#when i have these days i try to remember that i do deserve to be where i am

[sugarwarachan]

roll the dice - ft. sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x roommate!reader

summary: It's Valentine's Day and Sero does his best to keep his horny thoughts to himself. He doesn't succeed.

cws: smut mdni, face sitting, sero hanta is a pussy-eating KING, dirty talk

based on this prompt list

"Wow," Sero whistles, while you teeter on one heel and hop into the other. That dress hugs every inch of you. "Someone’s lookin’ good. Hot date?"

You laugh, and fuck, he’s such an idiot, because the sound travels straight to his dick. He adjusts himself as subtly as he can and goes back to cooking dinner.

"Something like that.” You swipe on lip gloss in the hallway mirror. "He’s a coworker. I might have mentioned him?"

You’ve mentioned him 17 times. Not like Sero’s counting.

"Make sure he treats you right," is all he says instead, doing his best to ignore the cute little blush tearing across your face as you duck out the door.

Alone on Valentine’s Day, he thinks ruefully, settling his long frame on the couch. Alone on Valentine’s Day with a raging hot case of let-me-fuck-you-right-now for his roommate.

He should have turned down being your roommate the minute he saw you on Denki’s phone. If he had, he wouldn’t be this jealous of some random shithead taking you out for Valentine’s Day.

He considers texting Denki just to have someone to commiserate with, but the guy is probably doing his best to woo Jiro and doesn’t need the distraction.

He sparks up a joint and turns on 13 Going on 30 (so he’s a rom-com guy, sue him), trying not to think about how much better this night would be if you were here.

The door clicks a half hour later, followed by the rap of your heels on the ground. You trudge into the room and slump on the couch right next to him.

“He didn’t even show up,” you whisper into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He feels a few tears hit his collarbone.

Sero Hanta considers himself a pretty even-keeled type of guy, but wanting to punch this dick’s lights' outs shoots to the top of his to-do list.

“Oh honey, what a fuckin’ dickhole.” His hands tighten on your waist. “Doesn’t deserve someone like you, anyway.”

He probably shouldn’t say that, not when he’s rubbing circles on your hip through the material of your dress, the scorching heat of your body against his impossible to ignore. But he's been thinking it for months now, all of his own attempts at dating tossed to the wayside when he realized he just preferred coming home to you.

“No?” You pull away and delicately wipe away unshed tears. He doesn't know why he finds it so cute, this innate desire to preserve what's left of your mascara. “Who does deserve me, Hanta?”

You grab the joint and drag and his mind goes fuzzy. You’ve never outright called him on it like this before.

“Maybe I do angel, ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah?” There’s that megawatt smile of yours, kicking him in the teeth. “You think of me like that, too?”

It’s new territory for the both of you, admitting to the attraction that Sero realizes has been simmering for weeks.

“Yeah. I think of you all the time.” He cups your face and cocks his head. "We doin' this? You gonna let me show you how I'd treat ya on Valentine's Day?"

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. "Cheesy bastard."

He cuts off your laugh with the press of his mouth.

Sero's not normally one to wax poetic, but something about the way your body instantly sinks into his makes his heart lurch. You kiss him like you've been spending your whole life studying how to do it, and it drives him absolutely insane.

"Knew we'd be good together," he says, grinding the curve of his cock into the cleft between your thighs. "Feel how hard I already am, baby? Just from one little kiss."

You groan into his mouth and start pawing at his clothes.

"I know, I know, want you naked too. Don't fuckin' pout, I think you'll like the idea." He repositions the two of you with him lying down on the couch, you straddling his hips. "Remember when you said you've never sat on a guy's face?"

Your eyes darken with excitement. "I remember."

"What if we change that?" He strokes his thumb under the band of your dress, shimmying it over your hips. The pretty red lace covering your pussy makes his breath catch. "Because you know what's gonna happen if we don't?"

He traces the folds of your pussy through your underwear with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm gonna get inside this perfect fuckin' pussy and embarrass myself. Probably come after two pumps like an idiot because she's just so fucking sweet." He pulls your panties down and drags you up to his face. He catches the little whine of insecurity in your throat at the position.

Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention, arousal clinging to your lips like dew.

"Take a fuckin’ seat, baby, ya think I’ve never done this before?"

He molds his hands around the meat of your hips and thighs, and then Sero feasts, sucking and grinding his chin and nose and tongue up into your cunt. You wail and fall forward, holding yourself steady on the arm of the couch. He doesn't care if he has to hold you up himself; he's in heaven between your thighs, the taste and scent of you all he can fucking think about.

You cum quickly, gasping and shuddering above him as he drinks down your orgasm like fucking water.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he prods, biting your inner thigh and soothing it with a kiss. Your shaky nod makes him grin.

Sero sits backs up with you in his lap, wiping the back of his mouth with a forearm and licking at his lips like a dog. He hopes he smells like you for hours.

Black streaks of mascara run under your lashes. He swipes them away with the back of his thumb. "Sorry honey. You worked hard on this makeup, huh? And I'm just making you cry it off."

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

ahhhhh i've written for him ONCE i hope i did him justice

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[destinedfordiapers]

Dancing Through Life

This is Part Two of the series I’m writing with @paci-papa, catch up on Part One here!

One thing is crystal clear as you lay there in a soggy diaper, waiting for your babysitters to change you:

It’s going to be a long weekend.

For the last few months, Papa had been your whole world. He made you feel so safe, so secure you never thought twice about becoming his babygirl.

You didn’t mind the wet and messy diapers you wore all day. Or how your adult clothes were swapped for your current infantile wardrobe. You didn’t even mind that your adulthood was a thing of the past, never to return.

Papa was always there to make everything better. To assure you that you were right where you belonged.

It was like the outside world ceased to exist.

“You were so right, babe. She really is better off like this! It’s hard to believe it’s her. No more attitude, no more sass. Just a well-behaved pamper packer!”

Not anymore.

Papa didn’t leave you with just any babysitters. No, you had a history with the two babysitters smiling down at you.

“Well, I wish I could take credit for the docile little thing waiting so patiently for a diaper change! But her Papa deserves all the credit. All I did was put her back in diapers where she belongs!”

Two years ago, before your new life as Papa’s poopy pamper princess, Trevor was your boyfriend. But he could only handle your attitude and immaturity for so long. Especially when your drunken escapades ended with a soaked bed.

“Well, judging by how fast she tinkled through this diaper, it was the right decision!”

You foolishly look up and make eye contact with Liv. Pee trickles into your diaper as you see her condescending grin.

Ugh, you hated Liv.

The woman who stole Trevor from you.

You remember that same condescending grin on her face when Trevor put your nighttime diaper on you before she ran off to bed with him. Or how she’d always check your diaper in her lingerie first thing in the morning.

And the horrible way she’d loudly comment that you made an “oopsie daisy in her diaper” whenever you woke up wet.

Liv stops Trevor as he walks to you with a new diaper and changing supplies.

“Babe, I’m a little concerned about Erica’s tummy. Her Papa says she usually makes a boom boom before lunch, but it’s already afternoon, and she’s only tinkled, poor thing.”

Your face turns a shade of red so bright a tomato would be jealous.

“Honey,” Trevor says, “Are you holding your poopoo?”

You cover your face in shame. “I…I…”

Liv jumps in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Little one, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? We’re your babysitters! Our job is to change poopy diapers!”

You whimper, dreading what’s about to happen. “I…don’t have to…”

“Hmm. Why don’t we help make things easy, sweetie?” Liv says, grabbing your feet, “Let’s do bicycle kicks until you fill your diaper?”

“B-bicycle kicks?” you whimper.

“Yes, little one. They always work on my little niece!”

Before you can react, Liv starts moving your legs back and forth, slowly pushing them towards you before pulling back, cycling each leg.

“Mmmm,” you whimper, doing your best not to mess your diaper in front of Liv like an actual baby.

For a minute or two, the only sounds are your diaper crinkles and Liv's humming. A loud, foreboding gurgle erupts from your tummy.

You whimper, feeling your control dwindling. Every time Liv pushes your legs, you feel your control slipping. You desperately try to fight the inevitable.

Without warning, a loud toot trumpets into the room.

“Good girl, Erica! Get all your toot-toots out!” Liv coos.

It happens slowly, then all at once.

Your eyes go wide as you feel your mess sliding slowly, inevitably, into your diaper, which crackles as you fill it. Nothing you do makes any difference.

