#And then? Then you grow around that pain and keep on going. If you feel like you can't - remember you don't have to do it alone.

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES PT IV

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: she's baaaack. this one made me a bit excited ngl i hope u enjoy and also the tag list is closed now sorry! thank u all for enjoying this story :) please lmk what you think <3

The first thing you become aware of is the cold. It seeps into your skin, sharp and biting as if the stone beneath you is sentient and determined to steal any ounce of remaining warmth in your blood.

For a second after you open your eyes, you start to panic when nothing but darkness comes into view and you blindly reach out for something to hold onto. Your wrists make a rattling sound with the movement and you realise there are chains around them. Blinking, your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and it becomes apparent that the only light in the room is a dimly lit torch mounted on the wall far from where you’re sat.

When you try to move, your muscles scream in protest and you wonder if you’ve sprained your wrists because they feel like they’re on fire. The manacles are clamped tightly around them and you reach for one with your opposite hand to see if it has some give. As soon as your fingers prod around under the cold metal, you recoil with a sharp hiss of pain.

You inspect your finger as close as you can in the dim lighting and see that it’s now red and sore. Suddenly, the burning sensation around your wrists makes more sense and you lift them up to find that the insides of the manacles are lined with some sort of powder.

Ash wood.

Stomach turning, you slump against the damp wall and it’s almost as though the realisation that you’re physically being weakened has made you even more susceptible to it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that it’s going to leave scars on both of your wrists.

Despite the pain and the fear that settles on your chest, you don’t cry. You’re too distracted wracking your brain, trying to remember how the hell you got here in the first place.

The last thing in your memory is rushing out of the High Lords’ meeting with Eris’ biting words replaying in your mind. Even now you feel scorned, despite your much bigger issues. You had left the gathering in a hurry and gotten a short moment of solace alone.

You were outside. Alone. And then…

Bile rises in your throat as the memory hits you — a hand clamping over your mouth and the smell of something strong and chemical before the world faded to black.

Biting back a sob, you force yourself to take deep breaths to avoid making any noises in case there’s someone stationed outside the cell you’re locked in.

Still breathing shakily, you decide to test your limbs and shift on the cold floor, swallowing down a gasp when a sharp pain flares in your ribs. You glance down at yourself and pull up your gown to inspect your side. Even in the dim light you can see the blossoming bruise, how the colour of your skin is starkly different to the injured area.

Your pulse thunders in your ears.

Clearly, whoever has thrown you in here doesn’t care about being gentle with you. Who? You think to yourself.

You think hard for answers, for any clue that might explain your predicament. Was this about the rebels? Did they think they could use you as some sort of bargaining chip against the High Lords? You’re sorely hoping they need to keep you alive in order to do that, and that you’ve not been taken just to make a point. Because in that case… you’re disposable.

The realisation that whoever took you may not need you alive for much longer makes your skin start to become slick with sweat, despite the freezing cold.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoes in the distance, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts. They’re slow and deliberate and grow louder with each passing second.

Body tensing, adrenaline surges as you scan the barren room for anything you could use to defend yourself. Using your powers is out of the question for now. The ash wood is weakening you and until each little bit of the ground wood has fallen from under your manacles, you’re powerless. You doubt whoever took you even did it for that reason. It feels more like a torture tactic.

The footsteps get closer and closer and you give up on thinking of any ideas, pressing yourself against the wall to make yourself as small as possible.

They stop just outside your door.

You hold your breath, your entire body trembling as a key scrapes in the lock. The door creaks open, revealing a figure silhouetted by the torches from behind them.

They don’t speak, but you can feel their eyes on you, taking in every detail of your weak form.

“Who are you?” you demand, your voice hoarse and raw. You hate how weak you sound, but you do everything in your power to infect as much force into the words as you can.

“Forgotten me so soon?” he says, voice flat and devoid of any emotion. Rage bubbles beneath your fear, hot and consuming.

“I can’t see you,” you growl, scowling as your impertinence makes itself known. You gesture around your cell with your hands, chains clinking. “You didn’t exactly spoil me with the warm and cosy lighting.”

The figure turns and closes the door to shut out the light that’s causing too much glare. You have to bite your tongue so you don’t beg him to leave it open, very aware that you’re at his mercy.

When he turns back around, you have to blink to adjust to the lighting again before having to squint as his face comes into view when he steps nearer the torch, silver braid glinting in the fire.

You blink, leaning back to slump against the stone wall. “Vaelith?”

Your scowl drops in favour of a confused expression that has the Spring Court official’s eyes narrowing in irritation. He was most likely expecting you to be afraid, but you’re simply baffled.

Vaelith. The same Spring Court advisor who had questioned you in the High Lords’ meeting which had prompted Eris to humiliate you the way he did.

His lips curl into a thin, cruel smile at your silence. “Surprised?”

For a moment, you can’t find the words. Your mind reels, trying to piece together how one of the Spring Court advisors — someone you’d see countless times at meeting, trusted even in a superficial sense despite him being an asshole — could be standing here as your captor.

“Slightly underwhelmed, if anything,” you mutter, only regretting your words a tiny bit when he clenches his jaw. You have to remind yourself that he’s in control of whether you live or die and it sobers you up a bit. “I don’t understand. Why?”

Vaelith sighs, as if your confusion is an inconvenience to him. “You really think that this rebellion we’re all trying so hard to stop, could have achieved even a fraction of what it has without someone on the inside?” He steps even closer, the flickering torchlight catching the cold gleam in his eyes. “You and your little circle and all the other High Lords were so focused on our precious borders… you never thought to look closer to home.”

Your ears start ringing as the pieces click into place. “You’re the one who let them into Spring. You’ve been feeding them information…”

“Clever girl,” he sneers, crouching down so he’s at eye level with you. “Not clever enough to stop this, of course. But clever.”

Your lip curls and you tug against your restraints, despite the pain. “Does Tamlim know? Or are you just another rat gnawing away at his Court.”

“Tamlin is weak,” he spits, venom dropping from his every word. “The Spring Court has been rotting from the inside for years. The rebellion is the future — Prythian’s future. And you… You and your sisters are nothing but obstacles in its path.”

You spit in his face.

Vaelith recoils, the spit glistening on his cheek, before he straightens, his lips bulling back into a dangerous smile. His eyes flash with anger, but there’s something darker, more unsettling in them as he wipes his face clean with a nonchalant gesture.

“You’re going to regret that,” he remarks, as though he’s pointing out an obvious fact.

You breathe heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You going to kill me?”

Vaelith smirks. “You’re going to wish I had,” he mutters and the last thing you see is his fist flying out to connect with the side of your face, knocking you further down into the darkness of your cold, damp cell.

“I need to speak to the two of you,” Eris demands, not bothering to knock as he bursts into Tarquin’s throne room where he knew he would find the High Lord of Summer along with the Inner Circle. His eyes land on Rhysand and Feyre. “Alone.”

Eris knew something was wrong when he saw everyone departing for their own courts except the Night Court, their faces lined with worry. All except you.

You’re missing from this particular gathering too and the bad feeling in his chest progresses into a sinking feeling that has his footsteps slowing.

“And why would we allow that?” Amren asks, in a quiet voice that sounds almost challenging, if her eyes are anything to go by. She regards him like he’s a toy to be played with and he decided to ignore her completely, focusing instead on Feyre.

“You can’t find her, can you?” he says, not really asking. Eris attempt to keep his voice as composed and unbothered as possible, but the way Feyre doesn’t look surprised to see him suggests that maybe he isn’t being as subtle as he thought. “You haven’t seen her since she left the meeting room.”

Feyre hesitates and Eris doesn’t know if it’s because she deems him untrustworthy, or if she truly doesn’t know what to say.

Tarquin, who is still staring at Eris with a slight frown after he threw open his doors so unceremoniously, steps forward. “I have my people searching my court. As does Azriel,” he explains, gesturing to the Shadowsinger’s dark spies that swirl around him, whispering in his ear.

Cassian crosses his arms, glaring at Eris. “Why are you so interested? Do you know something?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eris drawls, unable to help himself from provoking the Illyrian warrior. It works, although Eris doesn’t feel much satisfaction from knowing that, when Cassian steps forward menacingly. Mor hurriedly intercedes and whispers something in his ear that makes him hesitate and eventually allows her to lead him away.

Eris turns to the High Lord of Night again. “I need to speak to you,” he repeats. Rhysand simply stares at him, until Eris throws up his hands in exasperation. “Fine. Fine, just let me know when you find her corpse-”

“Alright,” Feyre interrupts him, holding up a hand to stop him speaking further. She sighs, turning to Tarquin with a strained smile. “May we use your room for a moment?”

Tarquin’s eyes flick over to Eris as if he’s worried that his throne room will be burnt to a crisp by the time he returns. Eris rolls his eyes.

“Of course,” the High Lord of Summer replies smoothly, giving Feyre a slight nod. He gestures for the Inner Circle to lead the way out of the room and it’s only when Rhysand nods at them that they follow. If looks could kill, Eris would be deceased six times over.

As soon as the doors shut, Eris whirls around.

“This is all your fault,” he says darkly, glaring at Rhysand. “You were the one who told us all to make her seem weak in front of the others. She never would have left if I hadn’t-“

He cuts himself off before he gets too worked up in front of them, inhaling deeply.

Rhys didn’t answer right away, instead watching him carefully. Then, with a calm that made Eris’ blood boil, he said, “You agreed to be cruel in that meeting. To deflect attention from her strength. It was a calculated risk to protect her — and you were more than happy to comply.”

Eris scowls at him. “And what good did your little strategy do? Because she left the room and disappeared into thin air. She’s gone.”

Feyre’s face tightens with concern. “Why did you wish to speak with us, Eris?” she asks, tiredly. “Do you know something?”

Eris’ hands fist at his sides. He had hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this. But the feeling of dread inside him wasn’t something he could just ignore. “I’ll help you find her. But I need something in return.”

Rhysand raises an elegant brow. “What could you possibly want from us?”

“Your silence.”

Feyre tilts her head and frowns. “About what?”

Shaking his head, Eris’ lips turn up into the ghost of a smirk. “Swear it. You need to swear it first.”

The two of them exchange a look and no doubt some words through their maddening bond. Eris nearly rolls his eyes at the secrecy, patiently waiting for them to finish talking to each other silently. Eventually, Rhysand sighs after Feyre gives him a stern look.

“If you help us find her,” Rhys says slowly, “we’ll keep your secret. Unless it becomes relevant to the safety of anyone in my court, including Y/N. And that’s non-negotiable.”

