#will ever be done around the house if i leave

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[sincerelyriize]

cotton candy | p.wb

“so we just have sex to solve all our problems”

💿now playing: cotton candy by yungblud

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Wonbin, is so fucking stubborn that he never knows when, how or why he should apologise. Good thing he’s good at hot, sweaty make-up sex though.

❯ pairings: wonbin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, angst, smut

❯ words: 1.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, make-up sex, pretty arguing for like a second, wonbin is insufferably stubborn, mention of marking, unprotected sex, lowkey a toxic dynamic oops

an: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with cotton candy, or the song really lol, i was just inspired by this one lyric.

Park Wonbin is stubborn—but not as stubborn as you.

He never thought he’d meet someone who could rival him in that department, let alone end up dating them. It’s a mess, really. Maybe even toxic. Because while he loves every single part of you, when the two of you argue, it’s like fire meeting fire.

It gets nasty. Personal. Downright vicious. Honestly, your friends can’t figure out how you’ve lasted this long—especially since neither of you ever wants to be the first to back down. Apologising? Yeah, no.

Wonbin doesn’t apologise.

But this time, he really should.

It started the same, always does, over something petty like the dishes, or jealousy or when he works long hours and forgets to schedule you in but always seems to have time for the boys. That last one was oddly specific because it’s the exact reason you’ve been screaming at each other in his apartment for the past twenty minutes.

You’d jabbed at his chest with your finger and he’d swatted it away. The fury in his eyes lit aflame, and you weren’t sure you saw an end in sight.

But then he said it.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

That was the end. Because stubborn might as well have been your middle name, and you were ready to make good on his threat—if only his apartment wasn’t so far from yours.

“Fine, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” he spat.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed off to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy with anger. You didn’t bother slamming the door—too cliché—but the sharp click of it shutting was enough to drive your point home.

You busied yourself with grabbing whatever you’d brought over—a spare set of clothes, your charger, a few toiletries—but the more you moved around the room, the more frustrated you became. Your hands shook as you stuffed items into your bag, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling.

Yelling would give him too much satisfaction, and satisfaction was the last thing you wanted to give him right now.

You throw yourself onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. The covers feel cold, they always do when he’s not there to cuddle you asleep, not that you’d want that right now, you’d technically just broken up—maybe—ugh, you don’t know. He’s too complicated to work out.

Instead, you curl up on your side, the pillow barely softening the tension in your neck. And sleep doesn’t come easily—your mind replays every word, every jab, and that final, infuriating sentence: “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Asshole.

Hours pass, the silence of the apartment punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the city outside. Your phone screen glares at you from the nightstand, but you ignore it. You weren’t about to scroll through social media for comfort—not tonight.

The doorknob turns with a faint click, and the door opens just enough for him to slip inside. The soft rustle of his clothes and the weight of his footsteps tell you exactly who it is.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Just stay still, pretending to be asleep.

And then the bed dips—but it’s not like you can be mad—this is his house, his room, his bed.

Just…why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? You’re not going to apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.

And like you said, Wonbin doesn’t apologise either.

Well…not verbally, at least.

Because within minutes, the shift in the mattress goes from tentative to deliberate. His hand slides across your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you can even protest, he’s pressing into you—pinning you to the bed, his actions saying everything his pride won’t.

Because when Wonbin knows he’s wrong, he’s bad with words. Instead his body moves against yours, wordlessly pleading for forgiveness the only way he knows how—telling you he regrets what he did.

This is the exact reason he doesn’t apologise. Why should he when he can just fuck you silly and make up?

It’s always from the back after you fight, and you’ve come to understand that it’s because Wonbin doesn’t want to look into your eyes and see any lingering hurt. He's not supposed to be the one that hurts you, he hates it actually.

His hands wrap around your wrists, smashing your palms against the mattress as his slender frame rubs against your back, allowing you to feel every inch of his hot, sweat-soaked skin as he thrusts.

His face finds his favourite place, buried in your nape, because there’s something so possessive about it; and he needs to mark it because he doesn’t want you to leave. He might have said it, yes, but he didn’t mean it. You have to know he didn't mean it.

Your nails dig into the sheets as he licks and sucks, leaving his signature purple love bites across your flesh. You practically mewel into the pillow you’re chewing on when he dips between your shoulder blades and marks there too.

He’s really drilling it home, and you can feel all of the passion and love he has for you poured into his fucking, but it’s almost not enough.

It’s too easy. He’s too easy to forgive considering he hasn’t muttered the word ‘sorry’ since you met him.

But as you turn around to try and even attempt to reprimand him, one look at the crimson tint on his pale complexion and the heavy lidded haze on his eyes has you clenching around his cock. And then the fucker had to go and whimper, the sound so faint and vunberable it was impossible to be mad at him.

“Binnie—” you moan, arching your back to give him a better angle, pushing yourself into his fervent rutting.

Your head rolls against your shoulders, tilting back, needing a better look of him. His unruly black hair damp and sticking to his own face, his lip chewed from biting down. He nuzzles close to your cheek, panting and grunting in your ear and it becomes your undoing.

“Baby, kiss me…” you plead with him for just a little taste, your lips parted, jaw hanging slack and your eyes dazed.

You can’t believe you’re the one begging him right now.

Instead of answering you, Wonbin only grunts and nests his face into your neck, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles on your pulse point as his hips slap against your ass in rapid, needy thrust. He keeps uttering your name, whining it in between his ragged breaths, squeezing both of your wrists until your fingers are tingling.

You can tell that he’s right on the edge, chasing his elusive high deep into your cunt, his sensitive tip twitching and throbbing as it daubs at your inner nerves. Your stomach knots up.

“Oh, fuck, Bin—!”

Wonbin wraps a gentle fist around your neck and guides your face back into the pillows, shushing you breathlessly as he does so. You know why— you’re so damn loud when he fucks you like this, and Wonbin is a jealous man. Your moans are his to hear—not his lousy neighbour who he has seen checking you out a couple of times.

That could start another argument on its own.

As you both settle, your body trembling with aftershocks and his twitching needily, you feel him pull out with a long, shaking moan. Your body reacts, missing the feel of him. You roll onto your back, panting whilst staring at the ceiling and he sits back on his knees.

You look at him and manage a small smile, though his face remains clouded with a frown. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before darting away. You sigh, already knowing what this means—you’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Baby, c’mere,” you say softly, opening your arms.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Without a word, he slides into your hold, his movements almost hesitant as he rests his head against your chest. He avoids your gaze, even as your fingers thread gently through his damp hair.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice tender and low. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Maybe Park Wonbin was as stubborn as you.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🍷Illicit Affairs🍷┃ Ch. 3

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

wc: ~ 3.2 k

summary: Lilia has a stressful day at work and wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bubble bath—but she is interrupted.

*******************************************

All of Lilia’s pants had been in the washing this morning, leaving her with no other choice but to wear a pencil skirt that she didn’t dare bend over in for fear it might rip. The new concierge had been paying her enough attention today without the need for a spectacle. Who was she kidding? She would’ve laughed her pretty ass off if it would’ve happened. 

She drove home through the dense autumn fog after her shift and nearly ran into an unfortunately positioned trash can, but after a day of yelling at people to get their shit together because the hotel inspectors were bound to show up any day now as they did every year, she didn’t have an ounce of energy left to work herself up about it. Her scalp ached from a day of wearing her hair tightly pinned up, even now that she’d tugged it loose. 

In her driveway, she left the car without her parka but regretted it as soon as she'd stepped out. She was plucking the house keys from her bag when the front door opened. Alice came out with her hair curled and a tinge of scarlet on her lips that matched the ends of her fringe—a highly unusual sight. 

"Mh, where are you going?" Lilia sang. 

"Just Stephen's."

"Stephen." She weighed the name on her tongue. "He has a name. So it's serious."

"Well, we've had a few nice dates, and he's—he's a good guy, mamma, I promise. Even mom said so, and she—"

The house key dug into her palm as she clenched her fist around it. "Lorna has met him?"

“He was in the area, and—and you don’t like men.”

She huffed, blinking the ache away, swallowing, and nodded. While she might not have the same interest in men that Lorna did, she would have hoped Alice knew she would never mock her for dating one. Didn't she know that she loved her no matter what?

Alice sighed, a breath heavy with guilt. “Are you mad, mamma?”

“No.” She stepped closer and fixed Alice's lipstick with the edge of her red nail, holding her face between thumb and index finger. The smile didn't reach her eyes. “Just sad.”

Alice pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight, squishing her cheek against Lilia's as she'd done since she was a little girl. Lilia put her hand on the back of her head and felt the hurt in her chest melt away. Even when she drew away, Alice kept her arms looped around her neck, and Lilia put her hands on them, rubbing her thumbs in crescents. "You look beautiful, piccinia. Bellissima."