Trevor laughs, “Wow, you were right, Liv! Works like a charm!”

You have no control, like the baby you’ve become.

Each time Liv pushes, more mess slides into your diaper. She pushes on and on, your diaper struggling to contain your onslaught.

“Almost done, honey?” Liv asks, inspecting your diaper, “Anymore poopoo and we might have a blowout!”

All you can do is nod your head, too mortified to answer.

“Awwww, what did I say about being ashamed of your stinkies, baby? They’re part of life for you now. Besides, it’s not like waiting would’ve changed anything! Diapers are your potty now, silly!”

You cower as the smell engulfs you, a constant reminder of your new place in life.

Liv pats your diaper playfully. “Such a big mess, too! You musta felt so icky holding all that in!”

“No wonder Papa needs a break!” Trevor adds, “Diaper duty for little Erica here is no easy task.”

“Oh, stop, Trev. Don’t make baby Erica feel bad, she can’t help it. She’s just a baby!”

You look up at Liv with a feminine rage that fizzles out immediately. Liv meets your glance.

She’s taunting you. She knows you’re no longer a woman—you’re a silly baby in a poopy diaper.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, honey. Besides, I like you so much better this way! It was a mistake potty training you, but Papa is fixing that mistake! Your attitude is so much better when you’re pampered.”

Hearing that, you whimper, kicking your feet in shame. But too embarrassed to throw an actual tantrum.

As you kick, your bulging diaper sways heavily, threatening to burst.

“Awwwww, you can say that again,” Liv giggles, “Look at her go! Big girl things like drinking, sex, and work were much too big a responsibility for you. Papa was right taking them away from you.”

Trevor nods in agreement.

“Now all you have to worry about is being Papa’s pretty princess! It’s hard to have a bad attitude when you’re in a loaded diaper, isn’t it?”

Liv tickles your sides, cooing you. “Come on, lil stinker. Let’s get that diaper changed. You’re not getting diaper rash on our watch!”

As Liv changes your diaper, you can’t help but think about your new life—and what it means to be Papa’s pamper packer.

It was so easy to get lost in the silliness of being his princess when it was just the two of you. Papa made everything so perfect, so comfortable, you couldn’t help but want to be his diapered little princess.

But you forgot that you don’t get to stay home all day. There’s a whole world outside your cozy crib and comfy changing table.

And now you know exactly where you fit in.

Pamper packers like you may be cute and adorable, but nobody will ever take you seriously again. Not as an adult. To everyone, you’re nothing but an oversized baby in need of a caregiver.

You used to think of yourself as a beautiful, sexy woman. As Liv grabs another wipe to clean your poopy princess parts, you know those days are long gone.

Pamper packers don’t have sex. They get their princess parts wiped clean before being safely secured in another diaper before being sent off to play.

Later that night, the reality of your new life carries into the guest room. The sounds of Liv’s pleasure breaks the silence of the night.

You listen, imagining that it was you moaning. Getting lost in your fantasy, crinkles erupt from your bed as you desperately hump your pillow to the rhythm of the moans.

A crinkle symphony nobody will ever hear.

[csuzlipofa]

Willing to earn it

Daniela x Fem!reader

pt.1

Synopsis: Daniela is willing to do anything for you to trust her again. Will you accept her apology?

slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff

Warnings: -

Weeks turned into months, but the ache never left. For you, the betrayal lingered like a shadow, refusing to dissipate no matter how much time passed. For Daniela, the guilt gnawed at her every day, an ever-present reminder of her own recklessness.

Her friends tried to move on, though the tension within the group was palpable. Even Megan stopped teasing Daniela, the reality of the fallout having sobered everyone. Sophia tried to smooth things over.

“Dani, you can’t keep beating yourself up,” Sophia said one afternoon as the group gathered at her house again. Daniela sat apart from them, staring at her untouched drink.

“It’s my fault,” Daniela muttered. “I hurt her. I don’t even know how to fix it.”

“You start by giving her space,” Lara offered gently. “You messed up, Dani. Big time. But if she ever forgives you, it’ll be on her terms—not yours.”

Daniela nodded but remained silent. She wasn’t sure she deserved forgiveness.

It was a Friday evening when your paths crossed again. You were at the local park, sketchbook in hand, the fading sunlight casting warm hues over the landscape. Drawing had always been your solace, a way to express the emotions you couldn’t voice.

You didn’t expect anyone to disturb you, least of all Daniela.

“Y/N,” her voice broke the quiet, hesitant but familiar.

You glanced up, your heart sinking at the sight of her. She looked different—exhausted, almost. The confidence she always carried seemed worn thin.

“What are you doing here?” you asked flatly, turning your attention back to your sketchbook.

“I—I didn’t mean to bother you,” she stammered. “I just… I wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied, your voice cold but trembling.

“There is,” Daniela said, stepping closer. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, and I know I hurt you in a way I can’t take back. But I need you to know I’m sorry. Not just for the bet, but for everything—for making you feel like you were anything less than amazing.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to yell, to scream at her for the pain she caused. But another part—the part that remembered the warmth in her smile and the way she made you feel seen—wanted to listen.

“Why now?” you asked quietly, finally meeting her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with the way things are,” Daniela admitted. Her voice cracked, and she looked away, trying to compose herself. “You didn’t just change me, Y/N. You made me realize how empty everything else was—how much I needed someone who actually cared about me for me, not who I pretended to be.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “And how do I know this isn’t just another game?”

“It’s not,” she said, her voice firm. “I swear, it’s not. I know I can’t make you believe me overnight, but I’ll spend as long as it takes proving it to you. Even if that means just being your friend. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

You stared at her, searching her face for any hint of deception. But all you saw was sincerity—a vulnerability you’d never seen in Daniela before.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I understand,” she said softly. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not until you tell me to.”

The two of you stood in silence, the weight of her words sinking in. For the first time in months, the walls around your heart wavered, if only slightly.

“I need time,” you finally said, closing your sketchbook and standing up. “That’s all I can give you right now.”

Daniela nodded, her expression a mix of hope and regret. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back. Daniela was still standing there, watching you go, her hands shoved into her pockets and her shoulders slumped.

Over the next few weeks, Daniela kept her promise. She didn’t push, didn’t hover. Instead, she found small, subtle ways to show you she was serious. A cup of coffee left at your usual library spot with a sticky note that simply read “For the artist who never rests.” A carefully chosen book slipped into your locker, its title related to a topic you’d once mentioned in passing. She was persistent, but not intrusive, allowing you to take the lead if you wanted to.

At first, you ignored the gestures, brushing them off as attempts to ease her guilt. But over time, you started to notice the sincerity behind them. She wasn’t asking for anything in return. She wasn’t trying to force a conversation or even make her presence known. It was as if she was letting her actions speak louder than her words ever could.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the coffee shop near school. You hadn’t planned on coming here, but the sudden downpour had forced you to seek refuge. As you shook the rain from your jacket, you glanced around the warm, cozy space.

And then you saw her. Daniela was sitting in the corner, a textbook open in front of her, a look of concentration on her face as she tapped her pen against the page. She hadn’t noticed you yet, and for a moment, you debated walking right back out.

But something stopped you.

With a deep breath, you approached her table. She looked up when you stopped in front of her, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Y/N,” she said, blinking as if she wasn’t sure you were real. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

You hesitated, clutching the strap of your bag. “The rain. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Oh.” She closed her textbook quickly, as if embarrassed to have been caught studying. “Do you… want to sit?”

You considered saying no, but instead, you nodded and slid into the chair across from her. The silence between you was heavy at first, but not uncomfortable.

“I’ve noticed the notes,” you said after a while, breaking the quiet.

Daniela’s face flushed, and she looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to say anything directly. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you admitted. “They were… nice.”

Her eyes lifted to meet yours, a flicker of hope in them. “Really?”

You nodded, looking down at the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what you said. About everything.”

“And?” she asked cautiously.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing patterns on the wooden surface. “I’m still hurt, Daniela. What you did—it wasn’t fair. You made me feel like I could trust you, and then…”

“I know,” she interrupted gently. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m trying to be better, Y/N. Not just for you, but for myself. I’ve been selfish for a long time, and meeting you made me realize that. You made me want to be someone worth knowing.”

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them. Part of you wanted to believe her, but the other part was still scared.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said honestly.

“I understand,” Daniela said quietly. “But I’m willing to earn it, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You looked at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes—the same vulnerability she’d shown in the park. For the first time, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, she really had changed.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay?” she repeated, her voice hopeful.

