#and a lot more expectation and harsh reality

[cazort]

This is such a great post and I want more people to read it. You articulate a lot of things that I've experienced, better than I've been able to.

I want to add one thing, which is that, under the guise of "many feminist men have no friends", I am nonbinary but was living closeted, as male, for most of my life and still am often seen as such. And some people, including both women and "feminist" men, can be really, really nasty to me when I express even the slightest disagreement with something that they have framed in feminist language, even if the sentiment itself is deeply regressive.

Examples include:

(a) disagreeing or speaking out against statements like "men are scum" or "men or trash"

(b) disagreeing with or speaking out against other negative overgeneralizations about men

(c) disagreeing with statements or defending men when a woman makes a remark that reads negative intent in his action, even in cases where I know the man and know that that was not his intent.

Some examples of this reading of negative intent include:

(1) people thinking a man is coming from a place of misogyny because he is intimidated by a woman (i.e. they assume he is intimidated by her intelligence and want women to be "dumb" or intimidated by her assertiveness and want women to be passive, but in reality the man is intimidated because the woman wields a great deal more social power than the man, i.e. often it's a woman of high socioeconomic status, or a woman who is well-connected in a subculture, and the man is of a lower socioeconomic status and/or is an outsider in the specific subculture, so the women are shaming men for perceived "misogyny" when in reality the women are actually acting out classism towards the man.

(2) a man oversteps a boundary of a woman in a way that she feels uncomfortable with, it could be something like how he looks at her, something he says to her, or a way he touches her. the woman assumes the intent was to make the woman uncomfortable and/or exert power over her. but in reality the man never wanted to make her uncomfortable and he would have never done what he did had he known the woman would have reacted negatively. the actual cause of the overstepping of boundaries can be diverse, it could be autism leading to poor reading of social norms or cues, cultural differences leading to different social expectations and norms, or just individual preferences (the man has had most women before like or respond well to the behavior, and this woman is just different), or it could be social anxiety (the man is anxious and is "lost in his head" and in doing so, overlooks or misreads social cues the woman thinks are obvious), and here's the most aggravating thing, often the woman is intentionally withholding any verbal or even nonverbal expressing of boundaries, like trying to act "nice" and "polite" either intentionally or unintentionally because women are often socialized that way in our society.

These sorts of things happen frequently, but I've noticed that it's totally taboo for men (or rather, anyone perceived as men) to challenge them. When I have done this, I've often gotten a disproportionate amount of hostility directed at me. I have people use harsh negative language, like calling me a "potential rapist" or a "rape apologist" if I say something very mild or gentle like: "Do you think there could have been any cultural differences that led this man to act the way he did?" or "Are you sure that he was able to accurately read your cues and that he didn't just accidentally misread you?" And when I say things like: "Did you try expressing the boundary to him verbally?" people practically explode at me, escalating to language talking about violence, like talking about being afraid of the man killing her, things like that, and then implying that I want women to get murdered and condemning me for it.

It's absolute batshit the way people can react.

So it's not just right-wing circles that can be hostile to men, it's a lot of left-wing circles as well.

Thankfully, I've found great social circles where my friends aren't like this. But it's a serious problem and I want people talking about it.

Thank you for your post!

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[tigers1o1]

Smashing my head against the wall I just want Lizzie to be happy

GRIZZLY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET THE WOMAN BE HAPPY

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @ilove-hatethecw

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! Means a lot and this was such a sweet story to write. Hope you like it! <3

Request: An orc x human, where the reader is a human princess who married the orc in an arranged political marriage. The orc is rather distant because he believes that the reader wouldn’t want him romantically or physically because he’s so large and thinks that she finds him brutish. But she actually is really really attracted to him. Maybe add some breeding and size kink in there.

The princess desire

Orc x fem!reader || size kink, breeding, really fluffy (but filthy)

When the senate told your dad you were to marry the orc king for political reasons, you were resigned. Not ready to marry yet, enjoying your freedom way too much for a marriage with an unknown orc. But a part of you, the part that awoke at night when you were alone with your thoughts and fantasies… that part was more than happy.

As an avid romance reader, you were more than familiar with orc romances. You knew of them, but had never seen one in person. But good goddess did you want to. You had a thousand of fantasies involving orcs, and knowing you were to marry to one? That was more than enough to make you shake with anticipation.

You saw him before he saw you, big and beefy and completely and utterly hot. He filled all your fantasies and a bit more, you didn’t know how good he could look, how attracted you’d really feel to your husband to be until that moment. And your needy clit made you very aware of your husband. But when the reality of marriage came to be, you weren’t expecting it.

It wasn’t reciprocal. Your husband didn’t touch you, you talked a lot after the wedding. You shared meals and conversations, and you became really good friends, but he didn’t seek you out… sexually. He didn’t sleep with you. He didn’t want you as his wife… And that hurt. That hurt a whole lot. But after the sadness, the anger arose.

You were having a nice tea and biscuits when you broke down and asked: “Why wouldn’t you fuck me? It’s because I’m human?” You tried not to sound self-conscious, but you failed, a spark of hurt still shining through your anger.

He bit on the pastries he was eating, coughing as he let out a choked: “What?” He looked dumbfounded, like he wasn’t expecting that from you.

“You don’t like humans? You don’t find me attractive?” You pressed, tears filling your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling down your face.

You didn’t want to be pushy, but you really needed to know if your husband didn’t like you at all in that way. You knew it was a political affair, but you wanted more. You liked him, you liked him a whole lot… You loved him. And you wanted him to want you back, in every way it mattered.

He looked so confused that in any other circumstances you would have found him adorable. “What?! No. Yes,” he stuttered, looking at you like deer caught in headlights. “Yes, I find you very attractive,” he finally confessed, his face deep green as he blushed.

You tried to make it make sense in your brain, not understanding why he hadn’t acted on that then. “Then why aren’t we fucking like rabbits?” You asked, confusion bleeding into your tone.

“What? I- I thought you didn’t want that. I thought… I though you didn’t like me that way. You… You are cute and little and human and… I’m harsh and rough and brutish, too big for you. Too ugly.” Your heart broke a tiny bit at his words, suddenly understanding that the problem was never you. He was insecure and you didn’t realize soon enough.

Your protective instincts arose instantly. “Who said that?”

“I- Nobody.” His insecurities were more clear than ever.

You softened your tone to ask him: “Then why would you think that?”

“I don’t know… You are just so pretty and so great and I love you so much.” He realized a second too late what he just said, covering his mouth and his tusks with a big hand, his eyes as big as plates as he looked at you waiting for a reaction.

Your brain was short-circuiting at his words, not fully believing him. “You love me?” You asked, insecurity showing more than you’d like.

He thought about it for a couple seconds, your heart racing as fast as it could. “I do,” he finally answered, making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Great. Because I love you, too,” you confessed back, surprising both of you. You weren’t planning on telling him like that, but it was out in the world now. And then everything was clear, and you needed one thing more than you needed air. “Now, are you going to fuck me or what?” You have enough time to pull your dress over your head before he’s over you, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

He walked to your room in long strides as you groped his ass, and he grunted. “You are playing with fire, little bride.” You did it again, smacking his hard ass as seeing it jiggle as you giggled.

“I want to get burned,” you teased him in return as you got closer to your room.

He threw you over the bed and undressed as you bounced up and down the mattress. He unwrapped his body like it was the best gift of your life and you licked your lips as he approached you like you were nothing more than prey to him. Your pussy getting instantly wet.

You licked your lips again, checking him out completely, his dick hard and huge hanging between his legs like an offering for you. “Fuck me, husband.”

He crawled over your body like he was savoring every second of it, his nostrils flaring as he smelled your desire in the air, groaning. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” He asked, his face dark green and his tusks gleaming under the sun coming from the window.

You reached down and jerked his dark green dick. “I have an idea.” You chuckled, his dick twitched in your hands as he grunted, kissing down your neck.

He ravished your boobs as you groaned, his tusks feeling dangerous against your tender skin, making everything more intense. He traveled down your body, kissing and licking your skin as he told you how pretty you were, how soft and wonderful. How much he wanted to be buried inside of you until you were leaking cum, a blabbering mess under him.

When he reached your pussy, you groaned as his tusks framed your pussy and his tongue found your clit. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he found the points that made you squirm and cry out fast as lightning. He ate you out like the best meal he had, grunting and caressing as his hands found your ass and pulled you to him, trying to get as much as you as possible. It was like being consumed in the best possible way.

You were so focused on the pleasure he was giving you that your orgasm caught you off guard, screaming his name as he drank out of you.

When you returned to your body, he was over you, his big body pressing down on you like a warm blanket, his dick asking for permission right at your entrance. “Are you ready, bride?”

“Fuck me like you mean it, orc.” Your last word was just a way to remind him you knew who he was, what he was, and it still turned you on incredibly. Turned you on so much that when he pressed against you, his dick slipped inside almost instantly. You both groaned at the intrusion, so good, so big, so wonderful.

He started at a slow pace, rocking his hips against you, but it soon wasn’t enough. You kept asking him to go faster, harder, and when he looked at you worryingly, you couldn’t do anything else but to kiss him until he forgot about his insecurities. You kissed him to consume him, to convince him you were in love with every part of him, orcish features and all.

He let go of his inhibitions little by little, going faster and harder until he set a punishing pace that made you see starts as he grunted against your parted mouth.

“I’m gonna breed you. I’m gonna fill you so much and so deep you would be feeling me for hours,” his words sounded like a promise and it made you shake under him, your body convulsing as you came around his shaft.

You cried out his name as your release made him lose himself in you, pumping you full of cum as he reached for your mouth once again, kissing you so passionately you felt your heart getting bigger because of how much you loved him.

You broke the kiss to whisper against his lips: “I love you, my orc husband.” He smiled down at you, his face dark green with the prettiest blush.

“I love you, my human bride,” he answered, kissing you again.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[explicit-tae]

Hey can you write a jk fic about a world where people can't express anything like they can't laugh,cry or feel any type of emotions and they don't know about these and then jk feels something after seeing oc like that ...

Actually I don't know how to tell you 😭😭

Since there's not really a lot to go off of, I just did what I could with what you gave me 😅 hopefully its similar to what you were intending to say 🫶🏽

Cosmic Balance

Every universal realm has a positive and negative - good or bad. Jungkook manages to cross the portal from his dystopian world to your utopian one and decides that he'd do anything to stay with you.

Word Count: 8.786

Warning: dystopian world, sex-work/brothel, protected/unprotected sex, mentions of cheating, kissing, virtual reality sex, nipple sucking, oral sex, riding, creampie, slight dirty talk, fingering,

Alternate Universe

“Just try it…” is all Jungkook can hear in his mind. His eyes flash to the large digital clock flashing outside his window - he was supposed to be asleep now, as was everyone in his world. “It’s a portal to a whole different world. Just make sure you’re back by 6 am.”

Jungkook’s hands tremble as he grasps the cover on his mirror. It’s one - of many - forbidden rules, completely unforgivable. He never questioned why all reflected areas should be covered as night came, but then again, it was a question that should never be answered.

Jungkook’s world is dark and dull - gray. He was raised upon these rules - he and millions of others. There were rules that were meant to be followed and going against them meant dire consequences - death always an option. 

Jungkook removes the cover quickly and swallows the lump in his throat. He stares at his reflection - the terrified look in his eyes and his heaving chest. He licks his lips, the thought of his breaking a forbidden rule has the hairs on his skin rising.

Jungkook looks closer at his reflection, his finger reaching out to touch. There’s a rippling effect in the reflection that when Jungkook touches, he visibly is horrified when his hand falls through the mirror.

Jungkook snatches himself away from the mirror and quickly covers the mirror with the cover once more. He falls onto his bed, heart thumping that they were right - his friends were correct. There was a whole different world besides the one he’s in now and the thought scares him.

Jungkook often wished that there was a different world he could live in. A world where there weren't strict rules for being excited - he could laugh freely in public when something was funny and not risk being arrested and fined.

Was there truly a world that allowed their people to be free - where the atmosphere was carefree and loving. Did the other world allow their people to laugh, smile - even cry - in public and not the confines of their own room. Did the other people only arrest those who were actually committing heinous crimes, and not because they were a minute late on curfew?

Did the other world allow their people to love and marry whoever they wanted? Jungkook thinks how in a few years at the age of 28 he would be married to whoever his government chose - based on status - and he would be expected to have a child no later than a year. Women who couldn’t bear children would be forced to be alone and provide for themselves. They were encouraged to be whores and work in brothels - “it’s not like you could bear a child anyways” is the harsh words the government would speak to them.

Men would oftentimes be ridiculed, losing job opportunities and their status in life lowering. 

Jungkook thinks how his life would be if he was in another world where he could love who he wants to and not who he was chosen to.

It’s what Jungkook thinks when he sees you, the same work attire as his. You were soon destined to marry someone else just like he was and he knows that he could never have you. There was always a possibility that you would be chosen for him - but Jungkook doesn’t allow himself to think about it. He isn’t an idiot and he understands that you were going to be taken away by some other man and married - and you’d have that man’s child instead.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s for a moment and he glances away. He was staring again, he thinks. You’re a smart woman and you know how he feels for you and understands that he could never act upon them. You weren’t a barren woman - and a relationship - sexual or not - prior to marriage to an unbarren woman is one of many forbidden rules.

“Still looking at Y/N?” 

The seat beside Jungkook is taken by Taehyung. His friend opens the laptop and begins to type, continuing his work. He speaks in a low tone to not disturb the peace - doing so could lead to arrest.

“She could report you for harassment.” 

You could, Jungkook thinks. Women have reported men for harassment all the time - harrassment being even glancing their way if they didn’t appreciate the act. 

You could, but you never did.

“Have you gone to the brothel? Maybe you need to let off some steam.” Taehyung glances his way a bit, his typing not ceasing. “Staring at her isn’t going to make things easier.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond - because he knows Taehyung is correct. The last thing he did want was for you to report him for harassment. He could go to the brothel, sure, but there was no real connection there. He could fuck for as long as he desired, but there was no true connection to the women he was fucking nor did he ever know what these women looked like as their upper and lower body are separated. 

Sex shouldn’t be so quick nor easy - so one sided. Jungkook wants to know did these women feel the same as he did - even if it was a quick high. Did they enjoy the way he fucked them or did they want him to be slower - or faster, go deeper. 

“There you go,” Taehyung murmurs, his fingers typing fast. “in your head again. Did you do as we told you?”

Jungkook sends a e-document and shakes his head. “Freaked out.” he murmurs. 

Taehyung snorts quietly. “I knew you would.”

Jungkook sighs. “It isn’t that easy.”

“How so? You walk through the mirror during an in-between and make sure you’re back on time.” Taehyung shrugs. He glances at you for a moment, noticing how your eyes are upon them - mainly Jungkook. You appear to be surprised that Taehyung catches you and quickly, you turn away. 

“What are you afraid of?” Taehyung murmurs.

What was he afraid of?

There was a lot to be afraid of. He had never broken a forbidden rule before - uncovering a mirror after hours  was an unforgivable one, and now he understood why. There was a whole different universe out there that was seemingly different than his own - he wouldn’t know how to navigate it. His friends had told him stories that appeared to be just that, stories. Something fictional and unbelievable. 

Jungkook was afraid that if he went to this world, that he’d never want to return to his own.

Jungkook is disgusted with himself - disgusted in how he finds himself in the brothel.

Not only Jungkook - but many unmarried men starting at the age of 21-27. This was the only place where it didn’t matter how loud you were. You could scream, yell, curse - hell, cry. You can display any type of emotion inside the brothel.

The brothel had color and life to it - not the sad beige and gray of the outside world. It appeared to be like a dream - was this what the other world was like? Colorful? Cherry? Maybe that’s why his friend visited at night. It was like a vacation away from the reality in which they lived.

“Kook!”

As arm wraps around Jungkook’s shoulders. 

“Not surprised to see you here after the way you acted at work.” Taehyung says loudly, his natural state booming inside of the brothel. “You’re late. We have to all be gone in an hour.”

Jungkook knows this - he never intended on coming until the last minute. It feels like he’s doing the walk of shame coming inside the brothel, but no one cares. All of these men inside of here were looking to get away; to let off steam from the world they lived in.

“You look depressed.” Taehyung snorts. “You know we don’t judge here.”

“Exactly, Kook.” Jimin places a hand on his shoulder, seemingly appearing from thin air. “I think you should try virtual reality.”

Jungkook scoffs. “It’s bad enough I’m in here.” he murmurs.

“Tae told me the way you were looking at Y/N.”

Of course Taehyung did.

“She’s a fertile woman. Meaning she will be married off to whoever the government chooses as would you.”

Jimin was never the one to sugar coat anything. Jungkook could only respect it.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t pretend.” Taehyung slaps Jungkook's back. “I’ll pay for it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “That’ll be expensive.” he says with a shake of his head.

Casual sex was free and paid by the government. At first it’s weird - surrounded by men who were all taking turns on fucking multiple girls in the wall that you couldn’t see. But after a while it got easier and Jungkook only was there to cum and go.

Virtual Reality, however, was not free. It costs to have a private room, a girl and the virtual contact lenses to alter reality. You could choose whatever reality you desired for a price - and Jungkook already felt shitty enough about coming here.

“You’re never going to have Y/N unless fate is on your side.” Jimin says. “And fate is on no one side in our world.”

Meaning, Jungkook had to give up on having you chosen as his partner; an act he already gave up on. 

“But just for an hour, you can pretend to be with her. It’ll feel good. I promise.”

Taehyung’s words ring through his ears. He’s done this before, Jungkook thinks. He only has a few months left until he’s set to be married, the woman he once wanted far from his reach.

“Okay.” Jungkook murmurs sullenly.

