his hold on your hair to reach down and grab the ends of his shirt. Once he tosses it aside, he pushes back into your mouth and places both hands on your head. He hears you gagging and holds you firmly against him, feeling your saliva begin to coat his entire length. When he pulls back, he stares down at you and sees your lips swollen and parted for him, chest heaving as you try to take a deep breath. 

“Tell me,” he groans, pushing his hips forward for his cock to slide into your mouth. “Tell me that you’ve thought about me when you’ve been with all those other men. Tell me that you always think about me,” he groans, thrusting his hips forward. “Tell me that you’ll only ever be with me.”

He pulls back and watches you catch your breath, nodding up at him in response. 

“Say it,” he says. 

“It will only ever be you, Wyatt,” you answer honestly. “Even when I’m alone, all I think about is you. Who you are, what you do, how you can fit into my life,” you admit, slowly standing up and grabbing his shoulder to push him into the bed. He falls back as he looks up at you, his gaze softening momentarily. 

You pull your shirt over your head and undo your bra, completely exposed and bare for him as you straddle his waist and reach down to grab a hold of his cock. Slowly, you slide down his length and let out a quiet moan, his girth and size stretching you only in a way that he can. “I think I could fall in love with you,” you whisper almost inaudibly as you push yourself further onto him until you’re firmly sitting on his lap, his manhood sheathed within your tight, warm, and wet heat. 

Wyatt (Jamie) could have come right there. He stares up at you, taking note of your head tilted back with your arms pressing against his chest. You’re moving your hips slowly in a forward and backward motion, but all his eyes can focus on is you. 

I think I could fall in love with you. It lingers in his mind, mixes in with the sounds of your moans. He sits up, arms wrapping around your waist as he guides you to move forward in his lap. He leans in and presses his lips against the side of your neck, nipping and teeth grazing across your skin. He’s obsessed with you.

“Wyatt,” you moan, arms wrapping around his shoulders as the hair at his base brushes against your bundle of nerves. 

Something takes over him and moves a hand to your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure. He doesn’t want to hear you say that name because it isn’t actually his. He thrusts his hips upwards, your moan coming out almost inaudibly to the tight grip he has around your throat. 

“You’re only ever going to be mine,” he growls. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the hotel room and you reach up to wrap your hand around his wrist. “Ain’t no one gonna be with you but me.” He presses his feet against the floor and slams upwards into you. He releases his hold on your throat and hears you take a deep breath. 

“A–As long as I’m the only one you’ll be with too,” you answer through a loud moan. 

He slowly rolls you onto your back and slams into you. His thrusts pick up in speed, the tightness in his lower abdomen beginning to build and build as he uses you at his disposal. He’s afraid of what this could be, afraid of what you could mean to him, because he can imagine a life with you. He doesn’t answer you though, determined to fuck the idea out of you. He’s sure that once he tells you the truth that you’re going to want nothing to do with him and he isn’t sure that he’s ready to let go of you just yet. 

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, feeling his hands grip your wrists to pin them above your head. 

“Yeah, you are,” he groans. “Fucking come for me, baby.” 

That’s all it takes. You shut your eyes and arch your back, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix repeatedly as your body begins to tremble. Your walls tighten even further around him and his hips stutter, unable to hold back himself as he releases into you abruptly. He pulls out of you and watches his come trickle out of you, the sight causing him to grab ahold of his length and pushing into you once more. 

“Wyatt!” you exclaim, reaching down to push against his lower abdomen. “Wait- Baby, wait–”

“No,” he groans, grabbing your hands once more and holding them firmly against the mattress. He continues to thrust into you, looking down at where you’re connected and seeing his come mix in with your arousal. “Fuck, you look good like this.” 

Your eyes flutter, squirming against him as the sensations become too overwhelming. “Wyatt, please… I can’t–”

“You were made for me,” he interrupts, using his free hand to draw circles against the bundle of your nerves. “And only for me. D’ya understand me?”

“Y–Yes!” you can feel your body giving way to him as yet another orgasm approaches. “Wyatt–”

“It’s Jamie,” he corrects. “Call me Jamie.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and stare into his eyes, but he looks determined. Your mind is all over the place and it doesn’t help that he’s still thrusting into you with his thumb circling your clit. “J– Jamie!” you moan loudly and he groans to himself, pulling out of you to watch your body shake through another orgasm. 

He moves to lie on his back and bites his lower lip, glancing over in your direction. “That’s my real name.” 

You’re breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as you slowly move to lie on your side. “Why’d you give me a fake name?” 

He clears his throat and looks down at you. Quickly, he comes up with an excuse and feels your fingertips run along his chest. “Guess I was still a bit hesitant giving you my real name at the time.”

You nod slowly and then lean up to kiss his cheek. “That’s fair. I’d probably give you a fake name too if you hadn’t seen my nametag.”

Jamie lets out a relieved sigh and then wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to his side. 

“I meant it,” you say quietly. “I’d only ever wanna be with you… as long as I’m the only one that you’d be with too.”

He tilts his head and glances down at you. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, baby.”

“I’m thinking…” you whisper, slowly moving to straddle his waist again. “I’m thinking I’d do anything for you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Then give me a chance to.”

THE TRUTH AND AGREEMENT — It’s been a week since the last time you’ve seen him. You aren’t sure whether you’re ignoring him or he’s ignoring you. Neither of you have tried to give the other person a call, but despite the things he’s told you, it surprisingly doesn’t deter you from wanting him. 

You’re at work again, reading a book at the front desk when you hear someone clear their throat. Slowly shutting your book and looking up, your eyes slightly widen at the sight of him standing in front of you. He’s dressed more casually today, a black t-shirt underneath a dark colored jacket paired with jeans. His eyes soften at the sight of you as he glances at the clock over your shoulder. 

“What time are you off?” he asks.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“Hi.” he sighs. “What time are you off?” he repeats.

“Not for another few hours. You haven’t reached out,” you answer. 

“Neither did you.”

“I wasn’t sure–” you bite your lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“I still want to–”

“Meet me after you get off work?” he interrupts. 

Excitement flickers in your eyes and he lets a small smile line his lips at the sight. “Where?” 

Jamie takes his phone out and hands it to you. It’s his personal phone, not the flip phone that he uses for the club. “I’ll text you.”

You nod and enter your personal phone number as a contact in his phone before you hand it over to him. “I’ll see you soon, Jamie.” 

His eyes gazes up at you at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He isn’t sure why it has so much of an effect on him, why the way you’re smiling at him makes him want to just reach over and kiss you. This isn’t what he usually does – he doesn’t see the same person more than once, at least not if there’s anything that could benefit him. 

He says your name quietly and then looks over his shoulder to see someone standing in line, waiting for him to be done. “I’ll see you soon,” he repeats. 

Stepping off to the side, Jamie watches you interact with the person behind him. He notices the way your eyes light up, your smile so broad and infectious. Even when your eyes meet his momentarily, he feels the faintest feeling of warmth in the pit of his stomach, blossoming further into his chest. 

He doesn’t know what this means, but he really needs to figure it out soon. He needs to gain back control because he fucking hates feeling like this. 

He’s scared. Scared because he finally told you the truth and he isn’t sure if he’s going to lose you because of it. If you do decide that you no longer want this, then Jamie will have to make sure that you don’t talk about it to anyone else… which means having to clean up loose ends. 

Which means having to get rid of you. 

—

A few hours later, you’re driving to the hotel that Jamie sent you the address for. There’s an excitement bubbling within you, but not because of the possibility of having sex with him again, but because you’ll finally get to know more about him. To anyone else, they’d have run and cut ties with him the moment they found out the truth.

When you park your car in the parking garage, you’re surprised to see Jamie standing near the elevator with his arms in his pockets. You take a deep breath, trying to hide your excitement and the smile that’s itching to spread across your lips when you climb out. He walks over to you and gently takes your hand – a complete difference than what you’re used to with him. 

“Hey,” he says first. 

“Hi,” you answer. 

“Figured we could talk,” Jamie says quietly. “That okay?” 

“Yeah, more than okay.” You can tell he’s nervous, anxious because he won’t meet your eyes and the gentleness and softness he’s displaying isn’t what you’re used to. He’s always been so in control, so rough with you that this makes you a little uneasy. 

Once inside the hotel and elevators, Jamie releases your hand and presses the button to the top floor. Turning around to face you, his eyes take in your frame before he walks closer to you. Slowly, he cages you in between his body and the railing of the elevator, his own hands resting against the railing as he stares into your eyes. 

“You know you shouldn’t even be around me after everything I’ve told you,” he whispers hesitantly. 

Jamie lets out a quiet and shaky breath when he feels your hands come up to rest against his cheeks, thumbs brushing against his jawline. 

“I said I’d do anything for you, Jamie,” you answer. “I know I should leave, shouldn’t even be here with you, but I just–” you bite your lower lip. “I can’t imagine never seeing you again.” 

Before he can say anything, the doors to the elevator open and he pulls away from you. Gently once more, he takes your hand and leads you to the room at the end of the hall where he opens the door for you. He steps inside with you and takes your bag, setting it down on the counter as his hands move to your hips, guiding you further into the room and onto the bed. 

“I’ve killed people before,” he admits out loud. “I’m a greedy man. I’m not– I’m not a good person, but I can promise you that I’d do anything to give you the life that you deserve.” 

Slowly, you turn around and run your hands through his hair. “I should run from you,” you say honestly. “You’re the type of man that people warn women about… toxic, dangerous…” your eyes gaze into his, watching as he stares at you deeply. “But I want you… what does that say about me?” 

Jamie shrugs. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But if you decide that you want this… You’re going to have to commit yourself to me. There’s no leaving this, there’s no leaving me.”

“And if I choose not to want this?”

His jaw tightens. “I think you know what I’ll have to do.”

“Well then, do you need a partner?” you ask with a small smile, biting your lower lip. 

Jamie narrows his eyes, moving his hand to rest on your neck lightly. “I do it alone,” he whispers. “I’d be the one in control. You do what I tell you to do.”

You nod, hand coming up to rest over his wrist. “Y–Yes, sir.”

Sir. 

“So, what do you want?” he asks hesitantly, thumb brushing against your throat.

“You.” you answer immediately. “Whatever that means, I’m in it. I’m in this.”