Eris meets his gaze, amber eyes blazing with defiance. “Fair enough,” he says, begrudgingly. “I accept your terms.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels the unfamiliar magic in the air arise. Eris doesn’t make oaths often. Lifting his arms, he pulls back his sleeves to look for the evidence of agreeing to a bargain with the Night Court. When he doesn’t find anything, he glances down his shirt to find inky black tattoos peeking up from his waistband and swirling up, just stopping short of his navel.

“Interesting placement,” Eris says drily, raising his brows at Rhysand. “Are you trying to hint at something?”

“Eris,” Feyre warns, gesturing at him to hurry up. “Don’t forget my sister’s life is at stake here. How are you going to help us find her?”

He wishes he could forget it.

Rolling his neck, Eris clenches his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He takes a deep breath and meets the High Lady’s eyes directly. “Because she’s my mate.”

tag list: (my tag list is now closed!)

@fabulouslyflamboyant5 @Deepestmentalitypersona @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora @yearninglustfully @sagekisses @webvics @juneberrypie @glitterypirateduck @myromanempiree @celestialgilb @theravenphoenix26 @freefallthoughts @mollygetssherlockcoffee @bakersbucky @malpalgalz @worldsanna @sassyfruitsalad @success78

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter 20: Walls and Tension

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 20 | next

Series Masterlist

The silence between you and In-ho settled like a blanket over the room, thick and heavy but not uncomfortable. For once, the quiet wasn’t strained, wasn’t pregnant with unspoken words or unresolved tension. It was peaceful, almost, as if you both were just existing in this shared space, the weight of everything pressing around you but somehow not suffocating.

In-ho still hadn’t let go of your hand. His grip was firm but not possessive, as if he were afraid that even the slightest movement might break the fragile connection between you. You felt the heat of his palm against yours, the way his fingers twitched, as if caught between wanting to pull away or draw closer. It was strange—this space between you was so small, yet it felt like a chasm you weren’t sure how to cross. You could feel the soft tension in his movements, the way his body remained alert, as though he were bracing for something.

He stood in front of you, arms at his sides, not quite touching you but close enough that you could feel the intensity of his gaze. His eyes traced the lines of your face, searching for something you couldn’t quite understand. In-ho was never one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but tonight, something was different. The usual ice behind his eyes was gone, replaced with something you couldn’t name. His expression softened, but it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t even regret. It was… something else, something deeper.

“You shouldn’t have gone out there,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost gentle. But there was an edge there—a mix of frustration and something else that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “You could’ve been hurt. I told you—I told you it wasn’t safe.”

You swallowed, feeling that familiar tension twist in your gut, but this time, it wasn’t because of fear or anger. It was because you could see the genuine worry behind his words, could feel the weight of it in the way he spoke. There was something fragile in the way he was trying to protect you, something raw and unspoken that made your chest tighten.

“I didn’t mean to—” You stopped yourself, unsure how to explain something so simple yet so complex. “I just… needed a moment. I needed to breathe. That’s all.”

In-ho’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. His fingers twitched again, and you could almost feel the thoughts turning in his head, the gears working to find a way to protect you that didn’t feel like a cage. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wrestling with this—wanting to protect you, wanting to keep you close, but not knowing how to do it without pushing you further away.

“You think you can just walk away from all of this,” he said, his voice softer now, almost too quiet, like the words were weighing heavily on him. “That you can escape it. But you can’t. Not from me. Not from this.”

The way he said it made your stomach churn, but not in the same way it had before. It wasn’t anger that made you flinch now. It wasn’t fear, either. It was something else—a strange mix of understanding and acceptance. He wasn’t just trying to control you anymore. Not completely, anyway. He was trying to protect you in the only way he knew how. But it was suffocating, and you both knew it.

“I’m not trying to escape you,” you replied, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “I just… I need to feel like I’m not just a prisoner here. A prize for someone else to claim.”

In-ho’s gaze darkened at your words, but there was no anger there—just a quiet, knowing pain. His hand moved to your wrist, his thumb brushing across the skin, a gentle touch that made your heart flutter despite yourself. The warmth of his fingers seemed to melt the space between you, making everything feel more real, more tangible.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice quieter, the edge of frustration returning. “You think I’m doing this because I want to control you. But I’m doing it because I—” He broke off, the words suddenly too difficult for him to say, too vulnerable. Instead, he exhaled sharply, the weight of everything pressing down on him as he took a step back, his hand still loosely holding yours.

You could feel the distance between you grow, even if only by inches. But that space, that small gap, felt significant. It felt like he was struggling to figure out how to balance the part of him that needed to protect you with the part of him that didn’t want to suffocate you. He didn’t want to cage you, but it was clear he didn’t know any other way to love you. His love—if you could even call it that—was wrapped in control, in dominance, in a need to keep you safe from a world that seemed to want to swallow you whole.

“I don’t know how to be with you without making this a game,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Without feeling like I’m constantly losing my grip. You’re not just a… a weakness for me. You’re… everything.” His eyes met yours, dark and stormy, and in that moment, you saw something in him—something raw and unfiltered. It was vulnerability, laid bare for the first time. He wasn’t the unshakable frontman anymore. He was just a man, lost in this world as much as you were.

The words hung between you, heavy and full of meaning. You weren’t sure how to respond, what to say to ease the tension, to bridge the gap between the two of you. So much had happened, so many walls had been built between you, but standing here now, with him so close, you couldn’t deny that there was a shift. Something was changing. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about something else, something that went beyond the games, beyond the fear.

“I know it’s not simple,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly as you stepped closer to him, closing the space he’d deliberately created. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe… maybe we can find a way to be in this together. Without it being a game.”

In-ho’s gaze softened, and for the first time in a long time, you saw a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. It was faint, but it was there. The walls he’d built around himself—around both of you—seemed to crack just a little, letting something warm seep through.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of regret and longing. He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you even more. The space that had once felt suffocating now felt charged, alive with possibility, with an electric current that ran between you.

“I think I do,” you replied, your voice steady now, stronger than before. “I know what I’m asking for.”

He stared at you, his eyes intense, searching for something in your face. There was a question there, but you both knew it wasn’t something that could be answered in a single moment. You weren’t ready to admit what you were both becoming—not yet. But you could feel it. The shift. The tension that had built between you, the desire, the understanding, all of it blending into something that was as dangerous as it was inevitable.

“Then you know what this means,” he murmured, his breath a soft whisper against your skin. His hand moved, gently brushing your cheek, the contact sending a shiver through you. “It means you’re mine. And I won’t let anyone take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”

You didn’t answer right away. There was nothing to say. The weight of his words hung in the air, the implication clear. There was no turning back.

But the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not anymore.

Instead, you simply nodded, the quiet acceptance between you more powerful than any words could be. The moment hung there, fragile, yet undeniable.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered, but there was no anger in it. Just a quiet certainty, the same certainty you saw in your own heart.

“No,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”

And with that, the space between you closed, and all you could feel was the warmth of his touch, the pulse of something more than just desire. You were standing on the edge of something, something both terrifying and inevitable, and you both knew it.

But in that moment, all that mattered was the quiet promise that had been made without words.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said softly, his voice raw.

And for the first time, you believed him.

———————

CHAPTER TWENTY!! Lets goooo! We got some forbidden love happening maybe some twisted feelings??? As always lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

Tag list:

@sunny21200

@lucinda-reads

@shakysif

@whoisbriannaa

@allmylovegoestomusic

@swthrtbyeol

@strawberrychita

@hoddystark

@livelaughcelica

@foulbreadpaenut

@write-from-the-heart

@angelofthorr

@sylviavf

@missroro

@siloveyourmoms

@luv1ze

@audrey223

@khaylin27

@gay4hotmilfs

@mimis-u3u

@captainlunaxmen

@cdej6

@ritaaaz07

@chateaumarmontt

@eepgirls

@ushouldhmhas

@fedstv

@dahliawarner

@fyodorssimp1

@nanamilkbread

@eveie24

@jackbootedfucks

@maiznamai

@r3va-dwme

@queenjang21

@kyohiru

@bibliophile-yomna

@rylin0987654321

@aubs444

@isuejehejehe

@nellabear

@cassielovw

@lowkeyhottho

@yxluana

@riri53

@enhasrii

@dumbfishes

@jeonmochi99-blog

@corne1iast

@kunikuzushisbeloved

@blueeclipsepaperstudent

@luna-looniesblog

@kat-thepoet

@hanakokunzz

[scribblesofagoonerr]

𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀

summary: monkey's dad has the social worker convinced everything is fine when the reality couldn't be further from the truth.

our girl: growing up masterlist

The entire ride to your dad’s house felt like a waking nightmare. The fear gripped your chest so tightly it was hard to breathe, and the closer you got, the more your stomach twisted into painful knots.

Every mile felt like you were being dragged further into something dark and suffocating, an inevitable doom you couldn’t escape.

Your social worker chatted idly in the front seat, her cheerful tone grating against the terror building inside you. You barely heard her words. All you could focus on was the rising dread of stepping into that house - a house that wasn’t home, and never would be.

“Alright, looks like we’re here,” Your social worker announced the words you had been dreading since you climbed in the car, “Ready to say hi to your dad?” She chirped, turning to you with a forced smile.

You shrank into your seat, desperately wishing you could disappear. The pit in your stomach grew heavier with every second, your hands clutching at the fabric of your jeans as if grounding yourself would keep you safe.

The memories came flooding back, vivid and sharp – The stench of alcohol on his breath, the cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to everything, the bruises he’d left on your arms when his temper flared. You remembered it all, every terrifying moment that made you flinch at loud voices and slammed doors.

And yet, somehow, he’d convinced everyone that he’d changed. That he was better.

You weren’t fooled – not entirely – but what could you do? You were just nine years old. To the adults around you, your voice didn’t carry the weight it should have. They saw your fear as uncertainty, your hesitation as resistance to change. 

No one wanted to listen to a kid. Nobody wanted to listen to you. 

Your heart pounded harder as the car came to a stop in front of the house. You stared at it, willing it to disappear, but it stood there, looming, mocking your fear.

Every part of you screamed not to get out, to stay hidden, to make the nightmare stop. But you knew you couldn’t.

Your social worker turned to you, her smile still there, but it wasn’t comforting. It felt forced, like she was trying to convince both you and herself that this was fine.

“Come on now,” She said gently, her voice warm but insistent, “It’s okay, It’s going to be fine. I’ll be right there with you,” She waited for you to move, but you just sat there, frozen, staring ahead.

Your body was tense, every muscle locked up in protest, “I… I don’t want to,” You whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear yourself. Your throat felt tight, your words barely able to escape.