“I’m not saying I forgive you,” you clarified. “But… maybe we can try being friends. See where it goes from there.”

Daniela’s smile was small but genuine, a mixture of relief and gratitude. “I’d like that. A lot.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a weight lift from your chest. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a step forward.

As weeks turned into months, the tentative friendship between you and Daniela began to blossom into something deeper. She stayed true to her word, taking things slow, showing you through actions rather than words that she was committed to earning your trust.

She didn’t try to force her way back into your life. Instead, she met you where you were, celebrating your passions, listening when you opened up, and respecting your boundaries. The walls you had built around your heart began to crack, little by little, as Daniela proved herself in ways you hadn’t expected.

One crisp autumn evening, the two of you sat side by side at the park, your sketchbook balanced on your lap. Daniela leaned back against the bench, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

“This feels nice,” she said softly, looking up at the canopy of orange and gold leaves above you.

You glanced at her, your pencil pausing mid-sketch. “What does?”

“This. Just being here with you.” She turned to meet your eyes, her expression open and unguarded. “I never thought I could feel like this with someone. Like… I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I am.”

Her words caught you off guard, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you felt your heart ache—not with pain, but with something gentler, something warmer.

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said quietly.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks to you.”

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the world around you fading into the background. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, she reached out, her hand hovering near yours on the bench.

You hesitated but then let your fingers brush against hers. The touch was tentative, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a storm.

Daniela’s smile grew, her fingers curling gently around yours. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, your chest tight with an emotion you hadn’t dared to name before. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

In that moment, all the hurt and doubt seemed to melt away, replaced by the quiet promise of something new—something real.

Months later, as snow blanketed the ground and holiday lights twinkled in the windows of every house, you found yourself standing in front of the Avanzini family’s roaring fireplace. The girls were scattered around the room, laughing and exchanging gifts.

Daniela stood next to you, her hand intertwined with yours, a soft smile on her face as she looked at you. Her friends had accepted your relationship with surprising ease, and even Megan—who had once instigated the bet—had apologized to you in her own awkward way.

“You okay?” Daniela asked, leaning in so only you could hear her.

You looked up at her, the warmth in her eyes making your heart flutter. “I’m more than okay.”

She grinned, pulling you a little closer. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. For the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

And as Daniela pressed a soft kiss to your temple, you knew that despite everything, you’d found something worth holding onto—a love that had grown from the ashes of a broken trust, stronger and brighter than you ever thought possible.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Y/n says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

[goddessinnerglow]

Why Being "Low Maintenance" Is Actually Self-Abandonment

Have you ever caught yourself saying "I'm just low maintenance" and feeling weirdly proud about it? Let's talk about what's really hiding behind that seemingly innocent phrase.

Being "low maintenance" often means we're actually abandoning ourselves in small ways every single day. We're not actually "chill", we're just really good at ignoring our own needs.

Think about it: When was the last time you…

Said "I'm fine with whatever" when you actually have a strong preference about where to eat

Stayed quiet about something that hurt you because you didn't want to "cause drama"?

Accepted the bare minimum effort because you're afraid of being called "demanding"

Praised yourself for "not being needy" when you're actually just suppressing your real needs.

The scary part? Society LOVES a "low maintenance" woman. Movies, TV shows, and social media constantly feed us this idea of the "cool girl" who never complains, never has needs, and is always up for anything. We're taught that taking up less space and being eternally agreeable makes us more lovable. But let's be real, would you want your best friend to silence her needs just to seem "easy-going"? Would you want your future daughter to shrink herself to appear more attractive to others?

I didn't think so.

Here's what being "low maintenance" actually costs you: Your authentic voice gets quieter. Your ability to form genuine connections suffers (because how can people truly know you if you never express what you want?). Your self-trust erodes because you've gotten so good at ignoring your inner wisdom.

Having needs doesn't make you high maintenance, it makes you human. Setting boundaries isn't demanding, it's healthy. Speaking up about your feelings isn't dramatic, it's brave.

So how do we start shifting away from this pattern? It doesn't have to be huge, dramatic changes. Start with tiny steps that feel manageable:

Next time you're asked where you'd like to eat, pause for a moment. Check in with yourself. What sounds good to you? Maybe you don't need to immediately jump to "oh, anywhere is fine!" Give yourself permission to have a preference.

Try keeping a little notes app diary of moments when you notice yourself automatically saying "it's fine" or "whatever you want." No judgment, just notice the pattern. Sometimes awareness is the first step to change.

When you're with trusted friends, practice expressing small preferences. Maybe it's about what movie to watch or what time to meet up. Notice how it feels in your body when you actually say what you want. Notice if the world keeps spinning (spoiler: it usually does).

Instead of "low maintenance," how about we start calling ourselves "self-aware"? Instead of "easy-going," how about "authentic"? Instead of "not needy," how about "clear about my needs"?

Remember, the right people in your life won't want you to be low maintenance. They'll want you to be authentic. They'll appreciate knowing your true preferences and respect your boundaries. And anyone who makes you feel bad about having normal human needs isn't someone who deserves your energy.

Your needs matter. Your voice matters. Your preferences matter. And learning to honor them isn't just okay, it's essential for building a life that actually feels like yours.

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[meritksi]

equally yours • kinich x gn!reader

With Kinich, everyone gets what they deserve. You can either name your price or accept what Kinich offers in return, and no matter which option you choose, you won't be shortchanged—ever. That’s just how he is.

However, you are an exception. No matter which choice you make, you always end up being shortchanged—at least that’s what he believes.

This annoys him. He tries to make things equal while you insist on giving him more. Sometimes, it makes him wonder if you have ulterior motives. Yet, deep down, he knows that being nice is simply in your nature, just as he has his own tendencies.

But it really, really annoys him.

He dislikes being indebted to others, and he doesn’t like when others owe him either. He might be able to tolerate the latter, but the first thought truly bothers him to the point that he finds himself lying in bed, thinking about how to repay you in the middle of the night as he stares at the ceiling while Ajaw murmurs about how he is going to rule the world when he takes over Kinich's body.

And that -the first thought- always seems to be the case with you.

So when he spotted you sleeping in one of the trees near the Children of Echoes with your saurian companion, as some Saurian hunters approached you two, he acted without thinking—which was out of character for him—and dealt with them in an instant.

Looking back at you, who was still asleep while cuddling with the said companion, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

It seemed like you two were equal now.

That was good. You weren't aware of it so you weren't going to do something about it too. Perfect.

From that day on, Kinich never accepted jobs from you, fearing that if he did, you’d do something so in character of you that would leave him empty-handed again.

Now it was your turn to feel annoyed.

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Kinich, he vanished at the moment you blinked. Everytime!

He still interacted with Mualani, Kachina, Chasca—anyone, really!—except you, of course.

You thought Kinich and you were getting along just fine. Since he was always taking jobs from you and you were helping him out every time he did that too. He was desperate to repay the kindness, that was the reason behind the upcoming requests of taking jobs from you. But you didn't know that.

This new approach(could it even be called approach if he didn't approach at all?) made you feel lonely. And he didn’t know that, too.

Kinich felt restless. No matter how much he tried to avoid you, his mind wouldn’t cooperate. He found himself thinking about you more—it was not just at midnight anymore. It reached the point where he would lock his gaze to somewhere far away while his customer talked, trying to rid himself of thoughts of you by repeating, “We are equal now, equal. Equal. Equal.”

He even almost called Mualani by your name. Whenever that memory came to his mind, his ears burned bright red.

He missed your voice.

Wait, what?

Who said that???

Kinich felt himself blush furiously. The worst part? He was in the middle of a conversation with Mauvika, the literal Pyro Archon. He excused himself, and Mauvika gladly let him go.

But Ajaw wasn’t having it.

“Do you have a fever? Please die in silence so I, the great Dragonlord K'uhul Ajaw, can—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence due to Kinich putting him in timeout.

He didn’t even know how that happened, but when he came to his senses, he realized he was standing in front of your house.

At that point, he didn't mind owing you; in fact, he felt like he was already indebted to you (especially considering he still felt shortchanged even after the previous encounter, he thought you deserved so much more).

He just wanted to see you.

And maybe, you also wanted to see him too. Given how tight you hugged him when you two finally made up.

He was empty-handed. It felt weird, he doesn't remember coming here like this in what felt like forever.