Jungkook is disgusted with himself already - and even more so. But he was a man and he couldn’t hide what desires he had for you.

All the desires he did have for you were taken out on the woman who’s name or face he did not know - he moaned for you. He called you pretty and beautiful and in his mind, he was fucking you.

Jungkook likes to think that in another world, he and you could be together. That you and he could talk freely without others speculating he was harassing you - a fertile unwed woman. But as of right now, he would pretend he was fucking you and not another woman in the brothel during virtual reality.

Jungkook’s eyes watch the way your face contort with pleasure as he fucks deep into you. There was only an hour until he had to leave and he took full advantage of it. He isn’t sure how many times he came, filling the condom he wore completely - but he never wants to stop. 

Jungkook doesn’t want this reality with you to end - even deep down he knows that this wasn’t real. Those weren’t your moans nor was it your reaction to him but it’s what he has to deal with to feel closer to you.

“Ah, look at you.” Jimin smirks as he eyes Jungkook exiting the room. His eyes are slightly red due to having to remove the contact lenses. “Feel better?”

No, Jungkook thinks, but he only nods his head. 

 “What are you afraid of?”

Jungkook places a hand towards the mirror, his eyes widening as it begins to go through just as it did the night prior. He has to coach himself to do it - this was okay. He could do it - he could make it through the portal just fine.

As long as he was back before 6 am, he was good. No one would have to know that he was committing a crime that could be punishable by death. 

The portal sucks him in completely - it’s dark and cold. Jungkook’s mind races and he opens his mouth to scream, but he can’t. The feeling is as if he’s jumped from a high surface, gravity completely taking a toll on him.

Jungkook falls onto the ground with a thud, his hands not able to catch himself. He releases a low groan at the impact he’s faced crashing to the floor. He grumbles and pushes himself off of the ground. 

Jungkook’s eyes open and it’s then he realizes that he isn’t where he should be. This isn’t his room - even if it was nearly identical. The room had personality - not like the dull one he had back in his world. The ceiling was just as high as his back in his world but the bed is larger. He notices that the headboard - block - has a strange glow behind it and beneath the bed. It glows multiple colors that Jungkook finds fascinating. The large window - where outside displays a large digital clock for not only him, but for the surrounding homes to see - is covered by a long, dark curtain, blocking out the outside world. The closet is on the far right of the room and Jungkook’s curiosity peaks - his world, clothes weren’t expressive. They were bland and more of a uniform that most citizens wore.

Jungkook gasps, having strolled towards the closet and opened it. Even the clothes in this world had personality - different colors and textures. Long, short, tight or loose - it amazes him how people in this world could express themselves freely. 

“Does your girlfriend know you have me here?” a voice sounds from right outside the door that Jungkook leaps into the closet and hides, only sliding the door close a bit to see.

Jungkook is flabbergasted upon seeing himself - or, this new world version of him. Did this man have the same name as him, or was it just a look alike?

“Y/N’s not going to be here tonight.” Jungkook hears his voice and he stiffens. “She’s out with her friends.”

Y/N.

You.

You were in this universe, too. 

You and him - could Jungkook call this different version of this man “him”? Regardless, you and he were together.

You were his girlfriend in this universe.

And he was cheating on you - Jungkook wants to faint at the revelation alone that in this universe he had you. He had you - the person he wanted. There were no rules on sex outside of brothels here - nor did it appear that a government was controlling every aspect of life.

Jungkook had you in this universe - and he was cheating on you.

Jungkook couldn’t stay here any longer and watch himself be with another girl. He wouldn’t notice himself creeping out of the room - it's dimly lit and the only lights are that of the changing colorful ones. He’s slow with opening the door and closing it discreetly behind him.

The rest of the home is just as amazing as the bedroom - full of this version of him. There’s artwork displayed on the walls that catches Jungkook's eyes, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and appreciate it like he wants to because something else catches his eye. It’s in the hallway as he’s walking by.

A picture of you and him - together. You were smiling, arms wrapped firmly around him, your cheek pressed against his own. You looked beautiful; happy. He did, as well.

Jungkook touches the picture - were you different in this universe? Is this why he was cheating on you? There had to be a reason as to why this version of him would go against everything he wanted for one night with a woman when all he wanted was you.

Jungkook hears a muffled voice and his head snaps down the hall where his front door would be. He contemplates running, but he doesn’t. The door opens and his heart stops.

“Kookie.” you tilt your head and offer him a smile and then a confused look. “You’re still up?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say and it’s like his breath was taken away. You’re in front of him - you’re speaking to him.

You called him Kookie.

Your clothes are something he’d never see you wear in his world. Your dress is dark and tightly fitted and it shows a great amount of cleavage. Your skin looks so smooth and soft and his hands tremble to feel it beneath his palm.

“Are you okay?” you take a step forward, your heels clicking against the floor. You reach out to touch his forehead and Jungkook knows now that he isn’t okay. “You don’t feel hot-”

“Y/N.” Jungkook says, and this is his moment. He touches your face fondly, thumb pressing itself against your lips. 

You snicker. “What’s gotten into you?” you ask. “I know I said I would be out all night but I wanted to come home to you.”

Jungkook releases a shaky breath at your words. You wanted to come home to him - but not him, your version of him. The same Jungkook that was cheating on you now and expecting not to see you.

Jungkook doesn’t want that for you - even if this was his last time seeing you in this world. He doesn’t want to be the reason for your pain. “Let’s go out together.”

“Together?” you knit your brows. “Dressed like that?”

Jungkook looks down at his own attire - basic black t-shirt and jeans that would only be acceptable for him to wear at home back in his world - but maybe in this one it was exactly that; basic. 

“I just want to be with you.” Jungkook murmurs truthfully and you smile - a bright smile that causes his heart to sink. He would have to go home eventually, and he wouldn’t be able to see it anymore. 

“Okay.” you nod slowly, taking his hand in yours. “You hungry? We can go to Late Night Slice.”

Jungkook is shocked to see how crowded the streets are. Back in his world, no one was allowed outside past 9 pm. Even during the day, citizens had to walk in a straight line, no more than three people standing side by side. 

It was past curfew but yet here everyone was. People were laughing, littering the streets without a care in the world. There was a melodic tune playing, something he’s never heard before. 

“You act like you’ve never heard music before.”

You say it as though you can read him, Jungkook thinks.  “Music…” he murmurs, trailing off. 

There wasn’t any music where Jungkook was from, and now he’s realizing that his world was Hell compared to this. It was night time but yet, everything was so bright. The laughter from everyone surrounding them, the music - the atmosphere in general. 

Jungkook feels his skin erupt with goosebumps.

“Come,” you yank him lightly to get his attention and you fully have it. You take him to a small shop where only a few people were inside. The smell makes Jungkook’s stomach rumble and his mouth salivate. “I ordered ahead already, so it should be done.”

Order ahead? Jungkook wants to ask what you meant, but he doesn’t want to appear any more dumb than he was when it came to you and this world.

“I can take that.” Jungkook says as you go to grab a large tray of pizza - it smells as delicious as it looks and Jungkook cannot fathom how someone can be open and cook amazingly this late at night. 

“I’ll go get our drinks.” you smile at him brightly that it nearly causes Jungkook to drop the tray of food. “Go find us a table, okay?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods, licking his lips. He wants to hurt himself - not really. Hurt this version of him. As you and he sit here and eat as a couple, he was cheating on you with another woman - one not worthy of his attention. 

Jungkook finds a table farther from everyone else and sits down, placing the tray of pizza onto the table. He watches from afar as you come back with two drinks in your hands and his lifts form into a small smile.

“What’s funny?” you ask him as you sit down across from him, placing the drink in front of him. 

“I’m not laughing.” Jungkook knits his brows. “You just look very beautiful.”

Jungkooks cheeks are red as he speaks.

You’re taken aback by the compliment. “Ah, really?” you snort. “You only ever call me beautiful when you’re fucking me.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens at your words and his breath hitches. You can speak so freely in this world, he thinks. There doesn’t need to be a hidden conversation of whispers or hushed murmurs. “I-I…” he doesn’t know what to say. On one hand, the thought of him being with you outside of virtual reality has him excited - but the other part of him finds this version of himself highly selfish. He cannot think about only calling you beautiful when he is intimate with you - especially in a world in which he doesn’t have to hide his love. “...You’re very beautiful to me, Y/N. Even outside of…sex.”

You blink a few times, watching Jungkook intently. Slowly, you begin to smile. “Thank you.” you say softly. “I think you’re beautiful, as well, Kookie.” you say teasingly. “Now let’s eat!”

Jungkook never wants to go back to his world. He doesn’t want to leave you behind with the version of him that doesn’t love you. You and he eat and it mainly consists of you talking to him while he listens closely - he isn’t sure of what you are talking about. He isn’t from a world where “clubs” or “bars” are normal - but they seem fun. 

Jungkook takes a sip of the drink you gave him and he immediately coughs. 

“Kookie? You okay?” you rush to place a napkin in his hands.

“W-What is this?” Jungkook smells the clear drink and his eyes widen as it begins to fizzle.

“Sprite…?” you tilt your head. “Does it taste funny?”

Funny wasn’t the word - it tasted strong. He hasn’t tasted anything like this before, the taste feels as if it’s stabbing against his taste buds and fighting against his throat.

It was a weird taste that Jungkook liked.

Jungkook begins to chug the rest of the drink entirely, his body shuddering at the amazing taste. It brings a rush through him.

You watch wide eyed as Jungkook slams the cup down against the table and burp. He places a hand over his mouth at his crude actions. “Excuse-”

“You’re so cute, Kookie!” you laugh at his actions, a sweet melodic laugh that he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

Jungkook finds himself never wanting to leave you, but needing to each time he’s visited and coincidentally managing to not come face to face with himself while doing so.

The first time he had to go through the portal, there was a longing feeling holding him back - the euphoric sense that this new world was better. It was colorful and full of life - returning back to his world left him with deep sorrow. He was coming down from a serotonin high and he realized that each time he did so, he was growing more and more depressed.

But Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care. He would go through the drop of serotonin if it meant he could see you every night - and each night he did. He would visit you, somehow managing to avoid himself, and have an amazing time with you in this Utopian world. Each night was something different - you took him to midnight festivals that played “music” - an amazing tune with people singing and dancing and it’s something you forced him to do with you.

And Jungkook loved it - he adored dancing with you. He enjoyed being carefree and not feeling judgmental eyes upon him. He tried different foods that his world would never allow, drinks that caused his taste buds to go crazy and such sweet snacks that at times would cause his teeth to hurt.

This utopian world was amazing and each time he would return home, he hated it. He was exhausted from the lack of sleep but wouldn’t stop from returning the next night because it was worth it to get away from his world and to see you.

On his 12th day of returning to the Utopian world, Jungkook isn’t alone. He hears screaming coming from further into the home. He ventures outside of the room stealthy to see what’s wrong - mainly because he hears your voice. It’s strained and filled with pain - as is your appearance when his eyes catch you. His heart drops when his eyes catch your face - you’re crying, a black streak streaming down your cheeks. It’s makeup he now knows, having watched you put on the products and astonished when it enhances your beauty even more.

“Where are you planning on going, Y/N?” Jungkook hears his voice say, his tone far too aggressive for his liking. “You live here. With me.”

“You had another woman in the same bed that I sleep in Jungkook.”

Jungkook sighs to himself, his heart falling once more. It was a matter of time until you found out, he thinks. It wasn’t something he wanted to happen for you - you were someone he loved, even if he wasn’t from this world. He wanted you to be happy and live an amazing life, even if it wasn’t with him but with the version of him that didn’t deserve you.

Jungkook watches you push him away with a huff when he tries to bring you closer to him.

“Fine.” Jungkook then shrugs with a scoff. “I’m leaving. If you want to pack everything and leave then you can. But I’m not forcing you to go.”

You snicker with a shake of your head at the audacity of Jungkook.

“You’re going to throw everything away because of one mistake?”

“Was it only once?” you ask him with folded arms. You’re waiting for him to respond to the question you know the answer to already. “Your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

You feel Jungkook’s eyes watch you storm away. He bites back a remark and instead decides to let you cool off. You weren’t going to leave him - where would you even go? You didn’t have anyone but him.

Jungkook watches himself leave out the front door, slamming it behind him as you’re making your way towards the bedroom. Jungkook saunters back inside the bedroom and hides inside the closet, a sense of deja vu coming through him.

You slam through the door and fall onto the large bed. You’re crying again and the sound makes Jungkook want to hurt this world's version of him.

An affair wasn’t allowed in his world and it’s a punishable offense. Of course, very few men loved their wives that they’re set upon and vice versa. Only few come to love one another - but it’s rare. He had to look at his own parents as evidence of this. As he and you would walk the busy streets the past weeks, he noticed people of all ages and genders together - two older couples sitting side by side enjoying one another's company. Two men holding one another while taking pictures - it’s nice to see and experience.

This version of Jungkook didn’t deserve you or this world, he thinks - he took it for granted.

“Y/N.”

You flinch at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. Your eyes widen at him, not hearing him come in. “W-Why are you in the closet?”

Jungkook swallows.

“And when did you change…?” your words trail off, hands wiping your tears.

“I’m sorry that he hurt you.” Jungkook murmurs, his tone lowering. His eyes are sad, you note, sad for you. He comes closer, his demeanor soft unlike the cocky and narcissistic one of that prior.

You stand to your feet and tilt your head, your eyes focusing on his face. “You just got a piercing earlier.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Jungkook. “Where did it go?”

Jungkook stiffens when he feels your fingers on his lips. His hand reaches up to touch yours on his face and he sighs. “I hate the way he treats you, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Your head is spinning at Jungkook’s choice of words. You’re confused at how he’s wording everything - as if he’s a third person in this situation.

“Kookie…?”

Jungkook kisses your fingers then your hand. “I wish I could stay here with you. Forever.”

You aren’t sure how to feel, your emotions are spiraling. Jungkook speaks as if everything that went down between the two of you hasn’t happened - and your mind is beginning to fog; contemplating if it did or not.

“I’m not from here, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks once more, lowering your hand to your side and entangling his fingers with yours. “I wish I was so I could treat you better than him. I wouldn’t take you or this world for granted.”

You don’t speak, unable on what to say in response. You aren’t crying anymore, your cheeks stained with tears and puffy.

Jungkook tugs you deeper into the room and towards the mirror by the closet. You’re unsure what’s going on and where he’s getting at.

Jungkook’s sure he might regret this - that you would be freaked out to the point that you wouldn’t want to talk with him anymore, but he had to show you.

Jungkook stops in front of the mirror and turns towards you. He lifts your hand that’s holding his and slowly, brings it towards the mirror.

Your eyes widen in shock when your hand sinks into the mirror, a cold, windy feeling causing your hand to tremble.

“J-Jungkook-”

“I’m from a different world. I was just as scared as you are right now.” Jungkook says, bringing your hand out of the mirror and letting it go. His hands grasp your face. “I came here and everything's so…euphoric. It’s nice that everyone is accepting. There’s no strict rules enforced by the government to control you all.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubs along your lips.

“You…in my world you and I can never be together. Not unless the Government allowed it and I’m positive they aren’t. You are free to be in love with whoever you want here, Y/N. And I’m sorry this version of me is taking you for granted.”

Your heart is beating at an alarming rate. Your eyes are wide with shock at his words.

This Jungkook was not your Jungkook - not the man who cheated on you and left without as much as acknowledging your feelings. This Jungkook came from a different world - and as unbelievable as it sounded, it was true.

“Why can’t we be together?” you murmur, still unsure if this was reality or a dream - everything felt real at this point.

“The Government chooses who we marry based on ranking and status.” Jungkook explains. “You’re a woman who can bear children, so you’ll be married to someone of their choosing.”

Your eyebrows knit. “Why does it matter if I can bear children or not?”

Jungkook smiles sadly at you. “Barren women cannot be married.” He recalls wishing that you and he were both barren, then maybe the Government would see the two of you as useless and allow him to marry you - but life wasn’t that cruel to either of you.

“It must be a cruel world.” you murmur, and Jungkook agrees. “How long have you…”

Jungkook knows what you’re speaking of. “Close to two weeks. I’ve been coming to you every night.”

Your eyes widened and now, everything made sense. How Jungkook - well, not the one before you, but the other one - would be confused about the night prior, but you’d just thought he was either faking or too tired to. But no, you and this Jungkook from a different world were the one spending it together.

This is why the connection between the two of you suddenly has changed. It became bearable to be around Jungkook. He smiled and laughed more. He was willing to hold your hand wherever the two of you went and would sneak kisses at random times. He took more pictures with you and appeared overall happier than before.

But it wasn’t the Jungkook you know - it was a different version of him.

You snicker, your eyes swelling with tears.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry for taking advantage of you, Y/N. Please don’t cry-”

You hand your head. “I’m not upset with you, Jungkook.” you say, blinking away the tears that are forming. “I’m upset that you and I can never be together because you aren’t from this world.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens at your words.

“And I…I can’t go to your world, either.” You didn’t want to, Jungkook thinks. He doesn’t want to see your demeanor and personality change if you went to a world so different from this one.

“I’m sorry-”

Jungkook is interrupted suddenly by your lips on his. He’s taken aback by your sudden actions, but he doesn’t push you awake.

“If there’s a world,” you remove your lips from his for a moment. “that is an alternate realm where you and I are in, that means…he can’t die.”

Jungkook isn’t sure where you’re getting at.

“Jungkook can’t die because then you’ll die.” you say, your hand caressing Jungkook’s cheek. “I-I don’t think you and he can be in the same world, either. It would probably cause some type of unbalance.”

Jungkook nods. “The in between opens at 12. I make sure I’m back before 6.”

You nod slowly.