Your social worker’s expression softened, and she sighed, her patience unwavering, “I know, I know you might feel scared, sweetheart, but everything is going to be fine.” She told you in a gentle tone of voice, more patient than she was earlier when pushing you to say goodbye to Leah, just like she was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Your hands were clammy, your palms sweating against the cold seatbelt. The world outside the car felt distant, unreal like you couldn’t quite make it through the fog of your own terror.

With a shaky breath, you slowly unbuckled your seatbelt, feeling your stomach twist in tighter knots. You hesitated before pushing the door open, the chill of the outside air only adding to the dread. 

Your social worker’s reassuring hand rested on your shoulder as she stood beside you, “You’re doing great,” She said, guiding you to the front door.

Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the earth itself was trying to drag you back. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you approached the door, the sound of the knock feeling deafening.

It was as if every second stretched out into eternity.

The door opened with a creak, and there he was. Your dad.

He looked different, but not by much. His scruff had greyed, and his eyes carried the weight of exhaustion, but the unsettling smile that tugged at his lips was the same – a smile that tried too hard to be convincing, like he was fooling everyone, even himself, into believing everything was fine. It made your skin crawl.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my kiddo,” Your dad, Mark, greeted you, his smile cold and forced as you stood frozen, clutching your bag, “You’ve certainly grown since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

His voice was too bright, too fake. It was like he was desperately trying to make everything feel normal, like this moment wasn’t suffocating you. But you saw through it. You always had.

“What, no hug for your old man?” Your dad joked, crouching down to your level and spreading his arms wide, expecting you to step into them.

“Hello again, Mark,” Your social worker stepped forward, her tone professional, yet polite, “I’m here to ensure everything goes smoothly with this transition,” She said, her eyes scanning your dad for any sign of something she might need to address, “How have things been, uh, since we last spoke?”

Your dad chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves, “Things have been good, real good,” He said, his hand resting on the doorframe as if were trying to look casual. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered nervously toward you.

“You’ve made progress, right?” Your social worker’s voice held a touch of caution, and you could feel her eyes watching him, weighing his every word.

Your dad nodded quickly, too quickly, “Of course. Everything’s under control. She’ll be safe here. I’ve changed,” The way he said it, the words falling from his lips like they were rehearsed, made your stomach churn.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second.

But your social worker seemed to buy it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and gave a nod, “Good, we’ll be checking in regularly to make sure everything stays on track for you both.”

You stood there, your body trembling, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could escape, but all you could do was stare at the door and wonder how long it would take for the fear to come rushing back, like it always did.

“I see you are still into football, huh? I bet you’re the player of the match every game,” Mark tried to make conversation, his attempt at interest ringing hollow.

You turned toward the social worker, fear flickering in your eyes, “I… I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Leah’s. Why can’t I stay with her?”

“This is your new home now, kiddo,” Mark cut in quickly, crouching to your level. His voice was gruff, trying to sound kind, “We’re gonna make it nice. Just you and me, yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your voice wavered as you shook your head, “Why can’t I go back?”

“It’s lovely here, Monkey–” The social worker began with a cheerful tone of voice.

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped your head toward her, her voice trembling with anger, “Only Le and Jordy get to call me that!”

The social worker’s smile faltered, her face flushing slightly, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Mark sighed heavily, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Come on now, there’s no need for that,” He said, his grip firm, “Hey, how about this? I’ll put up some goalposts in the garden. We can kick the ball around. Sound good?”

“No, thanks,” You muttered, pulling away from his hand.

“That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for us to figure things out, right?” Mark said with forced cheer, glancing at the social worker.

“Right,” Your social worker agreed, smiling faintly, “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in. I’ll come by in a couple of days to check in and make sure everything is okay.”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your chest tightened as panic set in, “Please… Please don’t leave me here,” You begged, your voice cracking.

Your social worker knelt down beside you, “This is your new home now, sweetheart. You’ll be happy here with your dad.”

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, straightening up, “It’s just me and you now, kiddo. We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

Tears prickled your eyes as you shook your head, “No, I… I don’t want to be here. I want Le,” You whispered, clutching your bag tighter as the reality of your new life began to sink in.

But you didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where things still made sense.

“Take a seat kid. The match is kicking off soon,” Your dad’s gruff voice cut through the silence, “I’ve got a good feeling about this game, you know? Those so-called Gunners are about to get a reality check.”

Your stomach dropped. Football games meant pain. The outcome of each match determined the mood of the night, and you knew your dad’s moods could turn in a dime. The thought of sitting through another night like this terrified you.

You didn’t want the social worker to leave, but soon enough, it was just the two of you in a house that felt cold and empty. Your dad didn’t waste time in turning his attention back to the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on the match he’d been waiting for.

You lingered in the doorway, the silence of the house pressing down on you, suffocating you. The hum of the television filled the space, but the victorious cheers from the screen only made you feel more alone.

The game between Arsenal and Chelsea – Your dad’s team – and it didn’t take long for it to become painfully clear that Chelsea was dominating. Arsenal was losing badly. Your dad, a lifelong Chelsea fan, was practically glowing with joy as the goals piled up.

When Chelsea scored yet another goal, making it 6 - 0, your dad threw his hands up in the air, grinning from ear to ear and shouting in triumph, his mood shifting into something unusually bright and triumphant as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“That’s how it’s done, eh?” Your dad grinned, not even looking over at you, “6 nil, that’s how you crush them. Gotta love it.”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, the sudden loudness making your heart race. He was too happy, too loud. It felt like the rest of the world had fallen away as he celebrated his team’s victory, oblivious to the fact that you were standing right there, desperately wishing to disappear.

Your dad glanced over at you, a wide smile on his face, “You used to watch the game with me, remember? Not gonna get upset about this, are you? It’s a big win for Chelsea.”

His words hit you like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know how to respond. His cheerfulness felt fake, like he was trying to force normalcy in a moment that was anything but. 

You wanted to ask if you could leave, go back to Leah’s, to somewhere that didn’t feel so wrong or so… heavy.

But you stayed silent.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him bask in his victory, the scoreline a stark reminder of how powerless you felt in that moment, how trapped you were.

“Come on kiddo, sit down. I’m not gonna bite,” He said, motioning to the sofa, but you stayed frozen in pace, “Come on. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” His voice was warm, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You stood there for a moment longer, the sound of the game in the background like a cruel mockery of everything you wanted. You didn’t want to be here, not with him, not with the victory that felt more like defeat to you.

But what could you do? What could you say?

With a deep, shaky breath, you turned away from the doorway and shuffled toward the sofa, but everything about it felt wrong. Just like the house, just like the victory.

You didn’t belong here, and no matter how hard he tried to make you feel like you did, you knew the truth.

As the night fell, the house seemed even colder. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched long and lonely, creeping along the walls. You sat there, staring at the walls, at the empty space around you, feeling every inch of the house pressing in, suffocating you.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from the TV in the living room, where your dad continued to watch the game highlights.

This wasn’t your room, this wasn’t your home. You didn’t want to be here, it felt wrong, like you were living in someone else’s nightmare, trapped in a place that wasn’t yours.

The walls, the furniture, the way everything felt too still – This wasn’t your home. Home was with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where the air didn’t feel thick with the weight of expectations and disappointment.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. The cold seemed to seep into your bones, making everything feel even emptier. You needed something – someone – but no one was there.

And then, it hit you.

You didn’t have your stuffed monkey.

The realisation made your chest tighten. You hadn’t even thought about it until now, but the weight of not having him there with you was like a knife in your heart. Your stuffed monkey was your comfort, your safety, the thing that always made things feel just a little bit better, no matter how bad things got.

But he wasn’t here, and it felt like you were missing a piece of yourself.

The tears came before you could stop them. They started slow, and then built, faster and faster, until your face was wet with them. Your body trembled with silent sobs. 

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to be weak, after all, you had promised Leah that you could be brave, but in this cold, empty house, with nothing but the distant sounds of a victory that didn’t matter to you, you felt more alone than you ever had before.

You curled up tighter under the blanket, hoping somehow the warmth of it would stop the tears. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, but it didn’t stop the pain.

The ache in your chest. The fear.

And as the tears kept falling, you realised there was no escaping this – no running back to Leah and Jordan.

You were alone.

The next morning, it was like your dad was trying to show you he could be different, to convince both himself and you that things were fine. He seemed determined to act like everything was normal, maybe even better than normal.

“Hey, kiddo,” He said as you walked into the kitchen, “I was thinking, you’ve got that football thing coming up, don’t you? A match or something?”

You blinked, surprised, “Uh… Yeah, next weekend.”

Your dad nodded, his smile awkward but genuine enough to catch you off guard, “I’ll come. Watch you play. Haven’t done that in a while, right? I reckon it’d be nice for both of us.”

You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted to believe him. But on the other, you knew how easily promises could feel apart. Still, the thought of him showing up gave you a glimmer of hope, “Okay,” You said softly.

“That’s the spirit,” He grinned, ruffling your hair, “Hey, I meant what I said to the social worker. You’ll still see Leah and… Jordan, is it, yeah? I’m not trying to keep them away from you.”

That part, at least, made you feel a bit better, “You promise?”

“Promise,” Your dad said, holding up his hand like he was swearing an oath, “I’ll even drive you over there myself if I have to.”

The day passed in a strange sort of normalcy, with your dad asking about football and school. It felt forced, but you didn’t want to question it. You clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

By the evening rolled around, you were jittery with anticipation. Leah had promised to call, and the thought of hearing her voice was the only thing keeping you from completely shutting down. The house still felt cold and unfamiliar, but knowing Leah could be on the other end of the line made it bearable.

When the phone rang mid-afternoon, you darted to the living room, “Is that her?” You asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

Your dad raised an eyebrow at your eagerness, but he handed over the phone without comment, “Yeah, it’s her,” He said, stepping back.

“Le?” You said, clutching the phone tightly. As soon as you heard her familiar voice, the knot in your chest loosened, “Le!”

“There’s my girl,” Leah’s voice warm and bright, like a hug over the phone, “It’s so good to hear your voice! How’re you doing? Are you settling in okay?”

You sat down on the sofa, a small smile creeping onto your face, “It’s… Okay,” You said, hesitating, “I miss you, and I miss Jordy!”

“I miss you too, Monkey. We both miss you so much,” Leah replied softly, sounding like she was trying to hold her tears back but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? And you can call me anytime. I’m always going to be here for you. We both are.”

The conversation went on for a while, with Leah asking about your day and telling you about hers. It was the most you’d smiled since you moved in, and for a moment, you forgot about how empty the house felt.

When the call ended, you handed the phone back to your dad, your heart feeling lighter than it had been earlier that day, “Thank you for letting me talk to her,” You said.