Jamie lets out a relieved breath and gently tightens his hand around your throat. “I’m the one with the power… I’m the one that tells you where to go, what to do…” 

You nod. “I’ll do anything… as long as I just have you, Jamie.”

His gaze darkens and he releases his hold from you to push you back against the bed. Jamie places a hand on the mattress as he leans down over you, lips brushing against yours. “You don’t call me by my name,” he says. “You never call me by my name from now on.”

“But your name is so–”

He clicks his tongue and roughly rolls you over onto your abdomen. Quickly, he tugs down your skirt with your panties as you lean over the edge of the bed, ass in the air for him. Without hesitation, he brings his hand back only to connect with your ass cheek, the sound of the slap echoing the large hotel room. 

“You don’t talk back either,” he points out. “When you go against what I say, what I tell you, this is punishment.” 

You nod, letting out a quiet whimper as you feel the sting of his slap rush through your entire body. You grip the sheets tightly, looking over your shoulder at him. “Okay…”

He shakes his head and slaps your ass roughly once more, seeing your cheek redden instantly with the imprint of his large hand. “Hmm… Not good enough of an answer.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t talk back. I do what you say. I go where you tell me. I’ll do anything for you.” 

“Good,” he smirks, sliding in two of his thick fingers past your folds. His brows lift upwards at the feel of your slickness and he leans over to whisper into your ear. “You like being punished, hm?” 

“I just like when you touch me,” you moan, the roughness of his fingers thrusting in and out of you causing your toes to curl. It’s painful, the way he’s moving his fingers in and out of your depths so roughly, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. 

“Well, it isn’t quite a punishment if you like it then, is it?” he asks, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly. He looks down at his hand, the way your slickness drips down and he brings it to his lips, letting out a low growl at the taste of you. 

“Wait, but–”

He shakes his head and moves to sit on the edge of the bed with you, resting his hands on the mattress as he looks over at you. His eyes move to your backside, can see your slickness along the length of your sex slowly begin to trickle out of you. It glistens under the light and he wants nothing more than to bury his face between your legs, but he can’t. He needs to show some restraint, needs to stay in control. 

“You only see me from now on, are we clear?” he asks, reaching for you to kneel down in front of him. 

You scramble to your feet and drop to your knees between his legs, hands resting on your thighs as you stare up at him. You nod obediently, batting your eyelashes up at him. “Yes, sir.”

“We’re gonna the rule the world, baby,” he grins. “You and me.” He reaches down and cups your cheek, using his free hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants as he lowers it to his ankles. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of his throbbing cock, now fully erect and leaking at the tip. You lick your lips, eager to wrap your lips around him as your hands itch to reach out for him. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” you reply. 

“Won’t be easy,” he admits, stroking himself at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” you answer. “The only thing I need is you.” 

His eyes soften at that. He’s not used to feeling like this – usually, he’d have to negotiate or offer some cut of the money he’d receive, but with you… it’s easy because you don’t want any of those things. You just want him and he can’t help but feel that same warmth in his chest again. He won’t ever admit it out loud, but he’d do anything for you too. 

He doesn’t answer, but instead brings his tip past your lips. You’re eagerly lapping at his precome, sucking his tip as he continues to stroke the base of his length. He groans quietly to himself, pulling back to run his tip across your wet lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he says lowly. “And I think good girls get a reward.” 

“Please…” 

“And begging too? Yeah, baby, you get a reward.” He gently lifts you back on the bed as he lies back. “Over my face.”

Your eyes widen, clearing your throat anxiously as you do what he says. He moves further up the bed as you settle yourself over him, hands resting on the headframe as his lips hover inches away from your throbbing heat. With one arm, he reaches up and rests it over your waist, bringing you down until your sex is firmly pressed over his mouth. 

“Oh god,” you whimper, hands gripping the headboard of the bed frame. No one’s ever done this before and you’re unsure of how long you’d actually last because his mouth sucks your clit aggressively, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. You feel so vulnerable like this, completely at his mercy. You want to scream his name, but you force yourself not to. 

His eyes flutter closed as his mouth laps at your juices. You’re so wet, dripping down his chin as he moves his lips towards your hole. He flicks his tongue against you as his other hand continues to stroke himself, squeezing the base of his cock at the taste of you. He hums against you, causing a vibration to reverberate through your entire body. 

Your legs are placed at either side of his head and you begin to roll your hips against his face, feeling his tongue flatten along the length of your sex. You look down at him, the look on his face only urging you closer to your orgasm. You lift your hips slightly and he growls, shaking his head as he removes his arm from your waist to thrust two fingers inside of you. He wastes no time in thrusting his fingers as he moves to suck your clit with his mouth, tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves. 

“Baby,” you whimper. “Baby, please… I’m close–” 

His hand around his cock quickens, gripping his base tightly as he feels his own release approach. He feels a tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to build as his free hand continues to pump his fingers in and out of you as his lips pay close attention to your clit. 

Your grip around the headboard tightens until his knuckles turn white from the grip, your body trembling and shaking against him. You lift your hips away from his mouth as his fingers fill you to the knuckle. He smirks up at you, curling his fingers within your walls to help you ride out your orgasm. At the sight of you gripping the headboard, head tilted back and mouth agape, Jamie thrusts his hips slightly off the bed as he finds his own release. His come lands on his shirt, letting out a loud groan. 

Slowly, you lift yourself until his fingers slide out of you and you look over at him, seeing his hand continue to stroke himself. Quickly, you kneel down between his legs and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking the remnants of his come into your mouth and swallowing eagerly. 

He shudders against you, eyes gazing down at you as he slows his strokes, the feeling of your lips and tongue at his tip causing a shiver to run through him.

When his cock finally softens, he sits up and removes his shirt and pulls on his boxers. You bite your lower lip and move to lie down on the bed instead, feeling him lie down with you as his arms wrap around your frame. 

“If I can’t call you by your name,” you whisper quietly. “Can I call you baby instead?” you ask. 

He smiles and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “I like that, baby.” 

You grin and bury your face against his chest. “I think I’m gonna like this life with you.”

He looks down at you, watches your eyes flutter closed as the same warmth blossoms in his chest again. 

THE CON — It’s been about six months since your agreement with Jamie and you both managed to slip into a routine with each other. It’s almost domestic, how easy your life has entangled itself with his own. Right after the agreement, he tells you to move in with him, having found out that he lives permanently at the hotel, living on the top floor. You don’t disagree with him, instead, you agree and break your lease, moving most of your things to his place within a week. 

He takes you to work, picks you up, and every night, he makes sure to show you just how good of a decision you made with choosing him. You find yourself falling for him more and more every day, but there’s a part of you that’s too afraid to tell him. Afraid because if you admit how you truly felt about him, you aren’t sure how he’s going to react. You know that you’re a liability; at any moment, he can change his mind about you and you’d know that there would be nothing that you can do if that were to ever happen. 

So, you love him in silence. You stare at him lovingly when he’s cooking for you or when he’s working. You go to sleep every night with your arms wrapped around him, focusing on the sound of his breath to lull you to sleep. When he’s too busy, you make sure to cook him dinner so that he remembers to eat. You hope that he can see how much you’d do for him, how much you’d sacrifice for him. 

You haven’t seen the type of man he makes himself out to be. He’s sweet, considerate, thoughtful. You wonder if he’s hiding that part of himself from you – the man who’s killed, who’s greedy, who would do anything to make sure that he benefits from it. 

By the time he gets home, you’re seated on the love seat with a book in your hands. It’s late, but you like to stay up and wait for him until he gets home. You see the smile on his face and when he looks over at you, his eyes light up. 

“Hey,” he walks over to you and removes his coat, setting it over the back of the couch as he leans down and kisses the crown of your head.

“Hey, what’s got you smiling?” you tease, looking up at him.

“I found my next job,” he grins and gently takes your book from your hand, setting it on the coffee table as he picks you up and sits in the love seat with you on his lap. “Everything’s going to work out perfectly. In just over a month, we’ll have made more than five million dollars.”

Your eyes widen as you wrap your arm around his shoulders. “F– Five million dollars, baby? Oh my god…”

He nods with a grin. “Five million fucking dollars.” 

“What can I do?” you ask, biting your lower lip. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Oh baby,” he says, leaning up to peck your lips. “There’s plenty of things you can do to help.” 

“Yeah?” you ask with a hopeful look on your face.

“Yeah, but first…” he bites his lower lip and brings a hand to cup your cheek, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “I want you. Gonna spend the entire night showing you how grateful I am of you.” 

You smile, staring deeply into his eyes as you run your hands through his hair. “Baby, I–”

“I know,” he whispers, interrupting you. 

“You know?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Is that okay?” 

Jamie bites the inside of his cheek, eyes gazing into yours. He had noticed the way you would look at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, how much care and love you put into everything that you did for him… The five million dollars payout after this job was not only going to be for him, but also for you and what he can do with the money to make sure you had a life that you deserved. 

He knew that had fallen in love with you too, especially when his mind had drifted to you when he realized the amount of money that he could walk away with. It was no longer just him. You were now in the picture and he can’t imagine his life without you in it now. 

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby,” he finally answers. 

You smile, letting out a breath of relief. Slowly, you move to straddle his lap, continuing to run your fingers through his hair as you begin to roll your hips against his own. You had been dressed in one of his old t-shirts and nothing else, your wetness beginning to stain his pants. 

“You gonna make a mess on these expensive pants, baby?” he asks, hands moving up your thighs. “Because I don’t know how I’d feel about that. These are very expensive.” 

“Then take ‘em off,” you whisper, leaning in to peck his lips. 

“Oh, did we forget who’s the one in control here? The one in charge?” he asks, gripping your hips tightly. 

“I– I’m sorry…” you mumble, ceasing your movements as you lift your hips off his lap. 

He growls lowly, wrapping his arms around your waist and standing up from the love seat. Slowly, he walks you over to the couch and sets you down as he kneels between your legs. He holds your legs open for him, gaze darkening with lust at the sight of your sex glistening with your slickness. 

“The things I’m gonna do to you,” he says with a low tone.

—

“So, are we clear on the plan again?” he asks, readjusting his black jacket as he stares at you in a skin tight red dress. He lets his eyes rake over your frame, feeling slightly jealous that you’re likely going to be dancing with the man that he’s been getting close to, the man that’s going to be the reason why he’s getting five million dollars. 

“Yes, baby,” you tell him, straightening out your dress. “Buy him a drink, ask him to dance, leave him wanting more.” 