“I want you to stay with me, Jungkook.” you murmur to him, as if it was a secret that only he can hear. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

Jungkook nods his head, doe-like eyes widening. “I do,” he admits. “but I don’t think-”

“SShh,” you peck him on his lips once more and Jungkook melts into the kiss. “we have a few hours before we can figure out what to do. I just want you to stay with me.”

Jungkook nods.

Kissing you had to be his favorite thing to do. And touching you, feeling your smooth skin against his palm.

Your back hits against the bed, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. This Jungkook was different from the one you’ve known. He was gentle and kind. He cared for your feelings and truly wanted what was best for you.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Jungkook manages to push himself away from you just as your hand dips underneath his pants. “You’re already hurting from what he’s done to you.”

“You aren’t like him.” It’s weird to speak of a different version of himself as if it was a whole different person with a different face. “I want to be with you.”

Your hands do make their way into his pants and you proceed to grasp his hardened length. Jungkook hisses. “O-Okay.” he nods hastily with no other argument. He caves far too easily - but he’s wanted you for so long. The virtual reality he had was an embarrassing moment he wanted to forget - but now he was going to have the real thing. The real you.

“I-I want to pleasure you.” Jungkook’s cheeks are tinted as he speaks, but it’s like a dream of his. Coming from a world where pleasuring a woman (before marriage) isn’t a priority, he wants to do this - especially with you.

Jungkook kisses your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that starts to drive him wild. His hands roam your body, grasping the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, his lips kissing down your collarbone to between your breasts.”So beautiful and all mine.”

Jungkook doesn’t want this moment to end - he wants to savor every bit of it. He wants to sit and stare at the beauty that’s your body for hours if the universe would let him.

You feel Jungkook's hand dip behind your back to unclasp your bra. It’s left discarded, his hands roaming your back entirely. He shudders.

“You look scared.” you teased with a hushed tone. “As if you have never done this before.”

“I’m not married, so no, I have not.” Jungkook speaks. “Every man goes to the brothel but that isn’t pleasurable for the woman. I don’t even see their faces.”

You swallow, your eyes widening slightly.

“My friends often come here, too…” Jungkook begins, his hands slowly gripping your breast in the palm of his hands. “...and they told me how free it was here. What they’d do when they were pleasuring women here.”

Jungkook’s friends - you ponder if it’s the same friends in his world that Jungkook has in this one.

“And I want to try it.”

You yelp when you feel Jungkook’s mouth wrap a nipple into his mouth entirely, suckling as if his life depended on it. You weren’t complaining, enjoying just how needy Jungkook appeared. Jungkook groans in your breast, his free hand gripping your breast entirely while he sucks on the other. He’s unsure why he appears so stuck on your breast - or why he enjoys doing so. They didn’t have a particular taste to them - it only tasted like skin.

Jungkook’s positive that it’s your reaction to him doing so. Your moans - so sweet and velvety. The way your legs wrap around his waist a little tighter and your hand rests on the back of his head.

There’s a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips when Jungkook finally comes up from them. He licks his lips, eyes dark and full of lust.

You eye Jungkook has his lips place warm kisses upon your skin, dipping down to your stomach. His hands reach your shorts, tugging them down just as he gets lower and lower.

“Y-You don’t have to do that.” you say, embarrassed when Jungkook pulls down your shorts entirely.

Jungkook looks up at you for a moment before down at your exposed underwear - purple and cotton. They were cute, he thinks, especially as he witnesses the slight wet spot directly in the middle of them.

“Why not?” Jungkook places his fingers on your clothed clit, rubbing gently.

You swallow back a moan, thighs twitching. “Y-You never have…not you but. The other Jungkook.”

Jungkook wants to shake his head. The audacity of this other version of him - if he had the chance to ravish you at every given moment, he would. He didn’t understand why this world took everything for granted - being allowed to roam the streets after 9 Pm was a luxury alone that this world provided.

“But I want to.” Jungkook hooks his fingers between your panties and pushes it aside. He licks his lips at your wet clit and he hums. “So beautiful.” he murmurs.

Jungkook lowers himself to your heat and your eyes widen - he was really going to do this. You don’t have time to react, either. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and it’s already swiping along your clit.

“S-Stop…!” you yelp, jerking at the unfamiliar feeling.

Jungkook catches your legs just as they were about to crush him. “Relax, Y/N.” he laughs gleefully. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

You bite your lip but nod. Your legs are trembling with nerves and slight embarrassment at how close Jungkook was to your sex - vaginas couldn’t look that appealing for him to appear ready to risk it all at just a taste of it.

But to Jungkook, it was. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he holds you into place, his tongue flat and his head shifting from side to side.

Your stomach bubbles with tension and pleasure. You aren’t aware that something like this could feel good for you - you imagined it whenever you went down on Jungkook, but there was a difference between the two genitalia.

Now, it was like Jungkook was getting rid of an itch you never knew was there. You couldn’t contain your moans any longer, nor did he want you to. There was no pleasuring any women from the brothel and in the end, even after he came, he could never feel truly satisfied with himself.

Now, it’s different. It’s more intimate - pleasuring you the way he wants to. His demeanor changes entirely from that of the soft man she’s come to love to be around - to a man hungry for what's between her legs.

“K-Kookie!” you yelp once more at feeling fingers pierce through your entrance. Even then, he doesnt stop sucking your clit.

Jungkook hums, the vibration felt throughout your lower region. His eyes dart up at you and it causes him to groan. So beautiful, he thinks. The look of pure bliss on your face, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure shoots through you.

Jungkook leans back to watch intently at the way your pussy tightens around his fingers. He pumps in and out, your juices coating not only his fingers, but down his palm and to his wrists.

“I wish I can stay here with you forever.” Jungkook says, adding another finger to fill you even more. “I would treat you better. I would never make you cry.”

Jungkook is such a smooth talker, you think . But even so, you believed him. His eyes are much softer and even now as he’s fucking his fingers inside of you, he’s still so loving.

“Kook - shit!” Jungkook connects his lips back onto your already swollen clit and is determined to make you cum.

Your hands grip along the bedsheets, your thighs trembling. It was all too much to handle right now. Each time your hips would buck, Jungkook would just push you back down onto the mattress and plunge his fingers even deeper.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook purrs, then goes back to lapping your clit, his eyes watching your every emotion. His fingers are hitting your spot so sweetly that you can’t hold it back anymore, releasing the tension from deep inside of you with a shriek.

Jungkook’s chest is soaked entirely, but he couldn’t care any less. Instead, he removes his fingers from inside of you and licks them clean.

Your thighs are trembling even more now, your eyes closing and your chest heaving in an attempt to catch your breath.

There was no way Jungkook never done this before. Even from a different world, Jungkook had to have some similar characteristics of the other Jungkook - determined to make you cum regardless if it was never his mouth or tongue, not stopping until he had.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks you, kissing your lips gently. You tasted yourself on him.

You hum a lazy response.

“So cute.” Jungkook smiles. “Are you tired? Hungry? “ he tilts his head for a response. “I can go get those sugar things you like with the chocolate filling-“

“I want you to fuck me before we think about eating.” you sigh, tone serious. Your eyes flutter open until they’re no longer blurry.

Jungkook’s cheek flush at your words. “You don’t even look like you’re capable of-“

Jungkook’s left stunned when you manage to flip him on his back, hovering right above him. “Just needed a few seconds is all.” you say to him. “I really want to taste you, too but…I’m really impatient.”

Jungkook nods hastily as you go to remove his pants.

“I will next time. Promise.”

Jungkook isn’t upset about you not returning the favor - he didn’t expect you to. Having the opportunity to do anything with you was what he truly desired.

“Don’t we need some form of protection?” Jungkook asks when you’re hovering above him, ready to bring him into you entirely.

“I’m on birth control.” You shake your head with a giggle and Jungkook only appears more confused.

“What’s that?”

You tilt your head. “There’s no birth control in your world?”

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, trying to ponder how anyone can control something like-

Jungkook gasps, feeling you entirely. You’re so warm and wet and his mind is going crazy at feeling you entirely raw.

“The chances of getting pregnant are low when on birth control.” you explain, placing both of your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “So it should be okay.”

Jungkook was going to take your word for it. His hands find your waist and it holds on it for support.

Your hips begin to rise and fall at a rhythmic pace, wet skin slapping against his own. Soon moans filled the room, both yours and his - and Jungkook wasn’t going to hide how good you were making him feel.

“Feel…so…good…” Jungkook huffs with each bounce on his cock. His eyes fight to focus on something for longer than a few seconds, but he can’t. Your breast bounces in his face and he tries to catch a nipple but fails a few times. Your face is so beautiful, contorted with pleasure as you take him.

“Does it?”

You lean back, your palms on his thighs. Your feet are pressed firmly onto the mattress and you continue your bouncing.

Jungkook hisses, the next position allowing him to go a bit deeper in you. You knew what you were doing, knowing exactly how to pleasure him just right. Jungkook wants to harm the other version of him - how could you go elsewhere when everything he needed was right here?

Jungkook opens his eyes to look at you and he grunts all over again. Your pussy is dripping all over him, creaming his cock so lovingly. There’s a white ring around his cock, evident of how much you were loving this.

“You’re so-“

“Beautiful?” you finished the sentence for Jungkook, giggling. You clench around him and Jungkook hisses.

“It’s true. You are.”

Your heart swells at his words - they aren’t just sex words. Often he would tell you how beautiful he thought you were and of course you were smitten. You thought it was your Jungkook, not this new Jungkook from a different world.

Jungkook allows his hands to roam your naked skin, goosebumps running along his arms. He hisses with a slight shake of his head. “You’re too g-good at this.”

“So were you.” you giggle, grinding against him. “Surprised you never pleasured a girl before.”

“I learn fast.” Jungkook licks his lips, pressing a thumb against your swollen clit, satisfied when you flinch.

While Jungkook's right hand plays with your clit, his left places itself on your ass and squeezes.

Jungkook flickers his eyes up st your face to find that you’re already looking at him. He gives a slight grin - the thrust upwards.

“Fuck, s-stop!” your body flushes with heat. “I was supposed to make you cum this time!”

“You are.” Jungkook hooks both of his arms beneath your thighs and then on your hips to keep you steady. “This birth control means I can cum in you?”

You bite your lip and nod and that's all the confirmation Jungkook needs.

Jungkook begins to pound into you, his pace entirely alarming and there's no build up to it. All he knows is that he’s wanted you for as long as he could remember and in this world he had you - you and whatever birth control was.

Soon the room is filled with wet squelching of your pussy being stuffed so full mixed with Jungkook’s grunts and your whimpers. Your arms wrap around Jungkook’s neck for support and this has Jungkook peppering your skin with kisses.

Jungkook doesn’t stop his pounding, not even when you're trembling and scratching along his back. He only snickers at your actions, far too enthralled in this moment that he doesn’t care what pain you might cause him.

“I-I don’t think-“

“Sshhh,” Jungkook presses his lips on yours to silence your whining. His teeth clap on your bottom lip, tugging slightly. “I know you can take it, baby.”

You came - an embarrassing moment for you. You didn’t hold in the shriek as you do so and it was entirely Jungkook’s fault - his insane stamina, his soft kisses on your skin and the dark whisper of a pet name.

Jungkook groans, your cum dripping out of you and onto him entirely. He could never get enough of you and each thrust has him hating the version of him that left you here crying.

“Gonna cum,” Jungkook huffs, kissing your face entirely. Your eyes are closed tightly and a few whimpers are releasing from your lips due to the overstimulation.

You clench around him as tight as you could to get Jungkook to cum and it works. A few sloppy thrusts and a deep moan later, Jungkook’s cumming deep inside of you - a wave of emotion shudders through his body.

You fall limp against Jungkook while your eyes flutter close. “So tired.” you murmur.

Jungkook places a kiss upon your forehead. “You don’t want those sugar things with the filling?”

You grumble, “It sounds like you want them.”

Jungkook does.

“I’ll put an order for them to be delivered.” you lift yourself and sigh. “How about you just take my phone and go get it? You remember the way?”

Jungkook nods his head and soon, you’re sleeping soundly on the bed.

Jungkook licks his lips as he gets dressed. Currency was different in your world. Though he worked, there was only a certain amount he could ever earn from his job, the rest went towards whatever the Government saw fit - funding the brothel and new technology to advance the world. Even being able to go somewhere and eat was a luxury - it was something the Government also controlled; when and how they got their food.

Jungkook opens the door to the room and stops dead in his tracks.

Jungkook blinks at the familiar face of himself. There’s a piercing on his eyebrow and lip and it causes Jungkook to tilt his head at it.

“What the fuck-“

Jungkook reacts entirely too fast, even before his mind can think of what to do. He watches as the version of himself falls back and holds his nose, blood pooling from his hand.

“You don’t belong here.” Jungkook murmurs , his voice dangerously low. “You don’t deserve her.”

Jungkook is surprised that you don’t awake - maybe you were that exhausted. He doesn’t stop punching until the version of him is unconscious and he’s covered in an alarming amount of blood.

Jungkook huffs. He grabs the versions of him arms and begins to drag him inside the room. He glances at your sleeping figure and feels an emotion go through him. He wants to love you the way you deserve - to care for you like he should be able to.

And with this Jungkook here, he never could.

Jungkook pushes towards the mirror, the ripple effect telling him that there was still time.

There’s a moan - he was waking up. Jungkook curses mentally to himself and pushes as hard as he could to this world’s Jungkook until he’s fully through the mirror.

Now, all he had to do was wait until it was time for the portal to be closed.

Jungkook’s eyes open, shooting straight up. His eyes look around his surroundings - where the fuck was he?

This wasn’t his room - no, it couldn’t be. It was so dull, dark. Plain - where were the lights he had on his bed? Where were the mirrors he placed up?

Jungkook’s eyes the large window outside, noticing that lights were peaking through. There was a digital clock flashing red numbers. He shakes his head. “What the hell…?”

Jungkook turns towards the mirror in front of him, eyes wide as it begins to crack. He shields himself with his hands as mirror pieces begin to fly on him suddenly, the mirror breaking out of thin air.

Jungkook releases a deep breath, hammer in hand. His chest heaves, the mirror shards surrounding him entirely.

“Kookie?!”

You run inside the room, head flailing around to see what the commotion was. “How did the mirror…” your eyes glance down to the hammer in Jungkook’s hands.

It was now 6 A.M, Jungkook notes, and it was time for his world to wake and go on with their lives - without him.

“I thought you said you were gonna go shower?” Jungkook drops the hammer and turns towards you. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

You sigh, shoulders relaxing. “It’s okay.” you say. “Is…is the portal gone?”

Jungkook nods his head, for now at least. He’s positive there was a way for him to return through a different mirror - but he had no intentions to. As long as the Utopian world Jungkook didn’t know how to return, he was satisfied.

“Good.” you smile at Jungkook, a genuine smile that warms his heart.

Good - it was good. Now Jungkook could have you like he always has - no strict rules, no Government forcing him to marry a woman he didn’t want.

Just you and him - you & this Jungkook - forever.

@seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111

[lilywastaken]

⇝ shadow .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART TWO OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.

A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!

WORD COUNT: 10k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.

The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.

Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.

Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.

Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.

And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.

It was like a slap in the face.

One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.

"You-"

"Did you keep it?"

As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.

"It? Wh-"

"Him. Our son."

Our son.

It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.

"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."

"I was gone."

"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."

"You don't understa-"

"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"

Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"

"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."

Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just

"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"

The door slammed shut.

Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.

You'd closed the door on him.

You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.

He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.

It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-

The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.

You were letting him in.

That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.

No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.

The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.

Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.

It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.

Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.

You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.

You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.

A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.

His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.

You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.

Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.

"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."

Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.

The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.

When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.

But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.

So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.

You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.

But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.

"Are y-"

"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."

Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.

"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…

Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.

"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."

He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.

The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.

"...so? Are you going to explain?"

Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.

But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.

He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.

"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"

"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."

His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?

"What do you work in?"

"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."

Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.

Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.

And it was terrifying.

You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.

You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.

"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.

"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."

You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.

"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.

"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.

"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"

You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.

"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone."

Silence.

The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.

"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."

"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.

"I'm not raising my vo-"

A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.

You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.

"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."

Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."

His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.

Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.

"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.

"I want to see him."

You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.

"You haven't even told me his name."

Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.

"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.

He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.

"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.

"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.

"You still don't believe me, d'you?"

A beat.

The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.

You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.

"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.

Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.

And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.

And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.

"They're real. I promise."

His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.

"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.

A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.

Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.

God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.

His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.

"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."

And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.

And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.

"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.

Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.

"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."

Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.

"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.

"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.

Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.

For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.

Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.

Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).

"How d'you pay for all this?"

"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"

"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"

You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.

"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."

He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.

He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.

"Let me help you."

You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.

"Help me?"

Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.

But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.

"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.

You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.

"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.

"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"

Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.

"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."

God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.

So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.

And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.

"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.

"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"

"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."

Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.

"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.

Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.

"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.

"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.

"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."

"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.

Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.

"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.

"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"

"It's fine. I've slept worse."

He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.

That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.

Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least try to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.

And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.

And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.

Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.

Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.

But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.

"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.

You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.

This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.

He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.

"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."

Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.

Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.

A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.

A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.

"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"

As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.

"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"

He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.

But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.

Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.

He could… he could really get used to this.

Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.

He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.

"-mon."

"Simon!"

The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.

He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.

Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?

"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"

"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."

"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.

"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."

His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.

"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."

"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."

He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.

Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.

"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."

I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.

"Alright."

You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.

Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.

After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."

He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.

"O-okay."

He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."

You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.

You hoped it was the latter.

"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."

The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.

Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.

"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.

"Right, I'm s-"

"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."

"Well you can shut him up-"

"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"

"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."

"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.

"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."

Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.

He'd be back. He promised.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you.  What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached.  There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes.  You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them.  Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.  

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you.  Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.  

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered. 

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured. 