Your dad gave you a tight smile, “Yeah, no problem, kiddo. Glad you’re happy,” But there was something in his tone, a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Over the next couple of days, your dad seemed to watch you more closely, especially whenever you brought Leah or Jordan up in conversation. You didn’t think much of it, too focused on the small bursts of joy her calls brought.

A few evenings later, Leah called again. You were in the kitchen when the phone rang, and you hurried into the living room, eager to answer. But your dad beat you to it, lifting the phone before you could reach it.

“Hello?” Your dad answered, his tone casual. 

You hovered nearby, waiting for him to pass it to you.

“Oh, yeah… No, she’s already in bed,” He said after a pause. His words stopped you in your tracks. You weren’t in bed. It wasn’t even your bedtime yet.

A chill ran down your spine. Why didn’t he let you speak to her?

Leah’s voice was faint, but you could hear the confusion in her tone, “Already? Isn’t it a bit early for her?”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day,” Your dad said smoothly, his tone light but firm, “I’ll let her know you called.”

Your stomach sank, a deep unsettling feeling settling in your chest, “Dad,” You whispered his name, your voice trembling, “Dad… Is that Leah?”

Before Leah could say anything more, your dad quickly hung up the phone. He turned to face you, still smiling, but there was something behind his eyes that your skin crawl, “Nah, just someone from work,” He said, brushing it off, “It’s getting late, go get ready for the bed.”

You stood there for a moment, staring at the phone, confused and hurt, “But… I thought she was gonna call.”

“She probably forgot, kiddo,” Your dad said, waving a hand dismissively, “Now, go on. Don’t make a fuss.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to believe. Your heart felt heavy, and the unease gnawed at you, “Are you sure it wasn’t her?”

Your dad sharpened his gaze, and his voice became more firm, more final, “I said it wasn’t her. Now drop it.”

The finality in his tone made you flinch and without a word, you turned and walked back to your room, the unanswered question hanging in the air. The disappointment pressed down on you like a weight, and you felt a familiar coldness creep back into your chest.

Your social worker’s next visit came in the middle of the following week, a day like any other but still somehow heavy with anticipation. You tried to keep yourself small and hidden, out of the way, as your dad greeted the woman at the door, offering a forced smile that made your stomach churn.

The entire time, it felt like a blur, a series of questions and answers that passed by too quickly for you to catch your breath. You didn’t like the way your dad pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and it didn’t feel right.

There was something off about it, like he was trying too hard.

“Hey, kiddo,” Your dad called from the living room, where he was sitting with the social worker, “Come on in and say hi. They want to know how things are going, right?”

You shuffled into the room, eyes downcast as you felt the uncomfortable weight of the situation. Your social worker smiled warmly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze. 

You didn’t feel you belonged here. Not in this house. Not with him.

“So, how have things been going?” She asked, looking between you and him.

“Oh yeah, they’ve been great!” Your dad’s voice was too loud, too eager. He sounded like he was trying to convince both himself and everyone else that everything was fine, “We’re having a fantastic time together, right, kiddo?”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, and you knew what he expected from you. You had no choice but to force a weak smile and nod, the words too thick in your throat to speak, “Yeah…”

 “That’s wonderful to hear!” Your social worker smiled, unaware of the tension in the room, “Mark, you seemed to have really changed.”

You could hear the pride in your voice, and it made your stomach twist. 

Your dad’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was too eager to play the part, to act like the father he thought he should be, “Having my Monkey here makes me become the better man. A better father to her.”

The words struck you like a slap to the face. You couldn’t hide the discomfort that spread through you.

Monkey.

The nickname Leah and Jordan had given you, the one that meant something real, something safe. And now, he was using it, twisting it into something it was never meant to be.

You wanted to argue, to say something, but you couldn’t. You knew better than to challenge him, especially not in front of the social worker. You stayed quiet, your hands shaking in your lap.

“I’m really pleased to hear that, Mark,” Your social worker said, her voice warm, “And sweetheart? Are you happy here?”

The question should’ve felt like a lifeline, a chance to finally speak up, but it felt like a trap. The house was cold, everything about it felt wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

Instead, you forced out the words, the ones you knew your dad wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” It came out hollow, but you couldn’t help it. You were too scared to say anything else. The fear of what would happen if you told the truth was too strong.

The social worker didn’t seem to notice. She smiled and jotted something down in her notes, “Well, it seems like things are improving. I’m happy to hear that. It’s really good to see you two getting along so well.”

As she stood up to leave, you felt a knot of frustration in your stomach. You had to sit there, nod and smile, even though everything inside of you screamed that this wasn’t right.

Why didn’t you just speak up when you had the chance?

Your dad’s act had worked. Your social worker was completely fooled. You were stuck, unable to say anything that would make it stop.

When the door closed behind your social worker, the silence was deafening. Your dad stood up, his posture stiff, as if he was proud of what he had just pulled off. You could feel his eyes on you, watching for any sign of resistance. You kept your head down, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to give him any reason to lash out.

That same evening when he called you into the living room to talk, you couldn’t escape the tightness in your chest. You had to keep playing along, or it would all fall apart. 

Your dad didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he sat down, a forced smile still on his face, “See, kiddo? Everything’s fine now. The social worker thinks we’re doing great.”

You nodded, the fake smile still in place, but inside, everything felt wrong. The house felt colder now, the emptiness more suffocating.

And then you said it. The wrong words at the wrong time.

“I miss Leah. I… I wish I could go back,” It was a slip of the tongue, but it was enough for your dad’s anger to return.

His face shifted instantly, his eyes narrowing and the smile slipping off his face, “You want to go back to them, do you?” His voice was scarily low and dangerous, laced with venom, “You want your precious Leah and Jordan? Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

Before you could even try to explain, he stormed off, his footsteps heavy and fast. You heard the sound of the kitchen cabinet slamming, then the unmistakable clink of glass. Your stomach dropped when he returned with a bottle in hand – whiskey.

You could feel the terror building up inside you. Whiskey meant he was no longer the man he pretended to be. It meant anger. It meant violence. It meant fear.

Your dad wasn’t a nice man when he drank at all, and the bruises were enough to show for that in the past.

“You see this bottle?” He hissed, holding it up like a weapon, “You’re the reason I drink, you little brat. Always whining. Always complaining. Now you’re asking for Leah and Jordan all the time. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your body went cold. The words stung, but you couldn’t fight back. You just sat there, frozen in place, watching as he raged on. The fear kept you silent, kept you from speaking, from fighting.

“You want them? Too bad. You don’t get to have everything your way,” Your dad’s cold voice sneered, and there it was.

That haunting familiar tone of voice that sends a chill down your spine, and left you cowering in the corner of the room.

The anger in his voice was suffocating. You stared at the floor, blinking back tears, but they came anyway. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You had tried so hard to keep the peace, to make everything okay, and now it was all falling apart.

When he finally left the room, slamming the door behind him, the silence that followed felt more suffocating. Broken and alone. The house felt even colder now, the emptiness more pronounced. You wanted to scream, to run to Leah, to have her hold you and tell you everything would be okay.

But you couldn’t.

Your dad was right, and you were stuck here, stuck with him, and pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Konig x Reader

Title: A Planned Out Break In

Synopsis: the warnings say it all.

Warnings: ooh boy. Gun play, PLANNED noncon, roleplay (of Konig breaking in), fear play, lots of manhandling, rapeplay, bondage. This is basically a porn fic, let's be honest.

@machveil thank you for the idea <3 this was an awesome piece to write

It was almost impossible to go to sleep last night. You knew that tomorrow, at 4 am that you'd have the time of your life.

So when you finally fall asleep (thank the lord for warm milk + melatonin), you're curled up, an excited grin on your face.

Then you hear *the* bang.

You startle awake, your entire body tense as you get up, grabbing the bat beside your bed you know damn well you won't be using.

You hear the thudding through the house of his heavy, steel-toed boots, heart beating out your chest. Then you see him, it's almost like those found footage films of seeing urban legends.

He stands tall, wearing all his gear, his gun--unloaded--in his hands, his eyes dark, lust filled.

"O-oh..." is all you breathe out, and he lets out a growl of sorts, starting to charge you.

You run, trying not to scream so you don't startle your flat's neighbours. He grabs you, pushing you against the wall, making you groan in pain.

He growls, leaning in, his dirty, grimy sniper hood brushing against your skin. He shoves the head of his rifle against your stomach, hands moving to give you just enough time to *bolt* across the room.

He whistles out "Ring Around the Rosy" as he bangs on various things through the kitchen, your heart practically palpitating to the beat.

You're under a table, one leg purposefully left out. You hear that sly, wolfish laugh, his demonic chuckle ringing through as he runs, the thuds growing louder and louder until he grabs your ankle, pulling you out in one fell swoop.

You yelp out--unplanned, causing Konig to pause. You give a small shake of the head and he keeps going, literally holding you upside down.

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears filling them. It makes him smirk beneath the mask, he throws you over his shoulder, trudging through the house, slamming into walls occasionally.

He throws you on the bed and you're up *again,* trying to back into a corner, or climb under the bed, something- anything to get you away from the man about to devour you.

That's when you hear him grab his gun, training it on you like he'll shoot.

"Take it off. All of it," his low voice growls out, "or a bullet's going through your head."

You whimper out, not really in fear, and start to strip.

"Faster," he shouts after a good moment, making you squirm and start to take your clothes off faster.

Once you're naked he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing onto you. He pushes the cool head of his gun onto your cunt, sliding it up and down your folds as his other, rough hand grabs at your tit, kneading and groping it as your head throws back and you groan out.

"Damn slut.." he growls, "enjoying this?"

He pushes the rifle on your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. It makes you whine out and he just smirks, letting out that sinister chuckle.

"Not so high and mighty anymore, huh? Not trying to run?" He asks, lifting his mask up just enough to start kissing you. You squirm again, trying to push him off, but he grabs your throat, pushing on the sides of your neck.

"You'll shut up and take it, and then you'll thank me," he says, lifting his mask up to spit in your face, it landing on your lips.

And it'd be a horrible lie if you said you weren't extremely into this, your cunt feels like a damn slip'n'slide, but also the knowledge that he could crush you like a twig? It's a little horrifying.

His mask drops again and he grabs your thighs, pushing you so you're in a mating press, prodding and poking you with his gun like a child would with a stick to some roadkill.

He drops his gun, still holding your knees. Then, he grabs zipties from his pocket.

They're secured around your ankles, and that's when he starts to take his belt off. His pants drop and you start to squirm again, before you get a firm slap to the ass and your legs are held up again.