“Good,” he answers, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Just a dance, nothing else.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m going home with you,” you repeat. “This will just give him the confidence that he lacks and you’ll be there to cheer him on, to get him to trust you even more so than he does now.”

He grins. “Yeah, baby. Good. Good.” 

“Five million dollars for you, right?” you smile.

“For us,” he corrects. “It’s going to be for us,” he admits. 

“I love you,” you whisper quietly, turning around in his arms and bringing a hand to rest on his cheek gently. “Let’s have some fun tonight.”

His heart races at your words and he nods, turning his head to gently press his lips against your palm. He pulls back and then takes your hand, leading you out of the hotel room and towards the elevators. Once at the lobby, he releases your hand and gently kisses your cheek. “I’ll see you at the club, baby.”

You nod and then run your hands down the lapels of his jacket before you turn around on your heel and walk out of the hotel. He looks around the lobby, his hands placed in his pockets as he watches the men in the lobby turn their heads to watch you walk away. He feels a mixture of emotions – jealousy and pride. Pride because you’re his, but jealous because other men are looking at what’s his. 

With a heavy sigh, he stretches his neck and then grabs his phone from his pocket to dial the man’s number. 

—

Jamie’s leaning back against the seat, drink in hand as he fakes genuine laughter at what the other man’s saying. His eyes scan the room, noticing the splash of red in the midst of neutral dark colors. Your eyes meet his and he smiles, watching as you bite the tip of your straw to sip on your drink. 

Then, he turns his attention back to the other man, listening to him go on and on about his divorce and how he hadn’t been able to meet anyone new. 

“Oh come on, Daniel,” Jamie says with that same charismatic grin on his lips. “A man like you can’t get another woman?”

“To be honest,” he whispers, fidgeting in his seat. “I haven’t been with anyone other than my ex-wife. I doubt a woman would want to be with a man who’s inexperienced like me.” 

“You’d be surprised,” he answers. “Because it looks like that one has been looking at you since we got here.” Jamie points his chin in your direction, watching Daniel turn in his seat to look over at you. 

“No– No way. She’s looking at you.”

Jamie laughs, shaking his head. “Her eyes are all on you and she’s walking over here.” He stands from the bar stool and gently slaps a strong hand over Daniel’s shoulder. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom. You go and have some fun.”

“Wait, but–” 

Jamie’s already walking away by the time you make your way to Daniel. You’re leaning against the counter of the bar, biting your lower lip innocently as you wave your hand to get the bartender’s attention. “His next round is on me,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile. 

Daniel clears his throat. “I– I– I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that and–” he loses his words when he feels your soft touch on his forearm, eyelashes batting up in his direction.

“Is it too unconventional for the woman to buy the man a drink?” you tease. 

“N– No,” he stutters. “I’m just not used to women buying a drink for me… or women looking at me in general,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“Well, good thing I’m not like most women.” 

Daniel nods, eyes lingering on your frame. The bartender sets down another drink for him and you lean in, lips near his ear as you whisper over the loud music. “Do you want to dance?” 

“Oh, I–” he clears his throat. “I’m actually here with a friend and if he–”

“I’m sure he’s a big boy who can take care of himself,” you interrupt. “Just one dance? Please?” You can sense his hesitation and you bite your lower lip. You know this wasn’t discussed with Jamie, but your advancements were just not working with Daniel. Slowly, you lean in and gently brush your lips against his cheek. “I promise, I don’t bite… unless you like that.”

Daniel glances at you and then over his shoulder to see Jamie with a dark gaze, but he’s smiling encouragingly at the other man. All it takes is for one nod before Daniel downs the drink and stands up. You look up at him, smiling broadly as his hand immediately darts out to rest on your hip. “It would be very rude of me to deny you one dance,” he says softly. 

“Good,” you smile. “I’d hate to dance by myself.” You lead him to the dance floor, playing with his fingers as he follows you closely from behind. Once on the dance floor, you turn to face him and rest your hands on his shoulders. He’s stiff and anxious around you, slowly moving side to side to the beat of the music. “Relax,” you coo, taking his hands and placing them back on your hips. “It’s just one dance.” Then, you turn your back to him and sway your hips expertly to the sound of the song that filters the entire club. 

He bites his lower lip and pulls you flush against his front, his hands gripping your hips as he watches your backside brush against his front repeatedly. 

You reach around him and tangle your hand in his hair, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder as you keep your eyes focused in front of you. Jamie’s staring directly at you, hidden in the shadows as he watches you move against the other man. He can see Daniel progressively gain more and more confidence as his hand moves around to splay against your lower abdomen, lips now brushing against your earlobe. You feign an inaudible gasp, eyes falling shut as you feel the other man become increasingly excited with the way your body moves against his own. 

When the song finally comes to an end, you pull away from him and turn to face him. You reach up to rest your hand on his chest, smiling sweetly in his direction. “Thank you for the dance.”

“Wait, can I get your number?” 

You bite your lower lip and lean in to give a kiss on his cheek once more. “Maybe next time,” you whisper, pulling away from him and turning on your heel to walk towards the bathrooms. 

Jamie follows you closely, taking your hand roughly into his own and pushing you into the bathroom. He locks it behind him, eyes dark with lust as he pushes you against the wall. “I don’t think kissing him on the cheek was part of our plan, baby.”

“It wasn’t… I’m sorry. He just– He wouldn’t dance with me and I figured–”

“It wasn’t part of our plan,” he repeats, hand moving up to tangle itself in your hair. He growls lowly, tugging on it roughly which causes your head to tilt back. “It was already hard enough for me seeing you dance like that with him.” 

“But that’s what you told me to do,” you whimper. 

“Are you talking back?” he whispers, moving closer until his lips brush against the side of your neck.

“N– No, I’m sorry. I just–”

“You just what?” he asks, staring up at you. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I’m–”

“Thought I told you to never say my fucking name.” He clicks his tongue and pulls away from you, moving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you from top to bottom. 

You clear your throat and reach out for him, hands moving to his chest. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do good, make you proud, and–”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, taking one of your hands in his own. “You did do good. You did make me proud.” He takes your other hand and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head, looking into your eyes. “I just don’t like sharing.” 

“I– I’m all yours, I promise.” you bite your lower lip, your own eyes now darkening with lust. “All I could think about while dancing with him was you. I only ever think about you, baby.”

“It’s hard to be angry at you,” he says. “You’re just so sweet on me.”

“And I– I love you,” you add. 

He falters momentarily, clearing his throat as his grip around your wrists loosen just slightly. “Yeah?” he asks.

You nod immediately. “Y– Yes. I’m so in love with you and–”

He interrupts you by pressing his lips firmly against yours, dropping your wrists as his hands now move to your hips. The kiss is messy, urgent, and he wastes no time in sliding his tongue past your lips. He can hear you whimper against his lips and the jealousy he felt earlier is now replaced with a sudden desire to make you completely his. 

“Yeah? How much do you love me, baby?” he mumbles, pulling away from you as he grabs the ends of your dress and begins to lift it higher to bunch around your hips. 

“So much,” you whisper, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pepper kisses along his jawline. 

“So much that you’d let me put a baby in you, hm? Would you like that?” he uses his free hand to tug down your thong, watching you step out of it once it pools around your ankles.

You bite your lower lip and nod, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yes,” you answer breathlessly. “Yes, baby.” 

“Good,” he smiles, turning you around. He watches you rest your hands on the wall as you bend down just slightly and he groans at the sight of you, pushing his pants and boxers down his ankles as he grabs a hold of his length and slowly runs his leaking tip across the length of your sex. He leans over you, one hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair again. “Gonna fill you up, baby.”

“Please,” you plead, pushing back against him as you feel his tip slide into you. 

“Mm,” he groans, pulling away from you. “Patience, baby. Let’s not forget that I still didn’t like the way you kissed Daniel.” 

“It was just on the cheek,” you whimper. 

He growls and pulls you upright, tightening his grip around your hair. “Your lips should only be for me,” he whispers into your ear, slamming into you abruptly. He groans quietly, hand moving from the base of his cock to rest on your hip. He releases his hold on your hair to bring his hand around your front, gripping your throat lightly. “You should only be for me.”

“I– I’m yours… All yours, baby,” you moan, bringing a hand to reach around for him. His breaths come in short pants near your ear, hand lightly squeezing your throat as his manhood moves in and out of you. He’s desperate to bring you closer to the edge, his desire to fill you up with his come overwhelming his entire body. 

“Gonna make sure everyone knows that you’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, the sounds of your moans echoing off the walls of the small bathroom as his skin slaps against yours repeatedly. “You’re gonna look so beautiful all pregnant with my baby,” he nips at your earlobe, breathing heavily against you. “God, you make me so fucking happy,” he admits. “You have no idea how much you’ve changed my life, baby… how you will change my life. I’m a better man because of you,” he groans, eyes falling shut as he releases his hold on your throat to grip your hips instead. 

“I love you,” you gasp, walls tightening even further around his length. A loud moan escapes your lips as you move your hands to rest over his own, lacing your fingers over his. 

He groans and rests his forehead against the back of your shoulder as his fingertips dig into your hips, driving his own further into your own. He feels the tightness build until he slams into you, painting your walls with his come. He moans quietly, his hips stuttering as he uses your tight heat to get every last drop of his come. “Skip your birth control tomorrow,” he whispers breathlessly. 

You nod, turning your head to gently kiss his cheek. “Anything for you, baby. I really do love you,” you admit quietly. 

“I know,” he nods. “I know.” 

—

Later that week, Jamie gets home with blood splattered on his white dress shirt and knuckles bruised and cut up. You widen your eyes, ushering him into the bathroom as you grab the first aid kit. You feel a sense of dread wash over you, eyes filled with concern at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, what– Are you–” you shake your head, looking up at him. “What happened?” 

“What needed to happen,” he answers. His own eyes are distant as he stares at the wall ahead of him, feeling your hands begin to undo his dress shirt. “He transferred the money,” he grins. “And I had to get rid of a loose end.” 

“Y– You killed him?” you ask quietly, pushing the shirt away from his body. 

He nods and finally turns his gaze to you, staring deeply into your eyes. “He found out who I was,” he answers. “So, I had to do what I had to do.” 

You nod slowly, taking his hand as you begin to clean the cuts along his knuckles. Your mind drifts momentarily, knowing that you’re now forever tied to the man in front of you. You never did have to think about his capability of murdering someone, but here he is… standing in front of you with someone else’s blood on his hands, on his clothes. 