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. 

“Anytime.” 

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes.  No doubt he had heard everything. 

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you. 

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry. 

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.” 

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it. 

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs. 

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air. 

-----------------------

The next several days carried on in much the same way.  Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences. 

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut. 

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile. 

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another. 

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice. 

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated. 

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side. 

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent. 

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience. 

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship.  If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more. 

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp.  He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do. 

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow. 

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse. 

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent. 

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

 A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised. 

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. 

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.  

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice. 

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said. 

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands. 

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff. 

“Is this yours?” he asked. 

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious. 

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders. 

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.” 

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank. 

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth. 

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this. 

“Do you need more?” you asked. 

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes. 

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.” 

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist. 

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand. 

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.  

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?” 

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad. 

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.” 

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.  

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.” 

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion. 

Without further protest you accepted the potion. 

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve. 

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional. 

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give. 

Any nerves that remained slipped away.  You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past. 

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had. 

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin. 

“Oh?” 

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much. 

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light. 

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.” 

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.” 

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you. 

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.” 

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure. 

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers. 

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

 “And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.” 

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning. 

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle. 

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward. 

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide. 

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.” 

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control. 

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful. 

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul. 

It was true, all of it. 

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough. 

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.” 

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked. 

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time. 

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff. 

“Well?” you prompted. 

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else.  Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind.  Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury.  He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him.  You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment. 

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly. 

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face. 

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate. 

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.” 

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable. 

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much. 

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water. 

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm. 

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist. 

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest. 

“Does it hurt?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly. 

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.” 

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh. 

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked. 

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.” 

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow. 

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own. 

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced. 

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

[nimadjart]

Happy halloweeen. :)

This is the commentary track(?) to my digitober. It's just rambling, so don't expect anything too interesting.

This first picture came out on a whim, I originally didn't intend to do anything for this october. I had just arrived home from helping my mom out with something, and was in a good mood. I think this picture, as sketchy as it looks, reflects that feeling. I'm content with it - and it's halloween themed! All the better.

For the second, I tried to follow the "official inktober" list (something I'd drop quickly in the following days). I'm disastrous at making backgrounds, so I gave it a shot for practice sake. I think it's not a bad result, it almost kinda tells something of a story.

"Boots", hah. It's not terrible, but it's also missing a lot of polish. I think the idea behind it works well for a cute/sexy picture of Angewomon. Maybe some day I'll revisit it? I should put more practice into drawing the human form in the meanwhile lol.

I really dislike the fourth one. I think Lianpunmon deserves better art, so I'll definitely do it again some day. My skills are so undeveloped, it's very obvious seeing this poor hatching.

Speaking of hatching, I bit more than I can chew with this one. The composition isn't interesting enough either, and just like with Lianpunmon there's no story here. At least Angewomon seemed to be interacting with the viewer lol.

The sixth is something I liked better. It's kinda shody, but there's something of an urban fantasy thing going on.

The Vamdemon one I can see the faults: I need better line control, the shapes aren't locked in as well as they should be. Yet, I'm partial to it…

Rapidmon deserves better lol. I still really dig the idea behind this drawing, I just wish I'd have given myself the patience and time needed to render a kickass explosion.

SkullGreymon, I have little to comment. It has zero story, but it's carried by the vibes. It's the first (and arguably last lmao) time I think I was cooking with the halftones.

The tenth is arguably the peak of the entire month. It has some story, a neat composition, and acceptable execution. Strangely enough it was one of the quickest to make: I had an idea, and it came out in a few minutes (compared to some other drawings where I was fighting for my life), and it ultimately was one of the most interacted with drawings in my entire blog. Funny how that goes.

I like a lot the Piemon one, as bland as it is. It's like a design piece, more than a drawing. It helps that the perspective deformation hides my poor linework haha.

I went too hard on the Mephismon X one, to the detriment of the piece. Instead of adding texture, it just looks dirty. Damn.

The thirteenth one was my poor attempt at making a background. Originally, Bakemon was gonna have this devious, whimsical look, but as I finished drawing the stairs I thought "I'd be kinda tired after climbing a few floors", so I changed Bakemon's expression to reflect that. Just a little trivia.

The Jesmon is what I'd argue was my peak. Shapes are locked (as best as my skill lets them), values worked well, it told a story. It's my favourite of the month.

Fiftenth was made, mostly, trying to catch some Adventure buff to the ammount of interactions I'd get. I mean, I had fun drawing the characters, but the reality is that I had petty reasons. I don't dislike it though.

I know exactly what I wanted to do with the sixteenth, and I didn't achieve it. Looking back, I think I should've done it in BW, rather than grayscale, to make it pop more. Fix the composition too. It's too plain. Shame, I really like Lilithmon X's design.

Seventeenth was also one where I just phoned it in. I think the values are all over the place; though I do like the harsh light. Impmon is a lot of fun to draw, all things considered.

Greymon was fun, lots of fun to draw. But this was another piece where I went too crazy trying to use halftones, I ended up making something that lacked impact or presence. I do like, in a self deprecating way, how the background seems okay until you look at it directly and see that it's kinda bad lol.

I made Nefertimon's torso too long! I only realized when I was doing the finishing touches lol. Yet I like the whole thing a lot, I think the texture and lightning kinda sells it as a photo (the white border was an attempt at selling that further). Saw someone refer to it as "the last thing I see before I die", and that comment might stay with me forever lol.

The twentieth is another I had a clear picture in my head as to what I was actually hoping to make, but failed to. Instead of landing some sort of finish, it's on a weird gray (lol) area. Making clouds is hard y'all.

Twenty one is one where I managed to stick the landing to what I had in mind. I think the composition needed a few more minutes of baking, but overall I'm content with the result. Death-X-DORUgoramon is a complex design, so any degree of succesful translation is a win in my book.

I think I needed to draw some more background Kuramon for the twenty second. Y'know, to really sell the swarm thing. It's kinda too clean.

Before twenty three, I had never given myself the time to draw a tree shilouette. It was fun to turn off my brainfor a bit and just draw line, after line, after line, after line. I did the tree first, and then I tried to figure out how to make Shurimon. Originally, I wanted him to be hunched over more dramatically, almost as if he was climbing down the tree, but I was incapable of drawing it in a satisfactory manner. So this is what I got.

Twenty four is so bad! I think Monitamon came out fine, but the background elements are so poorly done! I'm so embarrassed! lol

Kabuterimon was really fun, very dramatic looking. I think it has some serious readability issues with the hands, but I don't dislike the idea I had at all.

Hackmon's drawing was done almost like a sibling piece to the fourteenth, Jesmon's. Like, Huckmon is somehow watching his exhausted future, yet he stands stoic. On it's own, I think it's plain. Like, it has some charm, but it's lacking in impact compared to the fourteenth. But maybe that's for the best of the story?

The Wizarmon sticker came through me realizing I wasn't practicing my lineart! So I did a sticker instead. This was actually version two, but number one was so bad I had to redo it. Despite it being a humble sticker chibi, it's overall the day I spent the most time drawing.

Twenty eight came from me realizing I hadn't done any Alphamon! So I did what I thought would look badass. As much as I like Alphamon, though, his shapes are difficult for me to grasp so it came out shoddy and weak lol.

Twenty nine, Ragna Lordmon vs Ragnamon, was hurt by me recording it. While an exciting thing to do, I felt like I wasn't allowed to do anything but move forward quickly, or to change things (I'd have moved both Ragnamon and the main Ragna Lordmon body closer to the center) that would've made the composition flow better. It's not an abject failure, and the video is fun to watch, but still…

Dorumon is a simple piece that I was a bit surprised to make. My birthday is not information I tell people, but I was just compelled to share a bit of myself. I dunno, it feels weird. I'm weird. It came out cute at least.

And at the last! Noble Pumpmon again. I'd love to tell you that I applied everything I learned throughout the month and it's my best piece and stuff, but that isn't the reality. It's a better show for a similar amount of effort compared to the October 1st drawing, but it's not some crazy good display of betterment. A bit, yes, but less than I had hoped.

If you made it this far into this silly wall of text I wrote, I thank you. I thank everyone who interacted with my drawings, it pleases me a lot to see that someone gave it a like, or a share, or a comment. I learned about myself, and my limits, through this experience. It was tiring, but setting myself the goal of "make a drawing a day" was, paradoxically, liberating. Like, now I had a reason to draw! (despite me having some comission work to do lmfao). It was nice. This was one of the most entertaining octobers in recent years. Thanks again to everyone who participated in some fashion.

[asumi2020202]

No longer his

Pairing: Rex Lapis x Reader

Summary: An incident caused all of them to drift apart. Now because of that one incident, another will be erased.

A/n: I was reading a zhongli fiction when this popped up in my head. Tbh I did not like the way I wrote this but anyway, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading!

________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_________

The God of Dust, Guizhong, first met you, the God of Fate, through Cloud Retainer. Xianyun knew you before she got to know Guizhong.

You had lived in solitude ever since Celestia granted you your life. Xianyun first met you when she accidentally wandered into your cave. From then on your called her your.. friend.

Xianyun was the one who introduced you to the rest of the Adepties. And Guizhong was the one who accepted you the most. From there, started your relationship with Morax.

You were there when Morax gave life to Azhdaha. You saw Xianyun and Guizhong bicker over the mechanisms. You watched the baby yakshas grow.

Yet, none of you ever expected the matter to be so grave that it would tear all of you apart.

_________________________________________

You were fighting with someone until Morax asked you to bring Guizhong to safety. You gave a nod to him and headed straight for Guizhong.

Morax was fighting some weak god while you were escorting Guizhong to safety. Morax wanted to ascend to one of the seven seats.

While running away from the battlefield, you and her come face to face with a god..

The glint in his eyes told you that he was not here for her but you...

Within a second, both your and his blades clash together. He felt powerful compared to you. With swift movement he cut you several times on your body.

Knowing you couldn't win, you asked Guizhong to run. To get to safety before he harms her as well.

"You must leave! Now!..Even with the both of us together, we cannot defeat him!" You shouted to your friend.

"You're wounded y/n! Do you hear yourself?! I am not leaving you behind!" Guizhong shouted back.

Suddenly you fell on your knees, having bled too much.

"Please.. Guizhong.. he's here for me.. I won't forgive myself if he hurts you.." you spoke, voice weak.

"So you do know.... Hah.. the God of Fate really seems to care for you...God.. of Dust. But tell me, oh God of Fate, why do you wish to protect this measly God. She has done nothing but take your time away from your beloved.

Even in battle he seems to care more for her safety than yours."

With that you understood who he was. He was the God of Manipulation. He's trying his powers to win against you. Trying to make you mentally unstable so you couldn't fight. And.. it was working..

You loved Guizhong. She was a great friend. But sometimes you felt insecure that Morax loved her than you, his lover.

"Stop trying to get in her head. Y/n you know these are all lies. Rex Lapis is a good friend of mine nothing else." Guizhong said, desperate to bring you back from your mind.

You shoved your head between your knees and grasped your hair. Blood oozing out of your wounds and mouth.

The God of Manipulation didn't like how Guizhong's voice was rebelling against his powers.

Just when you were back to reality, you saw him holding your friend by the neck, chocking her.

You tried to go towards them but it was too late. Her body dropped dead. Right infront of you.

You went to grasp your blade but he was quick. He instantly appeared in front of you and kicked you hard. Because of the previous wounds, the impact of the kick made you lose your consciousness.

_________________________________________

A harsh slap landed on your cheek.

"You're the reason why she's dead! All because you're too pathetic that you can't even trust your close ones!" Streetward Rambler shouted, almost hitting you again.

You kept your head low the entire time. Tears silently falling from your eyes.

"That is enough. She wasn't in her right mind to do anything. She was wounded and bled a lot." Xianyun spoke, trying to calm the situation.

"She wasn't in her right mind because she doubted Guizhong and Rex Lapis! You know what? You're right, Guizhong is far better suited for Rex Lapis than you ever could be. I wouldn't have even come near you if you weren't Rex Lapis's lover!" With that, Streetward Rambler left Mt. Aocang.

You watched as one by one all the Adepties left. Only Xianyun stayed behind.

"Y/n..."

"I'm sorry this all happened because of me.." you left after that. Some of your wounds reopening because of Streetward Rambler's hits.

_________________________________________

You hadn't seen Morax since that fateful day. He has ascended as the Lord of Geo.

You were inside your personal teapot, that xianyun had give you, when you saw Morax enter. He.. looked different. Probably because of Guizhong's death.

He had a stoic expression. You stood up from the ground and came face to face with him.

"Love-" you started but were interrupted.

"You had one job." Said Morax.

"But you have to listen to me. He, the god-" you tried again.

"You don't have to explain. It is very clear that you are incapable of doing even a simple job and clearly undeserving of being a God."

You couldn't help but feel a pang in your heart. It's as if the entire world turned against you. Your lover, your friends, everyone.

"Deares-"

"It's Rex Lapis for you from now on."

It hurt, hearing those words coming from the one you love. Tears falling but no one to wipe them.

You ran. Ran and left the teapot, leaving the God of Contracts alone, rethinking and regretting his choices.

_________________________________________

The next few days were odd. Morax looked everywhere for you but to no avail.

After a week, Xianyun got the idea of where you could have gone to.

She told Morax about the cave where you used to live. Morax hurried before anyone could speak another word.

Upon his arrival, he saw a cave surrounded by darkness. But when he stepped inside he could smell blood.

He followed through the path and found a chamber of sort. There was a puddle of blood in the corner.

When he went closer, his eyes widened. There you laid, a blade stabbed into your heart by your own hands. The very same blade which he had once given you.

He quickly crouched down and touched your cheek. You opened your eyes, your energy decreasing profusely.

"Dearest... Why?" Questioned Morax.

You gave a weak smile and said

" why?..... Because i.. am undeserving of life.. because i..am weak.."

"No no. I take back everything I said. I was not in my right mind. Hang in there... I'll take back.. I will heal you with the best healers.."

"No... My.. time is.. over.. i will no longer.. bother you anymore."

Morax noticed how your body has different cuts on different parts. Probably from the battle. How could he not know earlier.

His eyes watered. He gently hugged your small form close to his chest.

"I.. am the...God of..Fate. Hah.. yet, i couldn't even change mine.. nor could I escape it..

I'm sorry Rex Lapis, i truly am.. I can only hope you forgive me.." and with that your eyes close forever.

Rex Lapis..... It felt foreign coming from your tongue..

_________________________________________

The Adepties sat on the chairs, on Mt. Aocang. They saw Rex Lapis... carrying your body..

Xianyun inspected the body careful to be really sure it was your, a tear slipping from her eyes.

The Adepties.. were never the same again. All scattered. Xianyun held a grudge against Streetward Rambler.

_________________________________________

Morax now went by the name of Zhongli, a mere consultant in the Wangsheng funeral parlour.

He was walking down the streets of Liyue. When he heard someone call out.

"Dearest!"

The same voice like yours....

He immediately turned around and there you stood exactly the same.. you were waving.

A smile was about to be spread on his face when he saw a ginger haired boy running past him and going to you.

He held your waist and kissed you. Zhongli's heart broke for the second time. You were reincarnated but he won't be able to get your love anymore....

He looked and then headed back.. unable to face the fact that he was no longer yours and that you were....

..No longer his...

-Lillian

[myun-saidthoughts]

Astrology Observations

💫3rd house synastry increases ease with communication, especially when the Moon or Venus are involved, comfortability with sharing your feelings or thoughts/emotions will come natural.

💫For a woman, if she has an Aquarius Mars she will appreciate her partner to be visually or intellectually different.

Appearance Wise: someone who stands out in some way, someone who is comfortable in their feminine and masculine energy, someone who doesn't need outside validation from others, someone who is confident without being overly aggressive or forthcoming. Another note is someone who has an unique or artistic style, someone who puts effort in their wardrobe, (rings, necklaces, painted nails, accessories) Open-mindedness is very very ideal, and if they have more of a theoretical mindset with how they view the world brings in more attraction for the native.

💫4th house synastry (especially with conjunctions to your IC) will create an energy that brings you a sense of comfort you never knew was possible.

💫8th house friendships can also take on more of an intense dynamic, expectations still arise, especially for the person with more Scorpio/8H influence.

💫If you struggle with accepting intimacy, love, or romance but deal with South Node + water house synastry (along with other indicators of attraction such as aspects/house overlays/more past life synastry aspects) letting them go will feel impossible, especially if they bring you this type of curiosity you hardly feel from anyone else.

💫Neptune-Moon synastry doesn't get talked about enough. If attraction and desire are factors within relationships with harsh Neptune to Moon influence, the dynamic can feel fated. At one end of the spectrum the Neptune person can confuse the Moon person, the Neptune person can showcase as someone the Moon person can't really understand and yet there could be a desire to save or idealize them. Similar to Pluto influence the spectrum of the intensity depends on each souls but someone with a lot of Neptune/12th house placements in their natal chart will feel very drawn to this connection.

💫Vertex synastry comes at you unexpectedly. You could know someone for quite some time with no initial curiosity to know them better, but once they enter your atmosphere in some deep manner, you will feel very very close and comfortable with this person.

💫4th house synastry can elicit intense feelings especially if there are mutual IC conjunctions (bonus if each others Vesta asteroid conjuncts each others IC) as well as have Moon conjunct Pluto in the composite chart. These added factors will add more intense dependent need for this person.

💫Jupiter synastry is so cute. You will feel so optimistic when you're around this person. You can't help but feel like you can handle anything that comes your way, you're excited, content, and trusting of the individual looking at you (especially if you guys share more 4th house synastry).

💫Each water moon can struggle with extremes, in some shape or form.