"Stop squirming," he growls into your ear, slapping your pussy with his cock, it making a lewd sound. He slides himself through your folds, letting slick collect on the tip. Then, once he's deemed there to be enough, he grabs your hair and shoves you forward.

"Look at my cock, covered in your slick. Aren't you scared, little thing?" He asks, his tone demeaning, it brings tears to your eyes.

He shoves your head back down, spitting in your mouth, shoving his cock into you. You mewl out desperately, eyes wide as he does this.

He lets out this animalistic grunt, starting to pound into you like a damn jackhammer, making you cry out at each thrust.

He just keeps going, your orgasms meaning nothing to him as he just keeps going, your cunt sopping wet, the sheets soaked, juices and sweat flying everywhere.

By the time he's actually came, you're in tears, drooling on yourself. It makes him chuckle harshly, slapping your ass.

You'd never admit it, but that was the *best* orgasm of your damn life

[https-murdock]

you, me, and a white picket fence - matt murdock

heyyy everyone this isn’t a full fic but i wanted to publish anywaysss <3 i hope it’s good for you all!

content - angst

sometimes he lets himself imagine it.

not often - but sometimes - matt lets himself imagine a future with you. what it would all be like, letting himself finally rest and spend his last days surrounded by you.

he lets the idea flow, pictures of you and your shared family behind a little white picket fence, somewhere he could keep you safe and happy.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” you sing, body crawling up his on the bed, sitting on top of him in a position you found yourself in a lot.

“you.” he simply answers, and when he sees you waiting on heavier answer, he says, “what our life could be like if i were normal.”

“what do you mean?” you ask him, eyes boring into his so far you almost get totally lost in him, zoning back in to the conversation to hear him say lowly, “you know, if i stopped all this ‘daredevil’ stuff, we ran away somewhere, had a little family…”

while you knew matt could never fully give it up, part of you often wondered what it would be like, too. what if he was at home all the time? what if he was the one cooking dinner and waiting on you to come home sometimes? what if you didn’t feel so alone when he was gone?

but you could see the pain, and the knowing behind his eyes.

matt, too, knew he could never give his other half up. it held too much pride for him, too much meaning for him to leave it behind.

“we can do all that one day, when you finally learn it’s ok to rest.” you smirk, but something hangs in the air around you - and you wonder if he also knows the end of this will never be a normal one for either of you.

“can we?” he quietly questions, not knowing if he’s asking you or himself.

“of course, i’d follow you anywhere you went.” you lay your head in the nook of his neck, taking in his scent and bathing in his warmth.

matt knows you’d follow him anywhere - it was something he loved so much about you, yet something he hated all the same. he often wished you’d see how much better you deserve than someone who hides in the evening.

everything he had he would give to you, even if it killed him.

the feeling of your body weight on top of him, surrounded by the pillows and sheets that house both of you at nighttime - everything matt loved about his normal life was here in the moment - so why could he feel the deep pit of guilt growing with each minute?

it would eat him alive, trying to balance the knowledge of what he was holding you back from, to the feeling of being unable to let you go.

sometimes matt let himself imagine, just what it would be like to finally rest with you - but he knows that he has a big imagination.

[saeslove]

🕸️ 013 . the silent touch

synopsis when the star football player Michael Kaiser shows up at your window injured, you tend to his wounds and uncover a deeper side to him. as secrets unfold and emotions rise, you find yourself questioning your growing feelings for him. wc 1.8k

as you skimmed through your textbook for the calculus exam you were struggling with, doubts swirled in your mind. you couldn’t shake the unease about inviting a stranger into your house. your study lamp was the only source of light in the dim room.

your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the window.

you glanced over and saw a silhouette of a man outside. hesitant at first, you received a text “i’m here.” it was from kaiser. as soon as you opened the window, a gust of wind rushed in, followed by the sight of a shivering Michael Kaiser.

"did you really climb up a 15-story apartment? you could’ve just come through the front door."

you stepped aside, letting him in as he walked around your room, inspecting your bedroom. “nice room.”

“yeah, it’s nothing special, though.”

his gaze fell on your study table, where papers were scattered everywhere. “oh, what’s this? calculus? you’re struggling with this?” he hid a smirk behind his smile.

“hey! this is the only chapter i need help with, and my exam is soon”

as he stepped closer to the light, his face was illuminated, and for the first time today, you saw his features clearly.

“what’s that on your face?”

his eyes met yours, but before he could respond, you stepped closer, brushing your fingers over his cheek. you felt the cut and bruise.

he quickly pulled away, looking down, hiding behind his hoodie. “it’s nothing. just a cut from football.”

“no, it’s not nothing,” you insisted. “let me help you. i’ll go get it the first aid outside.”

as you carefully tended to his wounds, you couldn’t ignore how close his face was to yours. just as you were finishing up, he winced, and a rush of sympathy just hit you. this bruise seemed to cut deeper than just the surface.

“you know, normal people use the door,” you said, attempting to ease the awkward tension hanging in the air.

“yeah, but then i wouldn’t get to see that look on your face. totally worth it,” he replied with a faint grin.

you opened your mouth to respond but decided against it, letting the words hang in the silence. his eyes, however, never left yours.

“i know what you want to ask,” he said, breaking the quiet.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“you want to know where i got all these bruises,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“i mean, yeah but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine”

“just a rough game, tackles hit harder sometimes. it’s not a big deal.” he shrugs

“you’ve got bruises everywhere, and a broken rib the other day and i’m supposed to believe this is just soccer? what soccer have you been playing?”

he leans back slightly, smirking, “why are you so worked up over this? maybe i should get injured more often then?”

you shot him a look. “don’t even joke about that. do you think i want to keep patching you up every time you get yourself hurt?”

“i didn’t ask you to but maybe you secretly like it”

"yeah sure, i just watching you wince in pain," you teased, smacking his bicep lightly. but the way he flinched made you pause.

your brow furrowed. "wait are you hurt somewhere else?"

"no" he said quickly, but the way his hand instinctively clutched his arm betrayed him.

you shot him a pointed look, and he sighed in defeat. "fine."

slowly, he pulled off his hoodie, revealing a nasty injury on his arm. you breath hitched as you took in the sight—though it wasn’t just the wound that caught your attention.

this was your first time seeing his tattoo up close. the intricate blue rose tattoo on his arm was impossible to ignore, the way it seemed to almost bloom under the light. as you gently cleaned the wound, your fingers brushed against his skin, and your eyes lingered a second too long.

"cool, right?" his voice was softer now, almost playful.

you glanced up at him. "yeah but why a blue rose?"

he hesitated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "honestly? i don’t really know. i got it after i started playing football. it just felt right."

there was something unspoken in his words, something that made your heart beat a little faster. but before you could press further, a loud knock echoed through the house, snapping the moment like a twig underfoot.

“oh no that’s my dad! you have to hide! and don’t leave this room”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “your dad? is he one of those ‘clean my shotgun while i meet your friends type?”

you glared at him, shoving him toward your closet. “don’t test it. now go!”

“fine, fine relax schatz.” he scrambled to his feet, wincing slightly as he moved. “but if he asks, i came through the door like a normal person.” surrendering his hands in the air.

“just hide!” you hissed, practically shoving him inside. he ducked into the cramped space, grumbling under his breath about how tight it was.

the knock sounded again, louder this time. taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hair and rushed to open the door.

your dad stood there, holding a set of car keys. “hey, i left my keys at home and just wanted to let you know i’m heading out to work again. need anything when i come home?”

you forced a smile, trying to steady your heartbeat. “nope, i’m good! thanks.”

he frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as he glanced past you into your room. “are you okay? you seem... jumpy.”

“nope, not at all. actually, i was just doing yoga” you leaned casually against the doorframe, praying he wouldn’t notice the slightly ajar closet door.

“in the dark?” he asked calmly but still suspicious.

“yeah it’s just a girls thing hehe”

after a long moment, he shrugged. “alright. i’ll be back tomorrow morning, love you.”

as soon as the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. turning back to the closet, you yanked the door open.

“coast is clear”

he was sitting on the floor of your closet, holding one of your old basketball trophies. “didn’t know you played. pretty impressive.”

you grabbed the trophy from him, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. “just a past time hobby.”

you sat beside him despite the small space, the silence between you heavy but not unwelcome. for a moment, it was just the two of you, the closeness offering a strange sort of comfort.

“you have a nice dad,” he said softly, breaking the quiet.

“thank you,” you replied, glancing at him. “he works really hard, and i try my best to make him proud.”

he hummed in acknowledgment, leaning his head back against the wall. his gaze seemed far away, as if the room had disappeared around him. “my dad used to beat me up for every little thing i did, especially when we didn’t have any food.”

he words hit like a brick, cutting through the air with quiet devastation. your breath caught, and you turned to him, studying the way his expression stayed oddly calm, like he’d come to terms with it long ago or maybe just buried it deep.

“that’s awful i’m so sorry,” you whispered, unsure if anything you said could even begin to be enough.

je shrugged, offering a faint, bitter smile. “it was what it was. i guess some people aren’t meant to be dads.”

you hesitated, the weight of his words sinking into you. “but you turned out different. you’re not like him.”

he finally looked at you, his eyes softer now, as if your words had reached a part of him he didn’t let people see. “i try” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible.

“your calculus, let me help you with it” he whispered.

you blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, confusion written all over your face. “my calculus? are you seriously using my math homework as a distraction right now?”

“yeah as a reward for patching me up, i’ll help you. you can’t say no because i’m not leaving here until you understand derivatives.”

he sat up, and walked over to your the notes you spread out on the table.

in the past hour he has taught you, you catch yourself watching him more than your notes. the way his brows furrow in concentration, the way his voice softens when he's explaining something challenging.

"see? it’s not that hard," he says, leaning back and grinning.

shaking your head. "yeah, easy for you to say. you ace everything without trying."

"that’s not true," he counters, his tone lighter now. "i’ve got a lot going on, just like you."

you hesitate, noticing the way his grin fades slightly as he speaks. for a brief moment, his vulnerability peeks through again, and it stirs something unfamiliar in your chest.

"you know you’re not what i expected” you say without thinking.

he looks at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "what did you expect?"

you shrug, trying to play it off, trying to not get on his nerves “i don’t know. some overconfident star athlete who only cares about himself. but! you’re different."

he smirks, “glad to know i’m not a total cliché."

you find your heart beating faster, your mind racing with the realisation that maybe this isn’t just some casual friendship.

"why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, breaking the moment.

you blink, heat rushing to your cheeks. "looking at you like what”

he smirks, leaning closer. there it was, undenying gaze— intense, unflinching, and impossible to look away from. It was as though he could see right through you. you swallow hard, unaware of how close he is.