“Does that scare you?” he asks, pulling a hand away from you to hook a finger under your chin. He looks into your eyes, narrows his own as he tries to search for any hesitancy in your gaze. “Does knowing that I can kill someone for my own personal gain scare you?” 

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek nervously. “No,” you answer. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then why does the expression on your face say differently?” 

You sigh and set aside the cotton ball and alcohol. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he asks, jaw tightening. “I told you what I am, who I am.”

“I know and I still love you,” you reply. “What you did doesn’t change a thing, but these hands… it’s hard to imagine that they can cause so much pain for someone else when you’re so gentle with me.” 

“Hm,” he answers. “Not always gentle with you.”

“But never with bad intentions,” you quip back. “Listen,” you begin. “I told you that I’m in this with you, whatever it takes and whatever that means.” 

“There’s no going back, you know that, right?” 

“I know,” you sigh quietly and move your hands to rest on his bare chest. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“We go wherever we wanna go, baby,” he answers. “Where do you want to go?” 

“Anywhere,” you smile, gently leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. “As long as I’m with you.”

“You love me that much, huh?” he smiles, hand reaching down to rest on your hip. 

“More than you know.” 

“I’m a lucky man,” he says softly, gently lifting you to sit on the edge of the bathroom sink as he stands between your legs. “We’ve got the entire world at our fingertips.” 

THE AFTERMATH — Six months after Daniel, you and Jamie had decided to go to Italy. You had fallen in love with the country, Jamie buying a small house away from all of the touristy areas. It’s quiet, serene, peaceful. 

You notice that he seems so much more relaxed here. The money he managed to obtain from Daniel and Jonathan providing a comfortable cushion for the both of you. You fall into a comfortable routine with him again – waking up in his arms, falling asleep right next to him. He no longer needs to work and neither do you, so you spend most of your days entangled with one another. 

He still hasn’t told you that he loves you, but through his actions, you know that he does. 

You’re in the kitchen, making lunch when he walks in through the front door. He gazes at you with a small smile, arms crossed over his chest. He walks further into the kitchen and leans against the counter, biting the inside of his cheek. Through everything that he’s been through, he never thought that he’d be here, with someone he was so deeply in love with. He never thought that he'd ever give his heart to anyone; he had always told himself that he was meant to be alone, that the life he wanted to live was never meant to be shared with anyone else.

But you… You had captured his attention from the moment you both met. Even after the first night you shared together, you were all he could ever think about. You were never part of his plan, but now, he can’t ever think about his future without thinking about you. 

When you look up from what you’re doing to see him, a smile instantly lines your lips. You set down the knife and move to wash your hands, feeling him come up from behind as he turns his head to pepper kisses along your neck. 

“Mmm, hello you,” you smile, leaning back against him.

“Hey,” he whispers. “What are you making?” 

“I was craving chicken parm,” you answer, turning around to face him. “You hungry?” 

He nods and cups your cheek lightly, thumb brushing against your soft skin. “Yeah, baby.” 

“Okay, I’ll make enough for the both of us.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a small smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you,” you smile to yourself, eyes falling shut when you feel his lips on your forehead. 

He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around your frame, lips moving to the top of your ear. “I love you too,” he finally admits. 

You feel your heart race even faster, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Y– You love me too?” 

He nods slowly. “Yeah, baby. I’ve loved you for a long time now.” 

You grin broadly, your teeth pulled between your lips. “I think you just made me the happiest woman alive.” 

“Oh yeah? The five million dollars didn’t do it?” he chuckles. 

“No amount of money would ever make me as happy as hearing those words leave your lips,” you admit. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he smiles. 

“We’ve got the world at our fingertips, right?” you ask.

He grins and moves his hands to rest on the edge of the sink as he brushes the tip of his nose against your own. “This world is ours,” he nods. 

“And our little girl’s,” you add, moving one hand to rest on your baby bump.

He smiles to himself and shuts his eyes, face burying against the side of your neck as he moves his own hand to rest over your own. He had always thought money would be the reason for his happiness, for his contentment, but now that he has you in his life with his child on the way, he couldn’t imagine living his life the way he used to. 

“Everything I do from now on will be for you,” he whispers, feeling a kick against his palm. “And for her.” 

---

npt: @ovaryacted - @yxtkiwiyxt - @princessanglophile - @gelibean522 - @angeiulst

[kateswallofweird]

EX-BOYFRIEND DICK GRAYSON . . .

dick grayson x reader who drinks coffee (though the coffee doesn't rlly add to or take from the plot so !); cw angst ish, highs and lows of a relationship

💭 a reminder that love isn't supposed to hurt. it might sting and it might be rough, but it isn't supposed to ache. take care of yourself and protect your heart xo

PART 2 HERE

being in love with dick grayson was like hot chocolate on a cold winter night and the first fall of snow upon season's change. he was warmth and light laughter. he was diving into the deep end of a pool and coming up for air when you thought you'd gone too far. he was brightness—your single star against the cerulean backdrop of the vast night sky.

but loving dick grayson was also silence after a long night. it was watchful eyes and rising tension despite your confusion. it was changing topics and a dismissive laugh, empty and unsettling. it was the cold creeping up and blanketing you in a chill you couldn't escape. it was midnight blue—a darkness that didn't seem all encompassing until you were stranded in the middle.

loneliness is a gut punch when you're surrounded by love but kept from it by distance. it's the hurt you feel at night, the ache that grows in your heart. it's knowing that things are over before it is, and the final act of desperation before joy evades you and light slips through your fingers. it's drowning without water and suffocating in your own desolation.

"i'm sorry."

your relationship had ended with a simple apology and unsaid words. there were no tears shed, no screaming match, no final attempt to stay together. there was only bitterness (of a love so great lost) and the sad realization of the end upon you (one long time coming).

but that was two years ago. things were changed. you were changed, and you had healed (though his initials were still etched into you). dick grayson was a thing of the past, or so you were convinced.

"it's . . . it's been a while, hasn't it?"

crackly like his connection was weak, his voice filtered through the speaker of your phone from your inbox of messages left from missed calls. he'd changed his number.

"i got a new phone and changed my number this morning. some wayne stalker situation. and bruce, he said to call him first, but i—" he laughed lightly like he couldn't believe himself, "i found myself dialing you instead. apparently, i still have your number memorized."

and you stilled in your kitchen, nursing your mug of scalding coffee, because what if you moved and you realized all of this wasn't real?

"i've been thinking a lot these days . . . about you, about us." he took a deep breath. "i messed up. i see it now. i'm sorry."

memories of your fights fought to the front of your mind, the scars his sharp words brandished on you and the fresh wounds your insults left on him. loving dick grayson was worth it, but it certainly wasn't easy.

"and i miss you. i hope that isn't too selfish of me." he cleared his throat, and you set your mug down to pick up your phone. "oh, it's dick by the way . . . in case you happen to have any other ex-boyfriends hitting your line. not that i'm wondering." he mumbled something under his breath that the phone didn't quite pick up, but a smile betrayed you. you could practically imagine his sheepish expression.

"so goodbye i guess," he said, his voice a lot closer to the microphone now as hesitance rang thick. "and um now you have my number, which i realize now you may not want, but if you ever feel some urge to, uh, call me—you can, and i'll answer. no matter what."

the line clicked and the message ended, leaving only the ghost of dick grayson and a whisper of your ex-boyfriend in your kitchen.

���� how are we feeling dick grayson nation? attacked? comforted? good? bad? well there's going to be a part 2 (it's on the way!) so hang on tight ig!

[iamnmbr3]

ok so i'm rereading Order of the Phoenix and what's up with Draco being so... helpful??

Like back in the Goblet of Fire he's litterally telling the golden trio to hide Hermione because she's visibly (how could you tell tho?) a muggleborn;

then in OotP in the train to Hogwarts he comes to say hi to Harry and hints that Sirius had been spotted by Lucius (the dogging line);

THEN he goes all the way to lean on Harry during Care of magical creatures to say how Hagrid's being messing with stuff to big for him.

HUH??

Why on earth would you say that to Harry? To taunt him? But he could have done it without revealing precious intelligence passed by his father!!

Like, to me it makes sense if it is intended as Drarry moments, because he has a crush and can't help but being invested in Harry's life, and accidentally being helpful to Harry, but we know that it wasn't the terf meant.

And we clearly see how easily Draco can make Potter angry(their interaction during Potions and Quidditch, Potter stinks badges, Weasley is our king ecc.)

It seems like he's trying to help in a reeeeaally backward way, but at the same time he's enjoying himself so much that they do not translate as helping hand.

Also to me it kinda falls flat on a Doylist perspective because the golden trio would have hidden in the forest without him, and they were already worring about Sirius and Hagrid so...

What do you think about it??

P.s.: i reaaally love your metas about hp universe, can't get enough of it <3

yeah, it’s wild. I get why while the books were still being written some people thought he was secretly undercover trying to help the order or something.

I don’t think at that point he was consciously trying to betray his side yet. I think that didn’t happen till book 7. But at the same time, I do think two things were going on.

First of all, he always craves Harry’s attention and does everything you can to get it. And he also really wants to be a part of her story. Harry has other things going on his life and till book 6, Draco isn’t the center of his focus (although he does actually think about and watch him a lot - something Draco doesn’t realize but would be thrilled if he knew). From the moment that Harry rejects his friendship Draco looks for ways to insert himself back into Harry’s life. Dangling his knowledge of things Harry is interested in is one way of doing that. And it also puts him on Harry’s level - in his mind - because his secondary involvement with the Death Eaters mirrors Harry’s secondary involvement with the Order.

And also in his mind shows how cool and serious and important Draco is. He’s always creating the perfect set up for an enemies to lovers story but Harry won’t buy it. Like I think of his mind he think Harry’s going to be like OK I really wanna know what’s going on so I’ll make a deal with you and that will evolve into a grudging friendship. Of course Harry won’t do that while Draco holds the attitudes he holds. Nor as I’m sure he also hopes is Harry going to be like wow I realize you’re so important and special and well-connected and I was wrong to turn down a friendship with you. Draco desperately wants Harry to need and respect him. (Only when he grows beyond this post book 7, and learn to except Harry’s boundaries and to change his own behavior will he actually earn either of those things.)