💫 Individuals with natal 12th house placements (especially Venus) may often turn to music as a means of escaping reality.

💫Capricorn moon individuals struggle with accepting the fact that they have emotion. Often times their mother was absent or emotionally un-nurturing, leaving them to feel uncomfortable with sharing their emotions, they struggle with feeling safe, they may not have a direct resentment link towards their mother, but in some aspects her coldness leads them towards the same void of avoiding emotions they wish to escape from.

💫Libra stelliums are likely to find a partner, and with that partner they may lose their identity or self within them. They feel complete when another is "their person" but with it may also lead to codependency.

💫Libra karma can deal with issues of stating their opinions, thoughts, and desires. They may think it's easier to avoid conflict or disarray but all that does is create a deeper hole of forgetting who they truly are.

💫People with 8TH house natal placements (especially stelliums) are more likely to experience extremes in their life, whether it be with finances, partners, or emotion. It is likely that they can end up being dependent on another for resources/money etc.

💫Gemini placements (maybe even air placements in Gemini degrees) are more likely to be on the spectrum with their sexuality, it's more likely that they would be attracted to anyone they just find attractive. Although sexual attraction and romantic/emotional attraction are very different categories. You can be sexually attracted to someone but have no emotional or romantic desire for that individual, sexuality is a very complexed spectrum.

💫Sagittarius suns with Taurus risings handle pain with grace. More than likely if someone has these two placements with a poor placement Moon or harsh aspects towards the Moon/Sun/IC etc they are likely not to fixate or struggle with the emotional turmoil (compared to others).

💫Water moons typically have blurred boundaries with their mother. These placements manifest differently but boundaries when it comes to their mother or the love within their dynamic is often times more complicated.

💫Fire dominate/Venus individuals are more likely to have physical touch be their love language.

💫Gemini venus's get bored very easily, constant stimulation or some excitement in the dynamic is needed. (But 5H/7H/Cancer/Leo/Libra placements with a Gemini venus are less likely to become bored)

💫Moon-Mars & Venus-Asc synastry will create intense attraction almost instantly.

💫8th house stelliums are likely to deal with large sums of money at one point in their life, or they will owe others money, they will be given money, or other people's money becomes a major factor in their life; someway or somehow

💫9th house placements appreciate other people's culture, beliefs, thoughts, and ways of life that differ from their own.

💫Virgo's placements with prominent 10th house or Capricorn placements can create an individual to be very hard on themselves, the goals they place on themselves oftentimes exceed others, prompting them to feel less than if left unaccomplished or unproductive.

[soaringwide]

PAC: What's great about you and how can you boost your self-confidence?

PILE 1 > PILE 2 > PILE 3

Today I wanted to do a lighter Pick a Card tarot reading and focus on the topic of self-confidence and how you can boost or improve it.

I hope this reading provides you comfort and help you understand what's awesome about you and what you can feel proud of :)

As always, this is a general reading meant for multiple people, take what resonates and leave out the rest.

IMPORTANT: I'm going on vacation until the end of September (2024) so there won't be new pick a card in the meantime, and I won't be able to do paid readings either. Shop is still open but keep that in mind because I'll either have to refund you or have you wait till I'm back. I'll be around a little on tumblr though in case someone wants to chat!

book a reading ★ all PACs ★ pinned post ★ instagram

PILE 1

Cards: the Magician, 10 of Swords, Queen of Swords, Page of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, Justice, Page of Wands, the Lovers, the Sun, King of Cups

What's great about you

You are able to draw a lot of strength from your inner struggles, using your pains and failures to fuel you and turn them into something that can propel you forward. Having high expectations for yourself and a deeply seated sense of your own values and opinions, you are not just someone who let themselves go for too long, but someone who always pick themselves back up and find a way to bounce back. Nothing is truly a failure if you can learn from it and come back of it stronger, smarter and more determined.

You know what you want for yourself and out of your life and you are determined to make things happen at some point. It's like some type of very determined energy, that while not super fast moving per say, does not back§ off before anything and keep moving no matter what, slow and steady like a deeply rooted tree inexorably growing year after year. You are someone with a vision, a dream that you hold firmly and I see you also having faith that things will turn out in your favor if you just keep pushing long enough.

It's not wonder that the magician takes the center stage of this part of the reading, as this Major Arcana represent the power of someone who brings concepts and ideas into reality. Someone who is always learning, always evolving, someone who seeks mastering everything they put their mind to, turning the most unfavorable situation into something that can serve them and their goal.

How to boost your self confidence

With the appearance here of Cups and Wands, which you were lacking in the previous section, you're basically being urged to balance yourself and complete your set of tools, so to speak.

The page of Wands adds the spark, the passion, the enthusiasm. It encourages you to be more optimistic and recognize your own power, and embrace your vision even further, allowing yourself to lean into it and really go along with it openly and with an adventurous spirit. This message is highlighted even further by the Sun, encouraging your to clear up your doubts and be more carefree. I think that you would gain a lot from letting go of the struggle mindset, knowing that yes, your resilience is admirable, but you don't need to struggle to do everything. Things can be easy and exciting too, not everything needs to be a struggle, and you have that power within you too.

The King of Cups is here to remind you that your emotions are not your enemy, but important carrier of messages and signals from the inner realms to take care of yourself in a gentle manner. I think this ability to pick yourself back up we mentioned earlier may sometimes make you a bit harsh with yourself, and you're being encouraged to be softer.

On top of that, in both sections, there is a strong Mercury influence, with on one side the Magician, and on the other Justice and the Lovers (both gemini cards, which is ruled by Mercury). What it means is that you can lean even more into your intellectual and communicative qualities, which you already have albeit in a rawer form.

With these cards, there is also a strong message about choice. Basically, if you want to feel more self-confident, you have to chose to embrace it first and foremost. To decide that this is a goal of yours, to believe in it and go for it, because with this here I don't think it's necessarily on your radar right now, but mostly some type of noise in the background. With your go-getter energy, really making it a priority will propel you forward with force.

You are a born storyteller, and the main protagonist of your own story. So what story do you want to tell? Embrace your vision and the world will open to you.

PILE 2

Cards: 2 of Cups, Queen of Swords, 8 of Cups, 5 of Pentacles, the World, the Tower, Ace of Pentacle, the Chariot, 3 of Pentacles, the Lovers

What's great about you

It seems that you have currently closed, or are closing, some type of painful cycle that made you feel a great sense of loss. Perhaps it is related to a relationship or an union of some kind. It made you feel like you were lacking something and broke your world and the vision you had for the future. You were left disappointed and perhaps even made you feel some type of hopelessness.

However, I don't think you gave up, but instead, you decided to move on and refocus on yourself. Which makes me think that right now, you are in this transitional phase. Why this message is showing up here is to tell you that you might not see it, but this ability of yours to bounce back and prioritize your own needs is admirable and a great strength.

What's great about you is that you know when enough is enough, you know what is worth fighting for and when to let go, and you know you can rely on yourself to advocate for your own happiness.

You are being encourage to see it, celebrate it and embrace the fact that while a new chapter is closing, a new one is opening too, even if you can't see it quite yet.

How to boost your self confidence

You are being encouraged to focus on a goal of yours, perhaps some type of dream or opportunity you'd like to go for. Do not linger on what you have lost, or what didn't came into being, but rather, on what could be in the future.

Let yourself dream and use that yearning to power you up and go after what you want. The Chariot as a character is someone who went through something difficult and learnt from it, leaving the doubts and uncertainty behind to embrace their desire to go for what they want. It's a card of movement and determination, of effort leading to success.

What I'm getting here might be different for different folks, but with the 3 of Pentacles and the Lovers, the main message I'm seeing is that you need to focus on building something for yourself first and foremost, working on that goal or dream of yours and seize the opportunity that are available to you without fear that you are not ready or good enough, because you are, and work towards it with patience and focus. For those who resonate with the relationship part of the previous section, it is possible that a better union is on the horizon once you allowed yourself to be in a better and more fulfilled place mentally and emotionally, and for others, it's talking about a more harmonious relationship with yourself where you would be able to accept who you are and love yourself more.*

(*Note: that is not to say there will be no relationship at the same time, simply that the cards comment on the harmony with yourself being primordial here. It's not mutually exclusive.)

So yeah, don't let past hurt dictate how you should feel and what you should go for. Let that go, leave that to the side, and look forward to the horizon. And remember to love yourself like you would like to be loved, for the amazing person that you are.

PILE 3

Cards: Temperance, Judgement, the Sun, the High Priestess, 5 of Cups, the Tower, King of Pentacles, 10 of Pentacles, 9 of Wands, the Hierophant

What's great about you

This pile is for those who have been intensively learning from their past and healed from it. There are three main messages here.

First, I see that you have learned to balance things between your rich inner world and your outer, more mundane life. I think you are highly intuitive and connected to your inner self, however, in the past, that may have made you overly detached from the world, and I see that you have made a lot of efforts to close that gap. I keep getting the word dissociation so perhaps that's relevant to some of you. Perhaps also you were described as overly mysterious or closed-off, and you worked a lot on yourself to be more open and actually connect with others authentically.

Secondly, I see that you went through a time of intense grief, which doesn't have to be about someone you lost (but could be) but can also be a general sense of loss or deep disappointment regarding something. For a long time, you stayed there licking your wounds and lamenting on the past, but then, you reached a point where you could not go on like that, some type of wake up call that made you move forward again.

Lastly, and tying the past two message together, you learned to let go of your catastrophizing or pessimistic mindset and are now more joyful, more optimistic, carefree even. There is a cheerful and youthful energy about you that some people who went through very heavy things and managed to come out on top hold, and is very inspiring to others who can sense it even if they don't know the details.

How to boost your self confidence

Here, I'm getting that after all the work you've done on yourself, it's okay and even highly encouraged to focus on your comfort and physical abundance too.

I think you may have put that to the side a lot, perhaps because it wasn't a priority or perhaps because you didn't think you deserved it, but here you're being urged to see that it's actually an important part of your life too. There is some type of legacy that you are able to leave, because you have the skills and/or wisdom to pass it down, and that could lead to a lot of success on different levels for you.

You need to let go of this mindset that you are not good enough, that you are unfitting to the things you want to get or to do, and also let go of this mental box you put yourself in where you were focused on surviving instead of thriving.

There is also the message that you hold a precious wisdom that could make you a point of reference in something, and that you need to recognize it and learn to actively share it. People will come to you for advice once you see that, but you have to see it yourself first and start to actively act on it.

[atinylittlepain]

Unexpected Expectings - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x pregnant!f!reader/pregnant!f!oc

Joel Miller Masterlist

It's a horrible idea, even living somewhere as safe as Jackson. But it's all she wants. Will Joel be able to accept her decision? Or will she have to do this alone?

warnings | 18+ heavy angst, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, SMUT, decisions around pregnancy, Joel is an asshole :/

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

She knows it’s foolish. Stupid really, and maybe even a death wish. It isn’t certain, but it might as well be. Her period has been missing for three months now, and since she’s been living in Jackson, there’s no other reason for its absence other than one glaring option. That coupled with the rolling nausea that has been rocking her these past few weeks makes her as close to certain as she can be. She’s living in a post-apocalyptic world, and she’s pregnant.

She and Joel had been so careful, or at least she thought so. She had even figured out how to track her periods, maneuvering around them to create the least possible chance of something like this happening. Yet, it was becoming painfully clear that they hadn’t been careful enough. The first month, she thought it was just a fluke. The second month, she started to panic when the so-called morning sickness started showing up at all times of the day. Her first instinct had been to hide it from Joel. She knew his past, the loss of his daughter Sarah that had left him shattered, and she knew that a pregnancy would be the last thing they needed. While things were a little different in Jackson – even Maria had just had a perfect baby boy with Tommy – she and Joel had lived harder than most of these people. After their time on the road transporting Ellie, they couldn’t help the skittish streak in them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, another catastrophe, and they were always keeping an eye on the horizon, ready to leave when things went sideways. And they certainly couldn’t do that with a baby in tow. 

She should have taken care of it right away, gone to Maria who’d know women in the community that could help. The mountains were rich with herbs and plant medicine, and there’d surely be a way to take care of the situation with the right knowledge. But, something was keeping her from doing it, from ending it, and she couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Maybe it was some sort of hormonal cocktail already bonding her to this question mark of a child, but all she knew was that she kept stealing wisps of moments alone in which she’d lift up her shirt and settle her palm over her stomach. 

It hadn’t been too hard to hide it at first, she and Joel were passing ships during the day, each busy with patrol shifts. When the nausea hit, she’d found ways to subtly excuse herself and find somewhere to quietly wretch until the feeling passed. It was exhausting, but the alternative option of Joel finding out and possibly having an aneurysm seemed a lot less appealing. But as time kept passing, the reality that she’d have to handle the situation or tell him the truth became more pressing. It happened one morning as they were showering together. Joel had been grazing his rough hands along her body, palms splaying along her sides as she pressed her back into his chest, head tilted to rest on his shoulder. He had hummed in her ear, fingers skimming over her stomach to graze the underside of her breasts.

“Civilization looks good on you, honey. Finally got you eating proper and you fill out so nice.” He had emphasized his words with a harsh squeeze to the swell of her breasts, but she had stilled in his hold, her eyes blowing wide in fear. She had quickly recovered, turning in his hold and distracting him with a sloppy blowjob, but once they got out of the shower and started getting dressed, she had hung back, waiting until he was already heading downstairs to finally look in the mirror. It was subtle, but her stomach was obviously swollen, the hint of an arc, and her breasts were also feeling different, heavier in her hands.

That was a month ago now, and each day since she had told herself it will be the day she confronts Joel with the truth, and each day, she keeps on hiding it from him. But it was certainly getting harder. She hadn’t really let him touch her since that morning, opting for chaste pecks and quick slips out of his grabby hands and she could tell Joel was getting more and more frustrated at the distance. He did however let her off the hook for her uncharacteristic distance when he found her hunched over the toilet and heaving out the contents of her stomach. Morning sickness had been continuing to mount, and it had become all but impossible to hide it. When he asked her what was wrong with a panicked worry washed over his face, she chalked it up to food poisoning, an answer he reluctantly accepted before getting her a glass of water and helping her lay down. But food poisoning doesn’t last for weeks. 

When she wakes up the next morning, Joel already gone on an early shift, she knows that by tonight, he needs to know the truth.

The first thing she does that morning is head to Maria’s house. Her mind is a fog of thoughts as she knocks on her door, but she’s quickly shocked back into reality when Maria opens the door with her little boy on her hip. The sight of the mother with her child takes her breath away, and she unconsciously brings her own hand to ghost over her stomach before quickly jerking her arm down to her side and digging her nails into her palm. Maria offers her a smile, but confusion settles in a crease between her brows.

“Hey, Joel said you weren’t feeling too well yesterday. Are you doing alright?” She sighs, trying to find the right words but failing as she wrings her hands on Maria’s doorstep.

“Um, hey, I-I’m fine, but– can I talk to you about something?” Maria’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she nods, shifting to let her come in before closing the door behind them. They sit down on the sofa in her living room, and her eyes immediately catch on the small memorial to Sarah and Maria’s own son that rests above their fireplace. She feels her throat tighten at the sight, but quickly shifts her focus back to Maria, who’s gently cooing at her brightening boy. She can’t help but smile at the sight, but Maria glances up at her, reminding her that she isn’t here for small talk. She clears her throat, taking a sharp inhale before speaking.

“There’s no good way to say this so I’ll just get it out. I’m pregnant.” Maria’s jaw falls slightly, her eyes wide, the only sound breaking the suffocating silence are the light coos of her baby. She takes another deep breath before continuing.

“It’s Joel’s, obviously. A-and I’m pretty sure it’s been three months?” Maria finally nods.

“Ok. What do you wanna do?” It’s such a simple question, but it’s the first time she’s talked about this with anyone, and she can already feel tears pricking her eyes as she stammers out a response.

“I– I wanna say that I don’t know– but– I– I do. I wanna keep it– so bad. I-is that crazy?” Maria’s wide smile is a huge relief, and the laugh she lets out washes away any uncertainty she had.

“No. It’s not crazy. Not at all. If anyone is tough enough to do it, it’s you.” Just then, Maria’s boy lets out a shrill giggle that startles them both, making them laugh and share a warm smile. She can see a streak of worry cross over Maria’s features, though, and the woman sighs.

“I have to ask. Does Joel know yet?” Her smile quickly fades, a deep frown settling as she looks down at her hands, shaking her head.

“I’ve been battling in my head about it until just now. Wasn’t even sure he was gonna need to know anything. But I guess now he’s gonna have to find out.” Maria purses her lips, seeming to think on it for a moment.

“Well, I’ve known Joel long enough to understand that this might not be easy. But you don’t have to do it alone. I know– we’re all supposed to have dinner together on Friday– Tommy and I and you and Joel and Ellie. What if you told him then? Amongst family.” She feels tears threatening to spill again at Maria’s idea, and the woman is quick to take one of her hands and offer a reassuring squeeze.

“You are family, you understand?” She smiles, nodding jerkily as she swipes away her tears. 

“Thank you, Maria. Just– thank you. That means a lot to me.” They share another smile, but she can’t help the anxious thoughts burrowing into her head.

“It’s just– I’m worried I won’t be able to hide it until then.” Maria furrows her brow and she sighs under her gaze.

“I’m having terrible morning sickness. Honestly, whoever decided to call it that is an idiot because it’s all day. I just don’t think Joel is gonna keep buying the excuse of food poisoning until Friday.” Maria nods at her words.

“There’s a tea I can show you how to make. I drank gallons of it when I was pregnant with this little devil. Why don’t I come back to your house and I can show you how to make it?” It’s less a question and more a direction as Maria’s already standing with her boy still on her hip, walking into her kitchen to gather whatever she needs to bring over with her. 