"Thanks." Alice smiled and let go of her. "I'm off now." She kissed Lilia's cheek. "Don't wait up for me."

She set about to leave, but Lilia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. Have you heard from my docezza? She left so suddenly after the concert—"

"She cancelled band practice this week. Not sure what's going on, but I'll give her a call tomorrow."

Lilia took the information in, but it did nothing to quell her worries. Her mind went spinning with possibilities of what could've happened. "Va bene. Have fun, my love." 

"Bye, mamma."

She ran off with a wave, and Lilia looked after her for a moment before going inside. It was quiet. Her house was hardly ever quiet. Having Alice live with her again after the divorce had ensured it stayed that way, but now she was once again leaving the nest. When Alice had first left for college, it had thrown her into a midlife crisis that had led to her ripping the tapestry off the walls one night and then renovating the whole house. This time, she was developing a crush on the sinfully much younger best friend of her daughter.

She tossed everything aside—her bag, her coat, her shoes—and went to the bathroom to open the tap and draw herself a hot bath. Letting the water run, she headed for the bedroom to fetch her bathrobe, reading glasses, and the copy of Wicked Witch on her nightstand. While she was at it, she let her clothes pool at her feet and stood naked in front of the floor-length mirror. 

-> continue

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[asherthehimbo]

Homesick

pairing: traveling photographer! Hongjoong x local! reader

wordcount: 718

warnings: uhm, one or two suggestive sentences but like thats it, mentions of alcohol and going out drinking, ( gender of reader not specified but like involves cutesy texts so take that as you will)

notes: guys i love Mico sm and this song BEEEN stuck in my head so here you go. I AM busy working on Guardians and Bloody sunrise but this was a short little drabble I had since I've been suprisingly busy so its easier for me to write this format than full length chapters rn

Hongjoong is a traveling photographer, his habit of drifting from place to place quite literally in the job description, yet to him there's no place like home. He can never be away from home for more than a week, gets this bubbling anxiety in his stomach that twists in all the wrong ways. He likes home, he likes his own studio where he can secretly work on music without another person's judging ears, he likes his home built darkroom, refusing to develop the photos of his work, when needed physically, anywhere but there.

He's made quite the name for himself, ‘the photographer who gets bored of places easily’, while it may not be the truth, he lets people believe it because it's less embarrassing than the fact that in all honesty he just gets homesick. The title has people scrambling to employ him, thinking he's some sort of elitist artist if he deems himself better than a place after a few days, which isn't what happens, but watching his bosses for the contracts scramble to try and have him stay, to show why they're place is the best has its benefits.

Yet his favorite benefit of all has to be you, a local hired by the same company that hired him to help guide him through the town. He's spent four days with you already, his flight back home leaves tomorrow and while usually around this time he'd be missing home desperately, the thought of returning, of leaving this town, leaving you, hasn't crossed his mind once since he came here, since he met you, until you brought it up, “Wanne go out to celebrate your last night here?” your words were like a punch to the gut, a reminder that this wasn't home, that to you he was just a tourist, a man with a job, to you, he was your job.

He agreed, of course he did, anything that would have him spend more time with you. In all your drunk babelings, all your compliments and teasing flirting, never once did you ask him to stay. It was all his alcohol filled mind could think about, how the words might fall from your lips which he so desperately wanted to kiss. He wanted you to ask him to stay, to beg him to stay. He must've run though a thousand different scenarios on how you would, if it would be spur of the moment, right before he had to leave for the airport, if there would be actions or words leading up to it, if you'd ask pleadingly, or if you'd ask breathlessly between kisses- the last one was his favorite. Yet you didn't. The night dragged on, he crashed at your place, woke up the next morning to you smiling down at him who was sprawled out on your couch.

You drove him to the airport, you saw him off, not once did your smile leave your lips, not once did you show an inkling of want, of yearning, of needing him to stay the way he needed you too. He arrived home with your name still on his tongue, no- not home. Hongjoong stood in front of his house, but it did nothing to cure the homesickness, not when it only started the moment he had entered the plane gates, when you had disappeared from his sight.

“Hii Joong ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ lmk when you get home safe! I hope I made your time here enjoyable, if your ever back in town id be happy to show you around some more, get some rest much love (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡”

your text message was like a shock to his system, on one hand he had your number, you'd willingly reached out to him ever after you were done, you'd checked up on him, it made his heart race. On the other hand, it was formal, it was an invitation to use you as a guide again, not a friend, nor something more, the message was a formality, one probably sent to all your clients, that made his stomach drop.

It didn't matter, he’d make sure he was back in your hometown, he'd make sure to see you again, he'd make sure to make you his. He didn't get this good at his job by giving up.

Ateez masterlist | Navigation

Permanent Taglist: [open] [4/30] @idkwhatto-namethis @leezanetheofficial @seongsangssbitch @urlocalmultigroupfan

copyright | 2025 | @asherthehimbo

[l-starsz]

a/n: part 2 finally! i think we might need a part 3 though.. (i genuinely did not think i’d write so much for this😭)

(part 1)

cheater billie part 2

i woke up at 10am. my head was pounding from all the crying. my mind immediately went to what had happened the previous night. i was stressed about it. i was stressed about her.

i obviously still wanted her. i mean, who wouldn’t? she was so perfect. i was just worried. i had no clue whether she’d cheat on me again or if she was serious about what she said.

i wondered if she’d actually call. maybe she didn’t mean what she said. my mind spun with thoughts for a while. until i decided to actually get up. i brushed my teeth, then went back to my room to do my makeup.

once i was done, i brushed my hair, then headed downstairs. i needed to clean, so i played some music and began cleaning the house. i was doing this for a good few hours, just making sure everything was spotless. i worked my way around the house, and soon enough it was 2pm.

i’d completely finished everything i needed to do, so i rushed upstairs to have a shower so that i could finally relax.

i felt so much better once i was out, putting some comfy clothes on and doing my short after-shower routine before heading downstairs. i went straight to the living room, curling up on the sofa under a warm blanket.

i put a movie on tv and laid there. whilst i was laying there, my mind finally drifted back to billie. it was getting later and she still hadn’t called. i hadn’t even thought about her at all. because i’d been distracted.

but it was as if she could hear my thoughts, because right as i began to focus on the movie again, my phone rang. it was loud, and startled me from my own mind. my heart began racing. my hands shook as i took the phone into my hands, slowly and carefully answering the call.

i took a deep breath when i heard her speak.

“hey, uh, i said i’d call you.” she mumbled, slightly awkwardly.

“you did.. i remember, billie.”

it felt so awkward all of a sudden. i was waiting for the call all day, and now it just didn’t feel right. it didn’t feel right speaking to the girl who broke my heart.

“yeah.. i was wondering if.. if i could take you out sometime next week? please. i planned something.”

“hmmm.. let me think about it.” i knew i’d say yes, i just wanted to see how she’d react.

i knew i shouldn’t be letting her back into my life like this. i knew it was wrong. especially after all that had happened. but i missed her. i missed her so much, i needed her. she was the only person who ever fully knew me. i still needed her.

“please.. please! i’ll do anything. i have it all planned out. i’ll make it perfect. i’ll make everything up to you, i promise.” she begged.

wow, she really was desperate. surely she wouldn’t be so desperate for me to let her take me out if she didn’t care. right? surely she would’ve given up by now if she didn’t care.

“of course you can take me out. you really think i’d say no?” i giggled.

i heard her let out a sigh of relief as i continued laughing at her.

“okay uh.. i’ll text you details! and i have one more question..”

“what is it, billie?” i quietly asked.

“can you come over tonight? please.” she whispered.

“i’ll be there later.” i smiled.

we spoke for a few minutes longer before we ended the call.

i looked over to the tv to see the movie ending. i turned the tv off and went upstairs, quickly getting myself ready and changing before leaving my house.

it didn’t take me long to reach billies house. i hesitated before knocking on the door. was i making the wrong decision? my mind was filled with doubts. part of me wanted her back, and the other part of me was screaming that this was the wrong choice. i took a deep breath, then knocked.

she was quick to open the door, leading me inside before shutting it behind me. she guided me to the kitchen, where i smelt something good. she’d made food for us? she made my favourite meal. she’d put a lot of thought into this.

a small smile came to my face, and my cheeks turned pink. she looked over to see me smiling at her work. she smiled back, coming over to me and taking my hands.

“this is good billie, you’re really trying huh?” i mumbled, looking in her eyes.

“i really want to prove to you that i mean what i said. i have lots of stuff planned. this is just the start.” she continued smiling.

“yeah? what stuff, hm?”

“that would ruin the surprise.” she rolled her eyes, moving towards the counter and dishing up some food for us.

i giggled and followed her, taking the plate she handed to me before we sat down at the table. we ate, and spoke of course. i really had missed this. and it was almost as if she could read my mind when she spoke.