But now thinking about it, he didn't feel empty-handed at all. Especially when his fingers brushed against yours, intertwining them with such care, he thought he could get used to this.

Through the embrace of you, he felt his eyes soften when he realized there was no such thing as being indebted between the two of you. Whatever you had was his, just as whatever he had was yours.

Because he belonged to you, just as you belonged to him.

Equally.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes! ☆ not proofread; it was just a thought that came to my mind while I was trying to sleep, and now it's 3 am lol ☆ i might rewrite this, who knows

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part i - warnings for moderate sims spice and censored nudity

Back on the farm, we have Lilac and Forest indulging in the highly EVIL pasttime of “does that look like a freezer bunny?” Baaad Boy is lingering like he wants to ask for advice on affairs of the heart.

Finally the prodigal Briar returns, clothed and very happy to have struck something off… her bucket list?

I don’t even have that pack 🧐

But oh no, Briar’s reign of delinquency does not end at birthday suited gallops through the countryside. She challenges Caden to a water balloon fight, and is not exactly the most gracious of winners.

When he’s finally managed a truce of some kind with Spencer? Caden must be wondering just which Watcher he angered to deserve this (it wasn’t me).

Lilac attempts to serenade Forest, only to have him walk out halfway through. I don’t entirely blame him - that animation takes forever and an eternity. They both got the happy pink moodlets from it, so apparently all was well.

As Spencer forfeited his turn at cooking yesterday, it’s a salad day for him. Just you try and set the kitchen on fire making this, I dare you…

A plague upon those self-cutting knives!

Victory, but at what cost?

As Spencer toils away over the salad (did we remember to give him the recipe?), the unlikely duo of Briar and Forest bond in the great outdoors. Keep an eye out for them later.

During dinner Giovanna appears perturbed by something, and the ever-considerate Caden locates the problem before Lilac and I do.

(LOL @mdshh, remember when we both thought he was going to be some kind of heartless corporate shark? More like a corporate squishmallow 😊)

Spencer for once jokes with Caden and not about him. It works!

Briar, I know that you’re a LAZY sim, but don’t peace out just yet. You haven’t had your mandated daily interaction with the bachelorette.

Meanwhile in the oft-forgot downstairs toilet, Forest is positively delighted with his dastardly scheme of… doing the dishes. Jacques Villareal and other do-bads watch out - we have a new public enemy! No stack of dirty crockery will be safe ever again.

And Briar does get a second wind, to flirt with… Forest!

Our last brain cell had gone for a run, so clearly this was somehow all Caden’s fault.

Just when I’m double checking the Watcher permissions and wondering if we’re about to get our second ever non-Lilac woohoo, Briar goes to bed for good.

Naturally the night does not end there. NOSY Sim Spencer, possibly seeking out a new target, offers Forest some unsolicited advice.

Unsolicited, and unappreciated.

But it isn’t long before he finds some other way to distract himself. Look Ma, we can do vanilla woohoo too!

Yeah I think we're well past that point by now...

And then a thing occurs which would have positively scandalised Agnes Crumplebottom.

Knitting? When the fine art of embroidery is an option? How gauche. And as a throuple, no less.

Caden’s just happy to survive with his purls, and his sanity, intact.

(rolls)

(romance table coming soon)

@jonquilyst @mdshh @riverofjazzsims @ravingsockmonkey @akitasimblr

[nubiawrites]

chapter seven

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex.

Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.

Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.

MASTERLIST

Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.

For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.

Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.

As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.

“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.

“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled. 

“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”

Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.

“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.

“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.

“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”

“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.

“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”

“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”

“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”

“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover. 

“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”

“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.

“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.

“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.

“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”

“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”

“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.

“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.

Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.

“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.

“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.

“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”

“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine.  “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”

“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.

“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”

“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”

Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure. 

Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.

“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.

“The rooftop?” Iriye stated. 

“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her

Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.

“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction. 

“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his. 

“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.

“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”

“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”

“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.

“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.

“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”

Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.

“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened. 

“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”

“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.

“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.” 

“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”

“What about me?”

“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.

“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”

“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.

“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.

Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.

“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.

“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.

The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.

“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did. 

“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

“Your parents were one and done?”

“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”

“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.

“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father. 

“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”

“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.

“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.

“Thank you.”

By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.

“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.

“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.

“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”

“What are you asking, love?”

“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-

“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand. 

“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.

“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him. 

“That’s someth-”

“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.

“Then let’s go,” 

Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.

But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.

Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.

“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything. 

Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.

“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs. 

“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.

Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.

Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.

“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”

Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.

Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.

“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him. 

Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself. 

“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.

Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.

“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”

“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again. 

“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved. 

Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.

Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips. 

“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.

Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.

“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.

Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.

Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.

“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her. 

Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.

“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room. 

“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.

“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.

“Mhm,”

“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.

“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.

Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.

“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.

“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.

“Oh shit,” 

“Yes! Right there,”

“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.

“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom. 

Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.

Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.

“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”

“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”

Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[masterj]

Watching SLOTLT:

....Okay... we need to talk about Sodor's Legend Of The Lost Treasure. Many TTTE fans love it and call it "the best special" and "the peak of CGI Thomas." But we need to face facts. It's far from everyone's favorite and actually the Most Controversial of CGI Thomas.

My stance? I say people who don't like SLOTLT are right- just for not for the valid reasons. Prepare to be roasted.

The movie heavily flanderizes Thomas and ruins his character development throughout the series. It practically takes everything that made him unlikable in the Miller era and turned him back into a complete, 100% irresponsible idiot. Take The Great Discovery, a special VERY similar in plot for example. After his trick on Stanley that demolishes the tower, he actually shows full remorse and tries to make up for his mistake.

In Lost Treasure, that is not the case. Here at the start of the movie he's just like, "I'm number one so I can do what I want!"

And it's not until THE DAY AFTER the Dynamite Incident that it finally sinks in and he's like "Aw it was my fault..."

Plus, he would've been mature enough by now not to let Gordon's teasing get to him. In Season 5, he literally tells Percy to just ignore George's insults and simply does just that.

Why are insults such a big deal to him NOW that he has to run of with Gordon's coaches and derail them??? This doesn't make sense! Yes, he is meant to be cheeky, but how the hell do we go from how he's written in Tale Of The Brave to this?!

So much dumb shit happens that could've and should have been easily avoided. The accidents Thomas cause would've have been stopped in a heartbeat if they ACTUALLY REMEMBERED drivers and firemen exist. When Thomas falls into the cavern? HOW THE HELL are they so unaware of the workmen shouting trying to stop them?! How do they not once look where he is going and see the signs?!

They're not even trying! Look at them in the cab! Up until the accident happens they're practically just chillin'! You're not fooling anybody! Are they high on crack in there??? Are they paying rent in there??? Do they just spontaneously go blind and deaf??? Hello?!?! Wake up and control your fucking train!!!

Let's cut back to the coaches. WHY is Thomas shunting Gordon's coaches when that is NOT his job anymore now that he has his branchline?! That's the whole reason the big engines went on strike and Percy was brought to the railway! Topham has HOW many shunters now? And you're SERIOUSLY gonna tell me not a single one could've done it instead? Look how empty Knapford is!

What about the Diesel Boxcab introduced this season? Why isn't he in this movie to do that instead? Did he die?

Overall, SLOTLT is just a pointless Great Discovery rehash sprinkled with stale RWS references, (which help set up this movie's god awful plot in the first place) returned characters, and cinematic visuals and music pretending it's actually a good movie with a likeable plot. Not only does it take the three-strike formula and fail miserably at making it good, (The three accidents Thomas causes) it can't even remember the show's continuity properly for God's sake! For a what's supposed to be a tribute to the RWS, this is not a good look at all, Andrew Brenner. You did not cook.

What's even worse is that for all these years everyone in this fandom just blindly glazes over everything this movie does wrong and then act like it's illegal for someone not to like it and it's disgusting. This movie single-handedly damaged the entire TTTE fandom for 10 years. 10. FUCKING. YEARS.

We already had a special that did this kind of plot so much better in every way. WHY are we doing it AGAIN??? Why wasn't The Adventure Begins enough for this year???

We did not need this. We did not need any of this shit. Just skip to Season 20 and you are not missing too much, I promise you. Peak CGI Thomas my ass. HALF the CGI specials are the least bit more deserving than this shitshow.

This movie sucks. We do not speak of it, I'm done talking about it, it's not canon, it doesn't deserve to be, it never existed. It's dead to me.