Secondly though, I think it’s really notable that most of these instances end up helping Harry to either learn information about someone he cares about or protect someone he cares about. The example at the World Cup is really striking. Hermione is specifically in danger because Lucius is one of the Death Eaters under the hoods and he knows who she is and likely intends to target her. Obviously, Draco isn’t going to directly betray his father, but he does warn her that if she stays where she is, she will be recognized and attacked.

Draco at that point kind of likes the idea of violence but he doesn’t like the reality of it and I think a part of him is uncomfortable with what would happen if she actually got caught so although he doesn’t acknowledge it even to himself, that’s the basis of the words. Plus he knows was Harry will fight to the death to protect her. Something similar is probably also a factor in what he says about Sirius. Even his comments about Hagrid to at least revealed that he is alive In addition to dangling more knowledge if Harry will talk to him and pay attention to him - which he won’t.

[shinski-chan]

❛❛𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚜𝚜❞

synopsis: it was just one of the random days where jungwon is going out with his hyungs to have fun, but it was also one of those days that reminds you how clingy he gets when he's drunk.

paring: drunk!jungwon x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k+

notes: featuring jake, fluff, petnames, clinginess, mention of alcohol, suggestive

the sound of the papers rustling filled the room as you fixed the pile of papers on your desk, getting ready to leave the workplace. you glanced at your watch only to find out it was almost twelve midnight.

you pulled your phone from your pocket, frowning as you received none from jungwon. staring at the last text he sent you earlier.

baby, just want to remind you it's d-day. i don't want you to get mad later when i get home just because you forgot😇 love you!

you couldn't help but to roll your eyes, realizing that you had actually forgotten about his plans. the boys hit him up to go out for a drink, and in all honesty, you're not the type to hold him back from having fun and being with his friends because, aside from the fact that you trust him enough, you knew for sure that he needed to spend time with his friends anyway, because not everything is all about you.

after fixing all the mess on your desk, you finally grabbed your keys and told your coworkers that you would be heading out first.

it didn't take you long, and you finally arrived in the parking lot. you immediately got inside the car and tossed your bag on the passenger seat. one hand on the wheel, starting the car, and the other one holding your phone, dialing jungwon's number.

with a few rings, he answered the phone. you put the phone in between your head and shoulder, your eyes focused on turning the wheel to get out of the parking.

"heading home?" he asked on the other line. you could hear the loud music in the background, and you couldn't help but to grimace.

"yeah, i'm already on my way home," you said, still focused on driving out of the building. "don't even think about going home completely wasted, i swear... you'll be sleeping outside," you reminded him, and all you heard was just a soft chuckle, already knowing he was tipsy.

"nah, i don't think you'd let me sleep outside, knowing all too well that i'm uncomfortable," he said. confidence was evident in his voice, and you could already tell he was smirking in the other line. "tell, jake to take you home... i won't be able to pick you up," you said because you had planned on picking him up from the bar.

"will do, just rest. i'll be home by two," he said, assuring you he'd be home by that time.

"yeah, make sure you can still walk straight, because if not, you know what will happen," you told him, and you earned a laugh in response. "you're mean," he replied shortly, which made you smile a little. "get some rest as soon as you get home, hm? i love you," he added, and with that the conversation ends.

it took you over an hour to drive before you finally arrived in your unit. you immediately changed your clothes into something more comfortable before settling in the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion all over you after the long hours of work.

on the other hand, jungwon couldn't help but drink himself in a complete haze. he didn't even realize how much drink he had, and now... he was really... wasted.

"yah! i told you to not drink too much," jake said, exasperated, hands on his hips as he stared at jungwon, who was now half-collapsed on the table.

"i should've known we were both getting buried six feet under," jake added, pinching his nose and looking up as if he were regretting his life decisions. with a heavy sigh, he dragged jungwon out of the bar and told the guys that he's taking him home.

curled up in bed with your blanket on. you were sleeping so peacefully—not until a ring from your phone jerked you awake. you frowned before slightly opening your eyes. you thought, who in their right mind would be calling at this hour when you're having the most heavenly, out of this world sleep? with a slight groan, you quickly grabbed your phone and didn't bother to check who was calling.

"y/n, uhm... we're outside your unit." you heard jake's voice on the other line, which made you glance at the caller... and of course, it was won's phone.

from what you just heard, you knew damn well that for the nth time, he didn't listen and went overboard drinking... again.

you sighed, massaging your temple before answering, "alright, alright, wait a sec." you ended the call, quickly hopped out of the bed, threw on your slippers, and marched towards the front door. the moment you opened it, jake was already standing there, jungwon's arm slung over his shoulder...

"i'm not drunk..." jungwon mumbled, which made you scratch your head. you quickly glanced at the clock. "great, he was on time..." you muttered, trying to calm yourself down. you knew all too well that you were about to deal with his clingy drunkenness from this moment...

"i'm really sorry y/n, i promise..." jake said, raising his right arm before he continued. "i really told him to not drink too much," he said in defense, which made you chuckle as you pulled jungwon's arm, placing it over your shoulder.

"i know, i know... this little thing just doesn't know how to control himself," you told jake and he sighed in relief, holding his chest as if he'd escaped death.

"thanks for taking him home," you said, and jake nodded his head before finally bidding you goodbye. you started dragging jungwon towards your room.

"babyyy," he called out. you sighed... but didn't respond. instead you kept walking him towards the room, but he suddenly stopped, which made you stop too.

"what did i tell you?!" you said, slightly annoyed. his head turned to you, and there you saw a pout forming on his lips. "but i am not drunk," he protested, but you just gave him a frown.

"i missed you," he said, leaning closer to kiss you, but you leaned away. which made him whine, "babyyy," even in his state, he somehow managed to pull you in and give you a kiss.

"tsk, don't make things difficult for us both, jungwon." you firmly said as you started dragging along.

"oh, so we are on a first name basis now, huh?" he teased, raising his brows. you didn't answer, hoping to avoid any drama.

when you both entered the room, you gently laid him down on the bed, but knowing his state like this... he pulled you along with him, rolling over; now he's on top of you.

"baby! you're too heavy!" you protested, giving his arm a light smack, but he only nestled his head comfortably on your chest, wrapping his arms around your frame.

"just for a few minutes, please?" he mumbled, his eyes shut, leaving you with no choice. you sighed as your hand instinctively moved, reaching up to gently stroke his hair.

"baby, do you love me?" his voice barely above whisper.

"what do you think?" you shot back, earning a soft whimper from him.

"i am asking you, why are you asking me back?" he pouted, and you chuckled at his clinginess.

"obviously, yes. what else do you think?" you said, still teasing him.

"that's not how you answer!" he protested, and you just knew for sure he was already pouting his lips.

"but seriously?" he pressed, his tone more serious.

"of course, i love you." you said softly. "why'd you ask that? do you feel like i'm not giving you much attention?" you asked, looking down at him.

he immediately looked up to you, his eyes a little hazy. "mhm, yeah" he shortly replied, and you couldn't help but to pinch his nose.

"you're always buried in work, every day, every night, every minute, every second... even milliseconds," he sulked.

"you're exaggerating," you commented, shaking your head.

"sometimes i think you forget that you have a baby to take care of," he said with a little giggle, making you laugh too.

"i'm sorry," you murmured, feeling a little bit of guilt because you know you've been really swamped with your work lately.

"but seriously, i missed you," he said, and you saw how his lips formed a downward smile. "i missed you more," you replied, leaning in to give him a gentle forehead kiss.

"baby, time is up. go get changed," you said, lightly tapping his arm, but he won't even move an inch.

"bebi, come on," you coaxed, running a hand through his hair. "but i don't wanna," he whined, wiggling a little before burying his face in your neck, snuggling even closer, his warm breath sending a tingle through you.

"you have to change your shirt first, look at you. you're so uncomfortable," you half scolded, but he didn't respond and just stayed, making you sighed at his stubbornness.

"but i want to lay on top of you after," he said, pressing his lips softly against your neck.

"fine," you relented, knowing you won't have a chance to win this. he slightly detached himself from you, and you quickly stood up, getting him his pajamas.

after getting him his pj's, you went your way to him, giving it to him, but he just stared at it, and slowly, a smirk formed in his lips.

"what are you staring at? go get changed so you can rest," you told him, wiggling the pajama in front of him.

"you change my clothes," he said, grinning, and you immediately shook your head. i knew it... you thought.

"you change it yourself," you told him, raising your left brows. you knew exactly what he was thinking. "bebi, pleaseee?" he asked, blinking his damn eyes. you knew you couldn't resist.

with a sigh, you finally gave in, rolling your eyes with his mischievousness. "fine, but don't do anything stupid," you warned, pointing your fingers at him, and he couldn't help but to bit his lips a little, savoring his small victory.

he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. he pulled you in close, one arm slipping around your waist, drawing you onto his lap. your heart raced as you felt his warmth, his hands settling firmly on your hips.

"yah!" you complained with his sudden action, trying to break free from his grip, but he immediately tightened around you.

"what? i don't see anything wrong in this arrangement," he murmured all too innocent as he gazed up at you, his face barely an inch away from you.

"seriously," you said, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would ease the tension you were feeling. when you reopened your eyes, you met his gaze directly looking at you, a small smirk painted in his face, hinting he was enjoying the moment.

"mhm, yeah. seriously," he said, his voice low as his fingers started brushing along your sides. you bit your lip, trying not to react, knowing well that he's making things hard on purpose.

"don't you dare make this difficult for me, i swear," you warned again, keeping your voice as steady as you could, but he just laughed softly.

"me? you know i'd never do that," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"bebi! i swear, i won't keep this up if you keep teasing me like that," you told him and he quickly shook his head, letting out a soft giggle. "alright, i'll behave," he said before pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

you then started to take his shirt off, and you draped his pajama shirt over his broad shoulders. you fumbled a little with the buttons, his hands sneaking up to pull you even closer.

"hold still, or this will take even longer," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"can't help it... just love having you close," he murmured, his voice warm. you shook your head before finally buttoning the last button of his pajama shirt.

"done," you said as you looked up to him, only to find his face just centimeters away from you.

"thanks, bebi." he said, eyes drifting to your lips. you were about to break free from him when he rolled you over the bed, bringing you both to your position earlier.

"you're not going anywhere," he said, snaking his arms around you as he nuzzled to your neck, peppering it with kisses, which made you softly chuckle.