“you know, i’ve missed this.. i’ve missed you. way more than words could ever explain.” she sounded nervous.

“i’ve missed you too billie. but that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven yet.” i mumbled.

“i know, i know.. i’ll make it all up to you. just like i promised.”

i smiled, but i couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back into my mind. what if there’s someone else again? or what if i trust her and she finds someone else? my eyes drifted down to my hands as i played with the rings on my fingers. billie must’ve noticed, since she carefully lifted my head so i was looking at her, then spoke.

“what’s bothering you, hm? you can tell me.”

“it’s just.. i’m worried. what if you find someone better again? what if i trust you and you cheat again?” tears came to my eyes, thinking back to the moment when i found out.

“i understand, i know it’s gonna be so difficult to trust me again, but i promise you that i will never do something that stupid again. you’re the only girl i ever want in my life, you mean the world to me. i completely understand if you can’t trust me again, but please just let me try to prove it to you first.” she cupped my cheeks, her thumbs running over them as she looked into my eyes.

i nodded and looked to my lap.

“thank you.” i whispered.

“don’t thank me. i hurt you, i don’t deserve this.. i don’t deserve to be making it up to you, i mean, you could’ve easily told me no, but you didn’t. thank you. for everything. i’m lucky to even get to speak to you.”

“don’t say that bil.” i whispered, “you know i’ve always cared about you no matter what. i missed you so much.”

i moved her hands from my face and held them in mine, a small smile on both of our faces.

we spent hours together before i decided to go home, it was getting late and i was getting tired. so we said goodbye to eachother and i left.

“call me tomorrow billie?”

she nodded and smiled, waving me goodbye as i left. i really didn’t want to leave. but i knew it was right. i needed to take things slow, i couldn’t trust her right away.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[potionsformaya]

𓏵 ˖ ⋮ emily davis headcanons. . ֹ ₊

❝ often a lack of confidence manifests itself as over confidence. . ❞

this is part 1 of my emily headcanons, because she’s my angel and yet I never gush about her on here (smallest piece of angst somewhere in the mix but it’s like a: “must’ve been the wind” sort of thing.)

Emily isn’t exactly the biggest animal lover. She doesn’t like being around dogs (Sam’s dog likes to chase her when she’s comes over. Now she demands it gets put outside when she visits.), and cats are more tame (Ashley’s cat falls asleep in her lap, and she awkwardly pets it) but she wouldn’t want one as a pet. She does, however, have a soft spot for rabbits.

HATES losing. The sorest loser you’ll ever meet. Falling second place is enough to make her go crazy. It doesn’t even have to be anything academic or sporty. Losing to someone in a game can also ruin her day.

Being a mathlete, she sticks out like a sore thumb when grouped together with the other mathletes because most of them are on the geekier side. But despite her sour attitude, she’s managed to befriend a handful of them.

Even when she and Jessica were friends, she always felt like she had to be better than her in some way. Jessica being more out there and popular because of her brash and extroverted attitude, Emily felt as if she couldn’t keep it. While everyone was drooling over Miss Homecoming Queen, it was always a hit or miss with how people felt about Emily. It was always “she’s too bitchy” or “she’s okay”, no in between.

When Emily started dating Matt, she put on this flirty, suggestive persona just in case there was a chance of him leaving her for the same reason Mike dumped her. Being “too frigid”. However, Emily is still insecure about her performance in the bedroom due to Mike making it pretty clear she wasn’t his best experience.

Emily can be a bit bitter, but she’s never been all that serious. The smallest things are enough to tickle her, including her own jokes.

When around adults or authority figures, Emily is a completely different person. Very respectful and and well mannered. The first time she visit Ashley’s house, she went from ranting to Ashley outside the door, to having a polite conversation with Ashley’s mother in the living room.

Emily did in fact feel guilty for the prank they pulled on Hannah, and had zero intentions on going back up to the lodge. After a talk with Matt and thinking about how much it probably meant to Josh, she caved in.

Emily realized her eyesight was getting a tiny bit bad when she was only two seats away from the board and still couldn’t exactly make out what it said. If then became concerning when she was beginning to have a hard time reading up close, Sam told her she was going to have to get glasses sooner or later, but Em kept putting it off because she felt glasses would make her look dorky. She secretly ordered some online, and the prescription glasses were a little chunky and thick. She only wears them in the comfort of her own home.

She actually loves giving gifts on special occasions. And she’s loaded so her gifts usually aren’t that casual. She likes spending money on her friends to see their faces when they open up whatever she got them.

She doesn’t exactly have a fear of roller coasters or rides, they just make her sick every single time. And if you’re not fast enough, or you’re unlucky enough (like Chris), you’ll end up in the spray zone. 

She topped Chris’s high score in DDR.

Emily got stuck in an art class as an elective. She hated every minute of it and she’s great at everything, but her art skills, not so much..

Ironically, Emily can be one of the most sensitive people you’ll ever meet.

She loves teasing and messing with her friends, but when it’s done back to her, she’s thrown off completely.

[malk1ns]

january 5 @ hurricanes, 4-3 OT loss

i cannot believe the season is halfway done. i can't believe i've actually written a fic for every single game, for forty-one games. that's crazy. thanks so much to everyone reading along, the comments and tags you leave really do encourage me to keep going—it's hard to work on a big project like this with no positive reinforcement! i love and appreciate you all <3

playing carolina might be boring AF but at least we got this picture of of it, hey? geno is so much bigger than sid it's truly ridiculous.

Sid isn’t very good at hiding what he’s feeling.

Zhenya knows about the narrative, how a Sidney Crosby quote is a lot of words but when you go back and actually read what he said it’s a whole bunch of nothing. That’s probably true; Zhenya doesn’t make a habit of looking up his teammates’ media spots. Answering his own questions and sitting for interviews is enough exposure to reporters, thank you very much.

But long before Zhenya and Sid spoke the same language, Zhenya was able to read Sid like a book.

Sid’s not subtle. When he wants something from you, you’ll know.

And when they’re getting ready to go out for overtime at the Lenovo Center, when Sid ducks his head and looks up at Zhenya through his eyelashes, Zhenya knows exactly what he wants.

It’s nice to catch up with Staalsy after they play the Hurricanes; frankly, it’s Zhenya’s favorite part about facing this damn team. Jordy’s waiting for them outside the visitor’s locker room after Sid is finally done with his cooldown, and they duck down a quiet hallway to chat. Partway through the conversation, Zhenya slings an arm over Sid’s shoulders, casual as anything, and smothers a smirk when Sid not-so-subtly tucks himself into Zhenya’s side.

Jordy doesn’t notice anything. He’s always been oblivious. It’s something Zhenya always appreciated about him. Kris gives them a hairy eyeball, but after so many years he knows when to feign ignorance, even if he’s far more observant than Jordy ever was.

Sid behaves himself on the way back to Pittsburgh. He keeps his hands to himself on the plane, sticking his earbuds in and zoning out on whatever podcast series he’s hooked on this month.

Zhenya taps his way through a few rounds of solitaire, nudging Sid with his knee when the plane begins its descent. When they’re deboarding and Sid makes to grab for his stuff, Zhenya bullies him out of the way, pulling both their bags down from the overhead compartment and slinging them over his shoulders.

Sid goes pink.

Their drive back to Sewickley is quiet, Zhenya navigating the dark streets carefully with one hand spread over Sid’s thigh. Sid’s parents are still in town, will be through the upcoming homestand, so Zhenya takes them up the hills back to his place, pulling into the driveway and throwing Sid’s Range Rover in park.

He crowds behind Sid as they walk into the house, dropping their bags as soon as they clear the threshold so he can get his hands on Sid’s hips, steering him to the staircase over Sid’s protests that they need another protein shake before bed.

(He refrains from making the obvious joke.)

Sid drops his feigned reluctance as soon as they get to the bedroom, turning in Zhenya’s arms and wrapping his arms around Zhenya’s neck, tugging him down for a kiss.

The first time Sid kissed Zhenya, it took both of them by surprise. It was Zhenya’s second year in the league, and not even any sort of special occasion—they’d just beaten Boston in TD Garden, a hard-won shootout on the first half of a back-to-back with travel in the slog leading up to their too-short Christmas break. He and Sid both had to do media, courtesy of Geno’s two goals and Sid’s three points, and they were the last ones in the locker room after they finally escaped to do their cooldown and get showered.

Zhenya was fumbling with his tie when Sid crossed the room, got up on his toes, and smeared a kiss across Zhenya’s mouth.

They didn’t talk about it for months. There were games to win, after all, and playoffs to push for. They were both determined to have a better showing than they had last season. It wasn’t until after they had to watch the Red Wings raise the Stanley Cup in their own building, after locker clean-out and the last media of the season, that Sid showed up at Zhenya’s door with a determined look on his face.