"maybe i should go," he says, but there’s hesitation in his voice.

and for the first time, you find yourself not wanting him to leave.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : my fever went down so i decided to just post this, hope u enjoy & thank you for waiting!

i know kaiser didn’t really go to school but i feel like if he did then he would’ve been smart at everything…

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @sof888a @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @bbladie @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy [tell me if i missed out anyone’s name]

comments & reblogs appreciated!

@ saeslove 2025 do not plagiarize, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Guys, I'm so, so, SO excited! I really did it. I just bought my first testosterone prescription! This is so amazing. Thank you all for filling my feed with so many amazing detrans stories, showing me no matter how fem I am, no matter how fat my ass gets or big my boobs get, or how much I sorta look like a girl if you squint your eyes I can still totally just detrans and embrace being a guy! I am so fucking pumped to finally grow facial hair, for my voice to deepen, for me to get super hairy! Oooo, my mind is racing! I'm not gonna come out to my family or coworkers right away. I'm gonna keep it a secret until I don't even remotely look like a girl anymore. I already scheduled my top surgery in a few weeks, so bye bye big bouncy boobs! You were fun while you lasted, but like all of you keep telling me, I need to stop living my silly girly fantasy and embrace reality. I'm totally a boy!

I mean, I perv on girls and half the accounts I follow even on my main are thirst content with big tits, huge asses, girls that love to get thick and flaunt their fattening bodies! Mmmmm. I'm getting so hard just thinking about it. My doctor even said once I detrans I'll never get results like mine back! I'll never regrow boobs like these, fully lose the hair, have a girly voice, or a tiny cock I can hide. I'll be a guy forever! I bit my lip and told him I masturbate every night picturing myself as a boy, that my parents shouldn't have encouraged a delusional fakegirl like me! All I did as a girl was fuck guys, give out blowjobs like free candy, and jerk off constantly anyway, sometimes in public.....

Being a hot girl is just a kinky fantasy of mine, and I get that now. I'm not really trans, I'm just a perverted boy who's obsessed with girls. It's time I become a stud and show the world who I really am! I bought a bunch of weight gain and protein shakes at the pharmacy, too! I think I'm gonna try to bulk up, and become a really husky guy with a beard and a big gut. Wouldn't that suit me so perfectly? Just imagine me balding, losing my pretty hair, a nice full beard, my removed breasts getting flabby, a giant round belly in front of me from drinking loads of beer and eating whatever I want! I really want to get big! Wish me luck!

Two years on and damn, my moobs are almost the size of my old fakegirl tits! God, detransing was the best choice of my life! I'm working my way up to 400lbs. I love not being hyper desirable, especially to guys anymore. It's weird walking around and not getting groped or having my skirt pulled up so a guy can fill my ass with his cum on the bus ride home. But now I'm having way more fun perving on unsuspecting girls. Rubbing up on them, groping them, apologizing that I'm so fat and probably smell..... it makes me hard that they can smell me and get weirded out. I love fucking pretty college girls, they're so easy and desperate, even if they're disgusted by me they'll roll their eyes and tell me, 'Just get it over with, you fat slob!' And godddd it makes me so hard!

My cock is almost a foot long and I adore the gasps of surprise when they see it and the moans of pain and discomfort when I ram the whole thing in their curvy, often pregnant bodies, whimpering that they hope my cock doesn't break their water. Then I give their belly a super hard slap and tell them it seems like their womb is in good working order! I love being a pervy fat dude, I was soooo right when I decided to detrans. I even get to fuck my share of big-titted, fat-assed fakegirl, who I whisper to in their ears, telling them I used to look just like them, and they need to embrace being a guy, too, and wind up just like me. They get so hard when I tell them how amazing it feels to become a really fat man, the sexual freedom of embracing everything they're meant to be. No matter how pretty and perfectly passing they are they melt like butter and cum effortlessly when I tell them about how they need to go on T and gain a ton of weight..... With any luck these bratty fakegirls will learn their lesson and obey. Here's to another year of fucking every girl I want, and eating as much as possible! Living the true destiny of every dumb little fakegirl reading this!"

[shadola]

꒰ა hair loss . . .

୨ৎ shadow helps comfort you through tough times and harsh changes

shadow x f. reader. angst. fluff. human shadow a.u. established relationship. reader has a chronic illness that causes hair loss. reader has curly hair, but honestly that part can be ignored. wc :: 1.8k

note from the lamb :: this is very self-indulgent,,

reaching over in search of your warmth, shadow instead found a cold, empty mattress where you had been laying before. you'd been out of bed a while, long enough for your body heat to dissipate from the spot.

this woke shadow up quickly. he groaned softly as he wiped the sleep left in his eyes away, and lifted himself off the bed. he could hear you coughing, a harsh, dry, and violent sound that reverberated down the hall. he followed the noise, scratching his lower stomach and yawning as he made his way to the bathroom.

you noticed him right away, turning your head to face him right as he entered the doorway. "oh shadow" your voice was strained, throat sore and tired from your aggressive coughing fits. "did i wake you up ?"

shadow shook his head. "no" he answered, "i woke up on my own" it was only half true, but he could see the look in your eyes. you were sore, and in pain, and he didn't want to make you feel any worse. guilt for waking him up was the last thing you needed. "are you okay ?" he asked

you didn't answer his question, turning to face the sink again. you were staring at yourself in the mirror, your look intense and almost disgusted as you looked at your reflection. your hand rose to your head, running your fingers through your hair. by the time you had gotten to the end of it, you had a sizeable amount of hair around your fingers.

shadow frowned, looking around the bathroom counter. the granite top around the sink was covered in your hair.

"it's getting worse" you said, voicing the thing both you and shadow were already thinking. "more of my hair is falling out"

shadow's eyes moved back up to you. the hair loss was becoming more obvious. but he could clearly see chunks of your hair were thinner than others, and in certain parts it was so thin he could see the skin of your scalp. "hey, it's okay" he knew it wouldn't help you feel any better.

people always said that hair was just that, hair. they always say 'it's just hair. it'll grow back'. but that was never really true. hair is such a big part of a person's identity. the color, the texture, the style. it was a way of self expression, something that connected a person to their roots, their family, their culture. it's never just hair.

and shadow knew this. he knew your hair was important to you. he knew you spent so much time taking care of it, giving your curls the best treatment possible, putting them in the best styles to protect them. he could only imagine how jarring it would be to see it all falling out.

he could come up with some idea. his hair was important to him too. he rarely cut it other than trimming off dead ends, he'd been growing it out for years. dying it, keeping it healthy. it was part of who he was, the same way your hair was a part of who you were. but he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to go through losing it, and not being able to do anything to stop it.

"here, sit down" shadow grabbed a towel from the rack hanging on the wall and laid it down on the bathroom floor. he nodded to it, waiting for you to take a seat before grabbing a hairbrush and scissors, and moving the small bathroom trash-bin near him. he sat down behind you, and as gentle and tender as he could gathered your hair, and pulled it to your back.

"what are you doing ?" you asked. but shadow didn't answer. he worked in silence, using a mix of his hands, the hairbrush and scissors to trim, and remove the dead and loose pieces of hair from your head. he did his best to not pull too much out, doing his best to only get the pieces that were already falling out.

less than a few minutes in he already had a good amount of your hair in the bin. interested, you tried turning your head to see what exactly he was doing. though you already had some idea, you were curious to see how much more you had lost.

before you could see though, you felt shadow's hands on your jaw, gently turning your head away, facing your forwards again. "don't worry about it" his voice was soft, basically a whisper, like he was preventing non-existent viewers from hearing this tender and vulnerable moment. "you don't need to see it"

it took just under five minutes before he was satisfied with his work. your hair was significantly shorter, but shadow had managed to cut it in a way that had mostly covered the bald spots, and made the thinner sections of your hair blend in practically seamlessly with the rest of your head. he was quite proud of himself, actually. "stay right there, baby"

you nodded your head, and shadow rose to his feet, grabbing the garbage bin with him. he cleared off the bathroom counter of your hair, putting it in the bin with the hair he had trimmed off. when it was all cleaned off, he unraveled a few handfuls of toilet paper from the roll, using it to cover the lost hair. he adjusted the paper, adding more until he was sure the hair was visible anymore.

"can i get up now ?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the bathroom floor. shadow nodded, taking your hand and helping you to your feet. once you were standing, his hands moved to your shoulders, putting you in front of the mirror again.

"what do you think ?" he asked, "does it feel any better ?"

you took a moment to look at your reflection, hand reaching up almost instinctively to run your fingers through your hair. shadow reached up to grab your hair, pulling it away from your hair. "try not to touch it too much"

you nodded, "i like it.." you finally said "it looks,, normal"

shadow hummed, nodding his head. "i think you look beautiful. you know that, right ?"

you turned to face him, though he was too busy looking at you through the mirror. "even with all my hair gone ?" you asked

"mhm" shadow hummed, nodding his head. "you're always going to be the most beautiful girl in the world to me. until the world ends"

you couldn't help but smile, though it was a little bittersweet. you didn't like to think about it, but you knew at this rate you'd be losing most, if not all of your hair in due time. it was comforting to know that it wouldn't change how shadow thought of you, even though your opinion of yourself would change greatly.

you were pulled out of your thoughts suddenly when you noticed shadow grabbing the scissors again. for a second, you thought he was going to put them away. you didn't realize what he was really doing until the blades of the scissors were already in his hair. "what are you doing ?!" your eyes widened, brows furrowing as you watched shadow begin cutting away at his hair.

his hair fell to the ground, the ends dyed deep red completely gone. by the time he was done, his hair that had just moments ago reached his mid-back, now barely brushed against his chin.

you were dumbfounded, staring at him with your eyes wide and mouth agape. "what.. why did you do that ?" you asked him

shadow shrugged his shoulders, "why not ?" he answered your question with one of his own. but it didn't really give you an answer at all.