"i love you," he murmured, finally closing his eyes after he got tired of peppering you with kisses. "i love you more than you know," you replied, wrapping your arms around him, and with that, you both dozed off to sleep.

©shinskichan

[bluecanvasshoe]

Frankly, Mr. Shankly

platonic!Marauders x gn!Gryffindor!reader

Picture from Lucy Orpwoodd on Pinterest!

Summary: You've been feeling inadequate in everything, really. It seems the people you thought were pushing you away are the only ones who can help calm these thoughts.

Content: reader struggles with feeling 'average' and 'not good enough', everyone is a bit of an ass but they all apologize, hurt/comfort, Wolfstar is so far just pining in this and Remus is a lil salty, mentions of Sirius' family life :(, use of y/n (IM SORRY), teenagers being weird and communicating poorly

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: WOW i didn,t expect to be writing THIS much over the break, but i'm glad i have! i hope you all enjoy this one!! and: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!! MY FIRST FIC OF 2025!

and just to be clear: what’s said in this fic about being average IS NOT the truth. but average is perfectly fine, and what’s been written are anecdotes from the reader’s mind (and mine, hehe). do not take whats said to heart, because you’re amazing no matter what!!!!

title from Frankly, Mr. Shankly by the Smiths!

--

You've always loved your friends, and you knew they loved you equally. If there's one thing about the Marauders, it's that each second spent is a second valued.

Year five was likely the most fun you’ve had in your life. So, why would year six be any different?

Well, this is how.

Your best friends, your partners in crime, your platonic soulmates who complete the Marauders, a group of five rowdy teens, seemed too good for you nowadays.

You were always painfully average in just about everything. It was well known, and for a long time, it really didn’t bother you. It was easy, low maintenance, and no one expected perfection. But since the start of the year, you soon came to find out that this average-ness made it incredibly easy for you to be outshined.

For so many years, people told you that marks or your number of friends were simply figurative objectives or ideas that didn’t carry any real significance. These assurances, however, are only said aloud when there’s nothing to downplay in the first place.

If you’re extraordinarily pretty, people would say you are blessed, and if you’re smart beyond imagination, people would call you gifted.

If you’re none of those things, if you’re not in the middle or either end of the line, you do not receive compliments because hardly anyone sees a point in complimenting the mode. This isn’t to say that some don’t put in a good attempt at digging deeper; but when you seemingly don’t care nor try, no one sees a point in acknowledging something neither person cares for.

These small encouragements were simply a means to an end, a way to appease the unsatisfied.

You didn’t blame anyone for your faults; that’d be silly. No other Gryffindor, no other friend, would intentionally try to put you down. But intentional or not, they still did.

So when James became Head Boy and had actual responsibilities, you felt a little upset. Not angry or sad, but you did miss spending every hour with him and the others. Not to mention the arrogance that he now held. It’d usually be funny, but now it felt like he was too good, too smart for you. You couldn’t live up to the student body’s role model that is James Potter.

After that, Remus became a Gryffindor prefect. You were happy for him, he truly, 100% deserved it. But then he had his own duties too, and you noticed how much more focused and dedicated he was to his role; a good thing, yes, but he tended to drown himself in responsibilities, distracting him from the Marauders. You now felt brushed off when you tried to make conversation with him, as if other things, things that would’ve usually fallen second, came before his friends now.

Sirius had always been a heartthrob, but over the summer, something must’ve changed to make him more appealing to the eyes of your fellow students. More often than not, he’d be away with someone new, or a new person would tag along in your adventures. This person would then begin to think that they were a Marauder, and it made things incredibly frustrating to have someone who often disregarded your presence assert themself into your life.

Finally, Peter was now spending more time with his girlfriend, a Ravenclaw girl you’d never met and he never specified before. You were happy for him, but now he was so distracted with her and trying to impress her via marks that he didn’t have as much time for the Marauders anymore.

But what about you?

Nothing was new in your life; you hadn’t been awarded the title of prefect, or head of anything, or heartthrob, or the love of someone’s life.

At first, you were sad. However, the start of a new school year was always a little bit melancholy, so you chalked it up to post-summer blues.

But when the leaves started falling and you found yourself walking amongst orange and red trees alone, you became angry. Angry at your friends, Marauders or not, angry at teachers who constantly downplayed your achievements, angry at your fellow students, and most of all, angry at yourself.

If you couldn’t live up to be as good as the rest of the Marauders, did you even deserve to be one?

Did you deserve to be at Hogwarts?

You tried studying more often and staying behind in class to ask questions and improve your grades, but nothing worked. Nothing improved. In your mind, you were a lost cause.

–

It was breaktime, and you were hoping you’d get to hangout with the other Marauders. You sat from your seat in potions, slinging your bag over your shoulder and exiting the dingey classroom.

Exiting the room, you ventured to a classroom close by in hopes that Remus would be there.

“Moons,” you called, approaching him.

He looked up from a piece of paper he had in his free hand, noticing you with a smile. “Oh, hello, N/N.”

“Would you want to come with me to find the others?” 

He frowned, gaze sympathetic. “I have a prefect meeting that’s supposed to run for the entire break. I’m sorry, but I really need to go this time.”

You hummed, feeling a twinge of sadness in your chest. “Okay, no problem. Would you like for me to walk you there?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, I’ll be alright. I’m getting used to it, the cane.”

With a nod, you stepped aside to let him past you. “Alright. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Of course.”

It was always meetings, or supervisions, or patrols. God, he was too busy these days.

With no Remus to accompany you, you found the divination class where both James and Peter would’ve been. 

James, noticing you from the corner of his eye, turned his head to face you. He had an arm around Peter, the two of them moving to stand beside the entrance of the classroom so as to not block those who were walking in the halls.

“Hey! How was potions? No Remus?” James asked, pushing his glasses up.

“Remus has a meeting-” “Right, that reminds me, um, guys, I have a study session this break.” Peter interjected, “sorry for the interruption, but I gotta go.”

“Oh, no problem, Wormy,” you replied, watching as James took his arm from Peter’s shoulder, shoving his back lightly as he walked off.

“You suck, James!” Peter called over his shoulder, receiving a hand-heart from his attacker in return.

You grinned, snickering a little. “Wanna come find Sirius with me?”

He smiled, his hands dropping to his sides as he made eye-contact with him. It was hard to look any of your friends in the eyes lately; you didn’t quite understand why. “Sure!”

You two had been making mindless, nonsensical chatter as you found your way to Sirius’ class. Lo and behold, he was there, leaning against the stone of the wall.

“Why’d you two take forever?” He groaned, standing up from the wall.

“Because your class is really far away,” James shrugged, him and Sirius doing their secret handshake. The long haired boy then turned to you, offering his hand for your handshake.

Once completed, you all began making random conversation, beginning to make your way down to the Black Lake.

“-And I mean, I’m Head Boy. Merlin, sometimes people are so stupid, it hurts!”

Sirius laughed, “yeah, I know. Sometimes people will think that, because I’ve had my fair share of partners and whatnot, they can just say whatever about me. It’s awful, especially when they believe that they’re my best friend for life. I cannot stand it.” He bemoaned dramatically.

“Exactly! People just believe that I’m everybody ever’s best friend because I’m Head Boy, and then-”

You didn’t try to interrupt the conversation; you wouldn’ have anything to say, anyways.

Head Boy, my relationships, prefects. It’s all everyone ever talks about, and it’s getting tiring. 

–

Everyone, for the first time in a week, was gathered in the common room. Remus sat with Sirius on a couch opposite to you, James across a sofa, and Peter sitting beside where James’ feet landed.

Remus, seeming to remember something, raised his head to look at you. You who had been quiet, avoidant, and easy to anger in recent weeks.

“Right, Y/N, do you still have my copy of the Odyssey Homer I gave to you?”

You looked at him, jaw closed tightly. “Uh, yeah. I can return it in a bit.”

“Could you maybe get it now?” He insisted, his tone kind, but almost cautious. You felt bad for the fact that he felt he needed to be careful, guilt weighing more than it already did.

“...Yeah, alright.” You muttered half-heartedly, setting aside your book and walking past the couches. The warm, cozy atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room would usually be comforting, but it only made you feel more upset. Upset for the time lost between the five of you, and longing for the connection you all had in previous years.

You walked up the steps to your dorm, one of your roommates sitting on their bed. They looked up from a book about divination, giving a wave as you trudged over to your bedside table.

“You’ve been grinding your teeth in your sleep again,” They commented, dogearing a page of the textbook and closing it. “Does your jaw not hurt?”

You ignored their question head, head turning to look at them. “Oh. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Last time I did, Y/N, you were all pissy.”

“Still,” Your head turned back to the drawers as you crouched down, opening a drawer and searching through it. “I would’ve made up for it.”

“Not the point, Y/N. You’re acting weird.” They crossed their arms, leaning back against their headboard.

You paused, heart beating a little faster. So it’s noticeable? Merlin, of course it’s noticeable. But that means that your other friends have noticed it too. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. What’s eating you?”

Sighing, you closed the drawer and opened another one. “It’s just stress from school.”

They hummed, “You just said it was nothing.”

“It is, but now I’m telling you it’s school stress.”

“Exactly. You switched up your excuse because you’re refusing to say what’s been going on with you.”

You sent them an unamused look, trying to appear nonchalant. “Because nothing’s going on. Will you drop it?”

They sighed, picking their textbook back up. “Alright, Merlin.”

You found the book you’d borrowed and placed it onto the ground, closing the drawers of the nightstand and leaving your dorm with an unusual hastiness. Returning to the common room, you wordlessly gave Remus the Odyssey Homer and sat down again.

James craned his head towards you, stopping mid-sentence and interrupting his nonsensical conversation with Sirius. “You alright there?”

Looking up, you raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

He shrugged, “You haven’t been talking as much. Did we do something? If we did, you’re allowed to punch us all really hard if you tell us what.”

You huffed. They hadn’t done anything, not really. “You guys didn’t do anything.”

Sirius hummed, tilting his head. “You are acting kinda weird, though. We obviously did if you’re being this avoidant, mate. You can talk about it, we’re not gonna be angry.”

“You’ll feel better if you do,” Peter piped up, his words drawn out.

You hesitated. “It’s so stupid.” You muttered, looking at your lap.

“What’d you say?” James asked, leaning forward.

“‘It’s stupid’,” Remus replied, using air quotes. James gaped, standing up to march over to your couch and sit down beside you. 