Their second kiss hadn’t been any more artful than the first. It didn’t take them long to get good at it, though.

Really good. They’ve taken breaks throughout the years, arguments and ego and fear of the future sending one or both of them stomping away from the relationship, and Zhenya’s seen plenty of girls stumble out of dark corners with Sid looking dazed with swollen mouths. He kisses like the world is ending, all-consuming and intense, and Zhenya’s more than happy to fall into it every time.

Sid doesn’t want to just kiss tonight, though. His hand sneaks down and squeezes at Zhenya’s dick through his dress pants, and Zhenya cants his hips forward, letting Sid grope him.

“Fuuuck,” Sid groans, pulling back and looking down between them. Zhenya follows his gaze.

Sid’s not a small guy. He’s broad, with thick arms and legs and big, capable hands, clever fingers that are adept at taking Zhenya apart. His hand on Zhenya’s dick where it’s straining at the fabric, though, looks almost small.

“Jesus,” Sid mutters, stroking a thumb over the head. Zhenya shivers as his dick twitches.

They’re clumsy as they undress, the late hour and a long, heavy game slowing their reflexes, but eventually their clothes are in a pile at the foot of the bed and Zhenya has Sid stretched out on the mattress, pinning his hands over his head with one hand around both wrists.

Sid takes a deep breath, testing Zhenya’s grip. Zhenya watches his throat bob as he swallows and tightens his thighs where they’re around Sid’s hips.

“You’re stay put,” he says to Sid, half an order and half a question, and he can see his words register, leaching into Sid’s body and dropping all the tension from his muscles.

Sid’s hard between them already, dick curving up toward his belly button and damp at the head, and when Zhenya curls his hand around it Sid gasps, craning his chin down so he can look.

Sid’s hands might be big compared to a regular guy, but Zhenya’s put his to shame, and Sid’s dick looks small in his grasp.

Zhenya knows that turns Sid’s crank, even though he’ll never admit to it. Hockey players are all the same, after all, and none of them are going to own up to getting off on their dick looking small, but Zhenya’s never needed Sid to actually say anything to know what he wants.

Sid likes how much bigger Zhenya is than him. He likes the way Zhenya’s hands span his waist like it’s dainty, the way he fits under Zhenya’s arm like Zhenya’s girlfriends used to.

He especially likes Zhenya’s dick.

Zhenya lifts up a little and shifts so that Sid can spread his legs, settling between them and rubbing his dick over Sid’s balls and shaft. Sid props himself up on his elbows, mouth open as he pants for air, hitching his hips up to meet Zhenya’s movements. 

Zhenya spares a moment for regret that they don’t have time to fuck properly until the homestand is over. Sid’s so tight, even after all these years, and sinking into him is the closest to a religious experience that Zhenya’s ever had.

He props his forearms on either side of Sid’s head, leaning down so he’s completely covering Sid’s body, pressing their chests together as he mouths at Sid’s neck. Sid always leaks so much, like the second he gets even a little worked up he’s ready to bust, which means they don’t need lube when they do this.

When they were younger, they used to get off like this every spare minute they had, sneaking off to spare rooms and rubbing up against each other until they came. It only took one instance of having to misappropriate a fancy hand towel in Billy Guerin’s guest bathroom for Zhenya to start carrying around a handful of tissues in his back pocket for quick clean-ups.

They usually take their time now, luxuriating in the privacy of their own homes and the improved technique that comes with experience, but sometimes Zhenya likes to make it quick and dirty, likes to get Sid panting and begging for dick underneath him.

Zhenya can’t give it to him tonight. The waiting will make it better when they have time, though.

Sid’s getting close. His thighs are trembling where they’re locked around Zhenya’s waist, and he’s tossing his head back and forth, little uh-uh-uhs pushing from his chest as he arches his back.

Zhenya pushes himself up a little and rests his hand on Sid’s neck, curling his fingers and pressing his thumb to the hinge of Sid’s jaw. Not much, not enough to actually do anything, but his hand looks enormous at Sid’s throat, and when he increases pressure the tiniest bit, Sid gasps and comes with a shout.

He’s still shivering through his orgasm when Zhenya drags his dick over Sid’s groin, smearing come into his pubic hair, and groans as he finishes on Sid’s stomach.

“Damn,” he says, rolling off to one side. Sid tucks them together, yanking Zhenya’s arm until his hand is splayed low over Sid’s belly.

It’s sticky and kind of gross. Zhenya rubs their come into Sid’s skin, ignoring Sid’s protest.

His hand really does look huge on Sid’s body. Normally he doesn’t think too much about it; he’s aware of how tall he is, how big his dick is, and those facts on their own don’t do much for him. He’s happy to go along with what Sid wants—seeing Sid get off on something is what gets him hottest.

Sid’s a grower, though, and when he’s soft Zhenya can cover his entire groin with his palm.

Sid grunts as Zhenya fondles him, wincing and over-sensitive, but Zhenya ignores it, rolling Sid’s balls in his fingers and palming his soft member.

Yeah, he sees the appeal.

[leaawrites]

I can’t tell you the way I feel

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

Warnings: suggestive content, allusions to sex, angst, Liam being a dumb cunt

Wordcount: 1.6k

Masterlist

Waking before Liam did meant she had all of his peace to herself. No thought in his mind disturbing them, nobody around that could harm them. It was just their two bodies, tangled in love and sheets.

Reluctantly she began tracing the outline of his face. Her finger moving over his jaw, his lips, down his adam’s apple and over his collarbone. Softly tracing the bone that was stretching his skin towards her, calling for her.

Focused on her finger and how it found it’s way so effortlessly over his body, she didn’t notice Liam’s eyes opening. Confused at first, though softening when seeing her by his side. His arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer. The sheet covering her chest falling down, exposing her cold skin to his warm one.

“Morning, love,” he greeted her, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. His voice raspy and still lower than she’d ever heard it before.

“Morning,” she answered back, a slight heat rising up her neck and rushing to her cheeks the longer he looked at her. His eyes never wavering from her own gaze, fixated on him.

Drawing small circles on her hips, he smiled as she took his other hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. Slowly leaving a trail of kisses up his arm, over his chest and on his neck, he let out a soft groan in reaction. His nose pressed against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her bare skin.

Her soft lips gently sucked against the flesh under his ear. Giggling against his skin when she felt his arms around her waist tighten. His hands squeezing her hips.

Two bare chests pressed against each other, falling and rising in sync. Breathing as one.

“Wait, love. Stop.” His voice sounded desperate, like she hurt him. Soft, gentle kisses pierced a dagger through his heart, every single one a mark now on his skin. A reminder of his sin.

Bagging away slightly, she draped the sheet over her chest again. Looking at him with wide eyes, fear soothing through her that she’d done something wrong. Was it too much? Was it not good enough?

Seeing the look in her eyes, thoughts clearly spiraling through her head, he couldn’t form a good excuse. What seemed so easy with everyone else felt like a burden with her. Normally he’d say something like, ‘I promised my mum to be home already’ or ‘I should go, not that your parents find out’. But now, lying seemed to be too harmful.

“I need to -” he started talking, his finger pointing outside the window.

“You need to go?” Finishing his sentence for him, he nodded his head, shameful looking down, not catching the eye roll and sarcastic grin on her face before it disappeared again just as quickly as the realization came. Of course it was all just for a quick laugh with his friends. It was Liam Gallagher, for fucks sake. “I hope I’m not keeping you from going.”

Picking up her shirt and underwear from the floor, she quickly put them on, before walking over to the other side of the room and taking his clothes as well, throwing it his way before walking out the door.

A, “Wouldn’t dare to,” falling from her lips as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Still leaning on his elbows, Liam stayed like this as if he was frozen. The shower went off in the other room and that was when it hit him. He fucked it up completely. Throwing his head into the soft pillow he let out a groan. How could he not even find a good excuse to make it less shameful to walk out of her house?

He deserved it though, he decided ultimately as he found himself back out on the street, walking with his head low. He totally deserved it.

Unlike her.

Head leant against the door of the bathroom, she waited until she could hear the front door close before turning off the shower and letting the water from her eyes flow down her face. Of course he didn’t mean anything he said. Why did she even let him invite her to the gig anyway? Why did she have to go too?

When his body rushed towards her the night before, eyes lighting up as he found her and excitement being written all over his face, she believed that - maybe, somehow - Liam Gallagher wasn’t as much of a twat as she always assumed he was.

Though female intuition is barely ever wrong and that’s what she should’ve been listening to. Not the hammering of her heart or the lovesick thoughts in her brain for finally being seen by someone as more than just another face. It was her own fault.

Noel sat in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes fixated on the telly, though he noticed when Liam walked in, the heavy stomp of his feet being too familiar.

Falling down in the seat next to him, a beer now in his hand, he popped open the can and starred at the people talking too. Neither acknowledging each other more than with their mind.