All it's got going for it are the visuals, voice acting and music, Donald, Douglas, Alfie and Oliver returning, and the Miniature Engines introduced. That's it.

Just because a movie looks 'cinematic' does not automatically make it good.

[lexa-griffins]

Clarke spends all night making Lexa's favorite cake for her birthday

Lexa isn't big on celebrating her birthday. Clarkr has come to learn the perfect low key way to do it: dinner at the chinese restaurant she loves in a cute outfit, a little walk afterward followed by cuddles on the couch and a small cake from Lexa's favorite bakery.

Simple and easy.

Although Lexa is turning 30 this year. And she has expressed the desire to go a little more out this year and Clarke is completely for it and having Lexa be celebrated by more people.

Three people plus them isn't too long of a guest list but Lexa is pretty excited about it and so is Clarke. They book a reservation at this fancy chinese restaurant and Clarke makes sure to get Lexa's favorite cake from the m bakery she adores. Everything is set for a nice birthday party and Clarke is giddy with how excited Lexa looks about celebrating her birthday!

The day before Luna calls. Sudden work trip so she cannot make it. Lexa assures her its okay and as she slightly disappointingly hangs up Clarke is there to rub her arm and tell her that they'll still have a great time with just Anya and Raven.

Clarke is just leaving work when she gets a phone call from the bakery. A mistake in the schedule made it so Lexa's cake was forgotten, and they don't have the time to fit it in for tomorrow. The owner is clearly apologetic as she has known Lexa and Clarke for a while now, but there isn't anything she can do except return the money and promise a free bento cake next time they come in. Making a b-line to the grocery store, Clarke looks at the pre-made cakes before quickly deciding Lexa deserves more for her 30th than a grocery store pre-made cake. Lexa loves the chocolate cake Abby bakes for them every time they visit. It's been a recipe in Clarke's family for as long as she can remember. So Clarke is quick to call her mom and ask her for it, knowing Abby doesn't need to look at the falling apart piece of paper it's written on to remember every single ingredient.

She manages to make it home before Lexa, carefully keeping the bag of ingredients in the back of the pantry just in time for the door to open and a teary-eyed Lexa to enter the house.

Clarke immediately jumps in to help to help her with her coat and kiss her, "What's wrong, love?"

"Raven got a bad flu and Anya caught it. They can't make it tomorrow." Lexa's voice trembles slightly but Clarke sees her trying to keep herself collected.

Lexa always said she doesn't care about her birthday. But Clarke knows she was excited with the prospect of celebrating entering her 30's with friends and a nice dinner - one Clarke is sure she'll have to call and cancel.

"I'm sorry, honey." Clarke doesn't fully know what else to say. She's a little mad at the three women, but it's not like they could have predicted a work trip or sickness. Still, her heart breaks, seeing her fiancee clearly upset after two weeks of excitment for her birthday.

"I'm going to have a shower and then lay down, I think." Lexa says in lieu of a response, the disappointment clear in her voice. Clarke manages little more than a kiss and an I love you before Lexa replies in a whisper and moves to their room, closing the door gently behind her.

Clarke would follow, but she knows Lexa will avoid letting herself fully cry over something she deems minimal while she is there, so Clarke lets her go.

When 1 hour later, Lexa has not made her way out of the bedroom. Clarke decides to take a peak, her heart breaking further when a sleeping Lexa's breathing shakes with the last of her quiet tears. A kiss to her forehead that seems to even out Lexa's breathing is the only thing Clarke seems capable of doing before she exists the bedroom, set on baking Lexa's cake and giving her the birthday she deserves.

A quick call to the restaurant as she tries to wrap Lexa's frilly smaller apron around herself changes the dinner reservation from 5 to 2 people and with all the ingredients and the messy recipe from Abby she wrote down on a post it note, she gets to work.

Turns out, baking is not Clarke's calling. Her google history shows a collection "how to know when the egg whites are stiff" and "how to melt chocolate without burning it" searches but she finally ends up with a batter that her mother aproves of.

It is close to midnight, almost 7 hours after Lexa's been in bed, that Clarke finally finishes the decorations on the cake. It's by no means professional, but what she lacks in backing skills she'd like to think she makes up for in buttercream painting, the pretty flowers all around the cake making it look less like a 5th grade art project.

With the cake in the fridge and the kitchen cleaned out of any evidence, Clarke hops in for a quick shower before getting into bed, her movements waking up Lexa momentarily who instinctively turns to cuddle into Clarke's arms.

"Why were you up so late?" It's slurred, and Lexa doesn't even open her eyes to ask the question.

Clarke, realizing just how tired she herself is too, answers is a barely there fashion, "Got distracted. You'll see tomorrow."

Lexa replies only with a hummed agreement, burying herself in Clarke's chest. Although Clarke is positive, she heard the happy birthday, Lexa does not reply.

The next day is a blur until dinner time comes around. As always, Lexa is out the door before Clarke makes it out of the shower, making the happy birthday wishes quick and underwhelming in Clarke's opinion and although Lexa is not beaming with the excitement Clarke wishes she had when she tells her dinner is still on, the sweet smile Lexa gives her when she tells her, its worth it.

She feared dinner would feel empty when it was first supposed to be bigger, but they are placed by the window with a wonderful view and Lexa arrives wearing the dress she excitedly bought for today and refused to let Clarke see until now, the pearl dress making Clarke take a deep breath and reminding herself tonight is all about Lexa.

Lexa's excitement grows over dinner. They sang her happy birthday at work, something she would have hated before but her entire team got her the prettiest flower bouquet (that she gladly dropped at home, and that gladly does not fight Clarke's smaller but very meaningful arrangement) as well as a little necklace with a pearl, making it clear to her just how appriacted she is. Abby called to wish her a happy birthday, giving her a sweet talk about how happy she was that Clarke had found her. Luna sent her a thoughtful message accompanied by a picture of them at only 12, a memory Lexa had forgotten about. Anya and Raven video called her on her lunch break and sang her the stuffiest birthday song in the world, but it was nice to see their faces as they wished her a great start to her 30s. And of course, Clarke herself has made today so much better than she was expecting, with all the cute messages throughout and reminders of everything she loved about her.

As they arrive home Lexa is slightly tipsy and seemingly very ready to celebrate her birthday in her birthday suit. But first, Clarke worked too hard on that cake to let it not be seen.

Lexa already has her hand on her belt when Clarke manages to stop her.

"Wait wait wait, I got something else for you!"

Lexa looks at her confused and ever so slightly annoyed at not getting what she wants. As much as she loves the cake they ordered, it is massive, and Lexa dislikes to think it'll mostly go to waste with just the two of them.

But as Clarke turns around, the uneven coating on the cake looks nothing like the one she knows the bakery makes. Clarke approaches Lexa carefully the smaller cake placed on the coffee table, the pearly 30 candle matching Lexa's dress.

"There was a set back ans the bakery couldn't get your cake out so, hum, I called mom and got the recipe for thst cake you love."

Lexa feels the tears burning in her eyes. She doesn't really care that the bakery couldn't make her cake. She would have canceled it if she had remembered it yesterday. Instead, Clarke took it upon herself not to let Lexa be disappointed over one more thing. She stayed up late to make sure she baked a cake Lexa loved, decorating it in the style Lexa sends her over instagram dms over and over again because she just finds those cakes so pretty. Clarke was the one who wanted so badly for Lexa to feel celebrated and happy today. There's no one else she'd rather spend her birthday with than her future wife.

"Haopy birthday, beautiful." Clarke smiles at her, and Lexa could burst into tears with just how grateful she feels. Instead, she kisses Clarke, nearly bringing the cake down with her. Clarke kisses her back with just as much passion, burting at the seems with happiness that Lexa is this happy about it after she feared today would be all disappointment.

"I love you." Lexa tells her, now sitting on Clarke's lap as she lights the candles on the cake.

Clarke smiles and tells her to blow her candles and make a wish. Cheekly, Lexa tells her she's got everything she wishes for right here.

"Well, you can always ask for a little more." Clarke nudges her with her nose, urging her to do it, smiling as she watches Lexa close her eyes, and finally blowing out the candle when her wish is made.

A year later, Lexa lays in a hospital bed when there's a gentle knock on the door. There are ballons all around her, more than dozen flowers bouquets, congratulations written all around. Clarke enters the room slowly, a small cake - the one the bakery promised for free - in her hands.

"Happy birthday momma!" Her wife whispers as she makes her way to the bed.