“If it’s making you feel so upset, then it’s obviously not stupid!” He huffed, a hand on your shoulder. You grimaced, shoulders hunched.

“It’s not a big deal, though. I really shouldn’t be as upset as I am.”

“Nonsense, N/N! Don’t say that,” he chided. Peter leaned forward, each of your friends donning worried expressions.

Sirius scoffed, “Whenever I’m upset over my family, you lot tell me I’m perfectly reasonable. So stop being a hypocrite and tell us!”

“It’s not that easy, Pads.” You replied, frowning. 

“I know it’s not, but we all trust each other here. You know we wouldn’t judge you like pricks,” He reasoned, dragging Remus with him to squeeze into the vacant space beside on the couch. Peter got up, opting to sit at the bottom of the sofa by you.

After a few seconds of hesitation, you felt your bottom lip quivering. James frowned, leaning forward to get a look at you; curse him and his observant qualities. “Awe, no, don’t cry,” he wrapped his other arm around you, “actually, no, crying is good. But please, what’s wrong?”

The others, in a collective effort you get you talking, piped in small encouragements.

You wiped your eyes, sniffling. “I feel… I dunno, I feel stupid. Like- like you guys are too… good for me.” 

“What? No!” James gasped.

Sirius frowned, an arm around your shoulders. “Absolutely not. You’re not stupid, and we are not ‘too good’!” He exclaimed, acting as though the mere thought was outlandish and preposterous in nature.

“Why would you think that?” Asked Remus, his voice gentle and coaxing.

You shrugged, swallowing your tears. “You’re… You’re all accomplishing things. And I’m really happy for you all, but I-” your voice cracked, the painful constricting of your throat cutting off your words. You’re not sure if your tears are out of anger or sadness. “I’m not doing anything. I’m not achieving anything impressive. I’m surrounded by amazing people, but I can’t even live up to a quarter of the person they are, and I’m so tired of it.”

You purse your lips, wiping at your eyes again. “And I- I…” With a deep breath, you felt the frustration in your chest bubble up again, the irresistible urge to snap consuming your thoughts and controlling your mouth. “I can’t be the person everyone else is; I’m so average it hurts, and every day I’m reminded of the fact that I’m not and won’t ever be as good as everyone else because now I’m being left alone with my thoughts more often. And- and it’s because all of you have some new title, or are too busy studying and I miss being friends with all of you, but I feel so selfish, but I’m so pissed.”

When you were done, you took in what was likely the biggest breath of your life, lungs 

expanding wider than they ever had. Not even running could render you as out of breath as you currently are.

The rest of the Marauders fell silent, sharing expressive glances and mulling over the right things to say.

“We’re still friends. Marks, names, none of that... actually matters to us. They’re just things.” Peter replied, his voice soft.

You huffed, blinking back tears. “Everyone says that because no one understands that I try so hard to achieve that ‘thing’. It’s so much more to me than that; I just- I just want to be good enough.” You choked out, the anger fading from your voice and being replaced with a pathetic, sad crackle.

James’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “Hey, no, you are good enough. We don't care about any of that,” his tone grew to become more serious than it previously was, his words carrying double the weight. “We became friends with you because we all sat in the same train compartment and got along when we were eleven. Do you think we cared when we were kids?”

You took a steadying breath, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Do you think we care now?” He continued, thumb rubbing shapes into the bone of your shoulder. 

“I don’t- I don’t think so.”

He nodded, “Good, ‘cause we don’t; you’re an enjoyable person, we value that the most!” 

“Just because Prongs and Moony’ve got titles doesn’t mean they’re better,” Sirius piped up from your other side, nudging you. “If they really believed in that stuff, do you think they’d be friends with us? I mean, we have the detention slip scrapbook, mate.”

You huffed a laugh at the mention of your shared collection of write-ups, wiping at your eyes.

“That’s not everything, though, is it?” James and Remus chorused, giving each other a quick high five soon after.

You took a second, but you eventually shook your head ‘no’ once more. “Sirius, the people you’ve been hanging out with, they… I don’t like it when someone new is with us.” You said cautiously, looking at him in the corner of your eye. He blinked a few times, nodding. “They ignore me, Moony and Wormy most of the time and it- it just feels a bit… degrading?”

Sirius’ mouth opened, giving a slow, understanding nod. “Ooh. Yeah… I can see why,” he sympathised with you, looking at Remus briefly. “Moony and I have talked a bit about it. I swear, I’m not doing it ‘cause I think we need someone new, but I don’t want to abandon you lot to go on dates. I’ve tried not to involve them in our hangouts a ton, but sometimes they get in their head about it and act like they’re a part of our group. I’m sorry, not just to you, but to everyone. I’ve been an ass.”

You smiled, looking at him. “Thanks, Pads. It’s okay.”

He shook you a little, frowning. “Awe, don’t say that, hold me accountable. James said you could punch us, you could punch me!” 

With a grin, you shook your head. “I’m not gonna punch you. That was shitty, though.”

“You’re right, but if you won’t, then I’ll punch him!” James offered, his usual attitude reappearing as he enthusiastically raised his hand. 

“Let’s not punch each other,” Remus said at the same time as Peter interjected, lifting his head to say, “Can we not?”

“They’re constantly inhibiting our fun,” James whined, stretching his arm over you to hold hands with Sirius, who had a dramatic, forlorn expression on his face. 

“We’re hated by everyone.” Sirius sighed, shaking his head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, frowning. The look he gave Sirius, the one the other would gaze at him with in much the same way, was one of longing and affection. It was torturous, really; seeing how in-love but convinced about its assumed one-sidedness they were. “Do you not have a fan club or something?”

“Let me be sad, Remus.”

James laughed, separating his hand from Sirius’ and looking at you again. “Seriously, though. We’ll never be ‘too good’ for you or leave you behind for something stupid like our titles. You’re our best friend, you always have been, and nothing will change that,” he squeezed your shoulders, glasses reflecting the warm light of the fire.

Remus nodded, “none of us were abandoning you. I suppose we all got distracted in our own ordeals, but we’d never knowingly distance ourselves from you. You’re one of us; your status doesn’t change that.”

You gave both Remus and James a smile, old tears drying in your eyes. “I’m sorry for being avoidant. I should’ve- I should’ve said what was happening, it’s not fair to you, I’m- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” James exclaimed, removing his arms from you to outstretch at his sides, enveloping you in a hug immediately after.

Remus reached past Sirius, putting a hand on the middle of your upper back. “You’re a great friend, and I truly, honestly mean that. And you’re smart, too; don’t forget that. If I didn’t have you to talk with, I’d go insane. I hardly think they can even read.”

Sirius and James squawked dramatic refusals in response to his claim, causing Remus to grin smugly.

Sirius cleared his throat, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Anyways, if we’re all saying things we like about you, I still remember when you incendio’d that letter my mother sent in third year. I thought you were a badass. I still do; you’re cooler than that git.” He gestured to Remus, causing the scarred boy to raise his hands in faux shock, mouth slightly agape.

“I agree with what they said,” Peter interjected from the floor. “You’re a good friend. We all met on the train for a reason, I think.”

“Exactly, Wormy.” Sirius nudged Peter with his foot, the boy shoving it away in return.

After all was said and everyone was forgiven, you eventually all moved to form a group hug.

“Let’s pull a prank after this. ”James suggested, his voice muffled. “Let’s douse the hallways in grease from the kitchens again.”

Maybe the couch was tiny and didn’t fit all of you and maybe you couldn’t breathe anymore, but at least self-deprecation wasn't the cause for your breathlessness. The anxious, upset racing of your heart was replaced by happiness. The nasty thoughts clouding your mind and drowning out any sounds around you were replaced by giggles or dumb jokes from your closest friends.

For the first time in a few months, you felt that being average, normal, was okay.

[electricneonvalkyrie]

The Quiet Art of Loving Abby

✨️ Hey guys. I swear on my life I'm not back, but I have so many pieces I'd written for my previous account, and I'm feeling inspired to share. So, here. Have a random journal entry written by Abby and a funny moment with Manny at the end.

Be kind to yourself and those in your orbit. I really hope you're doing well out there. If you're not, maybe this little piece of the internet can help take your mind off it. Love always: a bodybuilding mush-heart lesbian formerly known as DeepOuterSpaceCandy who most assuredly is not back on Tumblr (I'm serious.) ✨️

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe to get it out of my head. Or maybe because I’m finally ready to admit some things to myself.

Not every misunderstanding is meant to be analyzed. I’ve learned the hard way that not every crack can be repaired. Some things break too deeply, and no matter how much patchwork you do, it doesn’t hold—not when the foundation wasn’t solid to begin with. Relationships like that turn into endless mending. Every fight feels like patching another hole, every silence another piece you’re desperately trying to glue back together. It doesn’t stop the breaking—it just delays the inevitable.

It’s exhausting. And worse, it doesn’t work.

I’ve spent so much energy trying to hold things together that I lost sight of myself. Of what I needed. Of what healing was supposed to feel like. When two people don’t fit, no matter how much they care or how hard they try, all that effort just turns into a cycle of hurt. You keep pouring everything you have into fixing what’s broken, but all it does is drain you until there’s nothing left.

The relationship stops being a safe place and starts feeling like a battlefield.

Love isn’t supposed to be like that. It’s not supposed to feel like a constant struggle just to keep it from falling apart. With the right person, you’re building something steady, something that doesn’t need constant repairs just to survive.

But I’ve been there. I’ve tried to be what they needed. I gave pieces of myself, whittled away at who I was, until I didn’t even recognize the person I’d become. And no matter how much I gave, it was never enough to bridge the gap between us.

It’s that fucking weight in your chest, like you’re holding your breath, just waiting for shit to go sideways. Like you know it’s coming—the other shoe is dangling by a thread—and you’re just stuck there, bracing for the hit. And the worst part? You can’t stop it. You can’t control it.

I act like it doesn’t bother me. Like I saw it coming a mile away, and it’s just another shitty thing in a long line of shitty things. I shrug, I crack a joke, I push it aside like I’m too tough to care. But the truth? It fucking hurts. Every time.

There’s one moment that still gets to me. An old relationship that taught me not only what I couldn't endure but what I needed to shift.

We were sitting in a bubble bath. The water was warm, the room quiet except for the occasional sound of the faucet dripping. My chest was tight, my heart pounding, because I was about to open up. To say something real for once. I was finally ready to let it out. And I tried.