"because your hair !" you exclaimed

"yeah. my hair" he repeated, crouching down to sweep the hair up from the ground with his hands. he dumped it in the bin with your hair and the toilet paper. "so what ?"

you could feel your eyes burning. whether it was from your tiredness or tears building up against your lash line, you didn't know. "but you love your hair"

"i love you more," he responded. he stood up again, reaching out to you and resting his hand on the small of your back. "let's go back to bed, okay ?" you nodded your head and let shadow guide you back down the hall.

climbing into bed made you realize just how exhausted you were, both physically and mentally. you weren't even sure if shadow had gotten into his side of the bed before you had fallen asleep.

it was well past noon the next day when you woke up again, warm rays of light spinning in through the blinds, leaving stripes of gold across the bedroom. shadow was missing from the bed, the sheets on his side neatly made, blanket tucked under the mattress.

you got out of bed, slowly making your way out of the room. your body was still sore, joints and muscles in a pain you had learned to live with for the most part. you made your way to the living room, where you were met by shadow. he was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table as he watched the t.v. a show that looked like an old mecha anime. probably from the 90's if you had to guess by the style of the art and animation.

his eyes were fixed to the screen, a hot cup of coffee in his hands. he was dressed for the day, dark washed denim jeans, and a baggy band t-shirt. your eyes landed on his hair, the brain fog from your sleep clearing, you remembered the events from last night.

it looked like he had gone back and fixed it up a bit. the front of his hair brushed against his cheek bones, and the underside of the back of his head was shaved down close to his head. the red dye that had been in his hair had been almost all cut off, the only remaining bits were at the very tips of his bangs. though, knowing how much shadow enjoyed the red dye, he'd probably touch it up again soon.

"mornin' baby" he greeted, pausing the t.v and turning his attention to you. "how'd you sleep ?"

"i slept well," you answered, sitting down next to him. you reached up to touch his hair, running your hand over the shaved underside. it was soft, and despite the style being something you'd never seen on him, the short hair suited him well. "i like your hair"

you didn't miss the smile that crossed his lips, even though it was only there for a second. "thanks, love" he said "and i like yours too"

[wizard-on-whales]

I've literally had this stuck in my head for as long as I've been obsessed with him but imagine being highschool sweethearts with him...

Like you guys were inseparable when you were kids. Your houses were right across the street from each other and you were the only kids on the block so you always played together. You would ride your bikes through the streets, go to the arcade, play in a nearby creek. When you two got older your spot by the creek became a place to escape from family issues, you'd pass a joint and a beer back and forth, and just talk about your futures. Then when Senior prom came around his brother and your mom forced you two to go together even though neither of you wanted to go to prom in the first place. Half way through the night you'd ditch and go to your spot in the woods. You'd both be a giggling mess, drunk on spiked punch as you fall to the ground together, him holding you in his arms, making fun of your poofy dress once more. But secretly he loved it, his heart had been racing all night, his hands sweaty every time you'd smile at him. Now that you were on top of him, giggling away, he kissed you. He didn't know what overcame him but he did it anyway. You kissed back. Neither of you had felt this way about each other before, but now that it happened a whole new world of feeling opened up. All those years together, all of those memories, became something more in one moment.

You two continued to grow together, supporting each other through everything with a tight hold on each other's hands. James band blew up, just like you always told him, and he drug you along on tours and to crazy parties. You two would sneak off and make out in corners and in bathrooms, not caring what other people think. In '86 on a hiking trip, he got down on his knee and pulled a ring out, asking you to marry him. Of course you said yes, leaping into his arms and kissing him. You'd get married in 1990, 10 years after you started dating, it would be a small wedding, only your closest friends and family. He performs a song at the wedding for you that he had written, Nothing Else Matters...and it really didn't. Not to him anyway, he could have lost it all, the band, the fame, the money, he could have been living on the streets, but as long as he had you, he still had everything.

Mid 1991 you tell him you're pregnant, you both freak out at first but then realize how beautiful the opportunity is. Both of you came from broken families so the idea of starting a family together, one that would be full of love and laughter, neither of you could pass it up. Ironically enough the baby was born at the beginning of '92, February 10th. What would have been Cliffs 30th birthday. It only seemed right to name your baby boy after him.

A few years later another baby boy follows, Layne. It was a difficult pregnancy which ended in a C-section so you two agree to stop at two. But of course, the desire to have a baby girl outweighed your fears so in 1999 little Julia followed.

James had been struggling with his alcohol addiction, you tried so hard throughout the years to keep him from falling deeper but it couldn't be stopped. It pained you to see him this way, to watch him drink himself half to death. Many nights he'd stagger through the door and pass out on the floor.

Your breaking point was when he hadn't made it inside. He was passed out in the lawn in a pile of his own vomit. He needed rehab, no matter how much he denied it.

The months following were rough for everyone, James, you, the kids, but you pushed through and when he came home it was perfect. He was sweeter than ever, his smile from his youth, the one you fell so hard for, was back on his face.

The years that followed his sobriety journey were sometimes hard but you two made it work, just like you always had. In 2007 you found out that you were pregnant again. Both of you panicked for a while, wondering how you would make another baby work after already having three. Especially since they were getting older now...and so were the two of you. But Stevie was another perfect little angel who was adored by everyone. Her big brother Cliff especially. He was a sweet, sensitive boy who often took care of her without even asking. James and you told him he didn't have to help but he didn't listen.

Everything was perfect as the years continued on, Cliff got married and him and his wife welcomed their first baby in 2017. You and James were ecstatic about the news and the fact that you were grandparents now. It was only then did you realize that all of your dreams had come true, you and James were growing old together just like you always talked about in the spot by the creek. Sometime between 2017 and now, Layne and Julia both got married along the way too. Cliff welcomed two more kids, Layne welcomed his first, another on the way. Julia and her wife were opening a bookstore in Vail together. Stevie was about to graduate high school which seemed unreal.

Now you were here in the kitchen, preparing a Sunday dinner for your whole family, your 4 kids, 3 bonus kids (their wives), and your 4 grandchildren. James had arrived home from the store after you sent him for an ingredient you had forgotten. He stepped into the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face and his hand behind his back.

"what?" You'd say, eyeing him suspiciously as he stepped closer to you. Hed brushed your graying hair out of your face and bring a small flower out from behind his back, placing it on your ear.

"I saw it on the drive home, thought you'd like it," Hed say softly, a boyish smile on his face. You'd smile back, feeling a faint blush on your cheeks. Somehow after all these years he still found ways to whoo you. He'd wrap his arms around you and smile once more before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. The kiss would be interrupted by the squeals of a few of your grandkids running into the kitchen, wanting attention from him, wanting their grandpa. You'd smile at the sight of him scooping one into each arm, moving to the living room to play with them as you finish up dinner, your heart filled with more love than you ever thought possible.

✭-----------------------------✭

Literally gonna sob

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- seven.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, wee bit of arguing, LOVE CONFESSION YAY

w.c- 1,379

a.n- SURPRISEEEE SHAWTAYYY!

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

i sat in my bunk for the rest of the night, trying to fall asleep but i couldn't. instead, i drew in my notebook and wrote down the occasional lyric that popped into my mind.

fuck. this was going to be good.

READER'S POV.

today was another day, which meant yet another unbearable show with noah. i decided to make the most of it, though. i wasn't going to let anything bring me down.

he'd been in a bitchy mood all day, but it really wasn't my place to investigate or stick my nose where it didn't belong. instead, i walked around the arena as i fiddled with my camera, adjusting the settings and making sure it was ready for the show tonight. like always, i wasn't paying a lick of attention to where i was going. despite that, i could feel noah's eyes on me. staring me down like a hawk.

before i knew it, he was approaching me with that scowl on his face.

"why are you so happy today? it's making me sick." he spat.

i raised an eyebrow, stopping in my tracks and looking up at him. "why are you so grumpy?"

"doesn't matter. do you have to be so happy all the time? it's getting on my nerves."

"yes, because unlike someone here, i actually enjoy life." i countered.

"i enjoy life, thank you very much." he said, looking down at me as he crossed his arms. "i just hate hearing you hum and seeing you wandering around like a lost puppy. you're gonna drive me into insanity."

"right." i said, looking back down at my camera.

"why can't you just be miserable like the rest of us?" noah mumbled as he moved closer to me. he was practically towering over me at this point, being at least a foot taller than me.

"not everybody is as miserable as you." i corrected. "and i prefer to focus on the good parts of life rather than the bad."

"what if there aren't any good parts?" he asked. he was being serious, he always saw the world in a negative view. he hated the way things were going, and i could tell.

i raised an eyebrow. "don't sound so miserable. there's not one good part in your life?" i asked.

he rolled his eyes. "it's called depression, sweetheart. ever heard of it?"

"course i have, idiot. what about your parents?"

noah rolled his eyes again. "you think they care? they're part of the reason i ended up like this."

"okay... what about your friends?"

he sighed, looking over at folio, nicholas, and jolly. "i mean— my bandmates are fine. they just don't know how to read a person."

he pointed to folio. "he's too damn happy." he pointed to nicholas. "he doesn't understand sarcasm half the time." he pointed to jolly. "and he's the sweetest guy that you'll ever meet. too damn sweet. "they don't know what I'm going through, or what I'm feeling."

"then tell them." i suggested. "nobody's gonna know what you're going through or if you need help if you keep it bottled up inside all the time."

noah scoffed. "seriously? telling my feelings will make me look weak. they wont understand, anyways. i'll just sound stupid and dramatic."

i furrowed my brows, crossing my arms. "that's not true. you're not stupid or dramatic for asking for help."

he sighed and looked at me again. "you don't know anything about me, okay? you don't know what i'm going through. what i've been through."

"oh, i wonder why? maybe because you refuse to talk about it. grow up, noah. i'm trying to help you, and you're blatantly pushing me away and refusing it." i scoffed.

he frowned deeply. "i am grown. and i didn't ask for your help anyways."

"yes, you're grown physically. mentally? no."

he scowled. "and who are you to tell me these things? you don't know what's going on in my head. don't act like you know me."

"i'm not. i'm trying to help you. let me help you for once." i said, my eyes softening. i knew he was hurting, i knew he was in pain. but i couldn't do anything about it if he didn't let me in.

"well i don't want your help." he snapped back. "i don't need you or your shitty advice. i'm fine on my own."

i shrugged, trying to pretend his words didn't hurt me. "okay." i said, walking off just like that. he didn't want my help? he wouldn't have it.

i could hear him call my name for me to come back, but i ignored him. i was tired and hungry and really not in the mood to deal with his bullshit.

before i knew it, he was coming up behind me, grabbing my wrist. i sighed, turning around. "what?"

he looked at the ground, biting his lip. "i didn't mean it.." he said.

i furrowed my brows. "which part?"

"um.. everything, actually."

i was beyond confused. what the hell was he talking about? he took a deep breath, and i could tell shit was about to go down.

NOAH'S POV.

i stood in front of her, looking at the ground. i knew that if i looked at her, her eyes would be all it took for me to spill everything i ever thought. which i ended up making the mistake of doing. my breath caught in my throat as i looked at her.

"Y/N, i... fuck how do i say this?" i mumbled, running a hand over my face.

"spit it out, noah. i don't have all day."

i took a deep breath, looking back at her. "the real reason i broke it off with bailey.. it because i'm in love with someone else. i knew that bailey couldn't give me what i wanted. she couldn't give me the life i wanted to live, the happiness i know i deserve." i said.