Until Noel spoke, “You weren’t too shite.”

“Thanks.” Taking another large sip, he tried ignoring his brother as much as he could.

“Though the songs sound like they’re written by a toddler. Did you write them then?” Noel was sure Liam would throw the telly at him as he said that with his sour mood, though he only chuffed, sinking further into the cushion. Trying to escape from this conversation. He knew where it would lead to.

“Not everything that’s shite in your mind is from me, alright? Cunt.”

Noel’s brows furrowed, why wasn’t he trying to strangle him yet?

“I’m not too opposed to the idea of joining anymore,” he tried it differently, trying to make his mood lighten.

“Cheers, mate. Gonna tell the others then.” His voice staying monotone and unwavering. Nothing could be a worse conversation topic at the moment in his opinion.

“Your bird’s fit.”

Jinx.

“She’s not my bird,” Liam tried, his voice growing defensive. Molding in the same tone that he had when talking to ehr the first time.

“So, she’s free?” Noel asked back, quite enjoying how deep in denial his brother was. Finally, Liam’s eyes snapped over to him, filled with horror and disgust.

“If you even try something, I swear-” before he could talk further, Peggy came in, a grocery bag in each hand.

“Would you boys stop fighting for once and help your mum carrying in the groceries?” she said, to which Noel immediately jumped up and went outside. Liam following him shortly after. The thoughts still running through his mind. He didn’t actually think she was fit, did he? Well, she was, but who was he to think that?

Later that night, when Liam was already laying in bed, cigarette in between his lips, Noel came walking in. He noticed how off his brother was for the whole day, of course he did. There was barely any talking done at the table, when normally Liam couldn’t shut up even if you’d sew his mouth shut. That night he was simply staring down at his food, not even eating it all. The worrying glance which Peggy sent Noel’s way after seeing her son this abnormal wasn’t easing his nerves.

“What’s got you so twisted?” He asked, sitting down on his own bed.

Liam leaned over, blowing the smoke from his mouth out of the window. “Nothing.”

“It’s about that girl, right? You fancy her and she didn’t want to hear any of it, because she knows you’re a cunt and rejected you, or what?” He asked further, remembering how defensive he got the first time Noel asked about her.

“I don’t fancy her,” was all he got as an answer.

“Sure.” Noel rolled his eyes, laying down himself. “She seemed nice though.”

“She is,” Liam agreed, making his brother’s head turn at the soft tone of his voice. “She’s too nice.”

“How so?”

Closing his eyes for a second, he knew he’d regret telling him what happened, nonetheless he did it. “I took her out because of a dare, and when she realized in the morning she didn’t even try to slap me or summat. She just-” his mind went back to her face, how she looked so distant yet like reality came back to her in the moment she realized. “She just walked out as if she should be ashamed.”

“You dumb cunt,” Noel groaned when Liam finished the story. He talked to her once, but from how she talked about Liam and defended him when Noel said that he had no trust in his brother’s abilities and interest in music, it made him feel proud in a way. Proud that Liam actually got somethin together for once in his life, he should’ve seen the downfall coming. And he did, just not that soon.

“You don’t just disrespect girls like tha’, especially no girls like her, alrigh’?” Noel threw his pillow across the room in Liam’s face, who only threw it back after complaining. “You make her feel seen and then you just push her off, that’s shite.”

“As if I’d listen to your advise,” Liam scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette. Looking out of their window and down the street to where her house stood, he knew that Noel was right. Of course he was. You don’t just treat girls like that, especially not girls like her.

“Then don’t,” Noel shrugged. “But at least remember what Mum taught us.”

[xoxorealitygalore]

Trust and Believe IV

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Joe had just returned home from Los Angeles, his mind still buzzing from the whirlwind events surrounding WWE’s Raw on Netflix premiere. He had spent most of the weekend on the road, surrounded by bright lights, cameras, and the familiar faces of the wrestling world. But now, back in his own home, everything felt off. It was too quiet. The kind of silence that felt unnatural. As if something was missing. Something… or someone.

The house was cold—an icy chill in the air that made Joe shiver as he stepped over the threshold. He dropped his bag by the door and looked around, squinting in the dim light. The place felt empty. He should have been used to this by now. Keyshia and the kids often did their own thing when he was away. But tonight, it felt different. Too empty. Too still.

"Kids? Keyshia?" he called out, his voice echoing down the hallway.

Nothing. No footsteps. No distant sound of laughter or TV noise. It was like the house had been abandoned. He tried again, a little louder this time. "Keyshia?"

His pulse quickened, the first flicker of panic creeping in. He walked deeper into the house, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floors. The living room was quiet, the kitchen untouched. The refrigerator door was ajar, but nothing else seemed to have moved. He knew from experience that Keyshia liked to keep everything in its place, and this absence—this unnerving silence—felt like a sharp contrast to the usual chaos of their home.

He stood in the middle of the room, his chest tight. Where were they? He glanced at the clock. It was almost 10 p.m. The kids should have been home, settling into their routines for the night. He should’ve at least heard something. Maybe they went out for a while? But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew something was off. He had just left for the weekend, and everything had been fine. So why the sudden disappearance?

His stomach sank as a wave of worry hit him. Did she leave me? The thought flashed through his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He shoved it away immediately, unwilling to even entertain the idea. But the more he thought about it, the more the question lingered. Had she finally had enough of his mistakes? Had she taken the kids and walked out on him? The guilt began to gnaw at him. It wasn’t hard to imagine why.

He couldn’t shake the image of the woman he’d brought back to his penthouse in Miami. It had been a mistake, a moment of weakness, but that was no excuse. Joe knew the truth—he had betrayed Keyshia’s trust. It wasn’t just about the fling, it was about the years of taking her for granted, of assuming that no matter what, she would always be there. The thought of losing her, of losing his family, twisted something deep within him.

This is my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve lost her.

The panic intensified as he walked through the house. He checked every room, every closet, even the garage. Nothing. No bags packed, no signs of a departure. His mind reeled, trying to figure out what had happened. Why was she gone? Had they argued? He hadn’t even spoken to her much over the weekend, caught up in the chaos of the premiere. They had texted, but it had been brief. He thought everything was fine.

But now, standing in the empty house, he realized how wrong he had been.

Desperation surged through him, and he fumbled for his phone. His fingers were shaky as he dialed Keyshia’s sister, LaKenya. LaKenya was three years older than Keyshia, and if anyone could give him some answers, it would be her. Joe had always thought that LaKenya knew her sister better than anyone else—sometimes even better than he did.

The phone rang three times before LaKenya’s voice picked up.

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Joe’s heart raced as he exhaled sharply. "The house is empty. Do you know where Keyshia and the kids are?"

For a long moment, there was silence on the other end. Then, LaKenya’s voice came through, dripping with sarcasm. "I hope that slut was worth it."

Joe’s stomach dropped. What the hell?

Before he could respond, the line went dead. She had hung up on him.

Joe stared at his phone in disbelief. Anger mixed with confusion and hurt. He didn’t understand. Why was she acting like this? He felt the sting of her words deep in his chest, the guilt becoming even harder to bear. I’ve messed up... But this?

As he stood there, holding his phone, he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Back at LaKenya’s house, the reality of the situation set in. Keyshia was sitting on the couch next to her sister, watching the drama unfold. She couldn’t help but smirk as Joe’s frantic voice filled the airwaves, his desperation practically leaping through the phone.

"That was so mean," Keyshia said, glancing sideways at her older sister.

LaKenya chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You gotta make them sweat a little. Let him feel the heat."

Keyshia rolled her eyes, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel a bit entertained by the scene she had just orchestrated. She hadn’t exactly been communicative with Joe over the weekend, letting him stew in his own anxiety. She had planned the whole thing with LaKenya as a way of taking control, making him feel the weight of his actions. But even as she enjoyed the moment, there was a part of her that started to feel the sting of guilt.

He really is freaking out, she thought, her heart softening just a little. Maybe I should’ve told him where we were.

LaKenya, still amused, leaned back in her chair. "He deserves it. He hasn’t been paying attention to you, and now he gets a taste of what it feels like."

Keyshia sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "I don’t know. What if he reports me and the kids as missing? What if he thinks I really left him?"

LaKenya shrugged, unconcerned. "Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought. He should’ve kept his act together."

Keyshia nodded slowly, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She couldn’t just let Joe twist in the wind forever. As much as she wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions, she wasn’t cruel. "I’ll call him in an hour and let him know where we are," she said, finally relenting.

LaKenya raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curling on her lips. "Yeah, let him sweat a little longer. He’s got to learn."

Meanwhile, back at Joe’s house, the sinking feeling in his chest hadn’t abated. He had tried calling Keyshia again, but this time, her phone went straight to voicemail. Frustration boiled over as he paced the living room, dialing another number. His cousins—Joshua, Jon, and Jon’s wife, Trinity—were on the other end of the line now, and he needed answers.