And then she started talking. About her ex. About how Isaac had transferred him back to her sector. About how thoughtful it was of him to offer her some of his old gear. How they'd been planning to meet up for a drink.

It wasn’t just a story for me. It was a reminder: I have options. Don’t get too comfortable.

Of all the things to say when we were alone together, I couldn't wrap my head around why she chose this. It stung. My feelings for her immediately changed.

It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, but I hadn’t called her out yet. At first, I told myself I was just being sensitive. Maybe I was overthinking it, maybe it didn’t mean what it felt like it meant. I hadn’t given myself time to process it.

Looking back, I don’t think she meant to hurt me—maybe she didn’t even realize what she was doing. We're all broken people in a broken world trying like Hell not to do broken shit. But intention doesn’t matter when the knife still cuts.

I clammed up. Let the water go cold, let my words sink with it, and told myself it didn’t matter.

But it did.

I could’ve said something more. I could’ve told her exactly why it hurt and tried to salvage what we had. But did I even want to? Did I want to be with someone who needed to have it explained? Someone who didn’t instinctively know that trust is fragile, that you don’t chip away at it and expect it to stick?

The truth is, I didn’t.

I'd grown tired of explaining. I just wanted to be... even for a little while.

I cared about her, but I cared enough to let her go. Not because I didn’t want to love her, but because I knew we’d never find peace in each other. She would never be my person, and I'd struggle to trust her enough to be hers. Some things aren’t meant to last, no matter how badly you want them to in the moment.

---

And then there’s you.

With you, it’s different. Those issues don't even come up. There’s no endless patchwork, no quiet competitions, and no wounds that keep reopening. The foundation we’ve built feels steady. Solid. The kind of thing that grows, not something that limps along.

You’ve shown me what love can look like when it’s built on trust instead of fear. When I make mistakes, you don’t see it as something to leverage over my head—you see it as a chance to learn, to grow together. Your quiet confidence, your steady presence, has made me believe that I can show up when things get tough. That I don’t have to shut down or walk away just because it gets messy.

You’ve made me realize that love doesn’t have to feel like fixing—it can feel like becoming. It can feel like growing. With you, every day is like coming home to something solid after years of searching for ground that wouldn’t give way beneath me.

I’ve never had someone make me feel as safe as you do. It’s not just the way you listen when I’m having a hard day or the way you instinctively know when to give me space and when to pull me closer. It’s the way you look at me—like I’m not something to fix, but something to love, exactly as I am. It makes me want to be better for you.

You stand up for me in ways I don’t even know how to stand up for myself. I don’t always get it. I’ve done things—things I don’t like to think about, let alone admit—and there are days when I feel like I don’t deserve the kind of loyalty you give so freely. But you? You don’t hesitate. You see me at my worst, all the guilt and anger and trauma, and somehow, you still think I’m worth it.

For the first time, I’m not afraid to imagine what the future might look like. I can picture the little things—mornings with you, watching the sunrise from a patrol route, maybe even a life where we’re not always fighting to survive. It doesn’t feel like a dream anymore. It feels like something real, something worth building together.

Even writing this feels vulnerable. I’m not good at putting my feelings into words, and sometimes it feels easier to let things stay in my head. But with you, I want to try. You’ve shown me that vulnerability doesn’t have to feel like weakness—it can feel like freedom.

I’ve never been this careful before. Not because I’m afraid of losing you—though God knows I’d never want to—but because I can’t stand the thought of hurting you. Your heart is the one thing I want to protect more than anything, and that’s new for me. I’ve made mistakes before, acted without thinking, let my walls do the talking. But with you? I want to be better. I want every word, every action, to show you how much you mean to me. Not out of fear, but because you deserve that kind of care. You deserve all of it.

It’s not about patching up something fractured; it’s about working through the cracks together because what we have is worth it. You make me feel safe enough to face the hard times, knowing there are no head games, no deception—just honesty and trust. For the first time, I believe I’m enough to stand beside someone as steady and true as you and build something that lasts.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Because for the first time, I believe it can happen for me. And for the first time, I want to rise to meet it. To be the woman you deserve—the one who doesn’t flinch from the hard moments, who chooses you, who chooses us, every single time.

-Abby

💍 ❤️💍❤️💍❤️💍

The air is thick with the stench of the infected, and Abby is already regretting this entire plan. She ducks behind a rusted car, wiping blood and sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, and shoots a glare at Manny, who’s crouched beside her, grinning like he’s enjoying himself.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” she mutters, reloading her gun with quick, practiced movements.

“Stupid?” Manny whispers, feigning offense. “This is romantic. You’re risking life and limb for love, Abby. That’s some fairytale shit right there.”

Abby huffs, peering over the hood of the car to check the alley. “Fairytale? Pretty sure Cinderella didn’t have to shiv a Clicker to get to her glass slipper.”

“Yeah, well,” Manny says with a shrug, holding his machete at the ready, “I’d like to see Prince Charming deadlift a door to block a Runner. Bet you’ve got him beat.”

Abby rolls her eyes but can’t fight the smirk tugging at her lips. “Just keep moving, Casanova. We’re burning daylight.”

They sprint across the cracked asphalt, boots pounding against the uneven surface, dodging rusted cars half-swallowed by creeping vines and weeds that split the pavement like jagged scars. The guttural snarls of infected echo down the empty streets, sharp and urgent, mixing with the metallic clang of loose debris rattling underfoot. Abby’s breaths are steady but forceful, her muscles coiled and ready as she glances over her shoulder, scanning for movement in the shadows.

Manny vaults over a makeshift barricade—a sagging pile of wooden pallets and rusted metal scraps—his landing marked by a muffled grunt as his knees bend to absorb the impact. He straightens, turning to Abby with a wide, shit-eating grin, the glint of sweat on his face catching the faint rays of sunlight breaking through the clouded sky.

With a dramatic flourish, he sweeps his arm in an exaggerated bow, his machete still gripped tightly in one hand. “After you, oh fearless leader,” he says, voice dripping with mock reverence.

Abby doesn’t even slow down. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you in the teeth,” she mutters, vaulting over the barricade with ease, her shoulders tense, her eyes fixed ahead. Her hand instinctively brushes the hilt of her knife, her focus sharp despite the absurdity of Manny’s antics.

Inside, the place is a wreck. Glass display cases are shattered, vines creep along the walls, and the faint sound of distant infected keeps her on edge. Manny whistles low, stepping over a toppled rack.

“Damn,” he says, eyeing the glittering remains of necklaces and earrings scattered across the floor. “How much do you think this stuff was worth before, you know, the end of the world?”

“Don’t care,” Abby snaps, scanning the room for movement. “Just find the rings so we can get out of here.”

Manny pokes his tongue between his teeth, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, you could’ve just made her one. Fashioned it out of some old rifle parts. Very rugged, very you.”

Abby shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “She deserves more than a bolt and a washer, Manny.”

“Aw, look at you, all sentimental,” he teases, picking up a ring box from behind the counter. “What about this one?” He opens it dramatically, revealing a gaudy, oversized sapphire that catches the dim light.

Abby grimaces. “You want her to think I looted it off a mob boss?”

“Fair point,” Manny concedes, tossing the box aside as Abby moves toward a case that’s somehow still intact. Her eyes catch on a diamond ring—simple, timeless, and effortlessly beautiful.

“This,” she murmurs, reaching for it. She holds it up to the light, her heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with the infected outside. “This is it.”

Before Manny can reply, a feral growl cuts through the silence. They both freeze, exchanging a look before the sound of shuffling feet grows louder.

“Figures,” Manny mutters, tightening his grip on his machete. “Can’t even go shopping without a welcoming committee.”

Abby grins, slipping the ring into her pocket. “No shit.”

With that, they surge into action, Manny throwing out sharp remarks as his machete cuts cleanly through the chaos, while Abby moves with relentless precision, every motion deliberate and effective. The snarls of the infected fade, replaced by an unsettling quiet as the last threat falls. Manny braces himself against his weapon, his breaths heavy and labored, the usual humor in his eyes dimmed by the tension lingering in the air. Abby remains poised, her gaze sweeping the room with a practiced intensity, every muscle still coiled, ready for anything that might still lurk in the shadows.

“Remind me,” he says, wiping his brow, “why I agreed to come on this suicide mission?”

“Because you’re a sucker for romance,” Abby replies, a sly smile crossing her face as she pats her pocket.

Manny groans. “If she doesn’t say yes, I’m never letting you live this down.”

[andy-clutterbuck]

5x16 | 6x07

[natjennie]

abba songs are something that can be so patcap

[inspector-montoya-fox]

i am in the silliest goofiest of all moods so i decided to take my top 3 ice creams of this summer and share with you which characters they remind me of the most. let me know if you think you are sillier and/or goofier by sending me your favourite ice cream

at number 3 we have Arpeggio as Haagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche, and specifically the mini tub that comes in a box of four flavours. despite the flavour's Latin American roots, i think Arpeggio would savour it because he likes to indulge in different cultures as a certified genius. kinda sophisticated like him, and just like his time in the game, short and sweet

number 2 is a cool remix of a childhood classic: blondie caramel Maxibon with the waffle. I've paired it with Rajan because the packaging is orange, duh but also because it has two different sides. the waffle is Rajan's regal facade, appealing to Westerners, whereas the ice cream bar side is rough and rocky just like the predator within

the Kinder Bueno ice cream is paired with Carmelita and takes the number one spot this summer. is this coupling based on personal bias? maybe! the flavours here are so nostalgic and reimagined into ice cream form perfectly. the cone and hardened chocolate on top form a tough exterior but inside the core is soft and rich, just like Carmelita herself. 10/10 masterpiece

[rotisseries]

inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth

[samael-your-guardian-angel]

@thedemon-crowley I heard you need a ride?

An angelic chorus sings out as the clouds part, shining light down on The Silver Wraith.

*SI MUTARE ANIMUM TUUM, EGO PRIMUS IN ACIE~*

Hope you like ABBA!

[hollowsart]

as I logged into tumblr on desktop it was a little slow to load up my extensions and add-ons and so I saw the "what's new/try this/staff picks/etc" carousel and above it it read

"Take a chance on me"

and now I got that Abba song stuck in my head.

[xheartachee]

hello tumblr ive returned and i present. stanley

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?