…

When they get back to the house she shares with Joel and Ellie, it’s quiet, no one home yet. Keeping her baby slung to her chest, Maria sets to work, showing her the herbs she’s combining to steep in a pot on the stove.

“Honestly, I’d just keep a pot brewing with this all day. The stronger the better in this case.” She nods at her words.

“Thank you for helping me with this. It’s just been so exhausting, it feels like it’s only getting worse.” Maria smiles knowingly, lightly stirring the pot of brewing tea.

“Well, they say strong morning sickness means strong baby. I’ve also heard that having a lot of morning sickness is a sign it’s a girl.” 

“Who’s having morning sickness?” The women both jump, startled by Ellie’s sudden presence in the kitchen. She quickly stammers out an answer, trying to cover their trail.

“H-hey, Ellie bean. No one has morning sickness. We were just talking about Maria’s pregnancy, that’s all.” By the squinting look the girl gives them, she can tell Ellie’s not quite buying her answer.

“Uh, ok, but Maria had a boy.” She glances at Maria, who looks just as confused as she feels.

“What’s that?”

“Maria had a boy. And she said that having lots of morning sickness means it’s a girl, so I don’t see how you could’ve been talking about her pregnancy– is something else going on?” Before she can come up with a reply to Ellie’s skeptical question, a punch of nausea washes over her and it’s all she can do to hinge over the edge of the sink before she’s emptying what little was in her stomach into the porcelain basin. When she rights herself, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Ellie’s eyes are wide and her mouth is hung open.

“No way–”

“Ellie–”

“Are you for real right now? You’re pregnant?” She shushes the girl’s exclamation, holding her by her shoulders and looking her square in the eyes.

“I-I am, but, Ellie, you can’t tell anyone–”

“Wait – it’s Joel’s, right? That was a dumb question, of course it is– wait, does he know yet?” She sighs, offering the girl a small shake of her head and Ellie’s face falls.

“A-are you not keeping it or–?”

“No! I am, I am. I decided I am.” She glances behind her to Maria who gives her a small smile of support. Maria steps forward and both women place a hand on Ellie’s shoulders.

“Ellie, she’s gonna wait to tell Joel until this Friday. When we’re all together as a family. But until then, you can’t say a word to anyone.” Ellie’s eyes widen again and she lets out a huffed laugh.

“Oh shit. Joel is gonna freak the fuck out. You do realize that, right?” She sighs, letting her hand drop from the girl’s shoulder.

“I do. Which is why I’m waiting to tell him, ok? Joel can’t know anything until then.”

“What can’t I know?” All three of them let out startled yelps, turning to see Joel coming in through the back door. Shit. When none of them answer his question, he huffs, putting his hands on his hips.

“Hey, what can’t I know?” Ellie’s eyes dart nervously between her and Maria, but both women are still too stunned to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, Joel’s eyes wander to the kitchen counter, where Maria had left the book she brought over. She had offered to lend it to her, an old tattered copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. If the title didn’t make it obvious, the picture of the very pregnant woman on the cover certainly did. 

It’s as if she watches it in slow motion as he shuffles over to the counter, picking up the book and inspecting it. He holds it aloft, peering back at the trio who have all still failed to pick their jaws up off the floor.

“What’s this doing here?” His gaze shifts from Maria, to Ellie, finally to her. She can barely meet his eyes with her own, still swimming in her mind for how to answer him. Ellie’s the first to break the silence, stepping in between her and Joel.

“Listen, old man. You don’t get to be mad at her, alright? It’s bad for the baby.” Joel’s face immediately slackens, the book falling from his hand with a heavy thud as it meets the floor. She grits her teeth. Jesus christ, kid, so much for not saying anything. Maria speaks then.

“Ellie–” The girl whips around, a panicked look on her face.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry–” They’re startled again when Joel brings a heavy hand down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the kitchen.

“Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on, right now.” She squeezes Ellie’s shoulder.

“It’s ok, Ellie. Why don’t you go with Maria? Joel and I need to talk.” He huffs at her words but she keeps her attention on Ellie and Maria, both of them giving her a weary, questioning look. She just nods, ushering them out of the kitchen.

“Go. I think we need to have this conversation just me and him.” The pair finally acquiesce, Ellie muttering another sorry before she turns back to shout over her shoulder at Joel.

“You better be nice, old man. If you hurt my future sister you’ll have to answer to me.” She winces at the girl’s words. It definitely didn’t help the incredulous look that had wiped over Joel’s face. She finally turns back to face him fully, wringing her hands. He huffs again, shifting in his work boots as he peers at her.

“You better start explaining yourself. Is it– are you–” She lifts her chin, trying to be confident under his scrutinizing look.

“I am, Joel. I’m pregnant.” His features slacken again and he rakes both his hands through his hair, letting out a low curse.

“Is it– is it mine?” She chokes on a breath at his ridiculous question before letting out a humorless laugh.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course it’s fucking yours! What kind of question is that?” He sighs, scrunching his eyes shut and shaking his head.

“I’m sorry– I just– it just came out– fuck. I know that– I know it’s mine.” He scrubs a hand down his face, glancing at the pot on the stove.

“Is that what this is for? Maria told you how to take care of it?” It’s her turn to scrunch her face at him.

“What? No. Joel I– I’m going to–” He holds up his hand, cutting her off.

“No.”

“Joel.”

“No. Don’t say what I think you’re about to– don’t tell me you wanna keep it.” Something in her crumples at his words, so she does what she does best when she’s under attack. She gets pissed. She gets up in his space, her sudden heated change in demeanor seeming to catch him off guard as she jabs her finger into his chest, making him stumble back until he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m not telling you I wanna keep it. I’m telling you I am keeping it.” He scoffs at her words, hulking over her even as she tries to stand her ground.

“Well then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Are you really stupid enough to think this is a good idea? This–this mistake? That’s ridiculous. And don’t expect me to play house with you either because I want no part of this.” She’ll deal with the pain his words are sending shivering through her bones later, but for now, she sneers at him and gets big with anger.

“Fine. I’ll do it by myself if I have to. But you’re not gonna take this from me, Joel Miller, even if it means losing you.” She sees something flash behind the ire in his eyes and she thinks it’s the same hurt she currently feels squeezing her heart. But it’s gone in an instant, Joel huffs before shouldering past her and storming through the house and out the front door. It’s all she can do to hold herself up on the counter as the first sob racks her body. 

…

She has no idea where Joel stomped off to, and she doesn’t want to be around to find out when he gets home. With a backpack stuffed with whatever she thought she might need, she stumbles out across the street, back to Maria’s house. The bright sunlight of mid-afternoon stings her tear-worn eyes and she scrubs harshly at her face as she waits for someone to answer the door. She’s caught off guard when it’s Tommy who opens up to her knocking.

“Oh– Tommy, I– um– I–” Before she can stutter anything out, the man is gathering her up in a hug that makes her let out a small “oof.” He pulls back, guiding her into the house and quietly closing the door.

“Maria told me. I’d like to say congrats, but I also think I’m gonna have to apologize for whatever dumb shit Joel pulled when you told him.” His words make her let out a breathy laugh, but then she falls apart all over again. Tommy rubs her arms as more sobs break, guiding her over to sit on their couch. She digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry– I-I can’t stop f-f-fucking crying today.” Tommy offers her a sad smile, sitting down next to her and squeezing her hand.

“I’d say that’s a fitting reaction. If you wanna cry, then you just cry, alright? Now what the hell did Joel say when you told him?” She sighs, a long shudder running through her as she finally glances up at Tommy.

“He said it was stupid– that I want to keep it. Called it a mistake.” Tommy huffs, a deep furrow of frustration settling across his face. 

“Well, my suspicions are confirmed. Joel’s acting a fucking fool. Did he storm off?” She nods and Tommy lets out a dry chuckle.

“He’s predictable, the old shit. You already know this, but he’s a reactive asshole. I can guarantee he’s already starting to feel bad for all that garbage he said.” She nods, a wave of exhaustion passing over her that has her leaning back into the couch and tilting her head up to look at the mottled ceiling.

“I know that. But– I don’t– this is different from anything else.” Tommy looks at her questioningly and she sighs.

“I just– I think this might be it, Tommy. I think it might be too much for him.” Her eyes are fixed on Sarah’s name scrawled on the chalkboard atop their mantel. He rests a hand on her knee, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, then Joel is an even bigger idiot than I thought. Look, I have a pretty good idea of where he sulked off to. Why don’t I go talk to him?” She shakes her head, eyes hazy in resignation.

“No, I think it’ll only upset him more. Whatever conclusion he gets to, he needs to come to it on his own.” Tommy sighs, but nods at her words.

“And you? What’s your conclusion?” She brings both her hands to rest over the slight swell of her belly.

“I’m prepared to do it alone if I have to. God– I don’t think I’ve wanted something this bad in a long time.” Tommy smiles at her words, giving her knee another squeeze.

“Right on, mama. And, Joel or no Joel, you aren’t gonna do this alone. Maria and I, we’re here for you. And Ellie too. Pretty sure that girl is gonna knock his lights out if I don’t beat her to it.” She can’t help the warbly laugh she lets out at that and it feels like the biggest relief after such a shit day.

“Thank you, Tommy.” The man nods.

“No need for thank you, not when it comes to family.”

…

Tommy shows her up to their spare bedroom and she conks out nearly as soon as she lays down, the day she’s had finally catching up to her. When she wakes up, the room is a wash in the orange haze of evening. She can hear quiet laughter floating down the hall through the cracked door of the room and she follows the sound to find Maria and Ellie in the nursery, sprawled on the rug as they play with Maria’s boy. Ellie is on her feet in an instant, wrapping her up in a hug and whispering a meek “I’m sorry” into her collarbone. She rubs the girl’s back, pulling away to offer her a small smile.

“It’s alright, Ellie bean. It’s gonna be alright.” Ellie nods, her eyes glancing down to her stomach and she can’t help but laugh at the girl’s suddenly very nervous demeanor. Ellie’s eyes whip back up to hers. 

“Can I– um– could I–” She cuts off her stammering, grabbing one of her hands and laying her palm over her stomach. Ellie’s eyes widen.

“There’s not much to feel yet, but–”

“Woah, s’already, like, round. That’s so fucking weird, man.” She snorts at Ellie’s words.

“Gee thanks, kid. That makes me feel a lot better.” Ellie huffs, letting her hand fall away before looking back up at her.

“Is it really gonna be a girl?” She glances at Maria who’s now standing with her boy on her hip. 

“Well, I guess we won’t really know until they’re here. Whoever they are. But I have to admit I’d kinda like a girl seeing as I already have some experience in the area.” She nudges Ellie’s shoulder and the girl laughs at that, eyes crinkling up. Maria sidles up to the pair, leaning and whispering in a fake conspiratory way to Ellie.

“Did you see the way she threw up? Definitely a girl.” They share another laugh, and it’s almost enough to quell the twinge of pain she’s still feeling, Joel’s name pulsing in her mind like a second heartbeat. But she’s quickly taken out of the fog as Maria ushers her and Ellie downstairs to help with dinner.

…

Dinner is lovely, save for the glaringly empty chair at one end of the table. She can tell that they’re trying to keep her mind off it, off him, asking her all kinds of questions about the baby that is now most certainly not a question mark, but a firm exclamation point of a yes. Ellie asks her if she has thought about names and while she honestly hasn’t, she’s surprised by how quickly she has an answer.

“My sister’s name was Olivia, but everyone called her Libby. I think that might be nice since everyone’s so sure it’s gonna be a girl.” It’s sad, but it’s also sweet, and a gentle silence falls over the table as they all take in her response. But they’re startled out of the moment when a quick set of knocks on the front door rings through the house. She knows it’s him, she just does, and her eyes dart anxiously to Tommy’s. Tommy clears his throat, softly muttering “excuse me” as he stands and walks out of the room towards the front door. They’re all holding their breath as he opens it, but something in her snaps when she hears Joel’s voice.

“Is she here?” She can hear the shuffle of Tommy’s boots, most likely as he stands in the doorway to block Joel’s entrance.

“Hello to you too, brother. What exactly can I help you with?” 

“Tommy, please. I-I need to talk to her.” 

“Are you just gonna spew more bullshit at her? Because if that’s the case then I can’t let you see her, Joel.” She can hear the frustrated huff that Joel lets out, can even picture the scrunched look he probably has on his face right now.

“Look, I went home and she wasn’t there. Is she here or not?” She glances at Ellie, a worried look pinching the girl’s features, and she does her best to offer her a reassuring smile, but it’s hard to be convincing when her own stomach is twisting in knots. 

“Brother, you oughta be ashamed of yourself for what you said to her. How could you? After everything you two have been through together? It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“You couldn’t understand, Tommy. What it meant for me to lose–” Tommy cuts off Joel’s words, an anger in his voice that’s new and raw.

“Don’t you dare say I can’t understand. I lost her too, Joel. But at least I’m not a fucking coward like you. Sarah would be disgraced by the way you treated her today.” There’s a shuffling of boots, and then Joel’s harsh words.

“Watch it.” She’s heard enough, getting up and hurrying out to the front door. She finds the men nose to nose, sneers stretched across their faces. When Joel catches her out of the corner of his eye, he immediately slackens, shrinking back from Tommy. She’s amazed by how small he seems as he looks at her, his eyes heavy and glistening. She tentatively steps forward, angling herself between the two men. She does her best to seem confident, tilting her chin up at him

“What is it, Joel?” He clears his throat, opening his mouth but then seeming to think again and pursing his lips in a thin line before he finally speaks.

“Um– I– can we talk?” His eyes keep darting down to her stomach, the small swell now slightly defined under the fitted t-shirt she’s wearing. She had been hiding in his large flannels over the last few weeks, but she figured there was no longer reason to now. Tommy goes to speak, but she glances back at him, a silent confirmation that she has this under control. He nods, sending one more glare toward his brother before shaking his head and slipping back towards the dining room. She turns back to Joel.

“I’ll listen to what you have to say. But I can’t promise you anything in return.” He nods, wiping his palms down the front of his jeans. He goes to speak, but his eyes glance behind her, and she turns to catch Maria, Ellie, and Tommy leaning out from the end of the hall and peering at them. She huffs.

“Here, let’s go on the porch and you can say what you wanna say to just me.” She steps out, not missing the way he flinches as her stomach brushes past him. He sits down on the bench seat and she chooses to lean against the porch railing across from him. His brow furrows.

“You should sit. Need to stay off your feet now.” She’s stunned into laughter at his words, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you serious? Joel, what do you care? Last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with this.” She brings one hand down to rest over her stomach, fixing him with as hard a look as she can muster. He sighs, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward and hangs his head between his shoulders. His voice is a murmur, but she can still hear what he says in the quiet of the quick-darkening evening.

“That’s not true.” She huffs.

“What’s not true?” He tilts his head up, finally meeting her gaze. She can see the tears threatening to fall in the corners of his eyes.

“That I don’t want anything to do with this. That’s not true.” She scoffs, scrunching her eyes shut in frustration before looking at him again.

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s a little hard to believe coming from you. After you told me you wanted no part in, what did you say? Playing house with me? You sure know how to keep a girl guessing, Miller, I’ll give you that.” He takes in a harsh breath, running a quick hand through his hair and shaking his head.

“I know what I said– I-I wasn’t talking sense– when I– when you– fuck– you scared the living shit out of me, you know that?” The pained grimace on his face makes her soften, leaning back into the railing, waiting for him to continue. He sighs.

“I just– we were careful, right? We were always careful. How could this happen?” She tenses up.

“You better not be saying this is my fault, Joel.” He blanches, shaking his head.

“N-no, no. It’s just– never in a million years did I think this would happen. I was shocked when you told me. And it’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you and I’m sorry, I really am. But I just don’t understand how you’re not fucking terrified right now because I am.” She lets out an incredulous laugh at his words before looking back at him.

“You think I’m not terrified right now? You think I wasn’t terrified when you walked out that door? You think I haven’t been terrified for the last three months trying to figure out why I want this baby so bad when I know it’s probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had? I must be good at hiding it then, because I’m so fucking afraid it makes it hard to breathe sometimes.” A heavy silence falls between them. Joel clears his throat.

“Will you please sit down, honey?” She sighs, a weariness settling back into her bones, but she gives in, sitting down next to him on the bench. There’s a few inches of space between them, and Joel rests his open palm there. She takes the invitation, letting her hand tangle with his. Relief washes over her at the feeling of his thumb brushing along her knuckles. He lets out a ragged sigh.

“The thing is, I do want this. With you.” She turns to look at him and he offers her a sad smile.

“But I don’t know if I can do it. Tommy’s right. I’m a fucking coward, darlin. And I’m scared that I can’t be what you need.” She shakes her head, looking at him questioningly. He squeezes her hand.

“When I lost Sarah– it destroyed me– and I told myself that I’d be in pieces for the rest of my life. Hell, the only reason I didn’t lay down and die right then was Tommy. I needed to protect him, to keep going for him.” He pauses for a moment, taking another shivery breath before looking at her again.

“Then I met you, and that damn kid. And I tried so hard not to care, but fuck– you were it for me and I knew it from the start. And I kept going for you, and for Ellie.” He scrunches his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly.

“We have a good thing going here. But you and I know better than most that it can change in a flash. And if– it’d be the end of me– if I lost you, o-or this piece of you and me. Fuck– my mind’s been racing all day with images of you– with a baby– with our baby. And it takes my breath away how much it scares me– and how badly I want it.” He finally opens his eyes, tears dipping into the worn lines of his face. She reaches up to swipe a stray one away from the arc of his cheek and he leans into her palm. 