"LaKenya was no help," Joe muttered, rubbing his temples as he slumped into a chair. He could feel the spiral beginning, the downward pull of panic and regret. His chest was tight, his mind a mess of questions. "I don’t know where she is. It’s like they disappeared. I don’t get it."

Joshua’s voice came through, steady and calm. "Relax, Uce. Maybe she’s with one of her relatives or friends. It’s not the end of the world."

Jon, always the optimistic one, added, "Yeah, man. She’s probably just spending time with family. You know how it is. Don’t jump to conclusions."

Trinity, however, didn’t have the same reassuring tone. She could hear the desperation in Joe’s voice, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew the truth. If Keyshia left him, then he has to face it. She sighed quietly before speaking, her voice softer. "Joe, if she left you, you have to accept it. Don’t make this harder on yourself."

Joe stood up, pacing once more, his mind racing. "I know, but still… she should have said something. She should’ve at least called me."

Joshua tried again, trying to bring some peace to the situation. "She’s probably just busy, man. You’re overthinking this."

But Joe wasn’t so sure anymore. He was spiraling, unable to stop the flood of guilt and fear that washed over him. If Keyshia had left, it was because of him. And the thought of losing her—of losing his family—was more than he could bear.

When Keyshia and the kids finally arrived back at the house later the next day, the moment they stepped through the front door, she was immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of roses.

She blinked, taking in the sight in front of her. The entire living room and dining area were transformed into a sea of deep red roses—leading her eyes to the carefully arranged vases standing on almost every available surface. There were tall glass vases on the coffee table, the dining table, and even the console table near the hallway.

Keyshia's breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t even considered that Joe might be trying to do something to win her back. She had been so wrapped up in her own frustrations, so convinced that he had given up on their relationship that the lavish gesture almost knocked the wind out of her.

"Joe?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly, unsure of what she was walking into.

No sooner had she said his name than he appeared from the hallway, his face a mixture of relief and anxiety, his eyes searching hers like a man who had been holding his breath for far too long.

Before she could react, Joe rushed toward her. Without a word, he grabbed her in a tight, desperate embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a vise. His chest pressed against hers, his breath ragged in her ear. Keyshia froze for a moment, her body stiff against his, before the weight of the situation hit her. His arms felt like a lifeline.

"I’m so sorry," Joe whispered, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in her shoulder. "I’m so sorry for everything, baby. Please... I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you."

Keyshia’s breath hitched, the overwhelming sense of emotion from the gesture, from his words, leaving her momentarily speechless. She had expected anger or perhaps more of the cold silence she’d felt over the weekend. But this—this raw, desperate apology—caught her off guard. The last few months had been filled with so much uncertainty, so much doubt. She had thought she was prepared to face whatever came next. But now, with him holding her like this, she wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.

The kids stood quietly by the door, sensing the tension in the room but unsure of how to react.

Joe didn’t let go. He held her tightly, almost as if he feared she might slip through his fingers again. His hands, shaking slightly, brushed against the back of her neck, pulling her even closer. He buried his face deeper into her hair, inhaling the scent of her, as though trying to ground himself in the reality of the moment.

Keyshia felt the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his body pressed against hers, and for a split second, she almost allowed herself to soften, to believe that he truly understood the depth of his actions. But then, the reality of everything that had happened between them—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt—came crashing back into her mind.

"Joe, what is all this?" she asked quietly, her voice soft but heavy with uncertainty.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his hands still resting gently on her shoulders. His eyes were wide with emotion, raw and vulnerable. "I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve hurt you. And I know words won’t fix this. But I’m trying, Keyshia. I’m trying to show you how sorry I am. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my family."

Keyshia swallowed, the lump in her throat growing as she took in the scene around her—the roses, the vases, the soft glow of the light from the lamps, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. This was his apology, a lavish one at that. She could see that he had put in a lot of thought, a lot of effort. But in the back of her mind, a part of her knew that these gestures, no matter how beautiful, could never erase the hurt she had felt.

"Joe..." she began, but her words faltered as she struggled to make sense of it all. She pulled away slightly, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. "I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what you expect from me."

Joe’s face dropped slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I just want you to know I’m sorry, Keyshia. I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, but I want to do better. I want to show you that I can be the man you need, the man you deserve. Please, just give me a chance to prove it."

Keyshia closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. She could feel the sincerity in his words, the genuine regret in his voice. But that didn’t change the fact that he had hurt her. That didn’t change the feeling of betrayal that had settled deep within her heart.

"I don’t know, Joe," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I want to believe you. I really do. But how can I, after everything? After what you did?"

Joe’s eyes filled with desperation. "I messed up. I know I did. But I swear, Keyshia, I will never do anything to hurt you again. Please, don’t walk away from me. Not like this."

Keyshia stood there, caught between the desire to stay and the fear of what staying might mean. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that this apology, these flowers, the empty promises of change could somehow bring them back to the way they were before everything had gone wrong. But deep down, she knew that it would take more than a grand gesture to heal the wounds he had inflicted on her heart.

She glanced over at the kids, who were quietly watching the exchange with wide eyes. They had been through enough turmoil in the past few months. She couldn’t make a decision that would only confuse them more. But at the same time, she couldn’t pretend that everything was okay just because Joe had surrounded her with roses.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Joe stood there, his eyes searching hers, hoping for some sign that she would forgive him, that she would stay. But Keyshia wasn’t ready to make that decision yet. Not now, not like this.

"I need time, Joe," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I can’t just forget everything and pretend like it’s all okay. You hurt me. And you hurt the kids. It’s going to take more than roses to fix that."

Joe’s face softened with understanding, though the disappointment was clear. "I get it. I just... I��m so sorry. Please know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just… don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us."

Keyshia nodded slowly, her heart torn between what was and what could be. "I’m not giving up on you, Joe. But I need you to show me, not just tell me. I need to see the change. I need to feel like I can trust you again."

Joe’s face lit up with hope, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. He stepped forward, pulling her into another embrace, this time gentler than before, but still full of the same desperate need. "I’ll prove it to you. I swear I will. I’ll do whatever it takes."

Keyshia hesitated for a moment, then returned his embrace, her arms wrapping around him, though with a certain reserve. She didn’t know what the future held for them. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe they could find their way back. But it wouldn’t be easy. It couldn’t be.

For now, they would take it one step at a time.

[dioslesbianwife]

Here are my headcannons for Jojo villain house and how I think they’d each approach chores

Dio

Refuses to do chores outright. He sees himself as above such menial labor and will either try to manipulate someone else into doing them or make excuses.

If he has to clean, expect a dramatic show of irritation. He’ll use The World to do everything inhumanly fast, pausing time and leaving the room spotless but making sure everyone knows how beneath him the task was.

Biggest offender: Leaving blood filled wine glasses around the house when he forgets about them.

Kars

Insists on having things done “the right way” and will redo someone’s work if it’s not up to his impossibly high standards.

Enjoys organizing. He might spend hours rearranging bookshelves, ensuring they’re sorted by theme, era, and importance to human evolution.

He delegates tasks to others but criticizes their technique endlessly.

Biggest offender: Lecturing everyone about how primitive humans are and how they’ve “desecrated” the art of maintaining a clean space.

Yoshikage Kira

The only one who genuinely enjoys chores- as long as it’s quiet. He finds cleaning therapeutic and uses it as an excuse to stay away from the others.

His favorite chore is folding laundry, particularly because it lets him admire the way hands move as they grab onto fabric, bend, and fold.. He folds everything with military precision.

He despises dirty dishes and will passive aggressively complain about anyone leaving them in the sink.

Biggest offender: The ungodly amount of nail clippings he produces.

Diavolo

Doesn’t do chores, period. He considers them a waste of time and relies on Doppio to handle everything. If questioned, he’ll walk away.

He gets visibly annoyed when the house isn’t clean but refuses to do anything about it himself. If someone confronts him, he’ll use King Crimson to skip the argument entirely.

Biggest offender: Leaving half empty coffee cups everywhere.

Doppio

He takes on messes left by Diavoll without complaint. He tries to stay cheerful, but even he gets overwhelmed when Diavolo’s mess becomes too much. Occasionally, he’ll mutter to himself about how unhelpful the others are.

Enjoys vacuuming because of its repetitive and calming nature, aslo it drowns out the chaos of the house.

Biggest offender: Picking up random items to make his phone calls and leaving them out of place.

Enrico Pucci

Insists on assigning everyone their tasks at the start of the week, using philosophical arguments to convince them that chores and daily routines are part of some higher plan.

He’s efficient but doesn’t tolerate laziness, constantly nagging the less helpful men to pull their weight.

Pucci has a habit of singing hymns while sweeping or mopping the floor, which unnerves everyone.