A small noise distracts Lexa momentarily, the small noises of last year's wish as he stirs in his little hospital crib before settling back down to sleep, born exactly one day before Lexa's birthday.

"They wouldn't let me bring a candle up, so I fear you dont get to make a birthday wish until we bring you and our little boy home." Clarke is radiant, so clearly tired but looking even happier than she did last year.

Lexa shrughs, tired but so incredibly happy for it all, "I think this time I really am all out of wishes. What more could I ask for?"

[theyluvpeach]

chasing you.

you avoid him. he catches you. dealer!reader x client!chris blurb <3

He's starting to think he's the problem. Those are words Chris never thought would form in his brain—But here he is, trying to figure out why hasn't seen you all week.

It doesn't make any sense. You're always around campus, yet when he's actively looking for you, you're nowhere to be seen. Chris doesn't even want to talk to you. He just wants to give you your shit back so Matt will stop bothering him about it.

Even though he's your friend—And he was the one to even invite you to the party in the first place—He has to return your heels cause apparently, Matt has better shit to do then chase you around all day.

He's been all around campus looking for you. If you're not at the campus cafe, he's gonna launch your heels at Matt's head.

Matt is so lucky you're here.

You're in the corner at a booth with tons of books and your computer in front of you. You're not your usual neon colored self. There's no star clips in your hair. You don't have on an overly tight top. No flared jeans. You're unrecognizable.

He can see the fear settle in your eyes as he walks up to you. So, you were avoiding him.

"Chris." The tension in your voice is quite frankly, insane. That night, after leaving you in his room, all he did was talk to Matt about what to do with you and then passed out on the couch after the party was over. What could he have done in that time?

"Kid, I know you were shitfaced last week, but I can't believe you forgot all about your stuff." You blink at him multiple times. "What?"

He shoves your heels and tights that are stuffed in them to you, "Y'know? All this?"

You slowly take them, your face lighting up. "Oh... Oh!"

"Huh?" He's confused. You were all gloomy just a second ago, and now you look like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Mh....I thought we fucked, if I'm being completely honest." He watches you tuck your heels away into your bag. "This reminded me we didn't, thanks."

Chris, for once in his life, is speechless. You were avoiding him because you thought you guys fucked. Honestly, he'll take this over you being all over Aiden. He wonders if you remember that... he's not gonna bring it up.

Huh. This is probably how the girls he sleeps with feel after they wake up alone in the morning.

"Nah, I don' fuck my brothers friends." You tilt your head at him, annoyingly, and raise your eyebrow. "Michelle."

"Doesn't count."

"Brittany."

"Also doesn't count."

"Vivi—"

"You friends with all the girls I fuck or somethin'?" You laugh, loudly. Bringing attention to yourself, but you don't care. You're definitely back to your usual self. "Some of them. They're wondering why I'm hanging around Mr. Community Dick."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Matt deserves that title."

"Eh, you guys are tied." You smile at him. And he gets that feeling in his chest again. The one that makes him feel like he's dying. When you start looking at him like he's crazy makes him remember that you guys are having a conversation and process that's he's staring at you.

He awkwardly coughs. "Whatcha' got all these books for anyway?" You groan, resting your forehead on the table. "Ecology."

He blinks.

"Plants." You sit up, resting your head in your hands, "Its the study of how living organisms interact with their physical environment—"

"We get it. You're smart. Trust."

"Well—" You flush at the compliment. Maybe not pissing you off gets him places. "That's just the definition!"

He eyes the stacks of books at your table. "You got a test, or are you just a nerd?"

You scoff. "I'm not a nerd. We have a test, and since my teacher writes questions like she hasn't talked to a human being in years, I'm doing some light reading."

"Light reading?" He teases. "Whatever." He checks his phone as you roll your eyes, well shit.

He spent way more time talking to you than he thought he would. He's gonna be late to the class he promised Nate he'd go to for the first time in forever.

"Gotta go," He says, beginning to walk backward towards the exit, "Don't drink so much next time, alright, kid? Not tryna chase you around again."

"I would've remembered eventually!"

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I see that you're busy so no pressure. Just wanted to thank you for your ffs and ask if you'd consider continuing Steady Hands? Just wanted to read about Jamie and PA having lunch and him being an absolute himbo trying to distruct her 🥰 thanks 🥰🥰🥰

Steady Heart

Small Drabble (read Steady Hands first!)

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing

A/N: Thank you for the request and the interest in this specific fic! I actually couldn't think of the situation further, as a long chapter, so I turned it into a small drabble I hope that's okay too! But I bet we'll see more of himbo Jamie soon! (Why is spelling soufflé so hard???)

The midday sun bathed the quaint café in a golden glow, casting playful shadows across the rustic wooden table where Y/N and Jamie sat. The remnants of their lunch lay between them, but Jamie's attention was entirely on her, his signature mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"You know," Jamie began, leaning back and stretching his arms, the movement causing his shirt to tighten across his chest, "I once tried to cook a romantic dinner. Thought I'd impress someone special."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And how did that turn out?"

"Well," He chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. "let's just say the fire department knows me by name now."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What were you attempting to make?"

"A soufflé," he admitted, leaning in slightly. "Didn't realize you're not supposed to open the oven every five minutes to check on it."

Y/N shook her head, smiling. "That's adorable, Jamie. But we know that cooking isn't your thing."

Jamie smiled, his expression earnest. "Hey, if you ever need a laugh, just remember: I once set cereal on fire. Last Monday actually."

She giggled, the tension from earlier in the day melting away. "How is that even possible? I thought when you set that shelf on fire it was the last time the fire department had to come?!"

"It's a talent, babe. The guys from the fire department are fans by the way..." he said with a wink.

Jamie leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I have other talents too. Plenty..."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks but met his gaze steadily. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

Swear to god if it's something sexual, Jamie Tartt. She might hit him...

"Nah, these talents ya have to discover yourself..." He smirked, eyes twinkling. "Look, I'm also pretty good at making people smile. Like right now. Fuck, got to make a list of me talents now."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Is that so? Maybe I'm just humoring you."

Jamie placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wounding me, love. Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just humoring me."

She laughed again, the earlier tension of the day melting away. "Alright, Mr. Tartt. What else you got, tell me more about your other 'talents'."

He leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, I'm also quite skilled at reading people."

"Oh really?" she challenged. "And what do you read from me, then?"

Jamie met her eyes, his gaze softening. "I see someone who's been carrying a lot on her shoulders. Someone who deserves a break and a bit of fun."

Y/N felt her breath hitch slightly. "And you're the one to provide that fun, I suppose?"

He grinned, leaning in once more. "Absolutely. Starting with dessert. They have this chocolate lava cake here that's to die for. Share it with me?"

She pretended to ponder. "Hmm, I don't know. Sharing dessert is quite intimate."

Jamie winked. "Exactly."

As the waiter brought over the decadent dessert, Jamie grabbed a fork, scooping up a piece of the molten cake. He held it out to her, eyes locked onto hers.

"Open wide," he teased.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before leaning in, accepting the bite. The rich chocolate melted on her tongue, but it was the intensity of Jamie's gaze that truly made her heart race.

"Delicious?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded, swallowing. "Fuck. Very."

Jamie took a bite himself, then offered her another. "You know, they say sharing food is a way to someone's heart, babe."

Y/N smirked. "Is that your plan? To win my heart with chocolate cake?"

He leaned in so close she could feel his breath. "It's a start."

The air between them seemed to thicken, the playful banter giving way to a deeper connection. Y/N felt a flutter in her chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Jamie," she began, her voice soft.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you. For this. I didn't realize how much I needed it."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "Anytime. And I mean that."

As they finished their dessert, the world outside the café continued on, but inside, time seemed to stand still for the two of them, lost in each other's company.

[bosinclairsgff]

How the slashers celebrate Valentine’s Day with their s/o

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Otis Driftwood, Dale Kobble, Albert Shaw, Herbert West, Jack Torrance ,Amanda Young, Baby Firefly and

Warnings: Mention of kidnap and that’s all I think?

Bo would forget but Lester or Vincent would tell him like the day before to go get you a small gift or a box of chocolates. He’d get you one of those basic heart shaped box of chocolates and some flowers. That’s all. Which considering who he is I’d say it’s a win. Bo would let you think he forgot and when you are all disappointed he’d pull out the flowers and chocolate. Giving you a huge hug and a kiss. Then you’d watch a movie together. (Bonus: you two or probably going to pound town by the end of the night.)