“Well, it sounds like we’re both scared, but we both want it. So, I guess it’s good we’re on the same page finally.” He huffs out a laugh at her words, a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth. Truthfully, she’s not sure what to say. But she has a moment to figure it out as Joel wraps his arm around her, pulling her up against him and letting her settle into his side. 

“Joel, I know you feel like you have to protect us. But this isn’t one sided. We’ve made it this far because we’ve done it together. We’re a team. I told you I’d do this by myself if I have to, but fuck– I don’t think I can do it without you. But I know we can do it, scared shitless, together.” He brings his hand to cup her jaw, skating his fingers over her cheek, and he gives her a firm nod.

“We’ll do it, together.” She leans forward, pressing a hard kiss to his lips around her splitting smile and she can feel his own grin in the way he kisses her back. For a moment, all that matters is the way his hand holds her face, the way her palm presses into his chest, and the way they keep kissing like they’re trying to steal each other’s breath. And then they’re promptly jostled out of the moment by a muffled voice resounding from behind the window they’re sitting in front of.

“Ugh, gross!” They both jerk away from each other, glancing behind them to just catch a flash of Ellie’s face before she’s dipping out of sight. They look at each other for a beat, before dissolving into disbelieving laughter. Joel shakes his head, hugging her tighter to his side and laying a kiss in her hair.

“That damn kid.” She snorts, looking up at him.

“I mean, we’ve already got a little practice with a child of the apocalypse. What’s one more, huh?” He huffs, before dipping down to kiss the sly grin off her face. 

…

They return home together, after a rather tense reconciliation between Joel and Tommy that ended in Tommy telling his brother that he’d be “checking in to make sure you’re not being an idiot.” Maria had brought down her pack for her, telling her that she had tucked a few things in it that might be helpful, before shooting a weary glance at Joel that communicated plenty without her having to say anything. 

When they enter the house, Ellie turns on her heel, wagging her finger at Joel and making him stumble back in his tracks a bit.

“Listen here, old man. She may have forgiven you, but I got my eye on you. If you pull any more of your weird, grumpy bullshit, you’re gonna be answering to me, alright? We need to create a stress-free environment for her, and all your scowling nonsense ain’t gonna fly.” Joel grumbles, letting out an exasperated huff of her name, but she’s already putting a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, getting her to stand down.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I’m pretty sure I can handle the old man.” 

“Hey–” Joel scoffs in protest but she shoots him a look over her shoulder that makes his mouth promptly shut. She turns back to Ellie.

“Maria said they’re playing a movie tonight in town. I bet Dina will be there helping out with the little kids. Why don’t you go–” Before she can even pose the question, Ellie’s already shrugging her jacket back on and heading out the door with a hollered “I’ll be back!” 

Watching the interaction, Joel looks exhausted, like he just ran a marathon. She grins, sidling up to him and rubbing her palms up his chest.

“How the hell do you do that? Does she come with a remote that I don’t know about or something?” She laughs, shrugging at him.

“Maybe I’m just a natural, Miller.” That earns her a crooked smile from him as he cups her jaw in both his palms, dipping down for a quick peck. She squeezes his shoulders before turning to head upstairs, he close on her heels. 

They move without needing to speak, falling easily back into their normal routine, letting water warm up for a shower as they peel off their clothes from the day. She suddenly feels nervous, being bare before him. She had been dodging their usual routine, bathing alone to keep him from noticing anything. It’s the first time in a month since he’s seen her like this, and things have certainly changed since then.

She tentatively steps into the bathroom, his bare back facing her. When he hears her he turns around, eyes instantly roaming across her body. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on her belly, instead focusing them back on her face, an unreadable expression across his features. She feels nerves settling cold in her throat. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead lets out a low hum before turning and getting into the shower. She follows, stepping in front of him with her back facing his chest. She jumps slightly when his hands come to her sides, ghosting up until they run along her shoulders and down her arms, his touch disappearing just as soon as it came. They take to the task of cleaning off silently. Joel is gentle as he washes the soap from her body, but she can’t help but notice how his hands maintain a noticeable distance from her stomach. The longer it goes on and the longer he won’t touch her there, she can feel herself wilting, finally shrugging off his hands and leaving him in the shower. He calls out her name as a question, but she’s already wrapping her towel around herself and stepping out of the bathroom. 

She knows it won’t be as simple as telling each other that it will be alright. She knows that Joel is having as much a hard time with this as she is. But she would give anything for him to touch her, to fully acknowledge what they have created together. She sighs, shaking her head of these thoughts as she rummages through her backpack for the clean clothes she had stashed in it. What she first finds, however, is a small bottle of what looks like oil with a note wrapped around it from Maria.

Stretch marks are a bitch. This helps. -M

She smiles at the note, unscrewing the cap and carefully smelling the contents. By the scent, she guesses it must be rosehip oil. She figures people must be collecting the wild blooms further up the mountain, processing them down to oil. She’ll have to thank Maria tomorrow.

If she was being honest, she hadn’t really looked at herself, not since last month. She had been trying so hard to hide the reality of her changing body that she had concealed it from even herself. Still holding the bottle of oil, she steps in front of the time-mottled mirror that hangs on the back of their closet door. She drops her towel, letting it pool around her feet and takes in the sight of what is now clearly a bump. She smooths her palm down the expanse of her stomach, taking in the curved path in the mirror before twisting to the side to see the obvious arc. She notices the silvery lines spidering across her hips there, lines that are new. Lines that mean growth. Lips parted in awe, she twists this way and that, fully taking in the foreign sight of her body.

The sound of Joel clearing his throat startles her out of her reverie and she turns her head to see him standing in the doorway to the bedroom with a towel slung around his hips. She’s frozen where she stands, pinned under his heady gaze that finally seems to be taking all of her in. His eyes catch on the bottle she’s still holding, looking back up at her with a question across his face. She smiles lightly, holding the bottle up.

“It’s from Maria. For stretch marks, I guess. Didn’t think I’d still be worrying about those after society collapsed.” It’s a lame attempt at a joke as Joel continues to study her. She still can’t figure out what he’s thinking, something she’s not used to. He clears his throat again, meeting her gaze.

“Do you want– could I– um– can I help?” Those three gruff words settle the aching worry in her chest. She smiles, nodding at him and he pads into the bedroom, his eyes not leaving hers as he settles on the edge of the bed. She shuffles over to stand between his legs and hands him the bottle. His eyes only break from hers when he looks down to unscrew the cap and pour some of the oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

She can’t help the shiver that runs through her when his hands find purchase on her hips, rubbing small circles that start to get larger as he smooths over her sides. She rests her hands on his shoulders as he works, pausing only to pour more oil out into his palms. He hesitates before letting his hands lay on the actual swell of her stomach, but when he finally does she lets out a sigh that makes him smile. He’s impossibly gentle as he rubs the oil into her belly, lips parted in concentration. She tilts her head, dipping her cheek to her shoulder as she watches him. When he meets her gaze again she can see that his pupils are blown wide.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She hums, nodding lightly, drawing another smile from him as he finishes his ministrations. He rests his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he drops his lips over her stomach in a sweet kiss, letting his mouth linger over her skin. The vibrations of the words he murmurs into her skin send another shudder through her bones.

“Beautiful. You’re fucking amazing.” She sighs out his name, carding her fingers through his hair to tip his head back to look up at her. She dips down to meet him in a kiss, his hands squeezing and encouraging her onto his lap as they dissolve into tangled tongues and swallowed sighs. Joel pulls away, letting his mouth trail down her neck, over the tops of her breasts and she arches into his lips. He sighs into her skin.

“Been missing you, darlin. But I guess now I know why you were slipping my hold all the time.” She grins, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he rests his chin in the valley between her breasts. 

“You had me worried for a second there. Thought you were trading me in for a newer model.” She scoffs, tugging lightly at his hair to crane his face back up towards hers so she can steal another kiss from him.

“Not a chance, old man. You’re stuck with me.” He groans at the name she calls him, squeezing at her ass where his hands have now wandered and making her yelp.

“Let’s just see if you’re still calling me old man when I’m done with you.” With that, they meet in another rolling kiss, and it’s an awkward shuffle as Joel shrugs out of his towel and they inch up the length of the bed until he’s finally laying back with her straddling his hips. His cock is hard, resting against his thigh and she can just feel the tip of him grazing her backside as he brings his hand to her hip, drawing his fingers through her folds and making her whine out his name. She cants into his palm as he dips his fingers into her entrance, collecting the slick that’s already pooling there and drawing it up to her clit to press firm circles into the nerves there. Her hands find purchase on his chest as he starts to work her over with his fingers.

“Look so perfect like this, honey. Like a fucking painting.” Her eyes screw shut at his words, a whimper of his name on her lips as he starts to pump two of his fingers into her, his palm grinding into her clit with each pass. It’s certainly different, being astride Joel with the bump now all but in the way, and she feels stunted in her movements against his hand, like she can’t quite draw the pleasure from her hips that she’s looking for. Joel seems to sense her frustration, his hand stilling for a moment to instead rub circles into her hip.

“What’s wrong? What do you need, darlin?” She huffs, digging her chin into her chest as she feels a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

“I-I don’t know– fuck– it just feels– weird.” She gestures vaguely to her stomach and Joel’s eyes widen, fingers flexing into the plush of her hips.

“Did I hurt you?” She’s quick to shake her head, thumbing at the frown across Joel’s face.

“No– it just– it doesn’t feel like it normally does– I don’t know– I feel awkward.” Joel lets out a long exhale, bringing one of his hands to graze along her jaw.

“It probably isn’t going to feel like it normally does, darlin. But we can figure this out, alright? Wanna make you feel good.” His words send a shiver up her spine and she nods.

It takes a bit of trial and error, but they both settle with her on her side and Joel pressed up behind her, the warmth of his chest spreading against her back. He runs his palm down her side, stopping at the plush of her thigh and encouraging her leg to hitch back over his, spreading her open a bit more for him. From there, he slides his hand between her legs, again finding a rhythm as he dips into her, crooking his fingers in a way that has her gasping as she digs her nails into his forearm. Her hips stutter back into him as he continues to fuck her with his fingers and she can feel his throbbing length pressing against the swell of her ass.

“That’s it, honey. Just relax. Let it feel good.” She whimpers his name, already feeling the pleasure settling heavy at the hilt of her spine, ready to pour over at any moment. She’s definitely more sensitive than usual, her hips jerking every time his palm presses hard against her clit. She cranes her neck back into his shoulder and he lays a kiss to her temple.

“Will you come for me, darlin? Please? Let me see you, huh?” She gives him a jerky nod, scrunching her eyes shut. With one more pass of his hand over her clit the pleasure bursts as she clenches around his fingers. She lets out a pant of his name as he fucks her through her high, squiriming in his hold as the sensation becomes nearly too much to bear. He finally relents, drawing his palm up her side before taking the heavy swell of one of her breasts in his hand and squeezing lightly. She groans at the feeling and he shushes her, laying kisses in her hair.

“So perfect, darlin. Did that feel good?” She sighs, craning her neck to meet him in a tangled up kiss.

“Yes, Joel. Wanna feel you. Let me have you, please.” He huffs into another kiss.

“You’ve got me, honey. Whatever you want, it’s all yours.” She turns back in his hold, hitching her leg back along his thigh as he draws his cock through her folds. They both sigh at the contact and her mind goes fuzzy when he notches the tip at her entrance. She’s realizing that it really has been a while, and just how much she missed this, missed him.

He slowly rolls his hips forward until he’s pressed flush with her, stilling like that as they both pant at the feeling. His voice is slow and thick in her ear, sending chills down her neck.

“Fuck– I missed this– missed you so much, darlin. Fucking made for me.” She keens under his praise, arching back into him.

“Joel, please– need you to move– p-please–” With a murmured “I got you” Joel rolls his hips again, slipping away to only spread her open all over again, a little more force in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass. It’s a jolted rhythm, both of them desperately chasing pleasure as he finds a slow but deep pace that she swivels back into. The sound is positively obscene, her arousal slicking each of his thrusts, their shared, broken gasps, the creaking of the bed frame. Joel brings his palm down to rest along the undercurve of her belly, his fingers dipping to circle her clit.

“M’sorry, honey– fuck– already close– will you give me one more? Let me feel you, c’mon, I know you can.” Each pant of her breath is his name, a chant as he tips her over the edge again. She flutters around his cock, throwing her head back into his shoulder. He’s not far behind her, thrusting once, twice, before his hips are stilling against her ass, his warmth washing through her core as he comes with a ragged cry of her name. He presses his damp forehead into the nape of her neck as they both catch their breath. She grabs his hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to–” She cuts him off with a squeeze to his hand, a wry smile sliding across her face that he can only glimpse over her shoulder.

“I think it’s a little too late to worry about pulling out, Miller.” A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing gruffly into her back.

“Gonna be the death of me, woman.” She winces slightly when he pulls out and he turns her over in his hold, eyes scanning her worriedly.

“Are you hurt?” She shakes her head.

“Just a little sore. It has been a while, huh?” Joel grimaces, stealing a quick kiss.

“Never letting that happen again. I’ll tie you to the damn bed if I have to I need you so bad.” She sputters out a laugh at his words, brushing his dampened hair out of his face.

“Don’t think that will be necessary. You know I’m all yours.” He smiles, bringing his palm to the expanse of her belly, the warmth in his touch radiating all the way to the tips of her toes.

“I’m all yours, darlin. I love you.” Her eyes still widen when he says that. He’s only said it a handful of times, and it still catches her by surprise. She smiles, brushing a light kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Joel.”

…

They get cleaned up, again, but this time, Joel’s hands practically can’t stay away from her belly as they rinse each other off. 

She curls into his side once they get back into bed, tracing patterns into his chest as he runs his palm up and down her arm. Joel sighs.

“So, Ellie said something about a sister? Do you think it’ll be a girl?” She cranes her neck to look at him, a grin crooking on her face.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” Joel studies her face for a moment before letting out a huff.

“I think we need another Miller boy in this house. You two already gang up on me. We gotta even the playing field.” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out at that and he quirks a brow at her.

“What? You don’t think it could be a boy?” She quickly shakes her head, stifling her giggles.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just– do you really want a boy that bad?” He purses his lips.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind a little more testosterone around here. But, I just want him or her healthy. Want you healthy.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to his chest before lifting up to kiss his lips.

“We will be, Joel. As long as we do it together, it’s gonna be alright.” She settles back down onto his chest, but can’t help the giggle that jolts through her thinking about what he said. He jostles her in his hold.

“What?” She sighs.

“Nothing, I’m just happy is all. Go to sleep.” He huffs, but seems to accept her answer, settling into a silence that eventually dissolves into his soft snores. She can’t stop thinking about how funny it is, how badly he wants a boy. 

She just knows it’s a girl, and she knows that this sweet little thing is gonna have grumpy Joel Miller wrapped around her pinky finger from the moment he lays eyes on her. Besides, three against one sounds like pretty good odds to her.

[bambisnc]

killing me softly [ft. p.hn]

-> recap : but when you call hanni a little later, you’re met with an automated response. the number you have dialed is currently busy. please try again.

pairing : bsf!hanni x f!reader genre : angst uwu cw/tw : THERES A LOT OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS JUSTICE FOR MY BBG MOKA + swearing + uneditted + hints of reader being possessive/jealous + surprise iroha/moka/nwjns members appearance! <3 wc : 0.7k

over the days following the new girl incident as your friend group refers to it, you’ve found yours and hanni’s relationship having … become a little strange. 

maybe it’s just that you don’t reach out to her as often; texting her only when absolutely necessary and spending recess holed up in your own classroom instead of near the school roof where the two of you used to meet earlier.

obviously you do realize how your actions can somewhat be compared to a stereotypical toxic manhwa boyfriend. 

but does that mean you’ll try to be better?

no.

it isn’t too much to expect her to be the one to approach you, right?

granted it’s not like she’s stopped trying to hang out completely (it’s more you who’s been rejecting her ideas..) but the little time you spent with her at school is now being taken up by her. moka.

the last you remember having visited her class, she greeted you with a signature, disarming hanni smile. 

“y/n! i’ve been meaning to go to your section – um, moka actually needed a lab coat for chemistry; you know how strict professor bae is… so could you-”

“yeah sure,” you had replied back with all the ease in the world, “drop by whenever. i’ll need it by 7th period though so..”

moka had held out 2 thumbs up towards you then, “of course! i’ll make sure to give it back to you by then!”

…

she, in fact, did not give it back to you by then.

“you’re so lucky i had my old one in my locker…” minji reprimands you, “what were you thinking when you just gave yours away?? yeah sure professor bae may be strict; but he’d never have said a thing to a new student.

you, on the other hand, very well would end up DEAD if he caught you without one. Again.”

really, how could you even defend your decision? the one time you remembered to bring your own lab coat, you decided to let someone borrow it, who, coincidentally ended up never getting it back to you.

more importantly, this only farther distanced you and hanni. 

she still texts you of course, but you have noticed how less frequent the ping! of the notification sound you set for her has become.

-

then one lunch break, she shows up. right outside your classroom. 

you go out to meet her, of course, but you make sure to drag minji out with you .. for emotional support.

but the second she sees kang haerin she’s quick to slip away shouting out a “best of luck btw! <3”

oh she’s so in for it later.

“y/n! how was your biology test today?” 

you respond to hanni as neutrally as you possibly can because at that moment you can only think about how neither of them have yet returned your lab coat.

“… hey.” she takes one of your hands into her own, “is everything okay? um. do you want to tag along with me to the cafeteria?”

you huff out a laugh, “have you just met me hanni?” because she knows how much you don’t like the cafeteria. 

she’s silent for a little. 

“yeah. 

it feels like i have just met you y/n...”

you pull away your hand from hers and stand with your back pressed against the wall.

a fresh sound of pleasant chatters brings you back to reality. 

minji’s here! praise all the gods. 

as she and the others she’s brought with her, haerin, danielle and hyein, entangle both of you into conversation, you find yourself sliding down until you’re sat down on the cold floor.

you close your eyes letting the harsh sunlight wash over your skin. 