Biggest offender: Rearranging everyone’s personal belongings to organize the house according to “the Lord’s” standards.

Funny Valentine

Treats chores as a matter of patriotic pride. He gives long winded speeches about how a clean home reflects the strength of the household.

He has a habit of delegating tasks and overseeing them rather than just doing them himself. He’ll help if absolutely necessary but only with "important" jobs like cooking or maintaining the garden.

Obsessively cleans anything that might tarnish his image, like the front porch or living room. He makes sure guests (if they ever get any) think the house is always immaculate.

Biggest offender: He sometimes makes a mess intentionally to test others' "dedication to the cause."

Chore Dynamics in the House

Dio and Kars constantly fighting over who’s more above doing chores.

Pucci trying to convince Dio into participating, only for Dio to scoff and vanish dramatically.

Kira scolding Diavolo for leaving things dirty while Doppio tries to mediate.

Best team: Doppio and Kira. They’re the only ones who actually get things done without complaining.

Worst team: Dio and Diavolo. They’ll spend hours arguing about something and never lift a finger.

Pucci and Kira end up supervising everything like a pair of exasperated parents, while Valentine alternates between helping and giving motivational speeches no one asked for.

[eeuni]

like him ! b.e

angst, fluff, daddy issues, sh & ed

you had experienced a loss that time would not fix. your father was going around in your mind, after years without knowing about him, you still carried him in your heart everywhere. he was not in a coffin underground, but far away from you. very far away, much more his love. ever since you could remember, his fights with your mother went beyond the limit, broken glass, bleeding knuckles and screams could be seen and heard. after those fights he would grab his things, ready to leave and not come back, telling you that he didn't want to leave you, but he had to do it so he could come back the next day, as if nothing had happened.

you grew up not knowing what to expect, terrified that he would leave again, tired of seeing him leave and come back. he would sit you on the chair, your mother and him crying, repeating that it wasn't your fault but that they were going to start a divorce.

one more lie.

you fell asleep with a bitter taste, at fourteen, what else can you do? bleeding thighs, mirrors covered with sheets, nights without leaving the bed that seemed like your body was slowly beginning to rot. your father took you to the river, taught you how to use a gun, made you laugh.

and for a moment everything seemed to be stable, at least for a year. another fight ruined happiness, confidence, the desire to stay alive. now he has finally left home. "he's coming back tomorrow" you believed.

It had been so long since you saw your father walk through that cursed door. empty house, relapse, therapy, and a new man in the house. your mother's boyfriend. what a detestable thing. your mother complained that you never went out, that you were always sad, that you missed your dad but he was not a good person.

of course you knew, you knew what he had done, but not by his own decision. you left that house behind, you traveled to another country, you looked for a different nickname, you started smoking and being alone as always but in another place.

while you were studying and working you met zoe, your new friend. you discovered that she liked the smiths, so you decided to invite her to lunch. now at 21 you ordered a bottle of alcohol. she told you about billie.

oh, billie.

the beautiful black-haired girl who gave you a smile all the time, who took you to the best places to eat, bought you flowers, did everything in her power to make you look good and happy. you liked her instantly, fell in love within months, and your fear appeared out of nowhere, one summer night.

billie adjusted the sheets of her bed where you now slept almost every night. she hid in your chest, watching you from below smoking a cigarette. her eyes were shining.

"that smells like shit." she spoke, laughing.

"yeah, i know, but it's different when you smoke it." you put out the cigarette, billie had bought about two months ago a cute ashtray with flowers on it for you to use. "you know what? i think i'm broken."

billie looked at you confused, you had said that out of nowhere. "the other day a friend and i were talking, she told me about the love she feels for her friends and partner." you kept talking. "and i was like 'how do you not be afraid? ' "

"about what?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"you know...that you don't know how to love and that in one moment you want to give them all the love in the world and in the second you don't want that person to repeat that they loves you or even touch you." you explained.

she thought about it for a moment, finding it difficult to speak.

"can i tell you something?"

when billie asked that you froze. if that was what you were thinking, you wouldn't know what you would do. you swallowed, sat up better on the bed and looked at her curiously, with fear.

"...yes."

"i think i fell in love with you."

a burning sensation formed in your stomach. of course you loved billie very much, so much that sometimes it was overwhelming and perhaps the fear of not knowing how to love her stopped you from taking any steps that would indicate that you need her. you loved her from afar, in silence, admiring her beautiful being for months.

"what if i hurt you?" was the first sentence that came out of your trembling lips. billie's gaze softened, placing a hand over yours. "what if i don't know how to love? what if i'm a copy of what my father is?"

tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, you began to feel the need to tear your skin off at the thought that you were living it all in your father's body, with his ideas, his traumas, his wounds that continued to bleed. you couldn't hurt her, even if that meant keeping all the love you had for her to yourself and taking a step back.

"hey." she caught your attention, you looked into her eyes again. "what your father is is not synonymous with what you are. you are not in his skin. you love in such a beautiful way, i noticed it. with me, your friends, with people you don't even know. would your father do what you do every day for the people you love?"

you saw him in the back of your mind, grabbing his bags and leaving you for the last time. the first time you wished for him to come back and he wouldn't. by this time you were crying, fighting with yourself.

"you don't mind loving someone who has disorganized attachment?"

"i don't mind loving someone like that, because i know very well that you can overcome any difficult moment." she smiled softly. "and that you love me too much to keep me away."

you laughed at billie's words. she was right, you had created a connection with her where you simply needed her.

"you're right." you proved her right. "i love you too much to keep you away."

"so...that means you're in love with me too?"

she asked, her excitement building behind her heart because she was sure you would say yes, even though a part of her was still afraid. you nodded.

you bit your lower lip and before billie could say anything you captured her mouth in a kiss full of sweetness. you felt every foreign wound beginning to heal. the foreign wounds that your father left on you.

no doubt your expressions were perhaps like his, your way of walking or smiling.

but your way of loving would never be a murder committed by the one where he left the lifeless body on your shoulders. with billie you would learn to leave all that pain aside.

(...)

two years later, billie was now your girlfriend, you lived together with shark. you were sorting through a couple of boxes containing things from your childhood, you looked through a diary you hadn't seen in a long time.

"she said that i made expressions like him.

my waist and my posture like him.

so do i look like him?"

a tear fell. you grabbed a pen, sitting down on the cold floor. you started writing in that old diary from your childhood.

"you can look like him

but you don't love like him."

you heard billie's sweet voice calling you to dinner. "my love?" she asked. you wiped away your tears but before you could compose yourself billie walked into the room, instantly getting worried. "baby! what happened sweetheart?"

she came over, crouching down beside you. you smiled.

"im just very happy."

you answered. your girlfriend's gaze fell to that old diary, reading those words. she didn't say anything, she just held you tight against her body, kissing your forehead. "i'm so proud of you."

"i'm proud of myself too."

you finally learned that life doesn't end when your father walks out that door of your childhood.

[occasional-yan-stuff]

He was always there. Every time you went back, he was always there. You don't know what kept pulling you back to that abandoned old house down the road. Maybe it was the mystery of the place that enchanted you, maybe it was the strange beauty of all the old, worn-out surfaces, or maybe you just couldn't stand to abandon him.

The kids in your neighborhood said the house was haunted, but that couldn't have been right, could it? You were old enough to know that ghosts weren't real, and yet... he was always there. Always sitting at the grand piano in the ball room in that exact same position, always acting as though he hadn't seen you in years whether you'd only been gone for a few months or even just a few minutes.

"I thought I would never see you again!" flinging his arms around your neck with the exact same intonation every time, but ghosts weren't real. You knew ghosts weren't real.

Sometimes you'd catch him staring at a rectangle on the wall that was slightly less faded than the rest of the wall paper. Around the third time you saw him doing this you finally decided to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

"This is a painting of my mother," he responded. It wasn't, of course, but you decided not to push the question.

There were also times when you'd see him blow on the golden candelabra that sat on the little table by the window. The candles were melted to stumps and never had flame in them when he did this. When he did it the first time it resulted in a cloud of dust that he didn't seem to notice, and when you asked about it he simply took your hand and said "more romantic lighting, my dear." You asked him what he meant but all he did was smile at you as the two of you started dancing.

It always ended with dancing. The world- or possibly your mind- filled up with music that you could find the source of, and he took you, and he twirled you, and the hours fell away into nothing. By the end of it he always begged you to stay with him, pleading for you to remain in his home forever. It was a cute little game between the two of you... you think.

One night you actually did try to sleep in one of the old creaky beds in the mansion, but it was far too cold and the whole thing made you itchy and uncomfortable. You checked the other bed rooms but there was no sign of him. Finally, you returned to the ball room. Even at that ungodly hour he was still there, sitting at his piano. You called out his name and he turned around in surprise. "I thought I would never see you again!" And so the cycle repeated and the two of you danced the night away.