"and how does this come back to me?" she asked.

"you're that someone else." i said.

she froze, looking at me with wide eyes. fuck. i just messed it all up. all because i couldn't keep my mouth shut and i just had to tell her how i felt. good job noah, now you just ruined everything.

which is what i thought before i felt her lips on mine.

oh.

oh.

she feels the same.

i melted into the kiss, my eyes closing as i gently cradled her face. i knew i didn't deserve this. i didn't deserve her love or her patience or anything about her. how could i? i'd been nothing but a huge dick to her for years. how could she ever feel the same?

she pulled away and i looked down at her, breathing slightly heavy. "how..."

"because i know you, noah. i know you never meant to hurt anybody. you just didn't know any better. you didn't know how to confront these feelings. you were confused. and that's okay. it's okay." she said softly.

i could feel tears well in my eyes, and for the first time in a while, i didn't feel so alone. i felt loved. i felt happy. i knew that this was what i wanted for the rest of my life. to be with her. to be loved by her. maybe a marriage and a few kids to top it all off.

woah, too fast.

i took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. "thank you.." i whispered.

"for what?" she asked.

"for loving me, despite how i treated you."

she pulled away with that smile i loved oh so much, cradling my face. "don't thank me. thank yourself for deciding to open up. you don't have to be scared, noah. i'm not her." she said softly, and that just made me tear up even more.

i knew she wasn't bailey. bailey couldn't even compare to the way Y/N made me feel. but the reassurance was the only thing i needed to be so sure about the way i felt.

i loved her. and i needed her. more than i needed air.

"now come on," she began. "we have a show to get ready for. then we can pick up right where we left off."

[asktheritobowyer]

Have you ever had to scold Link? I Imagine Teba and Saki have scolded him out of parental concern, but have you ever had to scold him for things related to that or other reasons?

Hello there! That’s definitely a thoughtful and fun question to ask me.

As the Hero of Hyrule, Link is known far and wide for his bravery, resourcefulness, and determination. But let’s be honest, there are times when even our beloved adventurer might need a little scolding. After all, courage and curiosity sometimes go hand in hand with the occasional misstep.

It's not difficult to picture Teba and Saki, the ever dutiful parents of Tulin, extending that familiar warmth when Link visits their home. Whether it’s dashing through precarious ledges without a thought or climbing a steep mountain in the freezing cold to fight monsters, Link’s adventurous spirit is bound to spark some Rito parental worry.

Can you blame them? With Tulin eagerly following at his heels, Link could easily inspire the growing fledgling to mimic his fearless, and admittedly sometimes reckless antics. Link has guided Tulin well, but there are some parts to him than need to be tempered. Link taught Tulin the value of working with others, yet ironically Link himself is the one that needs to learn that lesson.

Now I'm quite the level headed individual, definitely more relaxed than my friend Teba, but even the most patient individuals have their limits. I've had the need to scold Link about the importance of caution and camaraderie in Teba's stead on some occasions. There has been times were Link has absentmindedly rushed into an area filled with monsters without a plan, and I've had to scold him for putting himself in unnecessary danger, and consider other's feelings in regards to if he got seriously hurt.

I've also had to scold him many times for continuously breaking the Great Eagle Bow. I know he's putting it to good use, but I often wonder how he keeps it breaking so often. For a bowyer like myself, seeing a pristine bow like that left in front of me in pieces, can be very painful.

Of course, none of my scolding ever come from a place of anger, but rather genuine concern and perhaps a little exasperation. After all, even a capable individual like Link needs to be reminded to take a moment, breathe, and think things through.

If anything, it shows just how much Link is valued by those around him. I believe everyone needs reminders to slow down and take care of themselves.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[fablesuntold]

@musingmemories

How long were they going to go around in circles and wager the same war with this tiresome blame game? It was becoming tedious to play the part of a scapegoat for everyone else’s misguided actions. Just like he wasn’t to blame for people greedily lapping up the first sniff of something good when investing in Coin they barely knew anything about, he wasn’t to blame that their recent vote to stay or leave had swayed in the O’s favour to stay. And to hear her hint otherwise was a low blow even for her. How much blame could a man be expected to shoulder in this cesspool world full of imbeciles? They were all here to play the games. All here to win money and clear whatever debt loomed over their heads like a guillotine ready to drop. So why stop playing now when they were already in the midst of things? That was his thought process, as selfish as it may have seemed to some. It made perfect sense in his head.

“You can’t keep blaming me for everything wrong in your life. It’s not fair. I wasn’t the only one who pressed O and you know it. You’re just..” Angry. Hurt. And she had every right to be. They could both argue until they were blue in the face just like they had in the past, but now wasn’t the time for it. Not while in such close quarters to other players who could easily use their jaded relationship to their advantage if the opportunity presented itself.

Instead of finishing his sentence, and choosing to ignore her goading question of why he suddenly cared now when in the past he’d acted like the baby didn’t exist, Myung-gi gently shushed her while hesitantly perching himself on the edge of her bed despite the air of animosity still hanging thickly between them. “Regardless of what you might think of me now, I still do care about you. I don’t like watching you suffer, Jun-hee. So can we please be civil for one night?” Whispered once his hand settled against the round of her stomach, he practically felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. Maybe if their circumstances had turned out differently and he they hadn’t lost all of their money, they’d be one big happy family. But then again, maybe not. Myung-gi would never be able to change his ways even if he tried; money and popularity were the only things that mattered to him. Being a parent? It changed a person’s identity completely, didn’t it?

Still.. the what if of it all played in his mind.

Without realising, his gaze had dropped to where his palm had absentmindedly began to rub slow circles on the petite bump in hopes to soothe away her pain. Was he actually helping in any way? It was hard to tell, and he highly doubted Jun-hee would indicate that he was, or thank him for his efforts at least— not that he expected her to. He didn’t deserve anything from her, especially not her gratitude.

Swallowing thickly, the next words that escaped his lips surprised even himself. “Is it a boy or a girl? Or.. do you not know the gender yet?” A thought meant to remain unspoken, blurted out in the spur of the moment. “I know sometimes people have a feeling of what it could be.” While he knew he had no right to ask, it was more curiousity to than anything.. or at least that’s what he had to keep telling himself as his mind began to wonder. What would their baby look like? Would it have Jun-hee’s innocent doe-eyes and naturally pouty lips, or would it have his cute button nose and dimples? Whatever their appearance.. he hoped they turned out to be kind and caring like their mother.

Not too self-absorbed to the point of showing nonchalance to the people around him like he was so often described.

It wasn’t like he was going to be there to watch them grow up anyhow, by choice or not if the games spared him. Him and Jun-hee? There was simply no way back for them. Scorned lovers who would never find any real common ground again with everything that happened between them. And maybe that was for the best. They were toxic together. A recipe for disaster. No baby deserved to grow up in a household like that.

@musingmemories

‘I wouldn’t have this condition if it weren’t for you.’ Wasn’t that the cold hard truth? But just like the swift decline of his subscriber’s cash, this too, he refused to take full accountability for despite her best efforts trying to get him to own up. After all, it took two to tango.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we agreed to get rid of it, and you didn’t do that. You made that choice on your own. It’s your own fault that you’re still pregnant and—“ Biting his tongue in order to cut himself off before a full on row broke out between them, Myung-gi allowed himself a moment to take a breather. Was keeping the baby her way of spiting him..? Of taking back power? It was easy to get overwhelmed in a situation like this, it wasn’t exactly ideal for either of them, and far from the reunion he pictured they’d have if they ever crossed paths again. But they were here now, weren’t they? Stuck in this nightmare together. Baby or no baby, arguing about who was to blame for the past wasn’t going to help anything. If they wanted to get through these games and bag themselves enough money to finally bring some stability back into their shitty lives, this wasn’t the right path to take.

They were a team once.. why couldn’t they set aside their differences and be that again? But quite naturally.. Jun-hee wasn’t finished saying her piece just yet— apparently triggered by his poor choice of wording.. a common theme for him, accidentally provoking with his no brain to mouth filter.

“Jun-hee.” Her name a whispered warning to lower her voice, paired with a quick glance around at the bunks either side of theirs to check for nosy eavesdroppers, widened eyes shifted back to hers to find that the usual Bambi-like stare had changed into a frosty glower as he spoke again. “I don’t know!? Surely there’s.. help out there for people like you. Maybe there’s shelters that can help? You could’ve— could’ve..” Could’ve what? She was right. How on Earth was she supposed to find the money elsewhere? Shelters weren’t a long-term solution and once she’d overstayed her temporary welcome there, what then? While they weren’t on the best of terms with each other, Myung-gi didn’t want to see her end up on the streets. Not because of him.

‘Give me my answer now so I don’t have to wait around for you when I can go home.’ Never before had a single sentence made his heart plummet as much as that one had, evident in how quickly his head turned to avert his gaze to look at anything but her— a metaphorical slap to the face, or so it felt like. Did that mean.. she didn’t want to know him once they got out of here? It sure sounded that way. But he supposed that was fair and all, and he owed her an answer regardless. Closure was the least he could give her after everything. He needed to face the music for once.

However just as he’d been about to give her the straight answer she desired, one glance back at her had Myung-gi stammering to a halt before the words could even fight their way out from where they’d been lodged in the back of his throat.

Noticing the way her expression had shifted from that of disappointment to.. discomfort? He instinctively leaned up on his elbows to get a better look at her. Surely it wasn’t time already, was it? No.. no, it couldn’t be. Or was she really that far along..? “H-Hey, all this stress isn’t good for you or the.. baby. I told you, we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” Excuse after excuse, maybe.. but honestly, Myung-gi really was concerned for her health despite the aloofness he’d shown her in the past. “Does your stomach hurt? Is there anything I can do?” Without realising it, he’d already scooted his way over to the edge of his bed, bare feet padding against the cold flooring to work his way over to hers.

While he wasn’t going to win ‘best boyfriend of the year’ or ‘best dad’ for that matter, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be here for her now when she needed someone. Lingering somewhat awkwardly at the side of her bed, eyes trained down on the thin cotton sheet barely concealing her abdomen, it was difficult for him not to feel somewhat anxious. “Can I..?” Reaching out until his hand was hovering just above her stomach but not quite touching, Myung-gi waited with bated breath for permission.. a first step, one might say, to meeting his child for the first time.

[brittlebutch]

kind of astounding how innocuous conversations with my younger siblings can make me feel like dogshit... what are the good things about being the oldest kid supposed to be again??

[tiffanylamps]

i apologise to my mutuals for who i become every wednesday after watching ted lasso i just love that show. I LOVE IT.