.. something knocks against your arm, then. and there’s a sudden rush of cool air.

opening your eyes shows you none other than hanni, sitting next to you, fanning you with her (chemistry) notebook. 

when your eyes meet hers, both of you burst into peals of laughter. 

-

you walk hanni back to her class when the bell signaling the end of your time together (recess) rings. 

moka and … iroha? greet her at right at the door. 

“hanniii,” iroha says, throwing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder, “i can’t believe you left your ~girlfriend~ moka here all alone… she’s been pining after you for ages now~”

you quietly slip out before you can hear her response.

notes : um so u guys best be praying for me and bsf to work things out or else no happy endinf 🤷🤷 + [m.list] song rec : te quiero - kissoflife again yes <3

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[sunseed-fandump]

if the gingerbrave crew were to have soul jams, what would their virtues be??? :0c

Gingerbrave = Courage - Offshoot of Freedom

Many things require bravery, not just when it comes to standing against evil, but when it comes to standing for what is right even when it's not clear.

It takes a lot of courage to truly embrace Freedom; to be brave enough to accept that the future is uncertain, but to be confident in one's own abilities that they can change it however they wish. One has to be brave enough to take those first few steps. To let go of all of their doubts and truly be Free. Even when it seems society is against them.

And with those steps, one might inspire others to follow. Joining everyone together under one common goal: to live life to its fullest.

Strawberry Cookie = Kindness - Offshoot of Passion

To be kind, even against those who seemingly don't deserve it is incredibly difficult. It is natural to get angry, be upset, maybe even vengeful. It is also easy to look at the plight of another and decide to do nothing, simply because going out of one's way to do so may be considered too hard.

But to offer a gentle word, to give to those less fortunate, to comfort those who need comforting, to forgive. It is a new level of strength that many fail to achieve.

Having the compassion to lift others when they are down, will truly make the world a happier place.

Wizard Cookie = Wisdom - Offshoot of Truth

Knowledge is meaningless if one is incapable of knowing fact from fiction. And even then, being able to discern the truth from the lies means nothing. The harsh truth can hurt more than any wound, meanwhile the fantastical lies of fairytales can inspire others into doing good. One is not wholly good, nor wholly evil.

Knowledge is only powerful if one knows how to use it, and use it wisely.

Sometimes a bit of harsh reality is needed to snap one out of a delusion. While a placebo can give even an elephant the means to fly. To be wise, is to know how to use knowledge and help others become the best they could ever be.

Wisdom cuts through the angst, sorrow, and pain that cloud one's judgement, and paves the path for a brighter future ahead.

Custard Cookie III = Hope - Offshoot of Resolution

Dare to dream, no matter how impossible it may seem. To have the strength needed to hold onto Hope even in the bleakest of situations is truly a beautiful gift. Hope is what drives us, Hope is what saves lives, Hope is like a North Star.

Get up no matter how many times you're knocked down. Keep going, no matter how unattainable the dream might seem. And if the worst happens, and the dream crumbles, then that light will shine upon a new dream to pursue.

Keep hoping for those better days, keep dreaming and wishing and working towards them. Be that North Star for others as well, give them the strength to pursue their dreams. Because when those dreams do ultimately come true, it will be a wondrous legend to remember.

Chili Pepper Cookie = Trust - Offshoot of Abundance

To give a thief one's trust seems absurd. Equally, a thief does not give out their trust all willy-nilly. But to earn that trust, and to be trustworthy, is to be reliable. To be reliable means one withstands whatever the world can throw at them, even the unrelenting march of time. It means to be the solid rock that others can steady themselves on throughout the chaotic and upsetting changes that happen in daily life.

Chaos is inevitable; for things to fall apart is to be expected. Not many things can withstand the test of time, but one must trust that creation will always follow destruction and roll with those punches. That gain will always follow loss.

Trust that those dear to you can support you through thick and thin, and they will give you the most glorious treasure in return.

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can we get part 3 of CEOx reader? That story is so good‼️‼️

A/N: had a lot of reqs for Edira which really surprised me! Here's a short thang for her <3

CW: Toxic forced relationship, power imbalance, burns via coffee, blackmail and possessive behavior.

Synopsis: your boss-slash-lover-slash-blackmailer returns from a business trip acting more off-putting than usual. Comfort angst ensues.

The humdrum of life can drone on quite monotonously, with the same routine and the same budget and the same people always surrounding you. Lucky for you, the moment you started feeling an inkling of typicality, of normalcy in your stressed and starved life, something swung in through the window and began breaking every peace of solitude and calmness you had established. Fate, or otherwise established as Edira-- you're melogomanic, secretly needy and outwardly aloofly intimidating girlfriend-- snatched away the livelihood you once knew as that of the common fool. 

It was first her schemes in pretending to play “date”, and then her idea to move in together. You, an office worker with the resolve of a clownfish, were now put into close proximity with her 24/7. From a tense and barking boss at work, to a wordless romantic in her luxury minimalist penthouse, the struggle to keep up with the sudden workload of being her assistant and her stress-relief of a partner was almost too much to manage. Coffee, kisses, shoulder massages, copied papers of last month’s expenditures. The work didn’t end, and if it did, something was wrong. 

Today, you had finally gotten a morning alone without the battering Edira suffocating you awake with blonde bed hair and slightly conscious nips at your shoulder. She had been away at a work conference with the heads of smaller company branches. You would have been brought along with, if Edira didn’t fear so much for the collapse of her corporate tower without one of you manding the deck. So you stayed, one night of freedom, one morning of peace. 

You expected her to be gone for the rest of the day, coming back mid-afternoon like she had said, returning to the apartment to unpack her small gatherings. However, your opening of her opaque office door this morning left that reality checked. 

“Edira?” You choked, holding a half-empty cup of coffee. You swallowed down your surprise, hoping she didn’t hear the small disappointment at the end of your tone. 

“Yes?” She sighed, sounding…off. She usually had a wild rant to get off her chest when she was away, every person in the city managing to piss her off or step on her toes. 

“I thought you’d be at the apartment.” You shut the door behind you, taking in the mess of paperwork all over her desk. Yikes, she was going to need more than a drink to de-stress her tonight. “Remember, I told you I had things handled here.”

You walked to her office chairs, ones that were hardly ever used unless for soon-to-be-fired employees. Or in your case, to be straddled, or do the straddling in. 

You were about to sit, putting your coffee mug down. But Edira rose as soon as the glass cup reached her dark cherrywood desk, pushing past her swiveling chair, brushing hair out of her face as she naturally stomped away. Her heels made a certain muffled thump that you had learned to predict, the kind that you could hear from across the hall and gain a spike in your heart from. She opened her office door with a ripping harshness that made you think she'd start chasing someone down. You swiftly followed after her down the hall to the front of the rows of cubicles her underlings made their homes in. 

You were practically jogging to catch up to her, making it all the more startling when she made a sudden stop at where she usually addressed the office team. Your face hit the back of her smooth linen blazer, hot coffee spraying down your arms and onto your chest. Having held your sizzling mug out in front of you to avoid spilling, you didn’t foresee such a violent halt throwing you off balance, the mug falling from your hands to ‘clink clink’ onto the rug. 

“Please don’t break---” You whispered before it had dropped, missing the flying coffee stinging your chest and fingers. Cleaning up glass off the office rug would be an experience of shame you didn't want to face. Your mind worried about another one of Edira’s chastisements for this mistake, now that her sour mood was deepened more than usual. 

The commotion and noise of your spill stopped Edira in her stomping tracks, turning to look back at you for the first time. She saw your baby blue blouse doused in brown, your fingers shaking as you bent down to pick up the empty mug. 

You started to feel the burning, like ant bites covering everywhere but weren’t able to be rubbed off. You tried to stop the stinging on your fingers by rubbing it against your pants, but your chest was burning hot. 

“What did you do?” Edira asked, the room going silent. Your coworkers winced at the sight of you, the others holding their breaths with wide eyes and wondering what the Queen of Chaos was going to yell at you for now. As if they weren’t all held to ridiculous standards, hers for you were impossibly high, and it showed in more places than just your shared cold penthouse. 

“Just spilled…” You mumbled, wondering how you were ever going to get this dark stain out of the polyester covering the floor. It was already drying, not much stickier than the rest of you. You stayed on the ground, trying to rub it out with your sleeve. It was getting cold and fast; you didn’t have one of those wet vacuums, paper towels wouldn’t soak up all that had been embellished into the rug by now. Were you going to spend another night in the office? Paperwork, coffee-- your only friends, and this spilled disaster the only thing you’d see until the sun. The silent creaks of swivel chairs and a dropped pencil didn’t distract from the eyes on you, Edira still looming over as she watched your sleeves turn a dirty brown. “Won’t come out…”

The tears came before you could stop them, mouth forming a permanent frown as your nose scrunched. ‘Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry--’

“Get up.” Edira was down next to you, a knee and a heel blocking your view as she held her hand out to you. She didn’t sound pissed, like before. Or even more so like you had expected because of this fiasco. 

“But the rug--”

“I’m not going to let you stay huddled on this floor..-- what are you looking at, get back to work!”

You felt her manicured fingers place onto your shoulder, the other hand jabbing a finger at one of her underlings. 

You did as she said, looking at the spill as your knees quaked to get up.

“You’re a mess, look at your neck,” She turned your ashamed head, your eyes never leaving the floor. “This might be worth a hospital trip.” She mumbled, sounding more caring than you had ever heard her once before. 

Man. your first night alone, first morning of peace, and you managed to make a fool of yourself. Edira pulled your elbow, keeping you close as you slowly walked with her back to her office. The trickle of keyboard typing came back as natural as birds singing at dawn, a phone ringing with desperate need as someone came walking by you. 

You kept your eyes down; the burning on your collar and fingers now a buzzing numbness. Edira opened the opaque door with her name in golden, ushering you inside with a firm hand on your back. You dragged your feet coming in, wondering if maybe now you could cry. 

Edira shut the door as soon as you were far enough in, barely missing you by a hair. 

“Guess this is what happens when I'm gone for too long, hm. You turn into jello, unable to hold a cup?” She sighed, having to pull your arm to shove you next to one of the chairs in front of her desk. 

“..Sorry…” You mumbled, but you couldn’t really care less, numbing yourself to the beratement that was only a mere few seconds away.

That feeling to cry subsided, but a heavy weight filled your chest, and now you just wanted the day to be over. But it was only 9:55, an hour not yet having even gone by. How were you going to sit here like this? If Edira had any ounce of the “love” she swore to the media she had for you, or even an inch of sympathy, maybe she’d spare you the echoing shouts your coworkers often heard for mistakes like this. 

But she ignored your sad apology.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up,” She murmured to you, like a wild beast with her hands out in front of her. She slowly placed them on your shoulders, making you sit on the edge of her desk. “Get out of these dirty clothes; at least this is an excuse to see your body after a day of solitude. Only had scruffy faces and wrinkles to look at lately.” She tried to joke, scoffing at her own words as she watched you frown. 

She was more silent than you had expected, angry aura not seeping out of her like when she usually attempted to hide it.

“...Aren’t you gonna get mad?” You fiddled with your dirty shirt hem, your ironed collar falling off to your shoulders as the buttons Edira undid came to an end; with the last piece she unbuttoned, you were practically naked --save for your pants-- in her office. 

The only thing that could make this day worse is if someone walked in.

 “Please don’t wait for my sake, I don't think i’ll be able to take it later.” 

You just wanted to hear her complain, hear her say how much of a fuckup you were and then have her avoid talking to you for the rest of the day. 

“I’m not that mad..” She said, a warm, white washcloth rubbing at your forearm. When did she get that? While you were moping? 

The flesh of your wounds was darker, stinging each time the rough cloth rubbed against it. “It was an accident. Besides, it was probably my fault.”

Wait. Did she really just say that?

You wanted her to say it again, to finish it off even with an “i’m sorry I made your life this way,” but anything of that sort was not even close to being on the table. 

You hesitantly kept your accusatory thoughts at bay. “Why do you say that?”

Edira sighed, turning over your half-clean arms. “Because, I was being a bitch. acting all pissed off and making you walk on your tippy toes around me. If you haven’t figured it out already, the meeting in Portland didn’t go well. At all.”

Wow. Did she really call herself a bitch? You knew today was not going like how you expected, but this was a different kind of a surprise. 

“I don’t feel bad about you not calling me at all last night, though. You know better than that.” 

You felt her lean in close to your ear, breasts pulled tight in her office shirt that was pressed against you. 

“Gonna have to make it up to me tonight….  I missed that pretty little mouth of yours more than I thought I would.”

You looked down at her, Edira’s face lower than yours and dangerously close to your naked, burned chest. Through blonde lashes she looked at you, tongue at the corner of her mouth. 

“Don’t say that, unless you mean it. I’m just a ploy to you.” You said bitterly. 

Her pinkish tongue came to perk between soft lips, devilishly teasing the hot spot on your skin. You winced a tad when she poked it with her tongue, only to run it up the coffee-covered spot to your shoulder. 

“What do I have to do to make you believe it, pet?”

One hand pressed into your thigh with the rag, the other holding your neck as she cleaned you. 

A strong ‘hmph’ left her ajar lips, French tips undoing the top of her blouse. 

“What are you doing?” putting a hand to her collar you looked at her, bewildered. 

“What? We don't have the floor meeting for another hour..” she undid the top buttons despite your hand on her breast, feeling the lacey bra underneath. “Never taken you in my office before.. sounds like fun.”

“But, wait, my--ive got like, first degree burns--” You tried to push your knees together, keeping her at a distance as you sat on the dark desk. It was surprisingly clean, a neat stack of papers on the opposite end with her laptop sitting perfectly on top; this wasn't how it looked when you first got in here. “Don't tell me you were planning this.”

Your boss's hands entrapped your sides, her knee coming up against the desk. She was cornering you, making you scoot farther onto the cherrywood with a vicious look In her eyes. 

“You know me, I'll be as gentle… as I can, sweetling.” Her fine teeth nipped at your ear, running past it to press soft kisses to your hot skin. She ran a hand down your bare back, sending prickled shivers just to set you on edge. 

“Just stay quiet, baby. Can't let them hear you,” she tiptoed delicate fingers down to your navel, past your belly button to your lower abdomen. “unless you want them to.”

You shoved at her for a moment, Scooting directly down the desk to escape her; Edira merely stared back through her dark, deep eyes. With an anticipating lick of her upper lip, she pounced. 

[valyrfia]

the thing that gets me is as much as i'm enjoying this mclaren flop as a ferrari and red bull fan is that EVERYONE is telling mclaren they need to prioritise lando, they're getting openly criticised for not doing it so surely at the point it makes sense to just do it? who knows what their shot at the WDC will be like next year with lewis and charles both in an improving ferrari (forza) and toto wanting to build a championship car for his two sons. i know everyone is saying it's probably a clause in oscar's contract but it still seems nonsensical to me?

I was listening to the Red Flags podcast yesterday at work and they made an excellent point as to the atmosphere of the re-signing of both Oscar and Lando last year. Gentlemen...a short view back to the past....

Oscar re-signed in September last year in a deal that was probably negotiated in summer 2023. Now crucially, in summer 2023 and into the early autumn, Checo was flopping at Red Bull with a contract that then ended in 2024, and Red Bull were making no secret of the fact that they were openly courting both Charles and Lando (whose contracts were expiring at the end of 2024) to be Max's teammate at Red Bull. Since Charles and Lando were both in contract negotiations with Ferrari and McLaren respectively at the time, both leaned into the Red Bull courting to some degree–but Lando far more than Charles. Lando's manager was even publicly seen by multiple British media talking to Helmut and Christian at Silverstone. While for Charles the Red Bull courting was likely a means to an end to get his preferred contract with Ferrari, Lando seemed to be seriously considering a Red Bull move.

So, naturally, if you're Zak Brown and one of your star drivers is seriously hinting at jumping ship to the rocketship team, you want to lock down your other star driver as soon as possible. Oscar's contract is additionally much lower pay than Lando's because Oscar was only a rookie when he signed that extension. So in Zak Brown's eyes, a possible exit clause or similar that could be triggered under the event of asking Oscar to adopt the role of a n2 driver even in the event of a championship battle is just a footnote to what is essentially a very good deal for McLaren. They lock down a driver that they know will become quite valuable, for quite cheap, so at least they keep one of their star drivers even if the other one runs off to Red Bull.

But as we all know, that's not what happened. Lando instead chose to re-sign with McLaren–probably even with similar clauses in his contract as Oscar and management insisted on and Zak Brown thinks he's got away with it. That's until McLaren did produce a rocketship and suddenly, team orders have become a glaring issue.

Here's the problem. If McLaren implement team orders, Oscar's contract expires in 2026, which is when a LOT of seats free up in the grid–most notably in Mercedes and Red Bull. If Kimi Antonelli doesn't perform as expected in 2025, Toto Wolff will be on the lookout to try and steal another team's driver. Similarly, Christian Horner has said multiple times that one of his biggest regrets is not working with Oscar in junior formulae. McLaren don't want to give Oscar any reason to possibly jump to another team, which I'm sure Mark Webber of multi 21 PTSD would not hesitate to do if McLaren prioritise Lando over Oscar. But at the same time, if McLaren want to win both championships (the best shot they've had in years, and hopefully the best shot they WILL have for many years to come–Forza Ferrari) the harsh reality is that they need team orders, especially while the RB20 is still trying to figure out how to turn.

All in all, McLaren are in a tricky situation, but one that's entirely their own fault. Maybe it should be a lesson to all of us to always think through the consequences of what seems like tiny clauses in contracts.