Otis would make you some really weird card, made out of human skin or some shit. Kidding….kinda. I do think he’d make you something though. He likes giving you handmade things. No chocolate or flowers or anything like that. Handmade, weird and low key a threatening card. It’d say something along the lines of I like keeping you around, if you try to run I’ll kill you, happy love day.

Dale would hand make you a card as well! His would be pretty and still slightly alarming but in a cute way. He’d use those heart shaped doilies in some way with his card. Dale would for sure get you a nice big box of chocolates. No flowers, instead, he made you a little doll that looks like you. You guys would exchange gifts then listen to a vinyl and cuddle for the night. He wanted to make a meal for you but Ruth shut that down immediately. She doesn’t want him messing up her kitchen.

Well you are literally kidnapped and locked away in his basement…so going out for Valentine’s Day is not in the foreseeable future. He’s kept you alive this long so he clearly has some kind of feelings towards you. He wouldn’t comedown all day until later in the evening. Al would tell you he has a surprise for you upstairs. At first you’d be so nervous and scared. He’d reassure you that it’s a nice surprise not a dangerous one. When you get up stairs you’d see he made an actual dinner for you. Not eggs in sight, which you were thankful for. Also you’d spot a small heart shaped box of chocolates.

Herbert would get so caught up in his work he’d completely forget. The only reason he remembered is because he heard Dan talking about his Valentine’s Day plans. Herbert was never the romantic type. He does care about you though and knows you deserve a nice date. So he’d surprise you with a reservation at a nice restaurant then you guys would watch a movie together at home while snacking on the box of chocolates he got you.

Jack doesn’t care really. You guys are at the hotel so when he realizes it’s Valentine’s Day he’d just go to the kitchen, look for a chocolate bar, get some paper and write a sweet message then call it a day. He would expect to be thanked and be seen as some amazing partner.

Amanda would get you flowers and a small gift. She’d get you a necklace with both of your initials on it. A very sweet gesture to show she really cares for you. All she would want is to just lay down and watch you sleep. Eventually falling asleep to while holding you close to her.

Baby would be so excited for Valentine’s Day. She’d talk about it all the time and about how she’s gonna get you the best gift. Baby would plan a whole night out for you guys. First you’d give each other your gifts, then you’d have dinner, after that you’d go to the liquor store and gets lots of booze. She’d want to sit in her room, watching shitty movies and getting drunk together.

[squidsinashirt]

U must have some amazing stories about your dad u can share! 🤩

I’ve sat on this one for a bit, sorry Anon. Wasn’t intentional but I… just didn’t know how to answer it.

I mean, I get it. He’s Jeff Tracy, right? The Jeff Tracy. I can remember being just a little kid, and going to meet him off coming home from his latest mission. All these huge crowds cheering for him, those amazing rockets, and little me thinking all this, for my dad?

The thing is, everybody has their own stories about him. It’s fascinating, because you’ll hear all these other tales that exist only thanks to other people. Colonel Casey, Captain Taylor, heck even Kip Harris knew him. All these huge figures have got larger than life tales of the incredible things Jeff Tracy did, and was, and inspired. There’s statues and plaques to him, and you can take a tour at the space centre about his missions, and there’s books and movies and documentaries…

There are five incredible machines he dreamt up, standing by to help achieve this fantastical goal of his to help the world. I suppose in a way, you get to snatch a little glimpse of who Jeff Tracy was, and what he believed in, every time one of them appears to save the day. Every time some kid points an excited finger up at Thunderbird Two or squints after a contrail that was Thunderbird One, there he is. That magic, that excitement, that kind of imposing extraordinary that he did so well.

Anyway, to get back on track. People come bounding up to us, to me, and they ask this sort of question all the time, and that’s the thing about being JEFFTRACYSSON (said in one breath at rapid pace, because that’s the way people greet you). I get the curiosity, I really do. I don’t say it with any malice intended, and it’s comforting to know he still has that kind of impact. I’m always happy to talk about him, I promise!

It’s simple to be JEFFTRACYSSON when you pull on an International Rescue uniform. It took a little practice to ease into at first, but it’s perfected now. It’s really easy to talk about how we believe in his dream, how we’ve all taken on that duty in our individual and collective ways. In the importance of iR, in what it means to us as family. Shiny uniform, perfect hair, smile and wave and save some lives 💪🏻

Please don’t read into this in the wrong way - I’m very proud to be Jeff Tracy’s son. It’s actually quite difficult to really put across how strongly I feel about the weight of that title, because it’s pretty sacred (and also a little intimidating at times). Everywhere we go, it’s “oh, you must be Jeff’s boy” or “oh, you’re a Tracy”, and that means there’s instantly an expectation to live up to, both publicly and privately. It’s a privilege, it really is, and I think it’s a kind of sacrosanct commitment that has really been at the centre of my thinking as I’ve gotten older - how to try and be the sort of man that deserves that kind of birthright.

I don’t just mean the public side of being Jeff Tracy’s son. See, behind the scenes, to me, to us as a family, he was every bit human in a very ordinary way.

He made the best Sunday pancakes.

He cheered far too loudly at swim competitions (and teenage me was perpetually mortified by it) and was every bit as encouraging and supportive as you might guess.

He told these excellent, awful dad jokes, always at just the wrong (or right, I suppose) moments that made you groan.

He used to let me drive his old truck up the drive when he came home from a long mission, playing country songs with the window rolled down.

We loved pranking Mom together by hiding in the laundry bin and jumping out like idiots.

He told the most spectacular, far fetched bedtime stories he swore were real, and my brothers and I could never get enough of them.

He was also away for months on end in space, or training, or lost in his plans and ideas and dreams, and sometimes that meant he wasn’t really here with us, even if he was.

He couldn’t do laundry for shit, and he was absolutely useless at trying to run a house with five young sons on his own, and only a military background to lean on for ideas (thanks Grandma and Scott for saving that one).

Being Jeff Tracy’s son is a little more complex than just the uniform, I guess, and because of that I don’t always recognise the Jeff Tracy in the books and the movies, the one that people are so desperate to hear more about.

I think that’s why I find answering questions like this so difficult, and why maybe my answers never land particularly well with the people who ask this. Because the expectation for them is an entire reel of grand tales that haven’t been heard yet out of me. Some heroic, unbelievable stories that reads like the plaques - and then they are always a little disappointed that it turns out all I can say is that he was a real person. Somebody who was very human and very brilliant and very flawed, and who I loved very much. Because to me, he’s my dad.

And ultimately, nobody wants to hear about that. It doesn’t fit their two dimensional, mythical image of him, or my brothers and I for that matter. Us being a fairly regular family doesn’t really inspire the kind of tales that perhaps lend themselves to be told.

(This is the biggest reason I don’t do interviews, because I’d be like you wanna hear about the time he took us on a hiking trip, got us lost in a storm and Mom nearly divorced him because she thought we’d all been eaten by coyotes? No? It’s hilarious, honestly!)

That’s alright, though. Like I said, the movies and the books are there to tell those stories, and Lee Taylor will happily yap your ear off for an hour about their exploits if you want. Dad’s legacy, in that form, is more than secure.

They’re not going to ever be able to tell you about his favourite pancake toppings though, or his favourite song to dance to in the kitchen or his favourite swear word, and there’s the real privilege in getting to be Jeff Tracy’s son. In getting to carry him forward, not just the stories.

…

…

This got a lot deeper than I intended it to go. I’ve had a beer and I rambled. Sorry Anon.

Ahem. Good question! I guess I’m just not the best person to answer it, ironically enough ;)

I guess the best that I can offer is that if you are ever in trouble and call us, just know that there was a really great human being behind the face that made it all possible, who told the worst jokes, but who cared a whole f-ing lot.

*insert generic story here about Dad and a rocket*

[hungermakesmonsters]

Just want to take a moment to congratulate you on 500 followers! You absolutely deserve it and more! I love your ideas and your writing. Can I request a blurb with a headstrong reader who is always used to fixing things herself but Billy just wants to take care of her? I like the idea of PA reader, kinda like Donna & Harvey in Suits! Maybe something like reader gets “stood up” by an Anvil client whose interest in you got Billy clear on how he feels and jealous on someone else seeing your worth?