He never seemed to like it when you talked about your friends.

"We see each other so little, my dear," he'd say with crossed arms, "can you not lend a bit more attention to me instead?" The way he pretended to be grumpy always made you chuckle. He was pretending, wasn't he?

Each time he held you, he acted like it was the last time he ever would. He took in every part of you, your smell, the feeling of your skin, everything. There had even been a few times that he had licked your neck but he always denied it when you asked. When you were just getting to know him, he would always cry when you wouldn't kiss him.

"What has changed?" he would ask, "have I done something wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" you would respond, "we've never kissed before."

"Oh, how I hate when you play this game!" was all he would say in response. Always the same intonation. Always the same expression. Always the same.

You started going back more and more, longer and longer. You always felt tired after leaving the mansion. Fatigued, like waking up from a dream. Sometimes you would return home with wrinkles you didn't remember having or a band aid you could have sworn you never put on. Scrolling through your friends' social media pages, you'd see pictures with you in them. Pictures you didn't remember being taken.

every time you went back things seemed just a bit different. The candles grew taller and taller, the wall paper more vibrant, and a painting of a woman was placed on the wall. When did that get there? Every night was just the same. You danced, you kissed, you loved. It was paradise. He was paradise.

One night, after a particularly long visit, you returned home. You hadn't wanted to but you had a life outside the mansion... didn't you? You stepped back into your home and a man was there, a man you had never met. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

"so, how was work?"

No. This was wrong. You pushed him off of you and rushed into the bathroom. Your eyes fell onto the mirror and you clapped your hand over your mouth. The person staring back at you was near unrecognizable. It was you, sort of, but at the same time not at all. You stared down at your shaking hands. Your left had a golden ring on one of its fingers. You hadn't put that there. You hadn't put that there! This was all wrong. All so very very wrong. Tears played at the corners of your eyes as you rushed out of the house and back down the road. The mansion was the only place you felt safe anymore. The mansion was the only place you were yourself anymore. You ran and you ran all the way to the ball room. Your breath was heavy and sweat glued your hair to the ball room.

"I never thought I would see you again!"

The night played out as it always did. You danced, you kissed, you loved. Just as always, he begged you to stay. This time you said yes.

[saphstories]

I have a silly little request for you

Sonic trying to get Tails to bed after a stressful day

I'll Be There Just for You

It shouldn’t have surprised the Blue Blur as much as it did. He knew his little brother, knew that when some idea sparked in that genius head, he wouldn’t be ripped away from it until he was satisfied or bored… or both.

But to find the twin-tailed kit half-dangling out of a Crab Bot, wrench hanging loosely from his fingers, and little snuffly snores echoing through the workshop, Sonic shook his head in both mirth and exhaustion, heaving a long sigh.

“Come on, Tails, up and at ‘em.” Sonic combed his fingers between the kit’s ears. “As comfy as the Crab looks, its no bed. Come on.” As expected, Tails let out a sleepy grumble and curled his namesakes over his body, snuffling into their fur. Sonic smiled. “Gonna play hardball, huh? Alrighty then, you leave me no choice.” An ear twitching in his direction was the only indication that the fox heard, but it was alright. He’d be listening closely soon enough.

“When you feel afraid,

When you lose your way, I’ll find you,”

An aqua eye cracked, and Sonic pretended to ignore it, continuing his rhythmic strokes through the fur between Tails’ pricked ears.

“Just try to smile and dry your eyes,

I will bring back the moon into your skies,

And ever you will, remember brother, I’ll be there to,”

Sonic opened his arms and Tails crawled out of the Crab Bot, climbing into his brother’s lap and putting his ear against his chest.

“Say to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and say to you:

Brother, I’ll be there just for you.”

With years of practice and ease, Sonic cradled the fox against his chest and stood, a soft clicking purr he only ever used for the one in his arms soothing the discontented kit clinging to him.

“There’s so much to learn,

And when you want me,

Then I’ll show you,

And through the years, you’ll always be,

The lullaby of the heart of the child in me.”

Some things never grew old or faded with time. As Tails drifted between the waking world and dreams, he curled his namesakes tight around his big brother, a tiny smile on his muzzle at the slight sway and bounce to Sonic’s gait as he walked through the house and up the stairs, cradling him the exact same way he’d done since he was a tiny and frightened kit. A sleepy purr rumbled in his throat, and he nuzzled into the soft fur of Sonic’s shoulder.

“Whenever you will, remember brother,

I’ll be there to,

Say to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and say to you,

Brother, I’ll be there just for you.”

Sonic gently pried Tails’ fingers from his fur—kit always had an iron grip—and tucked the blanket delicately around him, kneeling beside the little biplane bed, that same soft smile still on his face as his baby brother drifted in dreams.

“Hold it, feel it,

Music is in your heart.

When you need it,

Just keep listening,

Let it sing, let it sing.”

Sonic blinked the tears gathering in his eyes away as he gazed at his brother. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, for reflection, for focusing on the past. He much preferred to focus on the present, to soak in every moment and keep pushing forward. But, looking at Tails, he couldn’t help the surge of pride and affection for the fox. He’d grown so much, become so much—a tinker, an inventor, a hero—since the frightened kit he’d found all those years ago. Sonic was sure, in time, Tails would shake the stars in ways he’d never be able to, and he couldn’t wait to see it… but he was in no hurry for it, either.

“Though you’ve grown away,

No matter how you change,

I’ll know you.

When you tire of life alone,

There will always be one sure way back home.

You just turn on the quiet,

And you close your eyes,

And listen inside.”

Sonic huffed a tired laugh and kissed Tails’s forehead, letting his head rest there for a moment before straightening up and heading for the door. But he lingered in the doorway, watching the moonlight shimmer and illuminate the fox’s orange fur shining silver.

“I’ll be there to sing to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and sing to you,

And brother, I’ll be there,

Anytime and anywhere,

Tails, I’ll be there just for you.”

[eusuntgratie]

as a certified mom(tm), what's the most common thing people get wrong when they write children?

ooooh i love this question! (adding certified mom to the resume STAT btw)

i think the MOST common thing people get wrong is the realistic development/representation of a child at a certain age. i see lots of fic where a three year old is speaking in full sentences, where an eight year old baby-talks all the time, where a six year old has literally no concept of what is happening in their life. i saw a good tumblr post that was a great resource for writing kids by age that i'll see if i can find. but with how many moms are on tumblr, i think just asking them... how would a five year old talk? or how would a ten year old handle this type of situation? would be a great start.

there are other things that are always jarring for me as a parent that someone who doesn't spend a lot of time with kids might not notice or care about.

the first is that your (young) kids are ALWAYS around. you are literally always responsible for where your kid is and what they are doing. if they aren't with you, you've made a plan for where they are, how they'll get there, when you'll pick them up, etc. there are exceptions of course (people living on huge pieces of land or in neighborhoods where they know everyone are more likely to have their kids running around and might not know exactly where they are, some people have multigenerational households and have a lot of help). but even in those cases, the parent still knows and is responsible for that kid. there's nothing wrong with writing a kidfic that isn't realistic just bc its cute or you like the trope. but as a parent its jarring as hell to have a character introduced as a parent (especially a single parent!) and then the kid is never around. i promise you that man is not fuckin' or going on dates as much as you want him to be 🤣 or if he is, it took a LOT of work or he has a LOT of support.

related to this, every parent i know is exhausted. if their love interest isn't attracted to their eye bags or letting them sleep instead of waking them up for sex, get outta my face. the sexiest thing a partner could do for a parent? LET THEM SLEEP.

related, we do fuck with kids in the house. (cough cough chris going on sleepovers 3x/week in fic 🤣). its okay. you can make keeping quiet sexy. you can lock the door so you'll hear it if they need something without traumatizing them. you can use a baby monitor to keep an eye or ear out. we don't wait until our kids leave to have sex, or some of us would hardly ever have sex.

a few random notes and i'll wrap up. kids aren't (and shouldn't be put in the position to be) solving their parents problems for them. most kids won't immediately trust a new adult, especially if that person is dating their parent and their other parent is still in their life, even if they really like that person. a parent would not leave their child with their brand new love interest unless they had literally no other option. i have some issues, but there are very few people i trust to be alone with my kid. someone i don't know well would never make it onto that list.

lastly, parents fuck up. we aren't perfect. i try really really hard to break generational shit, to do better, to be a good mom. i've read lots of books, done tons of therapy, found great resources, done parenting groups, i consult with other parent friends and friends who work in mental health about challenging situations. and i fuck up all the time. kids, even great kids, are little assholes sometimes. nobody's perfect, and that's okay. nobody's kid is a perfect little angel 24/7 and nobody is a perfect parent.

my askbox is always open and i always love to talk about writing! thanks for this it was a fun question to answer <3