I used to love Suits... but I never finished watching it so I don't know what happened with the whole Darvey situation but I LOVED their dynamic in the first few seasons of the show (and also just how weird and awkward it was when Max Beesley's character was going out for Donna for a while). So, yeah, this was definitely fun to write and I hope I've managed to catch enough of the awesome Donna energy in the reader character here! (Also now I'm going to have to start watching Suits again)

Don't Have to Say You Love Me

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

You placed his coffee and lunch down in front of him, immediately drawing his attention upwards.

"Is that —"

"A large flat white and a toasted BLT with extra sauce," you said, knowing full well how he liked to take his lunch on a Friday. By this point you were almost offended that he dared to ask.

"And have you got —"

"The research on the Collins account and the two government contracts Senator Williams wants to discuss," you interrupted as you pulled three files from beneath your arm and placed them down.

His eyes narrowed on you, mind obvious racing, trying to find something you hadn't thought of.

"What about —"

"Yes, I've had someone from maintenance fix the AC in the meeting room because I know you don't like having the Senator in your office around the good scotch."

Everything was sorted. Everything he could possibly ask of you, and he knew why — he was just waiting for you to say it. You didn't want to have to say it, because you knew exactly what his reaction would be.

But you knew Billy Russo. You knew how fucking stubborn he could be.

It'd probably amuse him to keep you standing there all day like a lemon.

After a few seconds you let out a huff.

"You do remember that I'm leaving early today, right?" You asked, drawing attention to the elephant in the room.

You weren't even sure why Billy was so annoyed that you'd gone and gotten yourself a date — he was stringing along half the women in New York, so why did it matter that you'd finally found someone who was interested in you?

"Right, how could I forget?" He said and you could hear the disdain in his voice. "I still can't believe you're going out with Thompson."

"Why not?" You asked, really not in the mood for his snarky behaviour. You both knew each other better than that.

"He just so —"

"Rich?" You offered. "Handsome? British?"

"Boring. He's not right for you, he doesn't deserve you."

You rolled your eyes. "And what would you know about what's right for me, Billy?"

The question was met with the expected silence. You'd long since given up on any fancy notion of him actually seeing you or admitting to the undeniable tension that had permeated your relationship since you first started working for him years ago.

What had once been a will they, would they, could they, had be stamped with a big red absolutely not by him and his inaction.

"Enjoy your date," he said, like he was driving the final nail into the coffin.

You couldn't remember exactly what you told him as you left his office, but it didn't matter. The pair of you argued, you always had. You'd made it clear from the start that, just because you were his PA, you weren't there to take any of his shit. You did your job and you were damned good at it — he was lucky to have you, lucky that you still wanted to work for him when there were so many other firms that would love to have you.

But you were loyal if you had one fault. Endlessly loyal when it came to Anvil and when it came to Billy Russo.

The one thing you weren't, however, was an idiot. Davis Thompson was funny, charming and rich, and sure, you might have met him through work, but you at least owed it to yourself to see where it would go.

And, where it went, as it turned out, was absolutely nowhere.

You'd been stood up before — you were a big girl, getting snubbed by a man who couldn't even bother to text was not going to end your world. (Though it might give you the urge to key his car the next time he had a meeting at Anvil.)

You got to the bar early, and you waited.

And waited.

You ordered yourself a drink, and you waited.

You gave up on him showing, but you decided to have another glass of wine because, why not? And, while you were making bad decisions, you decided to add another to the list and text Billy.

Don't go getting smug, but you were right.

It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.

He bored you that much already?

You found yourself smiling, even as you rolled your eyes.

Didn't even show up.

Despite feeling somewhat embarrassed, you knew that Billy wasn't on the other end of the phone laughing at you. He wasn't like that. Not when it came to you. (He was probably planning on keying Thompson's car too now.)

You put your phone down on the bar and ordered another drink, only half-surprised when it didn't buzz with another message from Billy. It was fine. It was Friday, he was probably busy on a date of his own. You had your wine, you were happy, you'd maybe have one more, then —

"Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?"

In any other circumstances the bad pick-up line would have had you seriously considering throwing your drink, but you recognised the voice immediately and before you could even turn your head, Billy Russo was sitting at the bar beside you.

"Please tell me you've never used that line on a woman you actually wanted to sleep with," you said, barely biting back a laugh.

"I have," he answered, waving down the bar tender and ordering a glass of what you were drinking.

"And did it work?"

"I'll let you know at the end of the night."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." You rolled your eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Thought you might want some company since Thompson was a no-show."

For a few seconds you were willing to accept his answer, but it didn't exactly hold up under scrutiny.

"I text you literally five minutes ago; how did you get here so quick?" You asked, eyes narrowing.

"I was in the neighbourhood?"

He almost looked sheepish, embarrassed even, and you had no idea why. A dusting of pink spread across his cheeks and, for a second, he could barely even look at you.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" And, then when he looked at you, you felt an unsettling feeling in you gut. "What did you do?"

You'd always been good at reading him, at seeing right through him. And, right then, he had the look of a guilty man struggling to explain himself.

"Don't get angry —"

"Don't ask me not to get angry if you're going to say something that makes me angry, Billy," you warned.

He took a drink. "I might have cancelled your date —"

"You did what?"

Un-fucking-believable.

Actually, no. It was entirely fucking-believable. And that was what pissed you off the most. He'd ruined your date because of — what? Some selfish sense of jealousy and entitlement, because if he didn't want you, no one else should.

You start to move, standing only to find his fingers on your wrist.

"Wait —" he started, almost sounding panicked.

"I did wait, Billy," you said, admitting far more than you ever wanted to. "I waited for years. For you. And what were you doing? Fucking half of New York."

It was the first time you'd dared utter anything of the sort aloud, the first time either of you had openly admitted to the unspoken, unacted-upon feelings between you.

You tugged against his grip on you, but Billy held tight as you struggled against him.

"Let me go," you said.

"No," Billy answered, getting to his feet, standing in front of you. "I'm not letting you go again."

Before you could even think to question what the fuck he meant, his lips were on yours and your whole world seemed to come to a screeching halt. For a few sweet seconds, you were frozen, indulging in something you'd barely allowed yourself to dream about, but how could you trust it? How could you trust him when he was only kissing you because he'd been jealous, because he'd thought you were finally going to find happiness with someone else.

You pulled back from the kiss, enough to see the flicker of hurt in his eyes and the worry on his face.

"This better not be a game, Billy," you warned him. "I'm not one of your girls that you can pick up and drop whenever you —"

He cut you off with another kiss, his arm winding around you waist and pulling you against him. And you let him. You allowed yourself to melt into the warmth of his body, you fingers gripping his shirt at his waist, just beneath his jacket.

"No more games," he muttered against your lips. "I can't lose you. I won't. I'm sick of pretending that I don't want you — that I don't love you."

Your heart stuttered, knowing the weight that that word bore for Billy. He'd never used it when talking about any of the other women, and you knew it wasn't the sort of thing he'd say without meaning it.

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to say it back. Not yet, not when some part of you still ached over his treatment of you.

"Take me home," you said, daring to hope that this wasn't just some pipe dream that would vanish the moment he'd had you in his bed.

Not that you made it as far as his bed.

He'd taken you by the hand a pulled you out of the bar, into the cold New York air — his car was park a block over, it should have been a quick, short walk if it hadn't been for you pulling him back for another kiss. Then, before either of you could think, you found yourself in an alleyway, pressed back against a wall as Billy kissed you.

Years of tension quickly came to the fore, your fingers gripping his jacket, his shirt, his hair — anything you could get hold of, anything you could use to keep him close. And all the while, he kissed you. You couldn't get enough of him.

Things quickly reached boiling point, your fingers tugging at the fastenings of his pants while he lifted your dress. There was no slow build, no teasing foreplay, once you'd freed his cock, you found yourself lifted and —

"Fuck," you moaned against his lips, "fuck, fuck, fuck — Billy."

He buried himself inside you in a single fluid movement, stopping when every inch of him was hilted.

His forehead pressed against yours as you both stilled, already breathless, and both entirely overwhelmed.

"Billy," you said in a low whine, your fingers gripping his hair.

His eyes opened and he looked at you through the gloom of the alley.

"I love you," he said softly, like he'd finally realised the gravity of the situation.

He started to move with slow but deep thrusts, not quite making love to you, but doing all he could to show you that this meant something. He alternated between kissing your lips and your neck, and you found yourself leaning into his every touch as pleasure started to coil inside you.

Your legs tightened around his waist, keeping him close, never wanting to let him go. And when you came it was with four little words.

"I love you too."